Finally... Italy!

Yes, we left Fez a week (or two?) ago. It was a strange parting: I was anxious to go, yet didn’t want to leave. I know Morocco has a hold on us. No matter how “other” it may seem (and it is the most exotic place we’ve been, on this trip or any), we both feel powerfully drawn to it. We’ll be back, I’m sure.

OK, so on to Italy, through Tuscany and then one month in Lecce. We are taking our time driving through the Italian countryside – and skirting a few big cities – on our trip south. The plane landed in Pisa, but by the time we got baggage and a rental car the sun was dipping below the horizon, so we missed the tower. (All those travel sites that say don’t bother? I believe them!)

Instead, we’d planned a few nights in Lucca, less than an hour away. It’s an old, walled city, but small enough that we didn’t mind arriving in the near-dark. (Well, I always mind arriving in the dark, but it was not difficult, I mean to say!) We had a pleasant apartment, just outside the walls. Lucca is a very pretty city, but I must say I did not appreciate it until we went to Florence.

Basilica di San Giovanni, one of several superb churches in Lucca

Ah, Firenze, former capitol of the Medici Empire, home to popes, rulers, and bully boys (sometimes all in the same person). And, the city that probably has more art per square meter than anywhere else on earth. How could we not go?! So the second morning of our Lucca stay found us on the train headed for Florence.

The justly famous Florence cathedral,  Il Duomo di Firenze

Facade of the Cathedral, also known as Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore (entry is free but lines were around the block)

Stunning architecture, fantastic buildings, and great fashions in the shop windows. And people. People, people everywhere. We lasted almost four hours before we were studying our notes to find when the next train left for Lucca. But not before we saw the Duomo with its famous cupola* and adjacent tower, passed through the Piazza della Signoria with its statues, including a copy of Michelangelo’s David out front (and lines of people around the block), and headed for the Ponte Vecchio, the old bridge. Famed for the gold smiths whose workshops have traditionally lined the bridge, on this day it was a mob scene, with tour leaders waving their little flags, and the group members hastening to follow along while concentrating on the voices in their earphones.

  *Yes, duomo is Italian for cathedral; “dome” translates to cupola in Italian. Now you know…

Michelangelo's David (actually, a copy; the real one is inside at the Accademia Gallery, a few blocks away)

Near David, in the Piazza della Signoria, were a few other statues, including Perseus with Medusa's Head

Another statue in the Piazza della Signoria (my sun sign is in Leo; I've got a "thing" about lions...)

No, not a riot, just crowds on the Ponte Vecchio

A view of Ponte Veccio from up-river -- from a distance, you can hardly see the crowds!

We strolled the length of the bridge; l I think we had lunch somewhere there at a nice little pizza shop (we eat a lot more pizza in Italy, and Europe in general, than we do at home – it’s worth eating here!). 

We passed the Pitti Palace and wandered through smaller streets before re-crossing the river on our way back to the train station. I’d like to return Florence, but in the wintertime, and perhaps spend a week or so to fully explore the amazing art and architecture. Dropping in for a day is NOT the way to do it! It ended up being more frustrating than fulfilling.

Us, in front of the Pitti Palace (and the lion thing)

Basilica di Santa Maria Novella, seen on our way to the train station in Firenze

We arrived back in Lucca refreshed by a quick nap on the train. Our walk home took us through the entire length of the old city, and I found the buildings, the churches, the palaces to be on a smaller scale but no less magnificent that those in Florence. And, no lines and cheaper admission prices! As I said, the trip to Florence greatly raised my appreciation for Lucca…

Duomo di San Marino in Lucca (magnificent architecture, no crowds!)

Chiesa di San Michele in Foro, St. Michael's Church; perhaps Lucca's most magnificent church

Lucca's Piazza dell'Anfiteatro.  We had dinner here this night. Molto romantico!

               The Hill Towns of Tuscany

Pisa and Lucca are in the northern part of Tuscany; further south are the rolling hills and extensive fields of the famous hill towns. We sent several days in Montepulciano, famous for its Vino Nobile (its signature wine, made principally from Sangivese grapes), and for its fabulous views. The thing is, most of the hills in central Tuscany are topped with ancient stone towns, each with a signature wine, and jaw-dropping views of the surrounding countryside. And at least in the early spring, things are green green green. More than once while visiting these towns we’d fantasize about living in one of those upper-story apartments on the edge of town, overlooking an endless valley covered in green fields.

Volterra was one of our favorite towns, recommended for its Etruscan walls, Roman ruins, alabaster art, and views like this:

Alleyway in Pienza, another of our favorite hill towns

But then, just driving around we'd come across scenes like this winery:

Cypress trees lining the road; classic Tuscany!

Panorama of Tuscany from the ramparts of Montepulciano

Our favorite Tuscan towns: Volterra, Pienza, and, for something a bit larger, Montepulciano (where we stayed four days). 

On the road to Montepulciano, with the famous Chiesa di San Biagio in the foreground

Of course, the price of a green countryside is plenty of rain, and we awoke on our last day in Tuscany to a light drizzle. We were planning a walk along the lake, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen. Instead, we figured we’d get on the road, and split our eight-hour drive to Lecce (nine, with stops) into two shorter trips.

Driving conditions were good. No sun in the eyes, no glare or intense windscreen reflections; no sharp shadows, just low-contrast, even lighting. The rain let up, and we made it to the mountains that separate the plains of the interior of Italy from the plains of the coast. And that’s when things got weird, just a little.

Our trusty GPS lead us off the four-lane divided highway and onto a well-paved but narrow road up into the mountains. Sharp hair-pin turns climbing steeply, no shoulders, abrupt drop-offs… we continued up, more amused than amazed, enjoying the mountain views and the complete lack of other traffic. Eventually the hills leveled out, there were flat, open fields, and a small farming community. And, a highway on-ramp. The trip down to the coast went much faster than the trip up the mountains!

(Let’s see, that maps on that chip I bought are at least five years old. And things do change. Next European trip we’ll buy new maps!)

               Montesilvano and the Coast

After the historic and incredibly picturesque stone towns of Tuscany, the modern coastal cities seemed dull and anti-climactic. But Montesilvano – our goal for the day – was agreeable enough, even if it did not fit the stereotype of an Italian coastal tourist town.

Our BnB was located in a pleasant residential neighborhood a few blocks from the beach, and the owners were very kind. We took a quick walk to the beach: the season was just getting started, the umbrellas we starting to be put out, the cafes getting ready to open. (Going to the beach in Europe is a much more formal affair than in California!) We stared across the clean sand to the waters of the Adriatic, and knew that in the far distance lay Croatia, and the city of Split.

We’d had a good time there, when we visited it some months back, and now BBQ Boy Frank and his wife, Lissette, our second favorite travel blogger (guess who our most favorite is!), had just gotten a long-term residence permit. Good for you, Frank!

We didn’t spend too much time staring out to sea, though, as night was coming on and we needed dinner, and wanted to be up early to get back on the road.

               Vieste

Looking at the famous “boot” of Italy there is a “spur” that juts out to the east just above the heel, a bit north of the city of Bari. This area is designated Parco Nazionale del Gargano, the Gargano National Park. We’d long been interested in exploring this area, so our next stop was the city of Vieste, the eastern-most point of the spur.

As we drove along the top edge of the “bump”, the coast was dramatic, with the blue sea a brilliant turquoise close to shore. At least, what little of the coast we could see; in this mountainous area the winding road did not often allow views. But soon enough we were settled into our B-and-B, set in the hills above the town with dramatic views of the harbor and the sea beyond.

The Adriatic along the Gargano peninsula

Another view of the Gargano coastline. Note the wooden fishing platforms, a local curiosity

View from our balcony. Fabulous! (Croatia is out there, somewhere)

Coast around the town of Vieste, with another of those fishing platforms

Entrance to the Vieste harbor, with... Yup, another fishing platform

Frankly, though, I wasn’t much taken by Vieste. Perhaps it was again due to the contrast between the ancient stone buildings set in the dramatic green hills of Tuscany and the comparatively dull modern apartments in the coastal town. It was a fine town, and right there on the water. But decidedly lacking in charm…

We spent one day driving through the forest that covers this peninsula and that forms the National Park: Foresta Umbra it’s called, the shadowed forest (or some such). I read it’s the last remnants of the ancient forests that once covered all of Europe, so it is certainly significant. We walked a bit; it’s deep, and dark, and very very green.

I like the contrast between the dark earth and the new green growth

So I give the mountains of Gargano high marks, but the coastal areas, not so much. It seems that all the level areas along the beach are taken up by holiday camps, commercial establishments to provide accommodations and camping spaces (and restaurants, and groceries, etc etc) to summer-time visitors. Most of them were closed this early in the season (we never did find a good grocery store); most of what we saw of these camps was high wire fences and automatic gates. I’ll bet this area is a real madhouse in the heat of the summer!

               Lecce

Wow. This post is getting really big! And, we just arrived in Lecce. We’ll have to find out what this place is like. More on that later, no doubt...

Magic Car(pet) Ride; and The Man with the Yellow Babouche

Written by Paula

Almost daily as we wander the medina alleys we hear at least one vendor shyly say, “Magic carpet, flying carpet – best price?!”  We share with him that our childhood included hearing the stories of Ali Baba, Aladdin and the rest of the 1001 Nights. I ask – “Do you read these stories to your children?” “Oh yes” is always the reply, with a smile and twinkling eyes.

Well, we today we had our first magic car(pet) ride. It all started with an invitation from our calligraphy teacher, Abdullah, to join him for an afternoon stroll through the Jardin Jnan Sbil, a beautiful peaceful garden originally part of the Kings Palace, now open to the public. Our first stop was the bamboo grove, planted, we were told, by ancient calligraphers. It seems bamboo of the right size and texture makes the perfect qalam, or calligraphy pen. Indeed, Abdullah uses the bamboo from this grove to make his own qalams (or whatever is the plural of this Arabic word).

Bamboo Grove in Jardin Jnan Sbil, by and for calligraphers -- and the people of Fez

Entryway to this beautiful park

A noria, a waterwheel that lifts water for irrigation

I sat with this man for a bit; he was pleased to meet an American, and I was thrilled to meet him!

As we were walking through the bamboo forest he casually said, “Have you been to Ifrane, the Switzerland of Morocco?” Well no, not on this trip, was our reply. We actually had been thinking of going in a few days and this seemed fortuitous. He called a friend with a car and soon we were driving into the countryside toward Ifrane. About 10 minutes out of Fez he leaned back and asked – “Have you ever been to the Roman ruins at Volubilis?” Again our response was “well, no” but we knew Volubilis was not directly on the way to Ifrane. “Ok”, said Abdullah, “Let’s make a detour!”

We looked at each other and smiled – wow – we have wanted to go to Volubilis since we first got to Fez and had spent hours researching and discussing transportation options. This seemed like a magical moment, to say the least. (We may have more to say about Volubilis later.)

We made it! Volubilis

Abdullah and Paul (on the right) with ancient Roman mosaic floor

Abdullah and his friend, who drove us all here

Paula and the triumphal arch

The famous stork nest of Volubilis

As the afternoon faded, we thought it was too late to go to Ifrane; however, there was more in store. We arrived at the Swiss chalet town at sunset, and spent the evening strolling the fashionable streets, sipping coffee with the locals. This was not Morocco!  We were transported.

Large home in Ifrane, the Switzerland of Morocco!

Pointy roofs, must be, ah, Ifrane!

The Switzerland of Morocco in Winter
(photo courtesy of  yalalla.com)

The famed lion of Ifrane, carved in stone by a former prisoner

Ifrane at night -- Morocco's national crest: God, King, Country

It was midnight before we got home. All we could do was shake our heads and laugh. What a ride!

Man with the Yellow Babouche

Ever since our first trip to Morocco three years ago, Paul has been fascinated with the yellow babouche (pointy-toed slippers) seen on the feet of many Moroccan men. Not just any color babouche mind you, only yellow. We have learned since then that only men wear these yellow babouche. He didn’t buy a pair on that trip three years ago, and I figured it was time: he’d definitely buy them now. Well, time went on and he kept taking pictures of them (and including them in the blog). We learned there are many qualities of leather (some leather even coming from China), craftsmanship, and a wide range of prices. But still he made no move toward getting a pair.

 I encouraged him to ask a local for help. One of our neighbors is a young man whose family works in the tannery near us. We meet him every day as we come and go. Like most Moroccans, he is friendly and very open, and after about a week he informed us “You are now my family – you are like my parents!” (I thought, Great, at least he didn’t say grandparents.)

It was our last week before leaving Fez for good. Paul went off to explore the tannery (always a hot tourist destination, although I don’t know why – I declined this visit) and ran into Redoine, our new family member. Paul talked to him about how much he would like to buy a good quality pair of babouche and asked him where to get them. After all, his family’s business was leather! Redoine was on it – he knows everyone and said he would find us the best quality and price. We were stoked! Paul gave him his size and Redoine said he would call with the price soon. About an hour later our doorbell rang. It was Redoine. In his hand were the longed-for yellow babouche. “This is a gift for you” he said. There are no words to describe how touched Paul was. No amount of asking could persuade Redoine to accept money for them. Yet another example of the extreme generosity of the Moroccan people.

Paul wears them proudly and will be glad to show them off, if you ask (and probably even if you don’t!). Next, we have to find him a djellabah…

The photo that started it all

The Street That Wasn’t There (or Was it?)

This picture appeared recently in The View from Fez, a website for English-speakers to keep up on what’s happening in the city. The caption was something like “How well do you know Morocco – where was this picture taken?”

Mystery street, from View From Fez

Narrow streets are pretty common in the medinas of Moroccan cities, but bright colors and plants are almost unknown. We puzzled over it for a bit, but had no clue. It’s like nothing we’d ever seen here. Not that we’ve seen everything, but hey, we’ve been around!

The next day the website revealed the answer: the Fez Medina. What?! Admittedly, we haven’t been everywhere in the Fez medina, but we’ve seen a good bit of it. I studied the description and the photo, but couldn’t quite tell where, exactly, it was in Fez.

Saturday morning we were out bright and early (for us) on another Photo Club outing, this time up the mountain just outside of town. And there, as we casually glanced over our shoulders, right across from our butcher’s stall, a spot we’ve passed at least a hundred times, was The Street! It’s as if it only came into existence after we read about it. Would it be there when we came back that afternoon?

Yup, it was there; we got photos to prove it!

Mystery street found! With cats

Looking back up the mystery street

Post Script: We chatted with our butcher buddy about the street (he can see it from his stall). Turns out it was painted only a couple of weeks ago. Whew! We’re not losing our minds after all… although a disappearing street would make for a more interesting story!

The Photography Club

“I feel so lethargic!” said Paula.

Yeah, that’s a good word, lethargic. It’s hardly onomatopoetic, yet it seems to capture that almost liquid feeling; lassitude; letting everything go, muscles softening, sinews slack.

It’s that kind of day. We are having lunch at a café we found recently, just inside the Bab Boujloud, the famed Blue Gate. (Except on this side it’s green; blue is the outside side.) I wanted to come here because of the excellent view of the Bab from the terrace. We’ve found the food is quite good, and the banana juice Paula ordered was surprisingly tasty. (It’s actually a smoothie, quite popular here; I’d sure like to see a banana juicer, though.)

Bab Bjouloud, the Blue Gate; from our terrace restaurant, the green (inside) side

Bab Bjouloud from the outside

The weather has turned a corner: Winter is done! Goodbye cold days, hello Spring and that warm sun - 85ºF! But enjoy it while you can, it gets powerfully hot here in the summer - 100º.

We’re taking it easy today, after two intense days of exploring. Saturday we were on our own, and investigated some parts of the medina we had never seen before. Sunday, though, we were with the Photography Club.

Yes, the Photography Club. Paula, inveterate researcher that she is, has been reading The View from Fez, a locally-produced English-language website for things of interest in Fez. And, well, she found the Photography Club, part of the American Language Center. 

Our first outing with the Club was about a month ago, to the Merenid Tombs. These were built in the 15^th century to house the remains of the rulers of the day. What I know about the Tombs is they are clearly visible from our terrace and we spend hours staring at them, watching people gather around them and hike down the hill. It’s a particular favorite around sundown, with the clear view of the city to the south and east, and the sun setting in the west. (It may also be popular at sunrise, but so far we haven’t been ambitious enough to check that early.)

The Merenid Tombs (on the hill to the left), seen from our roof-top terrace.

Fez, seen from the Merenid Tombs

On this particular Sunday we met the other photography enthusiasts near the fountain that’s just outside the Bab Boujloud. Omar, the leader, divided us up and we piled into cars for the short trip up the hill to the Tombs, arriving comfortably before sunset. This gave us a chance to talk with the other members, mostly students, about their lives and what they did here in Fez.

    

The ruins of the tombs are picturesque by themselves; the valley behind them is verdant with farms scattered throughout; and of course, the incredibly dense medina of Fez spreads out below. Pretty much anywhere you pointed a camera was worth a photo! But Omar had an assignment for us: slow shutter speeds. Well of course! The sun was on its way down, the sky was darkening, and the city was lighting up.

    

People gather at the Tombs around sunset

The Tombs after sunset

A one-second exposure of the city after sunset

The full moon rising over the hills; another one-second exposure

It was a thrilling experience. Although we’d been up to the tombs before (just the day previously, in fact), being there at night, and being there with other photographers – especially local photographers – was quite another experience. We came away with a better appreciation of the physical beauty of the area, but more important to us was the better appreciation of the Moroccans and their culture.

We somehow managed to miss the next couple of photography meetings, which are held every Sunday, but we made it this week. This time the assignment was street shooting in the medina.

I’ve never thought much about street shooting, although I have a friend who is keen on it. Basically, it means wandering the streets taking photos of interesting things, usually people. There is some controversy around it: is it an invasion of privacy, photographing people in public? (Well, it is in public…) Do people like to have their pictures taken? (Maybe, maybe not.) Do I need to ask permission? Ah…

Case in point: it’s now Easter week, bringing a huge influx of tourists (Spanish escaping the sometimes-crazy Semana Santa; students on Spring break). Saturday we were hurrying up the street to meet someone. I noticed a vendor we had spoken with often (he always has good music playing in his shop: light jazz, or perhaps Johnny Cash, maybe something symphonic). No music on this day, instead he was holding his cell phone in the face of a tourist (tee shirt stretched over belly, large camera around his neck), as if he were taking a picture. The tourist was laughing, but our vendor’s face was screwed up in a grimace of anger. We passed quickly on, but I expect the tourist was being very disrespectful of the vendor's "no photos!" request…

I’m always careful not to take pictures of people in the street, because it can be annoying. But asking permission destroys the spontaneity of the shot. To avoid all of these questions, I just leave street shooting alone. But it occurred to me just a month or two ago (after nine months of continuous travel) that travel photography is street shooting. That, and views of the countryside (landscape photography), and interesting buildings and monuments (architectural photograph). And, maybe, local flora and fauna (nature photography).

So now, our assignment for this day is shooting scenes in the medina: street shooting. And, we are divided into two-person teams. I’m paired with a young guy, a student with a nice SLR, enthusiastic about photography, and a Moroccan. Ah, someone familiar with the language and local customs!

That's my photo buddy on the far left (the one with the camera)

We started out slowly, neither of us feeling comfortable asking people for permission, but soon enough we were flying along snapping away. He’d ask permission, and we’d both take a few shots; or I’d tap him on the shoulder and say, ask this guy! We even got invited into some places I’d never dare to go (indeed, some places I never would have even known about).

Still, photography in the medina is not without its challenges. The streets are narrow, no more than eight feet wide, and lined with tiny shops, often with goods, or customers – or both – spilling into the street. There are always streams of people flowing in both directions, usually a few tourists but mostly locals going about their business. A vendor selling fresh mint or boiled chick peas (garbanzo beans) from a cart slows traffic; a donkey, resigned to his fate and burdened with propane bottles for the many eating places (and private residences; 150,000 people live in the medina) plods slowly up the street. Or perhaps it’s one of the ubiquitous two-wheeled hand carts, expertly guided through the crowd, carrying new appliances, or tourist luggage, or eight-foot steel I-beams for a construction project. (Just because the Fez medina is the world’s largest car-free zone doesn’t mean goods don’t need to get moved around!)

A knock-kneed horse delivers coke and orange soda

More yellow slippers! 

And the stone walls are high, generally three stories. Lattice-work wooden “ceilings” keep out the heat of the sun (especially important in the summer) while allowing air to flow, so it is often quite dark. Except when it isn’t. Intense sunlight slashing through openings produces sharp lighting contrasts. Tight quarters, constant commotion, inconsistent lighting: a perfect storm for photographic frustration. (Oh, and need I mention that everywhere you look are bright colors, outrageous sights, and fascinating people, begging to be captured by your digital image sensor?)

Banging out pots in Place Seffarine

A food stand, great for a quick lunch

But I’ve been roaming these streets for six weeks now, filling my hard drive with hundreds of images. Surely, you must think, I’m a master at this, right? Sadly, no. Slow shutter speeds blur some shots; improper focus upsets others; glare from that sunbeam makes this shot unusable. But I managed to get a few good ones…

Being about five hours from the ocean, we don't eat fish here. But some people do!

This mint seller seems to know more than he'll tell

We don't see many dogs in Fez but cats are highly regarded

Weighing out live chickens. I don't expect them to become pets...

My photo partner taking a head shot

A cat, cozy in the sun, snuggles against tanjine pots for sale

The real value of these meetings, of course, isn’t what we learn about photography (although there is always something to learn!). It’s the connections we make with the locals, with Omar and the other club members, that really makes these meetings so special.