My busy month ahead

The summer is nearly over.  Certainly we hope the hot part is over - how many days above ninety degrees?  Is it really 58 or 59 days?  Now it's September, and I'm ready to be busy, busy, busy. 

Yesterday was the reunion that Linda S. organized at her ancestral (Hobbs) farm near Fairfield, PA.  Then on the 10th Lorelei and Andreas and the baby arrive for my 70th birthday weekend.  On the 12th we'll all go to Nationals Park for my 70th birthday with lunch and a baseball game - - I've ordered tickets for 22 at the PNC Diamond Club.  Then on the 16th, I fly to Chicago to spend time with L and A and baby, who will celebrate his 2nd birthday on the 18th.  After that I fly very early on the 20th to Rochester, NY for the World Canals Conference, where I'll deliver a paper at 8:30 am on the 22nd about the C & O Canal Park's plan for Williamsport, MD.  The conference ends on the 24th and the following day I'll drive with three friends to the Poconos for a hiking trip of 4 or 5 days.  And finally home at the end of the month.  I think that's a recap of the month ahead.

But first was the reunion.  The farm has been in the family since, what?  Civil War days?  Was it our great-grandparents Isaac Pecher and wife Annie Long who bought it?  If so, they would have done so after the war, because Isaac served toward the end. 

I used to go the the farm for a week or so in the summer, so very long ago.  There were cows to be milked, hogs to be fed, chickens who didn't like some little girl's hand reaching under for a freshly laid egg. I was mightily afraid of lots of things up there on the farm, and my cousins were mightily amused by me.  We all shared a very large bed upstairs in the hot attic, and we bathed once a week in a washtub on the kitchen floor, and we used the outhouse because there was no indoor plumbing, and, yes, there was a Sears catalog in the outhouse.  Well, there was a hand pump in the kitchen sink as well as a larger one outside and the water was always cold.. 

The huge stove was ancient and stood on four tall legs.  It wasn't gas or electric - it burned firewood, and Aunt Zita baked bread every day and served it with home-churned butter - a wonderful thing to eat.  All of the food came from the farm:  milk from their cows, meat from their smokehouse, eggs from the henhouse, fresh vegs from the garden, fresh berries from the vines and fresh peaches and cherries from the orchard.  And my aunt and the older girls spent hours canning fruits and vegetables in big glass jars for storage in the dirt celler.  That's what they ate during the winter and spring months. 

The farm house had a long porch across the front, and the entrance to the dirt cellar wa through two nearly-flat doors that pulled open to reveal steps that went down into the dark that smelled of damp dirt.  It was always cool.  I remember shelves and shelves that were nearly empty in the summer and boxes and boxes of glass canning jars.  But I didn't like the cellar, and tried to stay away.

That front porch was a gathering place in the evening after chores were done.  Uncle Raymond played the fiddle, or so I recall.  Others played the guitar, was there an accordian?  And I seem to recall a pump organ somewhere in the house.  Music was pretty much country  music, probably like Jimmy Rogers/Hank Williams.  Or so I recall.  Down the road was an older couple whom my mother called Uncle Harry Pecher and Aunt ??.  I think that Uncle Harry was a brother to my mother's mother.   I have very few recollections of them other than the obligatory visits when my mother delivered me and picked me up.

So September 5th was this great reunion.  Linda says she had RSVPs from 143, so no one could bring an extra guest.  All of my brothers and sisters will be there, and most of us with spouses.  So that makes 15 people whom I definitely recognized.  The other 127 all wore nametags!!  And I did something terribly dumb:  I left my camera back in Maryland on Ellen's kitchen table.  So I have no photographs.  And when I have properly digested everything that went on, I'll write about it.  But for now, I'm satisfied with memories of long time gone.

Globus tour, June 20 - Gardini Naxos and the beach

From June 19th, I have no more notes, so what follows is based on memory - - prompted by photographs.  Rather than staying in Taormina, we were housed in a nearby town, Giardini Naxos.  The hotel is spacious, with large pool encircled partly by tables & chairs, and partly by chaises longues.  

large inviting pool, empty in early morning.

Today most of the Globus tourists signed up for a trip to Mount Etna. But Joe and I love the beach, and we wanted to be alone for a while. Our hotel was not on the beach, but had a shuttle to carry us there. And so off we went, winding through the town ever downward toward the sea.  The shuttle let us off right at the entrance to Lido di Naxos. 

What does it all cost?  Apparently for us, nothing as guests of the hotel.

If I am correct, certain parts of the beach are controlled or maybe owned by particular hotels, and each is distinguished from the others by the color of its umbrellas and chaises.  Ours seemed to be blue and red and white. 

Well-regimented beach.  Compare it with Eastern US free-for-all crowds.

I was impressed by how orderly the beaches are - - All the amenities are aligned and in good order.  None of this American-style picking one's way between beach blankets and sprawling bodies, umbrellas, picnic baskets, badminton or frisbee or football games, folding chairs (thankfully, boom-boxes are a thing of the past).  Each umbrella stem has a little table at just the right height for small items, and is accompanied by two chaises. 

This is the largest beach near Taormina.

Quite a few vendors approached us.  They were clearly not Italians, but immigrants from everywhere - - Africa, South or Central America, Asia.  They sold beach towels, sunglasses, sunblock, sunhats.  There were several young woman of SouthEast Asian appearance who were selling massages. 

Do we want to buy a large bright towel as a souvenir?

The man on the left was selling sunglasses.

As the day progressed, we saw many families with small children. I loved the way local women who were clearly not young and who were clearly mothers wore their swimsuits so unselfconsciously.

A lifeguard station.

kids and grown-ups, little fishes, little boats, water taxis, cruise ships, all shared the water of this little bay

Family fun time.

Globus tour, June 19 - on the road to Taormina

Another breakfast in another hotel of would-be American food:  scrambled eggs, toast, bacon/ham, juice, cereal.  Also Italian breakfast pastries and coffee and yogurt.  I tend to like cereal, yogurt and some fruit, if it is available.  And I always love croissant with butter and jam.  European butter seems richer to me - could it be?

Important Italians could see them close up; we were on a catwalk high above.

Flamingos pulling chariot!!

From  Agrigento we drove to the interior, toward a Roman villa called Villa Casale.  It is a UNESCO World Heritage site, although no one knows who built it.  But it probably dates from the 3rd century BC with beautiful mosaic floors from the 2nd century AD.  It is the floor mosaics that are so amazing.    All are beneath a greenhouse-like framework of glass/plexiglass, with people still working at restoring the mosaics.  Some were just amazing - like the great depiction of a hunt of wild animals with lots of people and creatures.  And another has ten or so girls exercising in a gym.  One shows Polyphemus being plyed with wine by Herakles.  There were fishing scenes where I think I recognized a sturgeon,.  There was a funny image of two flamingos pulling a chariot.  Really beautifully detailed mosaics.  It is a remote site near the town Piazza Armerina.  Well worth the visit.

fishermen - with sturgeon or catfish?

Central Sicily is a breadbasket with lots of wheat fields and very little water.  We had a brief rest stop at a "gas station".  Joe caused a ruckus over what he was charged for two gelato scoops in a cone (not in a cup).  This resulted in the cashier telling me that my husband owed an additional 1.6 euro for his gelato.  Which I paid just to make peace.  I guess Joe didn't understand why a cone cost more than a cup.  Another stop was at a goldsmith's place.  There was a nice spread of refreshments, a lovely terrace, and then the soft-sell in the showroom. 

Nice refreshments at the goldsmith's house.

We were headed for the eastern coast and the town of Taormina.  Nicolas said we would spend a little time there.  The drive was incredible, the road winding back and forth up the mountain into a massige garage where we took an elevator up to yet another level and a beautiful view of the sea and the harbor with a 5-masted sailing ship far far below.  And we could see the spaghetti-like winding of the roads.  Amazing engineering challenge.

Amazing engineering.

Taormina's harbor far below the town.

This is why there are no cars!

A central pedestrian road led for about a mile through Taormina, with little walkways going up on the left and down on the right.  The way was defined at either end by medieval-looking tall stone arches, too narrow for cars, which made it more pleasant. 

Medieval entry into Taormina

Lots of things to look at and to buy, and lots of people looking at them.  [Nicolas surmised that the town was crowded because a large cruise ship was in the harbor.]  I liked the place.  Joe did not.  He wanted to just head on back, despite the fact that Tennessee Williams liked Taormina well enough to return - - that is one of the many literary references that Joe has made.  It's too bad that he doesn't like being with so many other people nearly all the time, and doesn't like "being herded around like cattle," as he put it. 

One VERY good thing about this town:  there was a "British pharmacy" with and English-speaking clerk where we could purchase the ointments needed for a mysterious skin rash on the ankle.  Also, it was apparently badly damaged during the WW II Allies' invasion.  Here's a little plaque that told me so.

"In memory of the civilian victims of the aerial bombardment of the city on the 9th of July, 1943"

Dinner was at a lovely place on the slopes of the volcano, Mount Etna; the old farmhouse and winery was surrounded by a lemon orchard.  It was formerly a vineyard until disease in the late 1940s killed the vines.  We had a wonderful aperitif of red wine with orange and lemon juice, soda, and a "drop" of limoncello. 

Aperitifs on the veranda

The hostess was a youngish woman with a charming smile and great warmth.  She met us on the veranda facing the volcano, which she says she has known all her life so does not fear it). 

What, we worry?  With Mt. Etna smoking behind us?  Not on your life!

Eventually we were herded into a big upstairs room where the grapes used to be crushed.  Each table sat ten, and each had three carafes of red wine and three water bottles.  We each had a glass for water and a handle-less ceramic mug for wine - the point being not to see how much we have drunk - or not drunk.  First course was olives, peppery cheese, salami, and wonderful caponata.   Next course had potatoes, kind of like fries, a delicious little meat pattie cooked between lemon leaves which I loved but others left alone, and then a small "cigarette" of veal.  final course of oranges and limoncello and expresso.  It was an enchanting evening.

My main course.

We've all drunk and dined well - the best meal!

Back at the hotel, many stayed by the pool listening to music and dancing and singing.  Not me - I slept like the dead until well past dawn the next day.

Globus tour, June 18 - on to Agrigento

At 5:45 am the sun was rising outside our window and the overnight ferry from Naples was entering the harbor.

The ferry from Naples has entered Palermo's harbor.

Salt piles & tiles, evaporation ponds, windmills.

We had a long drive to the West, to Marsala or thereabouts, to see a salt works.  Windmills pump seawater into evaporation ponds of varying depths until finally all that  is left is pushed into a long pile and covered with tiles so it looks like an odd roof that sits on the ground.  I bought a small 3-euro jar of seasalt.  It's finely ground and supposed to have more minerals than table salt. 

Back on the bus after a very refreshing gelato (limone) for a long long ride to a little town called San Leone and a restaurant called La Dune, where I had the greatest seafood salad, with bread, wine, mixed salad [i.e., greens], and fruit, all for 14 euro.  I ordered it because I had no idea what would be in the salad, and I am so glad it did:  calamari, tiny baby octopi, chunks of white-flest fish and crabmeat.  Delicious, cold, very good. 

Joe and Julia and Paul finishing lunch in San Leone.

And then I walked across the burning hot sand to wake with some others in the sea, and the Miller girls collected sea shells.

Bev and Trish had bargained with an African man over necklaces, and he followed them as they rushed back to the bus.  From the bus it was a very funny scene.  Nicolas got off the bus and intercepted the fellow in a friendly way and insisted that we had to leave and that the ladies were not interested in his necklaces.

From there it was a short drive to Agrigento and our hotel, where I promptluy donned my swimsuit and got into the pool.  However, noise from nearby construction drove me back to the room for a nap.  I'm beginning to feel like a true Mediterranean person with midday naps.

First was temple of Juno - late afternoon but quite hot.

Nearby are Greek ruins; the area is called "Valle dei Tempei" - they are 24 centuries old.  Our tour guide was Claudio but I called him Stevie Wonder for the way he turned his head left and right as he talked to us about Greeks in Sicily from about 7th to 4th centuries BC.  On the east is the very large temple of Juno.  in the middle the temple of  Concord.  On the right is the ruined temple of Herakles. 

Temple of Herakles and other ruins.

Temple of  Concord with fig tree and visitors

Massively old olive tree at Valle dei Tempei

They are on a high plateau, of golden limestone; only the 'priestly' class could come into the temples, maybe even in the area (but what about their slaves?  perhaps they didn't count as 'people'?).  On the sea side of the plateau was a long series of natural walls; they had been carved out into burial niches.  The entire site is about a mile long and is a national archeological site.  I found the place rather interesting for its age, for the tiny bit of history that I learned, and for the fact that the temples all looked like the Parthenon in Athens.  I'd forgotten my water bottle and after two hours even in late afternoon, I was very thirsty and tired.  I have to share with you this photograph of a truly ancient olive tree.  

Joe didn't go with me to the temples.  Instead he says he spent the afternoon with the pool all to himself.  The noisy construction had stopped, and all the others in our group went on the tour. 

The hotel's dining room is large and attractive, with saffron colored walls and round tables that encourage congeniality.  I had grouper with a tomato-caper-olive sauce - very good filet.  First course was risotto with vegetables and penne with tomato fish sauce, then the grouper, a salad and a not-so-good white chocolate mousse, and decent coffee.  I could hardly keep my eyes open.

Globus Tour, June 2007 - Who Were We With?

Enduring the Florentine heat are,(standing, Trish, Sylvia, Julia, Karen, Teresa, Joe, Lexi, Nicolas, Charly and Oly and seated:  Brittany, Paul, Curtis, and Ginger June 12, 2007.

Most of our fellow travellers were middle-aged to old. The youngest were Charlie and Oly, newlyweds from Australia.  They were very sweet, very solicitous of us elder folks.  Other Australians were Bob (small and wiry with an odd accent) and wife Elaine (I think I never heard her speak); Arthur (who looked like Magwich from Great Expectations) and his wife Brenda; Bev (short red-auburn hair who loved shopping) and her friend Trish (another avid shopper)- they were going on to France afterward to visit a WW I cemetary where lay a great-uncle of one of them.  Also sisters Sylvia (she will have a birthday soon) and her older sister Teresa (she had the most odd accent of all, to American ears:  Italian-Australian) - their parents had emigrated after WW II to Australia where Sylvia was born; and Frank (frequently in a daze, he seemed on the edge of dementia) and his very sweet, elegant, and patient wife, Julia. 

Sharon, Diane, Oly, Curtis, Charlie, Ben, Alex, Wes at our farewell dinner in Rome, June 23, 2007

 Wes, Ellie, George, Marie, Karen, Richard, Brenda, Arthur at our farewell dinner in  Rome, June 23, 2007

There are four Canadians:  Richard (very friendly & outgoing, born in Germany, holds Canadian citizenship, lives near Baltimore) and wife Karen (tall, slim, athletic-looking, kept to herself mostly); a big smiling man who had had heart surgery last year and his very quiet wife- - I never did learn their name,  but he might be George and hers Marie?

Joe, Maxine, & Fred on the Venetian lagoon dinner cruise, June 13, 2007

Maggie, her husband and grandson, both named Raoul

Americans were:  Wes (photo-mad and mostly interested in gadgets and in talking about his trips) and wife Ellie (liked to buy jewelry); Alex and Ben, both of Sicilian descent - - their grandparents came to America from the same Sicilian village and they were determined to find their relatives on this trip - -  and their wives Sharon and Dianna respectively - - always jolly and always talkative.  There was Cuban Maggie (loud voice, frequently late) and the two Raouls, one her husband, the other her college-age grandson.     And Maxine and husband Fred, who (like me) did not think much of the Bridge of Sighs nor the horrible dark, narrow corridors in the Venetian prison tour).

Paul  (w/cup) Julia Kelly (in white); Brittany (tan shorts), Lexi (in background), Ginger and Curtis Miller (leaning against the wall, June 16, 2007

And finally, the Millers who hail from Parkersburg, WV.  This was Curtis and Ginger and their daughters Brittany (college age) and Lexi (middle school age), and Ginger's parent, Paul and Julia Kelly.  Despite her name, Julia Kelly is first generation American.  Joe spent lots and lots of time talking with the Miller-Kelly group.  Brittany told me later that Joe reminded them a lot of Curtis's late father because they both could talk about anything and everything.

Frank is looking on as Oly and Charlie flank Nicolas (our guide) and Liborio (our intrepid driver), June 23, 2007

So, with Joe and me, there were thirty-five travelling with Nicolas and Liborio.