The Feisty Traveler - A Quirky Memoir

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The Feisty Traveler - A Quirky Memoir Page 7

by Lil Cromer


  We call the middle of our cities, downtown, but Down Under they refer to the center of town as CBD, central business district.

  Christchurch, the gateway to Antarctica, suffered major earthquake damage the latter part of 2010; some of their beautiful buildings were destroyed, many cannot be restored. This quirky little city has its own wizard who spoke every afternoon in Cathedral Square on the need to preserve what is left of Christchurch’s heritage buildings. One third of the city is gardens and parks. I thoroughly enjoyed the specialty, artichokes stuffed with prawns.

  Another highlight was the city of Dunedin, which is Gaelic for Edinburgh. This is one of New Zealand’s wealthiest cities and quite artsy fartsy. There is only one castle in NZ and it’s here in Dunedin and called Larnach. The tour was enlightening. The house was built by William Larnach, colonial politician, in the late 1800s. It’s said he was never happy there as his daughter died of typhoid at the age of twenty-six. Larnach’s first wife died at age thirty-eight after bearing children, his second wife also died at age thirty-eight. After a series of personal and financial setbacks William committed suicide in the Parliament Building. After the tour we stopped at Speights Brewery, which is now a museum and downed a pint or two.

  One day we traveled down to Fjordland National Park on Milford Sound — breathtaking views. Fiordland is isolated, beautiful, and serene. We enjoyed a boxed lunch as the boat cruised close to land gasping at the outstanding views. We learned that a “sound” is erosion created by water and a “fjord” is erosion created by glaciers. During the gold rush in the 1800s many Chinese were treated horribly. I was shocked by the crude small huts built for these Chinese workers to live in. Arrowtown remembers this regrettable time in history with a small memorial park.

  Queenstown is a picture postcard city that resembles a little Switzerland, I took a horseback ride up the mountain on Walter’s Peak Station, where we climbed 1000 feet and were treated to views that are indescribable — a highlight for me.

  Wellington, the capital of New Zealand called the windy city, is a quaint city with hillside villas and other expensive real estate. Many buildings have been built earthquake proof. We were there on Armistice Day, Nov. 11th. I watched a small parade, with young and old proudly marching with Santa bringing up the rear. The entire CBD was cordoned off and families lined the streets — such camaraderie and patriotism conjured nostalgic images and brought a lump to my throat.

  Auckland, the city of sails, is home to one-third of the population of NZ. This is where tourists and residents fly in and out of.

  Rotorua, the center of the Maori culture, was unique with its hot springs, mud baths, and geysers. The constant sulfur smell took some getting used to. Its claim to fame, zorbing was invented there. For those who don’t know, this is the sport of rolling downhill inside a large orb, generally made of transparent plastic.

  Without belaboring the vistas, it seemed the scenery changed hourly; from cloudy, misty mountains, to rolling hills and farms, to rocky mountains, to volcanoes, to the Pacific Ocean on one side of the road and sheep grazing on the other, to trout steams and waterfalls. The story goes that trout in NZ die of old age. New Zealand packed a lot of variety into a relatively small number of square kilometers. You didn’t dare nap on the bus for fear you’d miss a great view.

  We all thoroughly enjoyed Les, our bus driver and a native Kiwi, who I mentioned earlier. He’s a true professional, knowledgeable with a wicked sense of humor. He kept the coach spotless and expertly maneuvered the huge vehicle through some rather narrow passages. One day a fellow traveler came out of the coach (they don’t say bus) bathroom shouting FIRE! Turns out the automatic hand dryer caught fire. Les pulled the coach over, grabbed the fire extinguisher then we were on our way.

  As is my custom, I look for provocative gag gifts for the driver and the tour director. I found a 100% mink-lined willy warmer for Les. When I presented it to him on the last day, he quipped, “Lil has no way of knowing this, but it’s a bit on the small side.” Julia, the tour leader, related that she had a new boyfriend, so I found a sexy little pair of red and pink panties. When I presented them to her I suggested it might help with the budding new romance. Her face turned as red as the panties.

  Before leaving on this odyssey, I practiced my “G’day, mate” and “draw me a pint, please.” Unfortunately, much to my dismay, when I’d greet an Aussie or Kiwi with G’day, they’d respond only with “Hello.” As it turns out “G’day” is more common in the Outback than in the cities we visited. One phrase, however, I’ll carry with me for years to come is, “No worries!” This amiable phrase is used in place of “you’re welcome” or “no problem”.

  Chapter 10

  Italy

  *

  Adventure comes to those who walk!

  It’s always a challenge to select a destination on my bucket list that is not experiencing turmoil or major financial problems. In 2013, the choice was Italy! It’s considered the world’s fifth most-visited tourist destination, so I was in good company.

  Since I would probably only visit Italy once, I decided to take back-to-back tours. The first two weeks were spent in Northern Italy and the last two weeks were spent in the southern part, with three days in Venice in between.

  Some good advice — accept Italy as Italy. Zero in on the fine points and don’t dwell on the problems like the dearth of toilets or water closets, which many times were downstairs, sometimes two flights, as well as the corruption. Italy seems as orderly as spilled spaghetti, but seems somehow to function. Europeans generally like Americans, but if there is a negative aspect to Italian’s image of Americans, it’s that we are loud (certainly applies to me), wasteful, ethnocentric, too informal, and a bit naïve. They can’t understand our love affair with guns. Many Italians believe we would cease starting wars if they were fought in our own country. You’d be a fool not to agree with that assessment.

  The most grueling thing about my trip to Italy, which is a third the size of Texas, is the summer heat in July and August, when temperatures are in the 80s, 90s, and even 100s. So you might wonder why I went in the summer months. There are a few reasons: I hooked up with an engaging couple from Minnesota the year before on a trip to Canada and they were taking their two adult daughters on this tour. Secondly, good friends from my neighborhood in Florida, John and Marilyn, were taking this tour as well. And finally living in Florida for forty years has inured me to hot weather. Or so I thought! In Florida in the height of the summer, we don’t walk for hours in downtown Tampa. One day in Rome we walked a total of 7.8 miles in the intense heat, stopping to rest when necessary.

  Few countries have as much to offer as Italy, nicknamed “an outdoor museum,” with its warm and passionate people, varied and beautiful landscape, rich artistic, historic and cultural heritage, some of the world’s best food and wine and a stylish and relaxed philosophy on life. Rick Steves writes, “Italy bubbles with emotion, corruption, stray hairs, inflation, traffic jams, strikes, rallies, holidays, crowded squalor, and irate ranters shaking their fists at each other one minute then walking arm-in-arm the next.” This very same scenario played out during our Vatican tour which resembled cattle herding. Our local tour guide, Stephano, nearly got into a fist fight with another local guide who wanted a particular room all to himself and his tour group. Our group was ready to step in and defend our guide, but it blew over as quickly as it started.

  People speak of two distinct Italys: the rich, aggressive, time-is-money industrial north and the poorer, agricultural, hot, sunny south. I was pleased to have the opportunity to visit both.

  Food and soccer are the great constants — Italians love both. Much time is spent on preparing and eating food, the Italian diet being among the healthiest in the world. It was not uncommon to engage in three-hour meals as dinner is the evening entertainment. Only rude waiters would rush you. One such incident happened in Sorrento where a few in our group were asked to vacate their table before they’d finished eating. Guess
tourists are not afforded the luxury of three hour meals.

  Soccer is a national passion and inspires massive public interest as well as media attention. There are two teams: Roma, which represents the city, and Lazio which represents the region — rivalry is fanatic. Lazio is supposed to be more upper-class, Roma more popular, but the social division is blurred.

  Some folks think France is the world’s number one wine producer, but that honor belongs to Italy. I enjoyed a host of good red wines including the popular Chianti. We visited several farms and drank the farmers’ homemade wines. In my humble opinion, there is no bad wine, only some wine is better than others. And keep in mind, wine is not a drink in Italy, it’s liquid food.

  The true dominant religion seems to be life — motor scooters, soccer, fashions, girl or boy watching, good coffee, good wine and the sweetness of doing nothing. Italians are more social and communal than most other Europeans. I noted that in small towns, everyone seems to know everyone else.

  Since the Italians are so outgoing and their language is so fun, it was a pleasure to try and communicate with them. One example comes to mind. While shopping in Sorrento I stopped in a small shop selling art. The owner, an elderly gentleman, spoke almost zero English and my Italian consisted of a few greetings, how to order beer, how to ask for ice and how to ask where the toilets were. Nevertheless, I negotiated a purchase of a sheet of five small Fernando Botero copies. Through sign language I ascertained the price and he asked if I wanted them cut or rolled. When I returned home, I had them cut and framed, my gift to me from Italy. Guests, not familiar with Botero wonder why I have artwork of fat people hanging in my condo.

  Some Italian inventions: Opera, cologne, thermometer, barometer, pizza, wireless telegraph, espresso machine, typewriter, batteries, nitroglycerin, yo-yos and the ice cream cone.

  I’ve always wondered why the fish was used as a Christian symbol and now I have the answer: The first letters of “Jesus Christ, Son of God, and Savior” spell fish in Greek.

  I was pleased to learn that Women’s Liberation fought a powerful campaign in the 1970s and did much to change the attitudes toward women in the workplace, particularly in the metropolitan areas. However, the idea that men should help with housework and the care of children is still a fairly foreign notion among the older generation. One day our fearless leader, Pilar, dropped into an all men’s club in Sorrento and persuaded a couple of the gents to answer questions while she interpreted. These retired men come to this club everyday, pay dues of thirty-five Euros per year for the privilege of drinking and playing cards. They go home to a lunch their wives have prepared, take a nap, and then return to the club until 7:00 or 8:00 p.m.

  Before the Romans there were the Etruscans, 1 to 10 BC. The origins of the Etruscans, the ancient Italian civilization, are mostly lost in prehistory. Historians have no literature, no original texts of religion or philosophy; therefore much of what is known about this civilization is derived from grave artifacts and tomb findings. Grand Circle Travel, the company I prefer to travel with, has funded a project in Chianchiano buying an old farm house and displaying the Etruscan relics unearthed by archaeologists, which is a UNESCO site. This mysterious civilization appeared to be more progressive than the Romans. The earliest aqueducts of Rome were constructed in a manner similar to the drainage channels built by the Etruscans. Two thousand years ago in an area now known as Tuscany, the Etruscans, average height 5’, average life span twenty-one to twenty-five years, gave us the concept of the banquet, Roman numerals, the keystone arch, aqueducts, and even the toga. They developed the first cities in Europe and were the first to cultivate olives. They revered women and used cremation for everyone but virgins. One item in a room reconstructed from artifacts was a large metal cylinder in the corner with dangling items like our wind chimes. Because the Etruscans were gluttonous, they used this cylinder thus: After ingesting large amounts of food and drink, the diner threw a rock at the cylinder and if they didn’t hit the dangly items they had to purge into the vomitorium so they could come back and eat and drink some more. Whether or not this is fact or myth it was darn interesting.

  The small town of Chianciano is famous for its thermal mineral waters and still draws visitors who come to drink the water. They need a prescription from their doctor in order to do so. From the oldsters I saw coming back from the springs, I’d have to say the healing powers are more myth than reality. While there, I scheduled a much-needed massage after the miles and miles of walking. The masseur came to my room and for only forty-five Euros, his magical hands rejuvenated this tired old body. Since he spoke very little English and I spoke very little Italian, it was quiet as well as relaxing.

  Typical tours with Grand Circle Travel are comprised of mostly seniors like myself. But the first leg of my Italian adventure turned out to be a surprise; there were five teenage girls among the travelers accompanied by their grandmothers who gifted them the trip as graduation gifts. How things have changed! When I graduated from high school, my gift was the use of a beat up family station wagon to travel to college and a card of congratulations. I made a point to socialize and interact with the girls prompting them to hug and thank me for making their tour fun. I wanted to make sure they knew that not all old ladies are fuddy-duddies.

  Pope Joan (a name I wished my folks would have chosen for me) some consider a myth; others claim it’s the sordid truth. In the 800s an Englishwoman disguised herself as a man to enter a monastery, the home of her lover, a Benedictine monk. Under the name John Anglicus she went to Greece with her lover. When the lover died she returned to Rome and became a famous professor. When Pope Leon IV died in 855 she became pope taking the name John VIII. She managed to keep her gender hidden even taking another lover. Her secret came out while she was being carried in procession and gave birth to a child; mother and baby were promptly stoned to death and buried by the side of the road.

  A curious Vatican custom arose in the wake of Pope Joan’s legend. Candidates for the papacy had to seat themselves naked on an open stool, to be viewed through a hole in the floor by cardinals in the room below. The committee had to make an official announcement: “he has testicles, and they hang all right.” It seemed important that “Holy Mother Church” must never be governed by a Holy Mother. Way to go Joan!

  Vesta was the goddess of fire and six young virgins were selected to keep the sacred flame burning in her temple. The girls came from noble families and were between six and ten years old and served for thirty years. They had financial security and high status, but were buried alive if they lost their virginity and whipped by the high priest if the flame died out. Although they were permitted to marry after finishing their service, few did so.

  Rome:

  At Trevi Fountain, powered by the Virgo aqueduct built by those clever Romans in 19 BC, water gushes from twenty-four spouts tumbling water over thirty different kinds of plants, while Triton blows his conch shell. The magic is enhanced by the fact that no streets directly approach it. You can hear the excitement as you draw near and then BAM! — you’re there. The scene is lively with guys clutching dates while the unlucky clutch beers. I participated in the tourist ritual and tossed a coin into the fountain and made a substantial wish. One million Euros are collected every year and distributed such: one-third to the cleaners, one-third to the police, and one-third to charity. Most of the fountains and monuments were built to show off Rome. I couldn’t leave the famous fountain without buying a souvenir, so for a couple Euros I bought a small, cleverly illustrated booklet of penises, probably created because of Michelangelo’s David.

  Only a third of the original Colosseum remains standing, earthquakes damaged some of it but most was carted off as easy pre-cut stones for other buildings. It was easy to imagine gladiator contests and public spectacles when killing became a spectator sport. Rome was built in layers — almost everywhere you go there’s an earlier version beneath your feet.

  Rome is magnificent and brutal all at the same time. You see W
estern civilization with astonishingly ancient sights and a modern vibrancy. If careless you’ll be ripe for pickpockets. With the wrong attitude you’ll be frustrated by the chaos only Italians can understand. Many times during the month, I invoked my motto, “Blessed are the flexible for they shall never be bent out of shape.” I decided you don’t have to be Catholic to enjoy Rome. No wonder it’s said all roads lead to Rome, there is no grid system, merely a lot of semi circles. Another interesting fact; Rome has no skyline because no building could be taller than St. Peter’s.

  Drinking water in Rome, unlike many other Mediterranean cities, is excellent. There’s a constant supply of fresh drinking water piped down from the hills through a system of pipes and aqueducts that has changed very little since ancient Roman times. You have to hand it to some of the restaurant owners, even though the water is potable, they bottle it up and sell it for two or three Euros claiming their tap water is unfiltered. I witnessed many unknowing tourists take the bait.

  The Pantheon, built in the first century AD, is a temple to all the gods and is Rome’s best-preserved ancient building. It boasts the world’s largest unreinforced concrete dome. Villa Borghese Gardens — Rome’s semi-scruffy three-square mile “Central Park” is great for people watching and plenty of modern-day Romeos and Juliets. Borghese Gallery, a plush museum, offers one of Europe’s most sumptuous art experiences. Spanish Steps is a wide, curving staircase with 135 steps, culminating with an obelisk between two Baroque church towers going nowhere. It’s a mystery why they’re called Spanish as they were built with French money. Other than that it’s a bustling place with high end shops around them.

  Religion:

  Vatican City, the world capital of Catholicism, is the world’s smallest country. It occupies 106 acres within high walls watched over by Swiss Guards. Italy is still 90 percent Catholic, but not particularly devout. Most people would never think of renouncing their faith but they don’t attend church regularly. Religion is taught three days per week in the schools. They hold modern opinions on social issues, often in conflict with strict Catholic dogma. For example, Italy is now the land of legalized abortion, the lowest birth rate in Europe, nudity on TV, socialist politics, and a society whose common language is decidedly secular. After witnessing the opulence in the Vatican, I asked myself who would contribute money to the Catholic Church. Vatican City, the richest country, pays absolutely no taxes, a fact the Italians are not happy about. As a matter of fact only 56% of Italians pay taxes.

 

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