Travel log: Genoa, Florence, and the Villa

We woke, dressed, packed, and then scurried downstairs to have breakfast. As we ate, we listened to a CD playing instrumental versions of movie themes and we had fun naming them as it shuffled through. Surprisingly, four out of five of us felt pretty good even with the Genoa pours from the night before. Michael wasn't faring so well, but he pushed on.

Unfortunately the nice, friendly, multi-lingual receptionist from Friday afternoon had left the building. She was replaced by an efficient, but unhelpful woman who wouldn't (or couldn't) assist Angela in calling the government agency. Undeterred, we grabbed a map, found our destination, and began to walk the ancient cobblestone streets.

We found the street but (!) everything was signed in Italian. Have I mentioned that not one of us speaks, reads, or understands Italian? We have ciao, prego, grazi, arrividerci, pizza (various pasta names) and vino rosa (which I think is actually Spanish). Anyway, we were at a loss. We couldn't see any address numbers and we had a street that looked boring enough to house government buildings, but we didn't know which one might be the one.

That is, until Alan turned around and said, "This might be it."

Ange and Ben went in. Michael, Alan and I went next door to get a coffee (see picture right). (Side story: I ordered a latte. The man asked me (in Italian) if I wanted it cold or hot. I finally figured out what he meant and responded, "hot" (yes, in English - what a tourist). He presented me with a glass of hot, frothy milk. Suppressing my gag reflex, I had just learned that latte means milk. I smiled, and giggled coyly and in my nicest way, asked him if I could have some caffe in my latte. He was happy to accommodate. I added one more Italian word to my arsenal. Yay!)

To make a long story (and one that's not really mine to tell) short: a very nice man assisted Ange in looking up the name of her father. He found two deceased people matching his name. In hindsight, neither could have been him, but on initial impact, Ange did think that she may have just confirmed that her father was indeed not in this world anymore. So she mourned. The man was wonderful. When he saw her tears, he left his desk and brought Ange and Ben out to the cafe where we were. He stayed away from his desk and spoke to them kindly for at least 10 minutes. He provided his private number to Ange so that she could follow-up with him on possible siblings and other information. He was amazing. I believe his kindness made the whole trip worthwhile for Ange. She has a contact who cares. The search can continue.

We only had three things on our To Do list that day. (1) Find dad. (2) Eat lunch in Florence. (3) Go to villa. So with number one as complete as it could be, we walked back to the hotel, loaded up the van and began to carve our way through beautiful Italy.

There was only one detail that we didn't have. The address of our lunch venue. The internet at the hotel was simply too slow and the computer needed rebooting too many times for us to get that information. But it couldn't be that bad, could it? We had phone numbers for the people we were meeting. We'd simply call them and ask them for the address so that we could tell the sat-nav exactly where to go.

If they had answered the phone, that would have worked.

After 3 hours of driving, we were in Florence but had no idea where to go. Tex had told me that this restaurant was very close to the Central train station. (What do you think that looks like when it's written in Italian? We didn't know either.) Because we were sat-nav dependent, we didn't have a map of Florence. Even when we did get in touch with our family and friends, they didn't have an address, so we drove around looking for a park. (Have you been to Florence? If so, you must be on the floor, laughing your heads off, because there is NOWHERE to park in Florence. In fact, you are probably giggling as you say to the screen that we're idiots for even trying, because personal cars are actually not even allowed in Florence. Fine, fine. Keep laughing.)

As aimless driver, I was at the end of my tether. But as intelligent, determined (and hungry) person, I simply parked the car illegally, and got out, leaving the others wondering if I was abandoning ship. My plan was to walk into an office building, find someone with a computer and ask them (yes, in English) what the address was. In 60 seconds I had achieved my objective, and I strutted proudly back to the van armed with the address. Sat-nav got us close. I dropped off the gang and waited for someone who knew where the restaurant was to come back so we could find a park for the big, black, beast of a van.

Daddy!

Yes, my dad and my husband strolled back to the van and we drove around for what seemed like hours. Finally we found a garage, paid out money, and walked a kilometre or two back to the restaurant.

Mommy!

Ali!

Pete!

Tex!

It was brilliant. The ten of us ate, talked, laughed, drank, enjoyed, and reveled in the magnificence of being together in Italy (see picture right, taken by my dad). What a coup! We had done it.

Action item two completely and utterly complete, all we needed to do was get back to the van, buy food and wine, pick up another rental car, and make our way to the villa (about an hour away). If I may be so bold as to take out the details. We did that. And it worked perfectly (as perfectly as organising 10 strong-willed people can go anyway). Yay sat-nav! (Yay Rootsey for programming it so well!)

Arriving at the villa was a wonderful experience. Ben's sisters, Debbie and Pam, and their families, Brian, Ben, Alice, and Elora, were already at the villa. It was incredible that 16 of us had made it this far. Only two to go. Nora and Miles were making their way from the south coast of France to the villa and they had been in phone contact. They finally made it to the villa at about 10:00 that night.

And the party was complete. Debbie and Ben had whipped up some delicious food. Everyone found a comfortable room. We sat, exhausted and happy at the gazebo outside (see picture right) and marvelled at the goodness of it all.

I'm going to leave the description of the villa to my next post. In one word: perfect. Detail to follow.

Are you as tired now as we were then? We went to bed one by one. And by four in the morning, I think the villa was quiet. Our next day was a day of rest. And we needed that more than anything.

Travel log: The Swiss Alps & Genoa

Pictures in this post by Ben (except the last two, by Michael)

We woke in Lausanne and had a beautiful breakfast. The balcony we had been on the night before was the same level as our breakfast venue. I think this was where we met up with a couple of Canadian musicians on tour: they do a duelling piano show. Cool.

We filled up ourselves with the beautiful breakfast and then walked to the car which was parked a couple of blocks away. We wanted to get an early start for a couple of reasons. First, we believed that this was probably the longest of our day drives. Not because of distance, but because we were going to take winding back roads (no tolls, no freeways) through the Alps. And second, because we wanted to get to Genoa in business hours so Angela could begin her on site, in country, in person search for her Dad. So we left as early as we could and started back around Lake Geneva.

The drive was amazing (the first picture shows the real Matterhorn). The mountains are really stunning. Unfortunately for our photos, we didn't have bright, sunny skies and uninterrupted views, but we also didn't have torrential rain or (worse) snow. Avoiding tolls and freeways was absolutely the way to go as we really got to see some amazing countryside. Again, because we didn't use a map, just the sat-nav, we really had no idea where we were driving. So it came as an unexpected, and for Ange an emotional, shock when at the top of a mountain we left Switzerland and entered Italy.

We had made it!

Of course, we had about 20 kilometres of tunnel to drive through first, but we did stop to take this picture of Ange who had finally made it to half of her homeland. The excitement was building. Genoa was our destination.

A few hours down from the mountains and we arrived in Genoa. Ange worked with the hotel receptionist (who spoke very good English) on where she needed to be to find out more about her father. It turns out that the office was already closed, but that it would be open on Saturday morning. So we could enjoy the afternoon. After checking email on the excruciatingly slow hotel kiosk, we went to find lunch.

Next door to the hotel in a little takeaway pizza restaurant, we ordered pizza by the slice and a bottle of wine. OMG! The first bite was terrific. The second even better. It was nothing short of fantastic pizza. You know what it reminded me of? A slice I had almost a decade ago in New York City. Mmmmmmm good!

After gorging on pizza and wine, we went for a walk to see the city centre, the piazza, and the waterfront. Alan, Rootsey, and I went up in a revolving tower to get a bird's eye view of the port of Genoa. Ben and Ange claim to be afraid of heights, so they stayed down on terra firma.

The new term we have adopted from Genoa is the "Genoa Pour." You see, we went to a nice, yet empty, waterside bistro/bar/cafe and ordered a round of drinks. It was well past beer-thirty and the effects from the bottle of wine (if they existed at all) were long gone. We needed a top up.

So we ordered a round of drinks at this bistro. Two glasses of red wine, two beers, and one Jack and Coke. The bartender/proprietor took great care of us. We learned over time that in Italy, you do not get served drinks alone, they are always accompanied by some form of nourishment (e.g. olives, potato chips, bruschetta, antipasta, bread, etc.). So we got our drinks and our nibbles and sat outside near a beautiful sailboat to watch the day go by.

So what's the Genoa Pour? See the picture? It's the size of the shot of Jack Daniels that came in a glass about half filled with ice and with a can of Coke on the side. When you add the Coke, the Genoa Pour is... well... very, very generous. At first we thought it might be the proprietor of this particular bistro, but when we moved back to a bar across the street from the hotel (after two rounds at the waterside bistro) we found that, in fact, it was more the norm than the exception. For this reason, Ben and I decided to join Rootsey in the Jack and Coke experience. We wanted the Genoa Pour, too.

I think we had three rounds at the bar across the street from the hotel. To say we were schnockered would be accurate. Ben was in a happy place. Rootsey couldn't see straight. Ange and Alan were OK, and I was on the cusp. We decided that we needed dinner.

Paulie and Kat had given us all kinds of advice on how to successfully navigate Italy and this was our first night there, so we followed their advice and requested an osteria rather than a restaurant or cafe. There was one a block or so from the hotel and, as a group, we shuffled there. The sun had just about set (have I mentioned that it was light until almost 9:00 every night?) and we burst in and asked for a table for five.

Intelligently, they seated us in a separate dining room. :)

We proceeded to have a great time, to eat great food, to flirt with the beautiful waitress (well, Ben did), and to continue our drinking. It was really the first time we had let our hair down and it felt good.

For the last thirty minutes or so, we drunkenly attempted to get the Genoa Steel picture of the century, and this is the best one I could find. As you can see, it is Drunken Genoa Steel. Ben told the waitress he loved her and hugged her good-bye (yes, really) and we stumbled back to the hotel. I recall pouring our own Genoa Pour using our duty free JD and having one more before bed. But honestly, I couldn't tell you how long we were up. We had a lot of fun that night. It is one of my highlights. Genoa was a blast.

So... would Ange find her dad the next day?

Travel log: Strasbourg to Lausanne

Pictures in this post by Michael

We woke to a beautiful breakfast in our hotel. The first of many, I might add. Each hotel included breakfast in the cost of the rooms and we took full advantage of that. We'd come up with a meeting time and all somehow make it to the table. I'll admit that Alan and I seemed to be last each morning.

Since Alan and I were now pros with the tram, we suggested that all five of us take the tram to get the van. Of course, keeping our fingers crossed that it was still there. We set out in the lovely spring day and walked to the tram stop. I think we went one stop along and then disembarked to walk a little. It was beautiful, quiet and peaceful. The trees had all been pruned back over the winter and some of them were budding quite well. I would love to see the streets in early autumn when the trees must be bursting with leaves and foliage.

We walked a few kilometres and then got back onto the tram for the last leg. I'll not keep you in suspense anymore, because our van was exactly where we'd parked it, didn't have a lock on a tire, and there was not a note or a ticket to be seen on the windshield. I can tell you that I let out a huge sigh of relief. I think it was Katie who commented that it would have been a bitch to deal with a towed car in a foreign language - I couldn't agree more.

But we were free!

So we drove back to the hotel, loaded up our luggage, popped the sat-nav into place and entered hotel destination #2 - Lausanne, Switzerland!

The cool thing about not using a real map is that everything is a surprise. Had we used a real map, I would have known that we would be driving through Bern, Switzerland. But, instead, as the terrain changed from flat, brown, and boring to undulating, green, and beautiful, we saw the signposts indicate that the Switzerland capital was only an hour and a bit away. Cool. I've never wanted to go to Bern, but all of a sudden, it seemed like a cool place to drive through.

Over the 7 days of driving (this is day 2 of driving) we were the luckiest tourists ever. Traffic conditions on our side of the road were lovely. Traffic conditions on the other side of the road were sometimes excruciating to even contemplate. We were lucky. However, in Bern, we did get a little traffic congestion. In our touristy way, we decided that was a sign. We should exit and eat so that the traffic could sort itself out. And we did.

I must describe the weather. Sunny, not a cloud in the sky, and warm, perhaps hot. It was lovely. We had looked at the forecasts and actuals in Europe before leaving and it looked pretty cool and overcast, so the sun and warmth was unexpected and very much appreciated.

My highlight of the day (I have several highlights this day, so expect another), was driving down into Bern and seeing the city centre across the bridge. I was instantly transported into a James Bond movie. I saw a casino; churches; old, beautiful buildings; and a green, leafy canyon going down to a beautiful river.

We parked for free, on the street, in an untimed, completely legal parking spot. UNBELIEVABLE! Then we walked around Bern taking pictures. We got warm and needed beer (can you hear Alan's voice there?) so we found a nice little cafe with outdoor seating and shade (can you hear my voice here?) and had a beautiful lunch.

I could go into how we lost Angela for 30 minutes or so.... She just toddled off to find Ben a book to write in, and we lost her. She wasn't lost. But we looked, and waited, and looked and waited. Eventually we all walked to the corner where the car was and hoped she would eventually find us. And she did. I'm sure throughout the trip we all waited for each other quite a bit, so there's really no complaint here. But we were a little worried this time....

We hopped into the van, still amazed at our free parking, and headed off to Lausanne. This was the part of the drive I was looking forward to the most, because we were about to hit the foothills of the Alps. I love mountains!

The drive was nothing short of phenomenal. The snow-capped peaks finally showed themselves (the foothills are much more deep than those of my Rocky Mountains). I saw the real Matterhorn! We drove and gawked out the windows, at every turn someone would say, "Ooooh! Get a picture of that!" I sure hope some of them turned out (I'm writing without pics - will add them at the end).

The thrill was when we came over a mountain and started to drop to Lake Geneva. Smoke on the Water was blaring from all of our internal radios.

We all came out to Montreux
On the lake Geneva shoreline
To make records with a mobile
We didn’t have much time
Frank Zappa and the Mothers
Were at the best place around
But some stupid with a flare gun
Burned the place to the ground
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky

They burned down the gambling house
It died with an awful sound
Funky Claude was running in and out
Pulling kids out the ground
When it all was over
We had to find another place
But Swiss time was running out
It seemed that we would lose the race
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky

We ended up at the Grand Hotel
It was empty cold and bare
But with the rolling truck stones thing just outside
Making our music there
With a few red lights and a few old beds
We make a place to sweat
No matter what we get out of this
I know well never forget
Smoke on the water, fire in the sky

Our drive into Lausanne was smooth except for the driveway in - it was narrow and you weren't supposed to really drive there. As driver, I might have had a little bit of a hissy fit while I figured out what I needed to do. It all worked in the end. We unloaded and got out into the world. (Picture looking back at Lausanne from a nice park that pushes out into water like a wide jetty. We had drinks at a pub on this street along the shoreline.)

Our hotel accommodation included free metro public transport - how cool is that? So we hopped onto the train that took us down to the literal Lake Geneva shoreline (song still blaring in my head). We walked along through tiny little bugs and took heaps of pictures.

This is the location where "Blue Steel" was born. Rootsey took a picture of Alan (see picture, right) and Alan didn't smile, he just had what Rootsey called, "the look of blue steel." For the rest of the trip, I daresay, for the rest of our lives, we will probably take "blue steel" pictures. It's a modelling pose done by amateurs. As this blog continues, you'll see the good steel, the bad steel, and the ugly steel. What fun!

Dinner in Lausanne was at a restaurant recommended by the hotel clerk. It was almost right across the street and was a nice place. We got the corner booth and proceeded to order anything that didn't have sauerkraut in it. Ange and I had beef fondue - yum!

I don't remember what anyone else had, but I do remember we were all fat and happy at the end. There was a band playing in the basement where the bathrooms were. I listened to a song and wished we could have a bit of a jam, but the band wasn't that great and we were tired, so we didn't stay. We went back to the hotel to have one more drink, to look at the moon, the Alps, and the stars, and then, with a meeting time established for the morning, we went to bed.

Little did I know that the real Alps had not even been seen.