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from Travel & Liesure
Alexandra Korey
April 19, 2017
The early 2016 news that Cinque Terre would be imposing caps on the number of tourists allowed to access the picturesque towns was "just a provocation," admits Patrizio Scarpellini, director of Cinque Terre National Park, but “it had reached a point that we had to do something.”
Alexandra Korey
April 19, 2017
The early 2016 news that Cinque Terre would be imposing caps on the number of tourists allowed to access the picturesque towns was "just a provocation," admits Patrizio Scarpellini, director of Cinque Terre National Park, but “it had reached a point that we had to do something.”
That something — a dramatic statement to the press by the park’s president, Vittorio Alessandro — has raised awareness of the problems faced by this UNESCO Heritage Site, but the solution is much more complex than closing a door.
Cinque Terre is a stretch of particularly rugged coastline in the Italian region of Liguria, halfway between the busy ports of Genova and Livorno. Day-trippers from the cruises that stop here stream into the five towns of Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso, which grow up from the sea into a steep hillside that has been transformed, over the centuries, into terraced parcels of agricultural land.
Click HERE to READ MORE...
Cinque Terre is a stretch of particularly rugged coastline in the Italian region of Liguria, halfway between the busy ports of Genova and Livorno. Day-trippers from the cruises that stop here stream into the five towns of Riomaggiore, Manarola, Corniglia, Vernazza, and Monterosso, which grow up from the sea into a steep hillside that has been transformed, over the centuries, into terraced parcels of agricultural land.
Click HERE to READ MORE...
The Backbone of Italian Commerce: The Treruote
A treruote packed to the gills. Macchina is another word Italians use when referring to their car. Sure, they say auto too, but most people seemed to use the word macchina (MAK-eena). Even in the Godfather, when Michael tells Fabrizio to get the car (just before Apollonia gets blown up), he uses the word macchina. Macchina also means machine. Sure. Makes sense. You have to examine the Italian psyche to figure out why they think of their vehicles as machines.
I think of how they drive. With abandon. Seemingly fearless, not afraid to die. They will pass you on a blind curve with a cliff on one side and nothing on the other. They will pass you on a straightaway but wait until there is a car in the opposite oncoming lane so they can pass in between both cars. Towns like Naples or Bari don't have stop lights where you think they'd be, and even when there is a red light, the driver commands his machine to ignore it--and the cross traffic.
Is it bravado? Is it too much wine? Perhaps it's just that they trust their car more... their macchina. Think of the expression "a well oiled machine". Consider the Italian race driver who trusts his car more than his wife. Consider the little, treroute (three-wheeler) which is seen hauling everything from grapes to cement to olives to hay to furniture or cases of wine. The slow-poked three wheeler will be seen on unpaved farm paths, the streets of Rome, and even the Autostrada. It might be taking a bride to her wedding, hauling trash or rigged out to sell gelati.
I think of how they drive. With abandon. Seemingly fearless, not afraid to die. They will pass you on a blind curve with a cliff on one side and nothing on the other. They will pass you on a straightaway but wait until there is a car in the opposite oncoming lane so they can pass in between both cars. Towns like Naples or Bari don't have stop lights where you think they'd be, and even when there is a red light, the driver commands his machine to ignore it--and the cross traffic.
Is it bravado? Is it too much wine? Perhaps it's just that they trust their car more... their macchina. Think of the expression "a well oiled machine". Consider the Italian race driver who trusts his car more than his wife. Consider the little, treroute (three-wheeler) which is seen hauling everything from grapes to cement to olives to hay to furniture or cases of wine. The slow-poked three wheeler will be seen on unpaved farm paths, the streets of Rome, and even the Autostrada. It might be taking a bride to her wedding, hauling trash or rigged out to sell gelati.
Lucas and a dreamy Vespa.
 Supercars in Italy from Top Gear.  The neat and tidy Rome caribinieri--posing.  The end of parallel parking as we know it. | Also consider the even smaller macchine--scooters. I've seen priests, old ladies, 300+ pound men, cool teens and 30 something, chic businesswomen (texting as they drive) driving these things as if they were dirt track racers. The same holds true for 50cc mopeds... their high pitched whine can be heard racing teens all over Italy. But again, it's a macchina--a tool just the right size for the job. Going from point A to point B... a practical, cheap people mover. And when you actually get someone with a proper supercar, stay clear! They will pass you faster than you can even notice them pulling up in your rear view mirror. EEeeeeooowww... And you have to check out how the police pose proudly next to their own macchine. They keep them as neat and tidy as their pretty uniforms. And then just sit there as the supercar flashes past. It's perhaps a sign of respect. I never saw a caribiniari pull over a speeder--a very common sight here in the U.S. (I never really saw police doing much of anything except standing and talking to each other... and looking pretty, but that's another story.) |
A Google Earth capture of the teeny concrete parking hanging over the cliff in Amalfi. Then you have the tiny cars... the CinqueCento (Fiat 500), the Pandas, the Puntas, the Smart ForTwo and those one person cycle-cars. Americans buy cars because of the emotional feeling it gives them... cars gives us a persona. Not the Italian driver. He is more practical, seeing his vehicle as a machine--macchina--a tool to get things done. Sometimes la macchina does specific tasks, other times more like a multi-tool or a Swiss Army knife--the treroute again. Small means you can park anywhere--literally--anywhere. Small means you can drive down the white line like a scooter. Small means you'll never get stuck in a ultra-narrow street in a small village. Small means you can have a parking space in your home, even if it's a tiny little platform hanging over the edge of a cliff--or on your roof, or in a small cave (I saw all three types on the Amalfi Coast.) One was a concrete pad hanging over thin air with barely enough space to fit a teeny Fiat Panda with the sea below. Check out the photo on the left.
Paul Simon sings, "Cars are cars. All over the world." Not so, Paul. Not so. In Italy they are machines. Tools. Macchine. Even the Pope has his PopeMobile... a very specialized tool.
--Jerry Finzi
P.S. If you like what you've read, please LIKE us on Facebook and SHARE us with your friends who might also be interested. Grazie!
Paul Simon sings, "Cars are cars. All over the world." Not so, Paul. Not so. In Italy they are machines. Tools. Macchine. Even the Pope has his PopeMobile... a very specialized tool.
--Jerry Finzi
P.S. If you like what you've read, please LIKE us on Facebook and SHARE us with your friends who might also be interested. Grazie!
The Pope is the PA-pa, while to Lucas I am pa-PA. Important distinction in the Italian language. It's all in the accent. Another difference: Lucas' paPA doesn't stand up in the car!
Before we traveled to Italy, I researched about all sorts of things... especially how people scam and cheat. There are lots of warnings online about taxi cheats. I just wanted to report that after having used car services, radio taxis, taxis from a taxi station and even hailing a taxi that we spotted with his roof light on (free), we have not been cheated.
The radio taxis always show up on time with the help of their sophisticated gps unit. The car service I used costs barely more than a city taxi and is very professional. (transfercruiserome.com) If you see a taxi with its roof light lit, try hailing... as long as you are standing where they can pull over without blocking traffic (in other words, not on a narrow side street). There was one time I tried hailing a taxi on a crowded side street... one with barely any sidewalks (a common thing in Italy). The driver looked at me like I was crazy. Sure... he had no place to pull over. Lesson learned.
And just in case, always look at the meter for the "tarrifa 1" to be lit up. Within the city walls "tarrifa 1" is the correct lower rate. If you see "tarrifa 2" or "tarrifa 3" lit up for a trip inside the city limits of Rome, beware... you've got a crook trying to double or triple the rate. Tarrifa 2 and 3 are used for trips outside the walls, into the suburbs or to the airport.
In general, I've found the drivers to be talkative, friendly, helpful and responsive when you at least try to speak some Italian. I'm sure they are more used to tourists who don't attempt even the most basic Italian words and expressions. Looking back, I wish I had taken photos of the drivers... I still remember their faces and smiles. By the way, unlike in Manhattan, every taxi driver was actually an Italian.
--Jerry Finzi
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Copyright 2015 - Jerry Finzi - All Rights Reserved
The radio taxis always show up on time with the help of their sophisticated gps unit. The car service I used costs barely more than a city taxi and is very professional. (transfercruiserome.com) If you see a taxi with its roof light lit, try hailing... as long as you are standing where they can pull over without blocking traffic (in other words, not on a narrow side street). There was one time I tried hailing a taxi on a crowded side street... one with barely any sidewalks (a common thing in Italy). The driver looked at me like I was crazy. Sure... he had no place to pull over. Lesson learned.
And just in case, always look at the meter for the "tarrifa 1" to be lit up. Within the city walls "tarrifa 1" is the correct lower rate. If you see "tarrifa 2" or "tarrifa 3" lit up for a trip inside the city limits of Rome, beware... you've got a crook trying to double or triple the rate. Tarrifa 2 and 3 are used for trips outside the walls, into the suburbs or to the airport.
In general, I've found the drivers to be talkative, friendly, helpful and responsive when you at least try to speak some Italian. I'm sure they are more used to tourists who don't attempt even the most basic Italian words and expressions. Looking back, I wish I had taken photos of the drivers... I still remember their faces and smiles. By the way, unlike in Manhattan, every taxi driver was actually an Italian.
--Jerry Finzi
You can also follow Grand Voyage Italy on:
Google+
StumbleUpon
Tumblr
Copyright 2015 - Jerry Finzi - All Rights Reserved
Before I got to Italy I did research about driving on Italian roads. I figured it wouldn't be all that different from here in the States and I did fine in France years ago, so no big deal. Many signs are very understandable, but some are unique to Italy or need some explanation. Don't stop reading until you see the STOP sign...
The sign at the left is a YIELD sign. It's shaped just like ours but never has words on it. Of course, Italians ignore this sign completely. They just sort of roll into traffic and the traffic is expected to brake and let the car into the traffic flow. This is fact. This is how it works everywhere in Italy (even more so around Naples and other big cities). The drivers on the main road or street are the ones expected to do the YIELDing. The other signs might be confused with yield signs, and they are really are more like MERGE, except they are used for all sorts of intersections too. Just remember that the other the Italian drivers behind you will hug your bumper expecting you to just roll right into the intersection and the other drivers will YIELD and MERGE for you. If you "wait for your turn" the cars behind will simply pass around you. Need more convincing? Watch the video below:
OK, now the signs above DO matter. I found out the hard way on the narrow road I took up to the town of Fiesole above Florence when cars coming down the hill acted like they expected ME to back up and let them go. I got a little hot because it seemed that all the cars coming down the hill toward me were driving overly fast, and then cursed me when we were suddenly in a door handle-to-door handle situation, nearly scraping each others' cars.
It's because I failed to see or understand the sign at the right (red arrow right side) on the way up the hill. That sign meant that oncoming traffic had the right of way. The big red circle should have been a giveaway--red for STOP. A red arrow on the left means that oncoming traffic has to stop and let you go. Oncoming cars would be expected to pull over or even back up. I had to back up several times. You often see these signs on narrow roads and ones with tight, blind curves (like this one), although I don't recall ever seeing them on the Amalfi Coast road.
It's because I failed to see or understand the sign at the right (red arrow right side) on the way up the hill. That sign meant that oncoming traffic had the right of way. The big red circle should have been a giveaway--red for STOP. A red arrow on the left means that oncoming traffic has to stop and let you go. Oncoming cars would be expected to pull over or even back up. I had to back up several times. You often see these signs on narrow roads and ones with tight, blind curves (like this one), although I don't recall ever seeing them on the Amalfi Coast road.
The unbelievably narrow Fiesole road, on Google Earth: In this stretch, I would have the right of way.
This sign means no passing allowed. The red car on the left means no passing for you. Red on the right would mean you can pass. Sounds backwards a bit. Just think of it this way: If you ARE allowed in the passing lane (to your left) then the car on the left side of the car would be black on the sign. Of course, Italians pay little attention to these also. They pass wherever they want to.
No Standing - No Parking
The two signs pictured on the above are extremely important for foreign drivers. The sign on the left (red circle and X over blue field) means NO STOPPING OR STANDING, the same as the NO STANDING ANY TIME signs we have in the States. In other words, even if you are just dropping something off at the Post don't do it--don't stop--even if you see locals doing it. They may have special permits.The sign pictured to its right means NO PARKING.... ever. You will normally see these signs on very narrow streets, especially as they pass through an urban town.
| Finding a Place to Park We found lots of legal and free parking all around Italy. Some (especially in a small town's shopping district or the local piazza) allow parking for 20 minutes or one hour. Of course the parking sign is very recognizable--the blue and white P sign (photo on right). They might have arrows directing you toward parking lots or garages (fairly affordable in Italy). The next photo at the right shows a parking sign with restrictions: The crossed hammers mean the restrictions apply during the Monday - Friday workweek. If you see a Christian cross, that means the restrictions are for public holidays or Sundays. The words "dal 15/03 - al 15/11" mean that the regulations are in effect from March 15th until November 15th (the day comes before the month when Italians write dates.) The "1 ora" means that you can park for one hour (often village centers have time limits). The "Disco Orario" means that when you park, you need to have a Disco Orario placed in your front window with the dial turned to the hour you started parking. You can pick these up at most Bar/Tabacchi for a Euro or two. If you return too late, you might find a ticket waiting when you return home--or six months later. Handicapped Parking And if you have a handicapped placard, by all means bring it to Italy. We found that it is accepted pretty much everywhere. Look for handicapped spots when available--they are painted yellow in Italy (photo on right) with some are marked with a sign. Do NOT park in one of these if there is a number stenciled on the ground or printed on the sign--this would be a handicapped spot for a specific local handicapped person. But also discovered that you can park for free at pay parking spots--parking lots that use parking kiosks--as long as you display your placard. And you can ask to park for free at public pay lots. Take your ticket and have it authorized by an attendant (if any are around). That's one thing Italy (and Europe on the whole) gets right... treating handicapped people with respect and allowing lots of leeway for them. (To be honest, perhaps it is to offset the lack of elevators and escalators, ramps and wheelchair accessible public toilets in the many, many hilltowns which must make handicapped people feel housebound.) |      Our but dusty, but trusty Fiat 500L parked at a handicapped spot |
No Man's Land: the Dreaded ZTL
This sign is perhaps the most important one you will come across. Any sign with a red circle surrounding a white field is the basic symbol for NO CARS ALLOWED and is used to mark Zona Traffico Limitato (ZTL) areas. These are areas where you cannot drive into for fear of getting an expensive summons sent automatically to you back in the U.S. Most towns and villages have ZTLs. They are camera controlled. You will never see a policeman. You need to realize that there are all sorts of qualifying times and restrictions along with some ZTL signs. Before you go to Italy, take the time to look at ZTL signs, read websites that talk about the ZTL and even put the language on the signs into Google Translate to learn how they restrict the ZTLs. There are many that you are allowed to go through IF you are doing so during the permitted hours of the day, or permitted day of the week. (For instance, small towns might have ZTLs only active on one market day each week).
The sign shown on the right basically means NO ENTRY. You will see these on one way streets, some dead ends and other streets that for whatever reason you are not permitted to drive into.
 |  |
 No Through Road T is Not Just for Tabacchi No, this is not the sign for a tabacchi shop (although they look similar--see the sign below it). Tabacchi shop signs hang on a building. This is a street sign. It means NO THROUGH ROAD, although you may think of it as meaning DEAD END. Many Italian streets in small towns might go into two or three little streets but don't come out anywhere else. You would have to turn around or back up to get out, especially if they are like the incredibly narrow ones that I've experienced. You might also see a worded sign like the one below, which translated literally means, "Street Without Exit"--No Through Road. |  No Entry  Tobacco products and snacks |
Watch That Speed Limit!
Speed limit signs might be colored with a red circle or plain black and white or even blue. They might be square or rectangular. You have to keep in mind that Italy doesn't really function as one country with each province obeying the same standards and laws. Each region of Italy has separate deals with the national government, some are more independent than others and many set their own regulations.
So, if you see a number on the side of a road that looks like a speed limit, it most likely is, even though the sign might look a bit different than in other areas you've traveled through. This one (photo right) is pretty typical for most areas. Be aware of the difference between MPH and KPH. A posted 50 KPH means the limit is around 31 MPH. You'll see this going through local towns (or even slower). On the autostrada you will typically see 90 (55 MPH) or 120 (68 MPH). We set our TomTom (we called him Tommy) GPS to MPH and the rental car's speedometer was set to KPH, a good method to gauge your speed and learn what local speed limits translate to in terms of MPH, along with the feel of your speed on the road.
So, if you see a number on the side of a road that looks like a speed limit, it most likely is, even though the sign might look a bit different than in other areas you've traveled through. This one (photo right) is pretty typical for most areas. Be aware of the difference between MPH and KPH. A posted 50 KPH means the limit is around 31 MPH. You'll see this going through local towns (or even slower). On the autostrada you will typically see 90 (55 MPH) or 120 (68 MPH). We set our TomTom (we called him Tommy) GPS to MPH and the rental car's speedometer was set to KPH, a good method to gauge your speed and learn what local speed limits translate to in terms of MPH, along with the feel of your speed on the road.
Autovelox automated speed sensor and cameras ahead
Do NOT follow the speed of local drivers! They know where the cameras and speed traps are, or might be leaving the upcoming speed zone before the end of the averaging zone. You see, many speed zones sensors average your speed going through the entire zone and only take a picture of your license plate/tag number just after you leave the last part of the averaged speed zone. Many towns in Italy have such zones as a large regional road passes through their main street. Be careful and don't speed up, even if a local road hog is driving on your rear bumper.
There is also this sign (at the right). The END SPEED ZONE sign. You will see this sign coming out of towns to let you know you can speed up again.
Step on the gas, drive safely and enjoy the road ahead, that is, until you see the sign that we all recognize...
The STOP sign.
Unless you are Italian, of course... Then you simply ignore it.
--Jerry Finzi
Update 3/31/16: One of my Facebook amici offered an amusing way to remember the two basic types of signs in Italy:
"I triangoli sono di pericolo, I rotondi sono di divieto"
The triangles are of danger, the buttocks are of prohibition --Francesco Catalano
Step on the gas, drive safely and enjoy the road ahead, that is, until you see the sign that we all recognize...
The STOP sign.
Unless you are Italian, of course... Then you simply ignore it.
--Jerry Finzi
Update 3/31/16: One of my Facebook amici offered an amusing way to remember the two basic types of signs in Italy:
"I triangoli sono di pericolo, I rotondi sono di divieto"
The triangles are of danger, the buttocks are of prohibition --Francesco Catalano
Copyright, 2016 - Jerry Finzi, Grand Voyage Italy - All Rights Reserved
If you want to get a good feel for what Rome looked like about 2000 years ago, check out this wonderful animation with architectural recreations of the city... some things look remarkably like the Rome of today while other things will surprise and delight you. Click the video to travel back in time...
(ANSA) - Rome, June 30 - Italy is sweltering after a heat wave hit the peninsula on Tuesday.
The temperature is forecast to climb to up to 37° celsius (98 F ) in parts of Sardinia and the city of Bolzano, although the perceived heat will be as much as 40° (104 F) because of high levels of humidity. The worst-hit areas are predicted to have temperatures around 6° higher than the average for the time of year.
For Thursday the health ministry has put the cities of Bolzano, Brescia, Milan and Turin on orange alert for the heat, the second-highest on a scale of three, especially for the elderly, children and people suffering certain illnesses.
Basilicata in the south remains a bit cooler than the rest of the country, with some rain expected to give relief from the high temperatures.
Italy’s main zoo in Rome offered gelato to its orangutans with a choice of flavors, including fresh fruit and vegetables, or dried figs topped with eggs and insects.
The last major hot spell in 2003 caused an estimated 70,000 deaths in Europe, and Portugal has already recorded around 100 deaths over the normal mortality rate since temperatures rose at the weekend, its health authority said.
The temperature is forecast to climb to up to 37° celsius (98 F ) in parts of Sardinia and the city of Bolzano, although the perceived heat will be as much as 40° (104 F) because of high levels of humidity. The worst-hit areas are predicted to have temperatures around 6° higher than the average for the time of year.
For Thursday the health ministry has put the cities of Bolzano, Brescia, Milan and Turin on orange alert for the heat, the second-highest on a scale of three, especially for the elderly, children and people suffering certain illnesses.
Basilicata in the south remains a bit cooler than the rest of the country, with some rain expected to give relief from the high temperatures.
Italy’s main zoo in Rome offered gelato to its orangutans with a choice of flavors, including fresh fruit and vegetables, or dried figs topped with eggs and insects.
The last major hot spell in 2003 caused an estimated 70,000 deaths in Europe, and Portugal has already recorded around 100 deaths over the normal mortality rate since temperatures rose at the weekend, its health authority said.
Keeping cool in a Frigidarium Ancient Rome and Heat Waves:
The Romans were no strangers to the summer heat. In fact, the modern term: "the dog days of summer”" actually comes from the Latin 'dies canincula', the Roman term used to describe the stuffy, hot period of weather between July and mid-August. The name comes from the fact that Sirius (the dog star) rises with the sun at this time of year, –and Romans thought it was responsible for the increase in temperature.
Romans had a secret weapon to beat the heat... The frigidarium. This was a large cold pool at the Roman baths where Romans went to cool down. For the Romans, a daily visit to the baths was an essential social event as much as it was an exercise in personal hygiene.
The cold water of the frigidarium was a great place to freshen up after a hard day's toil and was also considered a good way to close your pores after bathing. The waters of the frigidarium were kept chilly in the summer months thanks to the addition of snow and ice that had been imported from the Alps.
Romans had another trick up their sleeve that continues in modern Italian culture today... The Ancient Romans did not do a nine-to-five day. In fact, the average Roman only had a six-hour workday, from sunrise until noon. This stopped them from having to labor during the hottest part of the day and left them with plenty of time to go to and sit in the frigidarium with their friends. Sound familiar? The Italians call it riposa... the Italian siesta... the three hour lunch.
Stay cool...
--Jerry Finzi
If you liked this post, please pass it around on your favorite social media site... ciao!
The Romans were no strangers to the summer heat. In fact, the modern term: "the dog days of summer”" actually comes from the Latin 'dies canincula', the Roman term used to describe the stuffy, hot period of weather between July and mid-August. The name comes from the fact that Sirius (the dog star) rises with the sun at this time of year, –and Romans thought it was responsible for the increase in temperature.
Romans had a secret weapon to beat the heat... The frigidarium. This was a large cold pool at the Roman baths where Romans went to cool down. For the Romans, a daily visit to the baths was an essential social event as much as it was an exercise in personal hygiene.
The cold water of the frigidarium was a great place to freshen up after a hard day's toil and was also considered a good way to close your pores after bathing. The waters of the frigidarium were kept chilly in the summer months thanks to the addition of snow and ice that had been imported from the Alps.
Romans had another trick up their sleeve that continues in modern Italian culture today... The Ancient Romans did not do a nine-to-five day. In fact, the average Roman only had a six-hour workday, from sunrise until noon. This stopped them from having to labor during the hottest part of the day and left them with plenty of time to go to and sit in the frigidarium with their friends. Sound familiar? The Italians call it riposa... the Italian siesta... the three hour lunch.
Stay cool...
--Jerry Finzi
If you liked this post, please pass it around on your favorite social media site... ciao!
Reaching to the heavens in Italy often manifested itself in the design and construction of free standing bell towers, defensive towers and privately owned towers built by successful merchants and aristocrats as a sign of their status and a protective measure in times of siege. The bell towers are known as campanili.
But some perhaps reached too high and built on sandy and clay soils or in areas frequented by earthquake. This resulted in some towers leaning, and even collapsing entirely (many were lost this way). Still, many are still with us... as the uber-famous Leaning Tower of Pisa. But there are other leaning towers in Italy...
But some perhaps reached too high and built on sandy and clay soils or in areas frequented by earthquake. This resulted in some towers leaning, and even collapsing entirely (many were lost this way). Still, many are still with us... as the uber-famous Leaning Tower of Pisa. But there are other leaning towers in Italy...
The Island of Burano, in the Venetian lagoon, is a contrast from the drab colors of Venice, having multicolored houses. The kaleidescope of colors is this island's main appeal, but it also has a leaning tower, the bell tower of the 15th century San Martino Church. The island is also known for lace making.
The Torre delle Milizie --Tower of the Militia--is a medieval tower in Rome located near Trajan's Market in the Imperial Forum. It is said to have been built between 1198 and 1216. An important medieval monument in Rome, the Torre delle Milizie measures 10.5 × 9.5 m at its base. The original height of the tower is unsure (it was taller when originally built), but following an earthquake in 1348, the top floors were removed as a safety measure, reducing the structure to the current height of 160 ft. The 1348 earthquake also resulted in the slight tilting of the structure to make it one of the many leaning towers of Italy.
Built in 1536 by Greek Orthodox refugees fleeing from Turkey during the rise of the Ottoman Empire, San Giorgio dei Greci has thin white bell tower. The tower was built in 1603 but it began to sink into the Venice lagoon from day one and still today has an pretty serious lean toward the canal.
Between the 12th and the 13th century, Bologna had as many as 180 towers but less than 20 are still standing today. Two of the most interesting are simply called the Two Towers, the taller named Asinelli is 318 feet tall and the shorter one called the Garisenda is 157 feet tall. They have become the symbol of Bologna. Both built in the early 1100s, Garisenda leans much more than Asinelli but being so close together, the effect of leaning is enhanced.
The imposing Church of San Pietro, was established in the 7th century. It has an obviously leaning bell tower (built by Codussi in 1482), and was the Cathedral of Venice from its origins in eighth century.The present building was built at the end of the 16th and in the first three decades of the 17th century. It contains the Throne of St Peter, a 13th century seat cut from a funeral stone and inscribed with words from the Koran.
Built in the 1100s, The Church of San Michele degli Scalzi in Pisa has a Lombard Romanesque bell tower measuring 75 feet tall. The city of Pisa is built on soil that is barely above sea level and is composed of an unstable sand-clay mix which caused not only the famous Leaning Tower to lean, but also San Michele deglie Scalzi's tower to lean toward the River Arno.
The late Renaissance bell tower of San Stefano in Venice, built in 1544, is tilted more than 7 feet from vertical. Its leaning is caused by problems in cellars under the tower - the original wooden pilings are in bad condition, and it was built on sandy lagoon sediments. Hopefully this beautiful bell tower will not follow the fate of the original St. Mark's Campanile which collapsed in 1902.
North of Lake Trasimeno in Perugia outside of the town of Vernazzano is a unique leaning tower. This tower is a remnant of an ancient castle built before 1089. Vernazzano was an important defensive unit along the ancient road that led from Perugia to Cortona and was inhabited from the 13th to the 16th centuries. It was abandoned by the 18th century when rocky mountain under it moved after a strong earthquake. This leaning tower is frequented by hikers, Driving to Vernazzano, parking and walking along a wooded path to the dangerously leaning tower. This tower is being held up by an installation of steel girders and cables.
The Cathedral of Modena boasts its own tilting tower known as Ghirlandina, taking its name from the two rows of garland-like balustrades which crown it. It is viewed by the people of Modena as the symbol of their city. Ghirlandina did not only have the religious function deriving from its status as cathedral tower, but was also a defensive tower used to store important civic documents and charters. It reaches upward next to the cathedral nearly 290 feet tall. It is a combination of two architectural styles: the original square base is in Romanesque style, while the octagonal and pyramidal upper parts are Gothic. Work on the upper part began in 1261 and was completed in 1319.
Dating from the 11th century, the Campanile of the Cathedral of Santo Stefano in Caorle, just east of Venice, is a wonderful example of Romanesque style of architecture. It stands a proud 148 feet tall and sports a conical spire above its cylindrical shape. It was more than likely built as a watchtower or lighthouse for this small port town before becoming a bell tower. The tower is tilted nearly 1.4 ° east-Southeast, around about 1/3 the lean of Pisa's famous tower.
Do Leaning Towers Ever Fall?
After the collapse of St. Mark's tower in 1902
In a word--Yes. As far as we know, Venice’s famous St. Mark’s Campanile wasn't even leaning before it collapsed. During its 500 years it had been repeatedly struck by lightning, burned and damaged in several earthquakes. It might have been best to scrap the whole thing and start over after having suffered so much damage. Instead, they simply rebuilt the damaged parts, occasionally adding more height (and more weight) to the tower that was originally constructed sometime between 1148 and 1157. That wasn’t the greatest idea, given that the tower’s foundation consists of no more than vertical oak pilings driven into a bed of clay in the lagoon, then filled in with sand.
It took 10 years and $88,000 to rebuild St. Mark's tower. It’s no big surprise that the tower finally collapsed on July 14th, 1902. A large crack formed in the morning, rising diagonally across the main corner buttress. Falling stones within the bell chamber prevented any fatalities by warning bystanders that something was amiss. A new tower, with a much sturdier iron foundation, was built in the lost tower’s image. That is the tower we see today.
Many other towers have also fallen throughout Italy's history. In a country so geologically active, it's inevitable. For example, in 2012, the 13th century Torre dei Modenesi in the town of Finale Emilia (the name is rather foreboding), was partially collapsed by an earthquake that also killed six people. Following an aftershock, it collapsed completely. In keeping with the Italian spirit, it proudly stands today, rebuilt by its stubborn residents.
Some collapsed towers aren't meant to be rebuilt, it seems. Such is the case with the Torre Civica of Pavia which collapsed without warning in 1989. The reason for its collapse is still not known--perhaps the reason it hasn't been rebuilt.
So, the next time you're in Italy and want to climb one of these towers, you might want to pause and imagine what it would feel like if even a small earthquake shook underneath your tower... Perhaps carry along a travel-parachute?
And if you're in Bologna and stop dead in your tracks, gasp and look up at the leaning Twin Towers, just make sure you're not standing in the direction of their lean...
--Jerry Finzi
And if you're in Bologna and stop dead in your tracks, gasp and look up at the leaning Twin Towers, just make sure you're not standing in the direction of their lean...
--Jerry Finzi
Copyright, 2017 Jerry Finzi/Grand Voyage Italy, All rights reserved
When booking an airline flight, which seats don't recline, which seats are too close to the lavatory, where the baby bassinet is located, the best seats for legroom, the type of in flight entertainment, where the power outlet is... Well, TripAdvisor's SeatGuru helps users book flights, pick seats, and even monitor the flight status. There is a website and an app with over 700 seat maps from over 100 airlines along with reviews.
Using the site or the app is pretty straightforward... enter the airline, flight number, and date of your upcoming flight, and it'll give you seat recommendations. You can discover which seats have extended legroom, a power outlet, or if they have a restricted recline, like the seats in front of the exit rows. The app is a free download for most hand-held devices.
In addition, SeatGuru has all sorts of helpful articles about all aspects of flying... favorite airports, advice on electronics, airport guides, traveling with pets, best airport lounges, etc. And their new tool is very helpful: flight booking with built-in seat recommendations.
All in all, this is another great tool for making your travel plans easier.... and your flight more comfortable.
--Jerry Finzi
Using the site or the app is pretty straightforward... enter the airline, flight number, and date of your upcoming flight, and it'll give you seat recommendations. You can discover which seats have extended legroom, a power outlet, or if they have a restricted recline, like the seats in front of the exit rows. The app is a free download for most hand-held devices.
In addition, SeatGuru has all sorts of helpful articles about all aspects of flying... favorite airports, advice on electronics, airport guides, traveling with pets, best airport lounges, etc. And their new tool is very helpful: flight booking with built-in seat recommendations.
All in all, this is another great tool for making your travel plans easier.... and your flight more comfortable.
--Jerry Finzi
This is a "Gozo", a traditional Amalfi Coast boat that we coulda-shoulda-woulda rented. Sigh. Most vacations just become memories, both through photos and in our mind's eye. We remember them fondly, recalling snippets of the good stuff... many become part of who we are, becoming anecdotes to ramble on about for years to come or being absorbed into our accumulative life matrix. But for some reason this time I'm experiencing something different--the dreaded regrets. Things we planned wrong or didn't make time for or simply forgot about.
For example, during the rushed haze of packing I forgot a very important element for visiting Molfetta and paying homage to my Dad. I have some of his hair in a locket that I cut on the day he passed. I always said to Dad that someday I'd take him back to Molfetta with me. My simple, sentimental plan was to take some of his hair and drop them into the sea in Molfetta harbor, perhaps with some flowers--bringing Saverio back home again. I realized I had forgotten the locket when I was flying over the Atlantic. This is why the plan changed for Lucas and I to bless ourselves in Molfetta sea water in his honor.
Another romantic idea was quashed when I forgot to print out a copy of our marriage vows to take with us. I thought it would be nice to renew our vows in Italy--we had just passed our 15th anniversary. I even researched how much it would cost to have a little ceremony... little church, a priest, some flowers... apparently a big--and expensive--business in Italy. Instead, I thought of reading our vows while up in our hot air balloon. But I forgot to bring them along. I had all sorts of other scanned documents on our devices (Lucas birth certificate, handicapped card, passports, credit card copies, etc.) but the vows? Nope. Babbo forgot. So while up in the balloon all I could squeak out was asking Lisa if she would marry me all over again--along with an apology about forgetting the vows. She did say, "Yes"... again.
The rest are more practical regrets. We should have gone to the Roman Forum instead of the Palatine Hill. It's more... er... monumental there. More research here would have helped... and a really good tourist map of the area. If we had just walked right instead of left the day we got trapped above the forum looking down on it all.
We should have shortened our Rome visit down to 2 days and added them to our Molfetta stay. This would have given us time to go to the town hall and research family history and to find the Finzi ancestors in the town cemetery. This would have given us more time to explore Puglia... we fell in love with the place. Caves, dinosaurs, Trulli, the rocky sea coast... the bread, pizza and the people.
I suppose we should have gone into Florence. The combination of heat, amazing crowds, conniving scammers and gypsies, the fear of ZTL tickets and our overworked legs got the best of us.
We also regret not visiting a single market in all of Italy. The market days move from town to town each day and we just kept missing them. In hindsight, we should have made visiting one of them THE thing to do rather than hitting another tourist site.
I know it was a matter of timing, but I really wanted to rent a boat in Amalfi and captain ourselves around that rocky, mountainous, grotto filled coastline. A similar rental would have been great along the coast near Molfetta, too. There are grottoes there aplenty and the clearest, cleanest water in all of Italy.
I could have asked Vito if I could have made my own pizza in his Forno Antica (which means Antique Oven). That would have rounded out my pizza expertise.
Both Lisa and I agree that we might have not done the Vatican Tour. Sure, in the end we got great photos of the art and magnificence from both the Museum and the Basilica, but we had more memorable times doing the simple things... like our picnic on the Isola in the river or walking through our Trastevere neighborhood. We are not well suited to waiting on long lines or doing the most popular things that tourists do. But even we fell a bit into the trap of that Must-Do Checklist that drives most tourists.
I would have rather have taken a taxi down to the Appian Way to take a stroll and have another picnic along those 2000 year old cobbles and tombs. Besides, it's still free to walk there (tickets are needed for the catacombs, however). I am pretty certain that in their wisdom, Rome will fence this off too and start charging just to take a walk, as they did on Palatine and the Forum.
In the end, Rome was not our most favorite place. It was far to dirty and graffiti-ed and crowded. The fear of being robbed was always in the back of our minds, whereas it never entered our minds while traveling the countryside or in Puglia.
And perhaps we should have stopped by a vineyard or two, although the fake, tourist wine experience of Mormoraia turned us off. It seems that most of these places cater only the tourist trade and are not really in the business of producing the great wines. There are cookie cutter agriturismo vineyards like this all over, but especially in Tuscany. That book (and film) Under the Tuscan Sun created a real tourist boon mostly filling buses with divorced aging hopeful romantics and pseudo wine connoisseurs who giddily pay ten times what that tourist swill is worth. For us, paying under five Euros a bottle at local alimentari for excellent wine was a more authentic experience.
The last thought is the timing of check-ins and check-outs. When check-in is at 3pm it really limits how you plan you days--especially when you have luggage in the trunk of the car to worry about. We had difficulty in finding locker storage in Italy. It might have been better for us to plan longer stays in less places so we could explore more. It's rough having to pack and unpack each time you move. And packing for a train travel day is even tougher... you don't have the car to just toss stuff into as you're leaving. And earlier morning checking out would have served us better, but try that when there are three to get fed and showered and out the door.
Either our Trullo or the Molfetta apartment would have made great travel hubs for exploring all of Puglia. And one central Tuscany location might have been more time saving than having to move from Cosona to Mormoraia after only two days (although we loved the southern Tuscany area).
I suppose many after returning from truly Grand Voyages think, "Coulda-Shoulda-Woulda" (in Italian, potrebbe avere, dovrebbe avere, avrebbe). Niente is perfect, but in the end our memories are perfetto.
--Jerry Finzi
Don't forget to SHARE this post with your friends, and let us know what you think by leaving a COMMENT. Gratzie!
For example, during the rushed haze of packing I forgot a very important element for visiting Molfetta and paying homage to my Dad. I have some of his hair in a locket that I cut on the day he passed. I always said to Dad that someday I'd take him back to Molfetta with me. My simple, sentimental plan was to take some of his hair and drop them into the sea in Molfetta harbor, perhaps with some flowers--bringing Saverio back home again. I realized I had forgotten the locket when I was flying over the Atlantic. This is why the plan changed for Lucas and I to bless ourselves in Molfetta sea water in his honor.
Another romantic idea was quashed when I forgot to print out a copy of our marriage vows to take with us. I thought it would be nice to renew our vows in Italy--we had just passed our 15th anniversary. I even researched how much it would cost to have a little ceremony... little church, a priest, some flowers... apparently a big--and expensive--business in Italy. Instead, I thought of reading our vows while up in our hot air balloon. But I forgot to bring them along. I had all sorts of other scanned documents on our devices (Lucas birth certificate, handicapped card, passports, credit card copies, etc.) but the vows? Nope. Babbo forgot. So while up in the balloon all I could squeak out was asking Lisa if she would marry me all over again--along with an apology about forgetting the vows. She did say, "Yes"... again.
The rest are more practical regrets. We should have gone to the Roman Forum instead of the Palatine Hill. It's more... er... monumental there. More research here would have helped... and a really good tourist map of the area. If we had just walked right instead of left the day we got trapped above the forum looking down on it all.
We should have shortened our Rome visit down to 2 days and added them to our Molfetta stay. This would have given us time to go to the town hall and research family history and to find the Finzi ancestors in the town cemetery. This would have given us more time to explore Puglia... we fell in love with the place. Caves, dinosaurs, Trulli, the rocky sea coast... the bread, pizza and the people.
I suppose we should have gone into Florence. The combination of heat, amazing crowds, conniving scammers and gypsies, the fear of ZTL tickets and our overworked legs got the best of us.
We also regret not visiting a single market in all of Italy. The market days move from town to town each day and we just kept missing them. In hindsight, we should have made visiting one of them THE thing to do rather than hitting another tourist site.
I know it was a matter of timing, but I really wanted to rent a boat in Amalfi and captain ourselves around that rocky, mountainous, grotto filled coastline. A similar rental would have been great along the coast near Molfetta, too. There are grottoes there aplenty and the clearest, cleanest water in all of Italy.
I could have asked Vito if I could have made my own pizza in his Forno Antica (which means Antique Oven). That would have rounded out my pizza expertise.
Both Lisa and I agree that we might have not done the Vatican Tour. Sure, in the end we got great photos of the art and magnificence from both the Museum and the Basilica, but we had more memorable times doing the simple things... like our picnic on the Isola in the river or walking through our Trastevere neighborhood. We are not well suited to waiting on long lines or doing the most popular things that tourists do. But even we fell a bit into the trap of that Must-Do Checklist that drives most tourists.
I would have rather have taken a taxi down to the Appian Way to take a stroll and have another picnic along those 2000 year old cobbles and tombs. Besides, it's still free to walk there (tickets are needed for the catacombs, however). I am pretty certain that in their wisdom, Rome will fence this off too and start charging just to take a walk, as they did on Palatine and the Forum.
In the end, Rome was not our most favorite place. It was far to dirty and graffiti-ed and crowded. The fear of being robbed was always in the back of our minds, whereas it never entered our minds while traveling the countryside or in Puglia.
And perhaps we should have stopped by a vineyard or two, although the fake, tourist wine experience of Mormoraia turned us off. It seems that most of these places cater only the tourist trade and are not really in the business of producing the great wines. There are cookie cutter agriturismo vineyards like this all over, but especially in Tuscany. That book (and film) Under the Tuscan Sun created a real tourist boon mostly filling buses with divorced aging hopeful romantics and pseudo wine connoisseurs who giddily pay ten times what that tourist swill is worth. For us, paying under five Euros a bottle at local alimentari for excellent wine was a more authentic experience.
The last thought is the timing of check-ins and check-outs. When check-in is at 3pm it really limits how you plan you days--especially when you have luggage in the trunk of the car to worry about. We had difficulty in finding locker storage in Italy. It might have been better for us to plan longer stays in less places so we could explore more. It's rough having to pack and unpack each time you move. And packing for a train travel day is even tougher... you don't have the car to just toss stuff into as you're leaving. And earlier morning checking out would have served us better, but try that when there are three to get fed and showered and out the door.
Either our Trullo or the Molfetta apartment would have made great travel hubs for exploring all of Puglia. And one central Tuscany location might have been more time saving than having to move from Cosona to Mormoraia after only two days (although we loved the southern Tuscany area).
I suppose many after returning from truly Grand Voyages think, "Coulda-Shoulda-Woulda" (in Italian, potrebbe avere, dovrebbe avere, avrebbe). Niente is perfect, but in the end our memories are perfetto.
--Jerry Finzi
Don't forget to SHARE this post with your friends, and let us know what you think by leaving a COMMENT. Gratzie!
 Chiusi Hertz off and the "Bridge" car pickup location at the end of the road.  Chiusi: Pick a car. Any car.  The Fiat 500L or "Large" as the Italians call it.  Florence Hertz: Office on left - Garage on right  Naples skid row Hertz office.  Zoom in to see the teeny Hertz logo that Lucas spotted halfway down this side street.  Just look at how wide the Volvo is compared to the Fiat 500. Photographed on the Amalfi Coast Road  Hertz Bari office, most likely closed for a long lunch. | Renting cars in Italy should be easy, right? I mean, we have all sorts of websites dedicated to finding you the best deal, and many big, familiar companies offering their services direct for renting a car in Italy. So, we researched and read reviews, checked prices, thought long and hard about our needs and locations to pickup and drop off cars and we decided on Hertz. Since after landing in Rome our first leg of the trip would be in Tuscany, we decided on the small town in south-eastern Tuscany called Chiusi Scalo ("Scalo" means the town is a train station town). One of the main problems in organizing a trip like this is trying to coordinate time of train arrivals and departures with the hours that car rental offices are open. They typically close (like most things in Italy) between 12 to 3 pm. We arrived in Chuisi just after 1pm and needed to kill some time (as tired as we were) so we found a trattoria about 3 blocks walk from the station--1 block away from the Hertz office--with our baggage in tow. (No lockers in the train station). After replenishing ourselves, we walked over to the Hertz office where 2 other couples were already waiting for the place to reopen. One young man worked there. We waited about half hour until he got to us and I jokingly asked where do Italians go during their long 3 hour lunch? He got a little miffed and snapped back, "How long is your work day in the U.S.?" I said most work until 5 or 6pm and then he exclaimed, "But WE work until 7!" Uh, yea... because you just had a three hour lunch and and need to catch up! Jeepers. Italians complain about unemployment and don't understand that their inneffective customs have screwed their economy. They should have two people working in an office like this... stagger their lunch HOURs and then they'd be going home at 5 instead of 7! Ok, now to the good part. Picking up the car. In Italy (I was to find out later) rental companies don't have the car ready and waiting for you at their office. They don't have rental kiosks in train stations. After getting the keys I asked where is the car. He said "Down the street under the bridge". It started to rain like crazy as we walked (dragging luggage) the 1/4 mile to the pot hole ridden, puddled street where we had to find our particular car out of many... there were more than one Fiat 500L "grey" (it turned out it was black). No one checked out the car... I had to do it. And had to go back when I noticed a few dings and a broken trunk cover that weren't on the paperwork I was given. So... laziness on their part? Returning the car in Florence wasn't so bad, BUT you really have to know your way around the dreaded ZTL cameras (Zona Traffico Limitato). If you pass into one of these zones by mistake you'll get a ticket sent to the U.S. in 6 months to a year. Once we got to the address ( I had run the route previously on Google Earth street view) it was difficult to know where to go. There are a couple of rental offices on both sides of this street and they display many small signs from various well known rental companies. In Italy you are not dealing with Hertz--you are dealing with a local rental broker. |
We found the indoor garage across from what I thought was the Hertz office and drove inside. The people were friendly, polite but spoke little English. (By this time I was getting pretty brave with my Italian). This is where Lucas and I discovered a Turkish toilet--the crouch down type with a hole in the middle of a flat piece of porcelain. I digress... After this, it was a long five block walk, dragging luggage (we have the hand truck type with small wheels) behind, over cobblestones and on sidewalks that were nearly too narrow for one person. When we got to the station there was a large flight of steps to get up before entering the station... not very handicapped accessible, like the rest of Italy. Again, no rental office or drop off AT the station.
Now, the real nightmare: Naples Hertz. Naples Centrale Station is so large it was difficult to get our bearings (and the data plan wasn't activated yet on our phones, so I couldn't use the Maps app). We had to cross over an extremely busy viale where people do not pay any attention to signs, speed limits, other cars, pedestrians or stop lights. I was really worried about Lucas getting across dragging his large backpack rig along. Then it was a two block walk along one of the most sleazy streets I've seen yet. Filthy, druggies, gypsies, stench and drunks amid the rush of normal workaday people pushing past it all.
This was also one of the hottest days yet... we were all sweating when we finally got to the Hertz office, a tiny space with a garage door pull-down and--of course--no air conditioning. This office did have tw0 young men working there. But it seemed they were working tandem on each person (there were a few people ahead of us). They couldn't seem to handle taking care of two customers at one time. We did the paperwork and they gave me the keys telling me the car was in a "parking lot" 30 meters down the street across the busy viale--again. This time, there were no lights, no crosswalks and a major "rotary" intersection to get across. Just getting across the street was a real effort... and dangerous for Hertz to have their customers do.
Ok... 30 meters? Try 359 meters (I measured it on Earth). This walk was also hairy... past a sleezy train station hotel with hookers, panhandlers, gypsies and filth, the stink of urine. This taught me that everything I read is true... Naples is a sewer. Literally.
We couldn't find the "parking lot" until Lucas spotted a small Hertz logo on a building around the corner from the street they said it was on. It was a run down indoor hourly parking garage. So, that's where they hide their rental cars! The next surprise came when they seemed puzzled that I expected an automatic "Fiat 500L or similar compact" as per my contract (I reserved months ago). The best they could do was give me an automatic Volvo "soove"(SUV) he said. This thing was big--and dirty. He asked if I would like it washed. Of course, I said. He said it would take over half an hour... forget it, I said. We were trying to get to the next check-in in Amalfi to meet the caretaker. So, we got stuck with this wide vehicle, not the Fiat 500L that I had originally booked. And this wasn't even in the same "compact" class of car. It was a move up the tier... which I didn't want... especially considering the narrow, twisty roads that I knew were in my near future.
Returning this car wasn't all that bad, aside from the insane drivers in Bari. This office had three people working there, and still, NO air conditioning. At least, the Hertz person there offered to drive us to the station since he had to drive the Volvo across town to their garage location. (I'm glad I didn't have to pick up a car here!) I was happy for that, because otherwise it would have meant walking 4 blocks in a seedy, train station neighborhood, then carrying luggage down and then up stairs to get under the train tracks at the station. You see, in their wisdom, the Bari Hertz people have their rental office on the back side-- the proverbial wrong side of the tracks--from Bari Centrale Station. There's an underground tunnel going from the Hertz neighborhood side to the main part of the station, where you must enter to get to any train platforms. Again... no kiosk right at the station? Nope, that would make troppo senso (too much sense)!
Renting a car from Hertz in Italia is a truly painful experience. Beware... and look elsewhere.
--Jerry Finzi
Now, the real nightmare: Naples Hertz. Naples Centrale Station is so large it was difficult to get our bearings (and the data plan wasn't activated yet on our phones, so I couldn't use the Maps app). We had to cross over an extremely busy viale where people do not pay any attention to signs, speed limits, other cars, pedestrians or stop lights. I was really worried about Lucas getting across dragging his large backpack rig along. Then it was a two block walk along one of the most sleazy streets I've seen yet. Filthy, druggies, gypsies, stench and drunks amid the rush of normal workaday people pushing past it all.
This was also one of the hottest days yet... we were all sweating when we finally got to the Hertz office, a tiny space with a garage door pull-down and--of course--no air conditioning. This office did have tw0 young men working there. But it seemed they were working tandem on each person (there were a few people ahead of us). They couldn't seem to handle taking care of two customers at one time. We did the paperwork and they gave me the keys telling me the car was in a "parking lot" 30 meters down the street across the busy viale--again. This time, there were no lights, no crosswalks and a major "rotary" intersection to get across. Just getting across the street was a real effort... and dangerous for Hertz to have their customers do.
Ok... 30 meters? Try 359 meters (I measured it on Earth). This walk was also hairy... past a sleezy train station hotel with hookers, panhandlers, gypsies and filth, the stink of urine. This taught me that everything I read is true... Naples is a sewer. Literally.
We couldn't find the "parking lot" until Lucas spotted a small Hertz logo on a building around the corner from the street they said it was on. It was a run down indoor hourly parking garage. So, that's where they hide their rental cars! The next surprise came when they seemed puzzled that I expected an automatic "Fiat 500L or similar compact" as per my contract (I reserved months ago). The best they could do was give me an automatic Volvo "soove"(SUV) he said. This thing was big--and dirty. He asked if I would like it washed. Of course, I said. He said it would take over half an hour... forget it, I said. We were trying to get to the next check-in in Amalfi to meet the caretaker. So, we got stuck with this wide vehicle, not the Fiat 500L that I had originally booked. And this wasn't even in the same "compact" class of car. It was a move up the tier... which I didn't want... especially considering the narrow, twisty roads that I knew were in my near future.
Returning this car wasn't all that bad, aside from the insane drivers in Bari. This office had three people working there, and still, NO air conditioning. At least, the Hertz person there offered to drive us to the station since he had to drive the Volvo across town to their garage location. (I'm glad I didn't have to pick up a car here!) I was happy for that, because otherwise it would have meant walking 4 blocks in a seedy, train station neighborhood, then carrying luggage down and then up stairs to get under the train tracks at the station. You see, in their wisdom, the Bari Hertz people have their rental office on the back side-- the proverbial wrong side of the tracks--from Bari Centrale Station. There's an underground tunnel going from the Hertz neighborhood side to the main part of the station, where you must enter to get to any train platforms. Again... no kiosk right at the station? Nope, that would make troppo senso (too much sense)!
Renting a car from Hertz in Italia is a truly painful experience. Beware... and look elsewhere.
--Jerry Finzi
They sure make renting a car in Italy look sexy, don't they?
The Naples reality. And no, those aren't awaiting rental cars.
Hertz in Italy is not the same Hertz in the States. They are independent brokers. They treat people politely on the surface but insult us with the slap on the face they call "Service". "For your convenience" really means "for our convenience". Returning a car to Florence, for example, is not convenient. Instead of being open 24 hours at train station and airport locations, they open at 8, close completely for a few hours at lunch (even when more than one person is manning the office and they could easily stagger lunch hours), and close by 7 at night. They complain about no jobs and failing economy... Gee... I wonder why it is failing?
Then do they put pickup/return offices at a desk IN the train station? No. You have to drag your luggage several blocks from the station to their office through through the typically sleezy and dangerous streets to find them. Are there signs at the huge train station at least telling you which direction to head? No. (Naples Central is about a kilometer wide... Hertz about 1/4 mile away from the closest exit... over very rough cobbles). Also, when returning cars to Florence, you have to be incredibly careful about NOT driving into the ZTL (no drive zone, or Zona Traffico Limitato) or six months after your trip you'll get a very expensive summons from one of the many ZTL cameras. (BTW, these are legitimate fines, not scams. Learn about the ZTLs HERE and HERE).
And to top it all off, they never bring the car to you. In Chiusi we had to walk in the rain, dragging luggage over a quarter mile and get the car parked near a bridge. In Florence they actually give you a map to get to the garage. He told us it was a parking lot, but Lucas noticed the teeny Hertz sign on a garage building that also does hourly parking. He said it was a one minute walk only "30 meters" across the street and around the corner... it was more like 1000 meters. We had to pass all sorts of low-lifes, smells and filth. I was seriously worried about our safety. Oh yea... and that street in front of their office that we have to cross? No crosswalk... a very busy intersection with cars jostling to get onto the nearby interstrada.
Hertz in Italy is just a logo... a method used by schemers to latch onto a good company name and deliver a dumbed down, lazy Italian style service... "for your convenience... for your convenience..." Yea, right.
Oh... the last straw: months ago I booked a compact class Fiat 500L automatic for our southern part of the journey... especially to help navigate the twisty, mountainous, narrow roads of the Almafi Coast. They didn't have automatic in compact class so I wound up getting a a very wide Volvo SUV. It was diesel, which saves money on gas, but Lucas said it sounded just like his schoolbus (it did). Oh, and they gave it to me dirty... then asked if I wanted it washed. I said yes. He said "another 20 minutes" which in Italy means over an hour... or so. I said no since we still had to get over the mountains to our Amalfi apartment where the caretaker was expecting us as a set time.
Such is car renting in Italia. I'd love to hear from others about their experiences with other Italian rental companies (i.e., brokers) to see if it makes any difference. I doubt it, though. For instance, the Florence in-town location also had logos of other rental companies. The experience would be the same no matter what logo you decide to rent with.
--Jerry Finzi
P.S. If you like what you've read, please LIKE us on Facebook and SHARE us with your friends who might also be interested. Gratzie!
Then do they put pickup/return offices at a desk IN the train station? No. You have to drag your luggage several blocks from the station to their office through through the typically sleezy and dangerous streets to find them. Are there signs at the huge train station at least telling you which direction to head? No. (Naples Central is about a kilometer wide... Hertz about 1/4 mile away from the closest exit... over very rough cobbles). Also, when returning cars to Florence, you have to be incredibly careful about NOT driving into the ZTL (no drive zone, or Zona Traffico Limitato) or six months after your trip you'll get a very expensive summons from one of the many ZTL cameras. (BTW, these are legitimate fines, not scams. Learn about the ZTLs HERE and HERE).
And to top it all off, they never bring the car to you. In Chiusi we had to walk in the rain, dragging luggage over a quarter mile and get the car parked near a bridge. In Florence they actually give you a map to get to the garage. He told us it was a parking lot, but Lucas noticed the teeny Hertz sign on a garage building that also does hourly parking. He said it was a one minute walk only "30 meters" across the street and around the corner... it was more like 1000 meters. We had to pass all sorts of low-lifes, smells and filth. I was seriously worried about our safety. Oh yea... and that street in front of their office that we have to cross? No crosswalk... a very busy intersection with cars jostling to get onto the nearby interstrada.
Hertz in Italy is just a logo... a method used by schemers to latch onto a good company name and deliver a dumbed down, lazy Italian style service... "for your convenience... for your convenience..." Yea, right.
Oh... the last straw: months ago I booked a compact class Fiat 500L automatic for our southern part of the journey... especially to help navigate the twisty, mountainous, narrow roads of the Almafi Coast. They didn't have automatic in compact class so I wound up getting a a very wide Volvo SUV. It was diesel, which saves money on gas, but Lucas said it sounded just like his schoolbus (it did). Oh, and they gave it to me dirty... then asked if I wanted it washed. I said yes. He said "another 20 minutes" which in Italy means over an hour... or so. I said no since we still had to get over the mountains to our Amalfi apartment where the caretaker was expecting us as a set time.
Such is car renting in Italia. I'd love to hear from others about their experiences with other Italian rental companies (i.e., brokers) to see if it makes any difference. I doubt it, though. For instance, the Florence in-town location also had logos of other rental companies. The experience would be the same no matter what logo you decide to rent with.
--Jerry Finzi
P.S. If you like what you've read, please LIKE us on Facebook and SHARE us with your friends who might also be interested. Gratzie!
Lucas relaxing at 135 MPH after our bread and honey lunch. After Molfetta we drove to Bari... a 25 minute drive on the Autostrada. The driving on the streets of Bari was a bit stressful due to crazy streets, no stop signs, yield signs when no one knows how to yield, scooters suddenly appearing on either side, and cars simply pulling out of intersections forcing me to stop. Driving in Manhattan is a stress free experience compared to this stuff. Needless to say when we saw the Hertz sign there was a collective sigh of relief... Driving in this nutty Italia is finito, completo, fine, full stop. Done. Whew.
Returning the car was painless enough. They even offered to drive us over to the station, avoiding a three block walk dragging luggage, and going down a flight of stairs to a tunnel under the tracks, then back up to the main platform. (Why don't they have car rental offices right at the train stations here?!) They dropped us off right in front of Bari Centrale. Great.
We waited over an hour for the train, then suddenly realized we forgot to get some lunch for the ride... I bought a few snacks and drink from a vending machine... the train pulled in at 1:17pm. Duh. Train arriving right around lunch. Duh, Babbo.
The train was pretty crowded so negotiating luggage was a task. Once we got moving we were fine... train travel here is actually very comfy. Babbo saved the day by cutting up some Altamura bread (still fresh) and getting out thick Tuscan Millefiore honey, cacciacavallo cheese and Nutella for lunch. It satisfied us. We nap a bit, play word games, Lucas plays Minecraft on a Kindle, we snack, more water and Fanta and in four hours we arrived in Rome Termini Station... one of the busiest stations I've ever been in. There are multiple trains pulling in several minutes apart, people everywhere, the signs are not too apparent... yikes. I mean, I've dealt with New York's Penn and Grand Central stations in my life, but I've never seen anything like this.
Then the we couldn't find our driver... they usually hold a card with your name on it and stand by the platform your train comes in on... but no driver and the throngs were so thick it was hard to see through them. A phone call and 15 minutes later, our fast talking, older, yet chic driver Cicelia showed up outside and took us to Gensola, our neat apartment in the Trastevere district... a cool, workaday yet trendy part of town which reminded me of Greenwich Village.
Returning the car was painless enough. They even offered to drive us over to the station, avoiding a three block walk dragging luggage, and going down a flight of stairs to a tunnel under the tracks, then back up to the main platform. (Why don't they have car rental offices right at the train stations here?!) They dropped us off right in front of Bari Centrale. Great.
We waited over an hour for the train, then suddenly realized we forgot to get some lunch for the ride... I bought a few snacks and drink from a vending machine... the train pulled in at 1:17pm. Duh. Train arriving right around lunch. Duh, Babbo.
The train was pretty crowded so negotiating luggage was a task. Once we got moving we were fine... train travel here is actually very comfy. Babbo saved the day by cutting up some Altamura bread (still fresh) and getting out thick Tuscan Millefiore honey, cacciacavallo cheese and Nutella for lunch. It satisfied us. We nap a bit, play word games, Lucas plays Minecraft on a Kindle, we snack, more water and Fanta and in four hours we arrived in Rome Termini Station... one of the busiest stations I've ever been in. There are multiple trains pulling in several minutes apart, people everywhere, the signs are not too apparent... yikes. I mean, I've dealt with New York's Penn and Grand Central stations in my life, but I've never seen anything like this.
Then the we couldn't find our driver... they usually hold a card with your name on it and stand by the platform your train comes in on... but no driver and the throngs were so thick it was hard to see through them. A phone call and 15 minutes later, our fast talking, older, yet chic driver Cicelia showed up outside and took us to Gensola, our neat apartment in the Trastevere district... a cool, workaday yet trendy part of town which reminded me of Greenwich Village.
Lucas settling into our Trastevere apartment.
Our apartment is called Gensola in Trastevere. The first floor apartment is modern, stylish and very comfortable. Two bedrooms and two modern baths and a kitchenette on a ground floor of a teeny piazza with steps leading up to the Lugatevere, the road alongside the banks of the Tiber River. Cold air conditioning, powerful water pressure and comfy beds made this place a hit with all of us. Perfect.
And no more driving... I just hope my feet hold up with all the walking I know is ahead of us....
--Jerry F.
And no more driving... I just hope my feet hold up with all the walking I know is ahead of us....
--Jerry F.
A disturbing painting of Vesuvius on the wall at Le Cicale.
"We Three" on the terrace at Le Cicale. Yesterday we got out of Naples as fast as we could... the Interstrada got us past Mount Vesuvius (the top was in the clouds) and helped get us to the mountain pass that took us to the Amalfi Coast and La Cicale, our apartment above the Tyrrhenian Sea for the next three days. The roads up were very curvy with more and more switchbacks bringing us to higher altitudes. The rugged mountains and cliffs amazed us. Then the hill villages came... where the real people of Amalfi do their living... and shopping. We took advantage and stopped for bread, pasta, butter, eggs and various supplies. The shopkeepers were very sweet, helpful and friendly even considering the language barrier.
We got to Cicale and no one was there at first... so we called. Then Stefania (Lucas calls her "with the hairy armpits") showed up and took a while to show us around. It was odd, she spent too much time showing us each and every room, nook and cranny. She seemed on the nosy side. (We were tired and just wanted to cook a meal, eat and hit the sack.) After about half an hour, I managed to get her to leave us in peace in our new apartment.
Cicale is amazing... 2000 feet above the sea, a private balcony on each bedroom and our own terrace overlooking the sea. The views are breathtaking. You look our over the glistening Tyrrhenian and barely see the horizon blending into the sky. There is a view down into our cut in the mountains into the Furore Fiord and the amazing bridge that travels over it. The Fiord is a jagged cut out of the mountain that has a little sandy beach under the bridge.
We got to Cicale and no one was there at first... so we called. Then Stefania (Lucas calls her "with the hairy armpits") showed up and took a while to show us around. It was odd, she spent too much time showing us each and every room, nook and cranny. She seemed on the nosy side. (We were tired and just wanted to cook a meal, eat and hit the sack.) After about half an hour, I managed to get her to leave us in peace in our new apartment.
Cicale is amazing... 2000 feet above the sea, a private balcony on each bedroom and our own terrace overlooking the sea. The views are breathtaking. You look our over the glistening Tyrrhenian and barely see the horizon blending into the sky. There is a view down into our cut in the mountains into the Furore Fiord and the amazing bridge that travels over it. The Fiord is a jagged cut out of the mountain that has a little sandy beach under the bridge.
There is a fully equipped kitchen (with oven), bath and shower, two big bedrooms and tons of decorative Amalfi tile (they're known for ceramics and lemons here). Two large shuttered patio doors lead our onto our private terrace. A great place to eat and watch the sea. Each bedroom has double doors that lead out onto private Juliet balconies. However, as usual, there is spotty Internet, spotty water heater, no ice cube trays and no air conditioning here... although sleeping should be cool with the shutters and sea breezes. I'd hate to stay here in summer, though. Unlike our last place, Cicale came with a nice assortment of coffee, tea jams, breads and basic kitchen spices. And we went shopping before we got here so we are ready to cook!
Night time fell and so did we...
The next morning I awoke to a glistening sea sunrise, the smell of more olive prunings being burned, an old neighbor on the terraced house below us coming out and picking tomatoes, the beep beep of cars going around the downhill curve we are on, wall climbing lizards and flowering bougainvillea. We had jam, honey, nutella, sweet bread and cornettos for collatzione and headed out into paradise--at least it LOOKS like paradise...
Night time fell and so did we...
The next morning I awoke to a glistening sea sunrise, the smell of more olive prunings being burned, an old neighbor on the terraced house below us coming out and picking tomatoes, the beep beep of cars going around the downhill curve we are on, wall climbing lizards and flowering bougainvillea. We had jam, honey, nutella, sweet bread and cornettos for collatzione and headed out into paradise--at least it LOOKS like paradise...
Lisa was beside herself with each curve and near miss I maneuvered. Most roads are at the edge of cliffs 500-2000 feet high above the sea, with either a low stone wall or a weak looking metal fence between us and going airborne. Sure, I have an automatic, which helps, but it's a very wide car for these roads. There are times when oncoming cars force you so far over to the wall or cliff face that my parking collision sensor alarms trip off.
By the way, even though it seems like the Italians are driving at breakneck speeds, it's really slow going on the Amalfi Coast. Even though the entire Coast Road from the Masse Lubrense mountain to Salerno is only about 30 miles, it could easily take you 3 hours to travel the whole thing (more in the stagnant summer traffic). This is what makes these crazy, speeding, careless Italian drivers even more ridiculous. Even though their mindset is as if they are in the Mille Miglia or Grand Prix, their average speed on the Coast Road is about 10 miles an hour. Speed like crazy 'til you hug the next car's rear bumper... then wait a minute or three until... yes... pass him on the next curve! Bravo! Ok... now the next rear bumper...
While the driving is the hell in this paradise, the views are astounding. I just can't look for too long while I'm driving. Still, this place is one of the most beautiful I've ever been to. The architecture, the tiled domes on the churches, the rugged cliffs above, the terraced olive and lemon groves, the rocky shoreline and sea below and the castle towers on just about every promontory. In places it's like I've walked right into a Maxfield Parrish painting. The driving. Well, the driving is hell. I love driving curvy roads, but it's not so much the roads as dealing with the drivers here. First of all, I am SO glad I have an automatic for Amalfi driving. One less thing to think about while maneuvering on roads barely wide enough for a Fiat 500, no less huge buses. Our Volvo SUV is way to wide for comfort here. I wish I had gotten a Fiat 500L like I had originally reserved. Most roads have dangerous curves and drastic changes in altitude via switchbacks... on one road alone I counted six hairpin switchbacks bringing up over a thousand feet. Some of the hairpin turns are so sharp that the turning circle of the Volvo can barely make it across both lanes. And the drivers... they are crazy! Pazzo! The locals go speeding around blind curves, crossing over lines (if there are any lines), hugging your rear and passing where there isn't space to pass--and on curves, too! The motorcyclists and scooters are even worse. They ride right down the middle as it it's another invisible lane. People are in the habit of beeping several times when going around blind curves. There are also convex mirrors on lots of turns but they don't help much.
And then there are the tourist buses. I read once that these buses are narrow--specially built for narrow Italian roads like the Coast Drive. Nonsense. These are huge. Some are like those monster buses you see taking rock groups on tours in the States. I also read that--for safety--they only went one direction on the Coast Road. Again.. nonsense. I've seen them going both ways, so it's possible you have a bus tailgating you while another is trying to come in the opposite direction taking up more than one lane. I've even seen tandem trailers on the Amalfi Coast Road. How they get through the very tight one lane villages is beyond me.
By the way, even though it seems like the Italians are driving at breakneck speeds, it's really slow going on the Amalfi Coast. Even though the entire Coast Road from the Masse Lubrense mountain to Salerno is only about 30 miles, it could easily take you 3 hours to travel the whole thing (more in the stagnant summer traffic). This is what makes these crazy, speeding, careless Italian drivers even more ridiculous. Even though their mindset is as if they are in the Mille Miglia or Grand Prix, their average speed on the Coast Road is about 10 miles an hour. Speed like crazy 'til you hug the next car's rear bumper... then wait a minute or three until... yes... pass him on the next curve! Bravo! Ok... now the next rear bumper...
While the driving is the hell in this paradise, the views are astounding. I just can't look for too long while I'm driving. Still, this place is one of the most beautiful I've ever been to. The architecture, the tiled domes on the churches, the rugged cliffs above, the terraced olive and lemon groves, the rocky shoreline and sea below and the castle towers on just about every promontory. In places it's like I've walked right into a Maxfield Parrish painting. The driving. Well, the driving is hell. I love driving curvy roads, but it's not so much the roads as dealing with the drivers here. First of all, I am SO glad I have an automatic for Amalfi driving. One less thing to think about while maneuvering on roads barely wide enough for a Fiat 500, no less huge buses. Our Volvo SUV is way to wide for comfort here. I wish I had gotten a Fiat 500L like I had originally reserved. Most roads have dangerous curves and drastic changes in altitude via switchbacks... on one road alone I counted six hairpin switchbacks bringing up over a thousand feet. Some of the hairpin turns are so sharp that the turning circle of the Volvo can barely make it across both lanes. And the drivers... they are crazy! Pazzo! The locals go speeding around blind curves, crossing over lines (if there are any lines), hugging your rear and passing where there isn't space to pass--and on curves, too! The motorcyclists and scooters are even worse. They ride right down the middle as it it's another invisible lane. People are in the habit of beeping several times when going around blind curves. There are also convex mirrors on lots of turns but they don't help much.
And then there are the tourist buses. I read once that these buses are narrow--specially built for narrow Italian roads like the Coast Drive. Nonsense. These are huge. Some are like those monster buses you see taking rock groups on tours in the States. I also read that--for safety--they only went one direction on the Coast Road. Again.. nonsense. I've seen them going both ways, so it's possible you have a bus tailgating you while another is trying to come in the opposite direction taking up more than one lane. I've even seen tandem trailers on the Amalfi Coast Road. How they get through the very tight one lane villages is beyond me.
Lisa was beside herself with each curve and near miss I maneuvered. Most roads are at the edge of cliffs 500-2000 feet high above the sea, with either a low stone wall or a weak looking metal fence between us and going airborne. Sure, I have an automatic, which helps, but it's a very wide car for these roads. There are times when oncoming cars force you so far over to the wall or cliff face that my parking collision sensor alarms trip off.
By the way, even though it seems like the Italians are driving at breakneck speeds, it's really slow going on the Amalfi Coast. Even though the entire Coast Road from the Masse Lubrense mountain to Salerno is only about 30 miles, it could easily take you 3 hours to travel the whole thing (more in the stagnant summer traffic). This is what makes these crazy, speeding, careless Italian drivers even more ridiculous. Even though their mindset is as if they are in the Mille Miglia or Grand Prix, their average speed on the Coast Road is about 10 miles an hour. Speed like crazy 'til you hug the next car's rear bumper... then wait a minute or three until... yes... pass him on the next curve! Bravo! Ok... now the next rear bumper...
While the driving is the hell in this paradise, the views are astounding. I just can't look for too long while I'm driving. Still, this place is one of the most beautiful I've ever been to. The architecture, the tiled domes on the churches, the rugged cliffs above, the terraced olive and lemon groves, the rocky shoreline and sea below and the castle towers on just about every promontory. In places it's like I've walked right into a Maxfield Parrish painting.
By the way, even though it seems like the Italians are driving at breakneck speeds, it's really slow going on the Amalfi Coast. Even though the entire Coast Road from the Masse Lubrense mountain to Salerno is only about 30 miles, it could easily take you 3 hours to travel the whole thing (more in the stagnant summer traffic). This is what makes these crazy, speeding, careless Italian drivers even more ridiculous. Even though their mindset is as if they are in the Mille Miglia or Grand Prix, their average speed on the Coast Road is about 10 miles an hour. Speed like crazy 'til you hug the next car's rear bumper... then wait a minute or three until... yes... pass him on the next curve! Bravo! Ok... now the next rear bumper...
While the driving is the hell in this paradise, the views are astounding. I just can't look for too long while I'm driving. Still, this place is one of the most beautiful I've ever been to. The architecture, the tiled domes on the churches, the rugged cliffs above, the terraced olive and lemon groves, the rocky shoreline and sea below and the castle towers on just about every promontory. In places it's like I've walked right into a Maxfield Parrish painting.
One of the craziest drives was the one heading up to Ravello, a very artsy and musically important town clinging to the cliffs high above the sea. We strolled through Rufulo Gardens for its beautiful gardens, architecture and amazing views. The views from the terraced garden walls were unbelievable... like we were up on top of the beanstalk in the Giant's cloud looking down. We then had a simple lunch on the Piazza listening to street musicians singing old fashioned songs like Volare, but still lots of fun.
We then drove to a treat for Lucas--Vietri sul Mare, a town know for ceramics and tiles. (Lucas has taken several pottery classes.) We first visited the Solimene Ceremica factory. The building itself is a work of art looking like a modern interpretation of a castle covered with tile. It was designed and built by built in 1954 but looks like it was designed and built this year, aside from its deferred maintenance.
The place was full of pottery workers... few customers. It's not exactly a retail space, although you can walk right in. We saw all sorts of pottery and tiles... masks, fish, mermaids, monsters and of course bowls and other vessels. We wandered around and went to each worker to watch them work... one even let Lucas try his hand at putting a handle on a cup. Lucas was impressed with their bowl molding machine and how fast the artisans painted each plate with brightly colored glaze. One worker was making glaze in a huge vat, which made the 5 gallon buckets of glaze in Lucas' pottery class seem tiny. We tried to catch a girl's attention in the office to ask about buying something, but she ignored us. There were no prices on anything, although all sorts of things were strewn all around the place. It was impossible to buy things here. (A note from December, 2014: I finally bought Lisa some Solimene pasta bowls from an importer for Christmas at ridiculous prices... and she loves them).
Next we walked on a nearby street where every other shop is selling ceramics... most were artisan shops. Every shop facade was a one of a kind work of art in tile. We bought some things from one shop (a chicken pitcher and some mini bowls for Lucas' classmates) and started to head back to Le Cicale for another home cooked meal.
The place was full of pottery workers... few customers. It's not exactly a retail space, although you can walk right in. We saw all sorts of pottery and tiles... masks, fish, mermaids, monsters and of course bowls and other vessels. We wandered around and went to each worker to watch them work... one even let Lucas try his hand at putting a handle on a cup. Lucas was impressed with their bowl molding machine and how fast the artisans painted each plate with brightly colored glaze. One worker was making glaze in a huge vat, which made the 5 gallon buckets of glaze in Lucas' pottery class seem tiny. We tried to catch a girl's attention in the office to ask about buying something, but she ignored us. There were no prices on anything, although all sorts of things were strewn all around the place. It was impossible to buy things here. (A note from December, 2014: I finally bought Lisa some Solimene pasta bowls from an importer for Christmas at ridiculous prices... and she loves them).
Next we walked on a nearby street where every other shop is selling ceramics... most were artisan shops. Every shop facade was a one of a kind work of art in tile. We bought some things from one shop (a chicken pitcher and some mini bowls for Lucas' classmates) and started to head back to Le Cicale for another home cooked meal.
Of course, the ride home was tense... 15 minutes of traffic before we could even turn around to go back in the opposite direction on the Coast Road. This time I was graceful as a dancer around each curve... like a boxer bobbing and weaving to avoid the oncoming idiots. We made it back safely, thank God.
Dinner tonight was gnocchi with tomatoes, provolone, speck (smoked prosciutto), wine and bruschetta... all bought for about 10 bucks at little alimentari in Vietri sul Mare--including 3 euro for the nice bottle of Montepulciano wine. Buona notte, tutti...
--Jerry Finzi
P.S. If you like what you've read, please LIKE us on Facebook and SHARE us with your friends who might also be interested. Gratzie!
Dinner tonight was gnocchi with tomatoes, provolone, speck (smoked prosciutto), wine and bruschetta... all bought for about 10 bucks at little alimentari in Vietri sul Mare--including 3 euro for the nice bottle of Montepulciano wine. Buona notte, tutti...
--Jerry Finzi
P.S. If you like what you've read, please LIKE us on Facebook and SHARE us with your friends who might also be interested. Gratzie!
Stefano and Roberto heating up the balloon envelope.
Stefano firing up the balloon. Well, we did it! My Kindle's bell alarm got us up at 5am and we got ready as quick as possible to get on the road. We were actually a little early for our flight so the balloon crew hadn't arrived yet. A phone call and a few minutes later, Gianna pulled up to the side of us in her BallooninTuscany.com shrink-wrapped Range Rover.
A handsome, outdoorsy smile greeted us and said to jump in her car for the drive to the launch site. A tumbling roller coaster of a ride through the woods and we spilled out into their hidden field. It's there we met Gianna's husband, Stefano, the burly, smiling maestro of ballooning, having just arrived with his balloon trailer in tow. He made us feel confident right off... his cigarette and smile seemed to go with each other. His generous frame spoke of loving life and pasta. He spoke English charmingly well, having had lived in New York City back in the early Eighties. In another age you could picture him as the aging flying ace putting all the younger pilots though their paces. In fact, he has trained most of the current crop of competing balloonists.
Stefano, Gianna and a young assistant pilot, Roberto, set up the balloon methodically... first the basket, then pull and stretch the balloon along the ground, straighten out the lines and cables, then the burners, fire them up, inflate. The first test blast of the burners spooked all of us. The thing sounds like a jet. The whole process took about 25 minutes.
We then climbed aboard--Lisa did a great job getting her aching knee on board, Lucas climbed right over, and Babbo climbed up and slid in. Before we knew what was happening, Stefano had us up and away within seconds. In a minute we had already risen higher than any trees and were enjoying a misty Tuscan sunrise.
I can't describe the peacefulness of it... the gentlest motion you can imagine... the occasional sound of dog barking or a hunter's shots far below.... the far off layers of high mountains north of Tuscany... the Towers of San Gimignano off in the distance... the textures and geometry of vineyards and olive groves... the hovering and drifting wisps of smoke as farmers all around were burning their olive tree prunings. You could smell the smoke even from up high. Looking down on villas and peasant farmhouses alike.
A handsome, outdoorsy smile greeted us and said to jump in her car for the drive to the launch site. A tumbling roller coaster of a ride through the woods and we spilled out into their hidden field. It's there we met Gianna's husband, Stefano, the burly, smiling maestro of ballooning, having just arrived with his balloon trailer in tow. He made us feel confident right off... his cigarette and smile seemed to go with each other. His generous frame spoke of loving life and pasta. He spoke English charmingly well, having had lived in New York City back in the early Eighties. In another age you could picture him as the aging flying ace putting all the younger pilots though their paces. In fact, he has trained most of the current crop of competing balloonists.
Stefano, Gianna and a young assistant pilot, Roberto, set up the balloon methodically... first the basket, then pull and stretch the balloon along the ground, straighten out the lines and cables, then the burners, fire them up, inflate. The first test blast of the burners spooked all of us. The thing sounds like a jet. The whole process took about 25 minutes.
We then climbed aboard--Lisa did a great job getting her aching knee on board, Lucas climbed right over, and Babbo climbed up and slid in. Before we knew what was happening, Stefano had us up and away within seconds. In a minute we had already risen higher than any trees and were enjoying a misty Tuscan sunrise.
I can't describe the peacefulness of it... the gentlest motion you can imagine... the occasional sound of dog barking or a hunter's shots far below.... the far off layers of high mountains north of Tuscany... the Towers of San Gimignano off in the distance... the textures and geometry of vineyards and olive groves... the hovering and drifting wisps of smoke as farmers all around were burning their olive tree prunings. You could smell the smoke even from up high. Looking down on villas and peasant farmhouses alike.
After about 1-1/2 hours, Stefano proved his skills by not only putting the balloon down in exactly the field he wanted, but by actually landing the basket right behind the balloon's trailer (so Lisa could climb out easier right onto the trailer's bed!)
The other reason I chose Stefano and Gianna as our balloon hosts was because, unlike the folding tables in the landing field with cheap wine, cheese and fruit, we were driven back to their 600 year old country home for a brunch with a quality Prosecco. Sausage, proscuitto, cheese, fruit, amazing thick millifiori honey (tasted like jam), a Tuscan raisin bread, rustic bread, foccacia, orange juice, and more..
All this, plus great conversation (Stefano is a bit of a philosopher), 4 little dogs for Lucas to play with, and a tour back in time--of their house... with the most amazingly authentic Tuscan kitchen!
Overall, one of the best experiences of my life... we went to over 2600 feet high. Lucas and Lisa feel the same. Thank you Gianna and Stefano!
--Jerry Finzi
P.S. If you like what you've read, please LIKE us on Facebook and SHARE us with your friends who might also be interested. Gratzie!
The other reason I chose Stefano and Gianna as our balloon hosts was because, unlike the folding tables in the landing field with cheap wine, cheese and fruit, we were driven back to their 600 year old country home for a brunch with a quality Prosecco. Sausage, proscuitto, cheese, fruit, amazing thick millifiori honey (tasted like jam), a Tuscan raisin bread, rustic bread, foccacia, orange juice, and more..
All this, plus great conversation (Stefano is a bit of a philosopher), 4 little dogs for Lucas to play with, and a tour back in time--of their house... with the most amazingly authentic Tuscan kitchen!
Overall, one of the best experiences of my life... we went to over 2600 feet high. Lucas and Lisa feel the same. Thank you Gianna and Stefano!
--Jerry Finzi
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We saw this, but no one used it. Airport security is a joke. They X-rayed, but the people they have working at protecting our flights look like they couldn't handle a real emergency. For the most part they are all slow-moving and paying attention more to their looks than the passengers. And after all the hassle of measuring our carry on bags and finding models that fit, I saw a lot of older large bags going on board. I didn't see a single bag being checked for size. The overhead was large enough to hold the older style carry-on sizes.
The flight was 8 hours long, uncomfortable and tiring. The seats were tight, but with three of us sitting together we could raise the seat arms for a bit more breathing room. ) When Lucas gets bigger, it'll be much tighter.) Leg room was OK, though it's hard to stretch out. A very tall person must hate these new seat spaces.
None of us got any sleep. I tried with my ear plugs and inflatable pillow but the best I had was what I call "hospital sleep". You know, the restless sleep you get when you are in a hospital with lights on and nurses coming in at all hours. Planes are God-awful noisy things, too. I tried getting Lucas comfy enough for sleep, but nothing worked. This kid's going to collapse somewhere tomorrow.
We then had to deal long lines and no air conditioning getting through Italian customs and getting our one checked bag (Lisa just had to have more space!) The place was modern yet tired looking at the same time. The workers looked bored and there were few smiles. I was amazed at how hot and stuffy it was.. they either don't have proper air conditioning, have it turned off to save money, or have the thermostats set to around 80. Fiumicino airport is a huge, confusing place.
We walked out the customs doors and found our driver, Adele, holding up a card with our name. She spoke broken English... I spoke fractured Italian. We still managed a decent conversation on the way to the rail station. She played obnoxious Italian pop music on the radio--some with pretty inappropriate lyrics (I knew enough Italian curse words to catch this). Her driving was like any big city taxi driver--agressive and confident.
The flight was 8 hours long, uncomfortable and tiring. The seats were tight, but with three of us sitting together we could raise the seat arms for a bit more breathing room. ) When Lucas gets bigger, it'll be much tighter.) Leg room was OK, though it's hard to stretch out. A very tall person must hate these new seat spaces.
None of us got any sleep. I tried with my ear plugs and inflatable pillow but the best I had was what I call "hospital sleep". You know, the restless sleep you get when you are in a hospital with lights on and nurses coming in at all hours. Planes are God-awful noisy things, too. I tried getting Lucas comfy enough for sleep, but nothing worked. This kid's going to collapse somewhere tomorrow.
We then had to deal long lines and no air conditioning getting through Italian customs and getting our one checked bag (Lisa just had to have more space!) The place was modern yet tired looking at the same time. The workers looked bored and there were few smiles. I was amazed at how hot and stuffy it was.. they either don't have proper air conditioning, have it turned off to save money, or have the thermostats set to around 80. Fiumicino airport is a huge, confusing place.
We walked out the customs doors and found our driver, Adele, holding up a card with our name. She spoke broken English... I spoke fractured Italian. We still managed a decent conversation on the way to the rail station. She played obnoxious Italian pop music on the radio--some with pretty inappropriate lyrics (I knew enough Italian curse words to catch this). Her driving was like any big city taxi driver--agressive and confident.
She drove us around the Colosseum before dropping us at Tiburtina station, which turned out to be a lot cleaner and safer than expected. We had to camp out for three hours in a modern cafe waiting for our train to come. We had some decent pastries, drinks, coffee for Lisa and my first Italian soda--Fanta (Which tastes like fresh oranges mixed with seltzer... very different from the chemical tasting Fanta we have in the States.) Lucas finally had a deep 20 minute power nap leaning on the table and on his cushy fleece jacket. Poor sweet boy.
A tired voyager.
Because Lisa kept insisting the train coming in was not out train, this confusion almost made us miss it. The conductor helped and assured me it was ours... but we had to race to the first car to get on. Tickets have seat and car numbers on them and you never know if your car number is going to be at the beginning, middle or end of the train. A thumbs up from me once we got aboard and the conductor gave the go-ahead for the train to move. Whew! Close call!
We had a first class cabin on this second class train... it was older, but that's what gave it the charm. Squeaky brakes, lights that didn't work, and a toilet that flushed right onto the rushing tracks below! Lots of tunnels on this route. Everything looked Italian! The further toward Tuscany we got, the more beautiful... hills, mountains, vineyards, hilltowns. We napped a bit. Took some bad blurry pictures out the window and enjoyed the fun of a new kind of train travel. I haven't been on European style trains like this since the Seventies.
We had a first class cabin on this second class train... it was older, but that's what gave it the charm. Squeaky brakes, lights that didn't work, and a toilet that flushed right onto the rushing tracks below! Lots of tunnels on this route. Everything looked Italian! The further toward Tuscany we got, the more beautiful... hills, mountains, vineyards, hilltowns. We napped a bit. Took some bad blurry pictures out the window and enjoyed the fun of a new kind of train travel. I haven't been on European style trains like this since the Seventies.
Ridin' the rails. When we got to Chiusi, we had another couple hours to kill before the Hertz office came back from their 2-1/2 hour lunch! (All Italy does this and they wonder why they can't get ahead.) We had lunch in a little trattoria I had discovered on Google Earth. We ordered some pasta carbonara and tortellini with proscuitto. Lucas face woke up and lit up with his first bite. This was some of the best pasta we ever had... and for six bucks each! Our only complaint: The place didn't have air conditioning and it was hot.
We picked up our little Fiat 500L... they call it "the large" here. Perfect fit for us. This one is a standard shift so Lisa paniced each time my shifting was a little rough or abrupt... hard not to do with Italian drivers cutting us off, tons of curvy mountain roads, havint to take off from dead stops on steep slopes, and the sudden thunder storm we had to drive through. In fact, to get the car, we had to walk several blocks in the pouring rain. More on that Hertz experience in other posts.
We made a stop in an Italian chain supermarket--Conad. Lucas will fill you in on that... oddly different.
Another half hour or so and we arrived at Cosona, our first agriturismo (a farm B&B). The stone buildings were half a millennium old with high beamed ceilings, tile floors and amazing views. A real dream come true... vistas of hilltowns and rolling hills and mountains for 20 miles.
Then... sleep. Lucas fell first, then Lisa... then me, but only after working for over 20 minutes on this blog only to lose the post because of the slow satellite Internet connection. Arrgh! Then sleep came fast after about 18 hours of traveling...
Now it's morning, we had our first little jam, bread and fruit breakfast, I did this post (hope it doesn't crash this time) and we are out on our first Tuscan exploration. Miss you already, everyone.
--Jerry F.
We picked up our little Fiat 500L... they call it "the large" here. Perfect fit for us. This one is a standard shift so Lisa paniced each time my shifting was a little rough or abrupt... hard not to do with Italian drivers cutting us off, tons of curvy mountain roads, havint to take off from dead stops on steep slopes, and the sudden thunder storm we had to drive through. In fact, to get the car, we had to walk several blocks in the pouring rain. More on that Hertz experience in other posts.
We made a stop in an Italian chain supermarket--Conad. Lucas will fill you in on that... oddly different.
Another half hour or so and we arrived at Cosona, our first agriturismo (a farm B&B). The stone buildings were half a millennium old with high beamed ceilings, tile floors and amazing views. A real dream come true... vistas of hilltowns and rolling hills and mountains for 20 miles.
Then... sleep. Lucas fell first, then Lisa... then me, but only after working for over 20 minutes on this blog only to lose the post because of the slow satellite Internet connection. Arrgh! Then sleep came fast after about 18 hours of traveling...
Now it's morning, we had our first little jam, bread and fruit breakfast, I did this post (hope it doesn't crash this time) and we are out on our first Tuscan exploration. Miss you already, everyone.
--Jerry F.
That's my boy.. living it up on airport cheese, crackers, iced tea and playing his new mobile version of Minecraft. What is he building? An airport? The Colesseum? ST Peter's dome? Nope. A supermarket. Anyway, he's happy waiting for our flight!
Jerry F.
Jerry F.
We have two different car rentals setup for Italy. One in the north and another when we head south to Amalfi and on into Basilicata and Puglia. So Lisa tells me this week that the first rental charge showed up on the credit card bill but the second never did. I should call and make sure the reservation is good to go. Ok, so I call... and I'm so glad I did! It turns out that although this reservation still was in their system, they said it was set up for us to pay at the rental broker in Naples when we pick up the car. Huh? I set these up the same time and both with the same charge card.
Not only that, but the Hertz rep on the phone (very nice actually) asked if I had the "voucher" numbers for each rental. Vouchers? All I have is the original confirmations when I booked them online. Not good enough. Apparently, they needed to mail (takes 2 weeks or more) or fax (ever hear of email?) the vouchers to us. This should have been done months ago when I first booked the cars. And they would not have given us the cars without vouchers!
With less than three weeks to go I wasn't about to take a chance with the mail, so fax it was... er... but it's been so long since we received a fax I forgot which of our two phone numbers the fax was on. Uh... Ok, I think it's the second number. I told the rep that number and the second line started ringing.... so I run up two flights to our office and the fax is not being answered.
I find the phone line is not attached and that it was really trying to come in on the line I was talking to the rep on. Ok, easy fix. But the phone jack is mislabeled. I quick give the other number and tell them to try that one. Long story short... it was over an hour before I had the two fax vouchers in my hand, BUT BOTH PHONE LINES KEPT RINGING for the next hour or more! Somehow, there were doubled up faxes cued up on their end that kept coming in. So, I had to plug in one line and then sit there receiving fax after fax until that line stopped ringing. Then I hooked up the other phone line and started accepting more faxes.
Stress!
But at lease I have the right vouchers and will get the cars. Sigh. Italian pizza had sure be better than my own...
--Jerry F.
Not only that, but the Hertz rep on the phone (very nice actually) asked if I had the "voucher" numbers for each rental. Vouchers? All I have is the original confirmations when I booked them online. Not good enough. Apparently, they needed to mail (takes 2 weeks or more) or fax (ever hear of email?) the vouchers to us. This should have been done months ago when I first booked the cars. And they would not have given us the cars without vouchers!
With less than three weeks to go I wasn't about to take a chance with the mail, so fax it was... er... but it's been so long since we received a fax I forgot which of our two phone numbers the fax was on. Uh... Ok, I think it's the second number. I told the rep that number and the second line started ringing.... so I run up two flights to our office and the fax is not being answered.
I find the phone line is not attached and that it was really trying to come in on the line I was talking to the rep on. Ok, easy fix. But the phone jack is mislabeled. I quick give the other number and tell them to try that one. Long story short... it was over an hour before I had the two fax vouchers in my hand, BUT BOTH PHONE LINES KEPT RINGING for the next hour or more! Somehow, there were doubled up faxes cued up on their end that kept coming in. So, I had to plug in one line and then sit there receiving fax after fax until that line stopped ringing. Then I hooked up the other phone line and started accepting more faxes.
Stress!
But at lease I have the right vouchers and will get the cars. Sigh. Italian pizza had sure be better than my own...
--Jerry F.
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