Memoirs of a Wanderer

In February of 1999, I got my first chance to visit the island of Sicily, the land of my Grandfather's family. I took the train from Salerno to Catania. Was sooooooo cold. Oh, but I thought the further south I got, the warmer it would be. Haa haaa. Train went through a BLIZZARD... got stuck somewhere in Calabria. Twice. Finally we arrived in Villa St. Giovanni and waited... and waited... for the train to be disconnected and transported onto the ferry to take us to Sicily. Sat there on train forever. Finally, we got moving, only to get STUCK on the tracks somehow. They jerked the train back and forth trying to get the train un-stuck, but to no avail. There was some announcement over the intercom, and people began to grab their belongings and exit the train. It was now getting really late, like about 10:00pm; already we were 5 hours late. We all exited the train, and stood around wondering what to do next. I cannot remember if we were on the ferry or not, but soon a conductor came and led us onto a ferry, were there were several tracks, but as yet no train. We all stood around in the cooooollllllllld for so long looking like a bunch of refugees. I remember seeing one old gentleman that reminded me of my Grandpa Alessi. He wore the classic Italian hat, and smoked a thick cigar or cigarette. He had the classic Palermo nose, and tweed coat. Just like Grandpa Alessi.

My grandfather's nose was so big, and he smoked so much that it was stained with nicotine. Worse than that, he had his two fingers amputated because of holding a cigarette so much (at least that's what my mother told me.) Ohh, and he drank like a fish too. I remember more than once I was in the bathroom at home when he barged in to use the toilet. Instead of telling him I was in there, I would hide in the shower. What would then happen is an indelible memory to me... the endless stream of, yeah, you know. I promise you, it was what seemed like eternity to me. It was worse, because I always feared getting caught hiding in the shower. Never was the job complete before he passed gas... yeah, in the same volume as he urinated. No one farted like my grandpa. I remember my grandfather on a fishing trip in Arizona. We were just kids, but I remember he got his fishing line stuck in the trees, got soooo angry and cussed like a sailor, wading into the water, teeth clenching that ever present cigarette, farting away as he flailed away with his fishing rod!

Well, this old gentleman was an old fart like my grandpa.... ohhh.. was he mad! Steaming mad! Being treated like a refugee on board the ferry!!!!!! His wife was trying to calm him down, but he wouldn't be comforted. He paced back and forth smoking his stogie... I watched him, and waited for him to let loose with a tirade of curses. I confess it made the whole affair worthwhile!

Ohh, back to Catania. We finally made it sometime past midnight. At the train station I took a taxi to my hotel that I had booked ahead of time in Aci Trezza. Got there in the pitch black middle of the night. I checked into my room and opened the curtains to a view of the moon shining on the 'o Isole Ciclopi.'

Someone asked, what are my greatest memories in Italy? I thought long and hard, and in all honesty, it has to be the following:

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Sitting on the embankment next to the Arno River in Florence, right next to the Ponte Vecchio, watching one of the hundreds of motor scooter riders buz into a place to park a little Vespa. The rider dismounted her scooter, removed her helmet, let down her hair... and as she joined the throng on the street, immediately she was transformed from a faceless rider to a descendant of Venus. no kidding... truly unforgettable.

Second fondest memory was spending the morning with Michelangelo's Florentine Pieta... unforgettable, but not quite as exhilarating as the beauty on the motor scooter........

Then there was the day I took the train from Rome to Napoli, walked from the station to the Bay of Naples where I caught the ferry to Sorrento. Got there in early evening. It was ccccoooooolllld (was in Feb) so I decided not to stay. From Sorrento, took bus to little town on other side of Amalfi (will find the name and write it in later.) Sheeeze, what a bus ride! After 10,000 tries by telephone I finally made contact with a hotel that was a Rick Steves recommendation (see what I mean about no planning!!??), that was in a little village on the other side of Amalfi. I followed the directions they told me on the phone. I actually walked down a stairway to the little village down below! When I got there it was really late, and still really cold. Wended my way through little streets that had been hollowed out of the cliffs. Finally I made it to the hotel... The room I was instructed to go to was up a few flights of stairs (it was allll stairs !!! I opened the door, and before my eyes was a large cave, just hollowed out of the cliff, plastered and whitewashed. It was a dormitory with several beds, but no one was there. I put my back pack in the room, cleaned up a bit, and decided to try to find a place to eat, I was STARVING. I started wandering through the streets that were carved out of the cliff.. most of which were totally enclosed, plastered and whitewashed. I finally came out on an open street. There was the perfect.... did I say perfect? PERFECT little Italian ristorante... all lit up, and comfortably filled with people. I walked in as if I was a weary vagabond and was seated at a table.... mmmmmmmmmm..... the perfect meal.. perfect setting. Miraculously enough, I staggered back to my little room, and fell asleep in total bliss~

My first visit to Florence underscores the reason to read about where you are going before you go there. I was traveling by train from Venice to Siena, and decided to hop off the train ramble through Florence for a few hours, then take a later train on to Siena. I checked my backpack at the station, and with only my day pack in hand, I hit the street. I made my way to the great cathedral that I spotted from the train station literally dodging the swarms (yeah, that's the best way to describe it, swarms) of motor scooters that were as thick as mosquitoes during breeding season! The crowds were murder. Coming straight from Venice where there are no motorized vehicles, I was overwhelmed by the traffic and crowds. I had no heart to be in such a crowd... I decided to retreat back to the train station, find a quiet place somewhere in Siena to hole up for a bit of rest. I left, but not before noticing a handful of artists... sketching a big fat octagonal building in front of the cathedral. What stands out in my mind was the last cursive glance I gave that strange looking building.

Now anyone with at least a 10% knowledge of Florence knows I am referring to the Baptistery of San Giovanni that that dates back to the 12th century. Unfortunately, my knowledge was less than 10%... and my cursive glance, which was to haunt me for four years, was about the same as the way a chimpanzee looks at a roll of hundred dollar bills. If you cannot eat it, it is of no use.

Immediately that cursive glance began to eat away at me, but it wasn't until long after I returned home did I pick up a few books, and realized that I had almost committed a sacrilege... as I learned that gave such a casual, cursive glance at a work of art that took Lorenzo Ghiberti a life time to complete. Through my self guided study, I actually felt I owed this great artist of centuries ago a return trip to Florence, to give his life's work the homage and appreciation it deserves.

Besides 'The Agony and Ecstasy, by Irving Stone, another great book that helped me greatly was 'Michelangelo', by Howard Hibbard, and 'The House of Medici: Its Rise and Fall,' by Christopher Hibbert.