- A summary of another experience with the hospital system in Italy
Two weeks ago we had a fascinating day experiencing Formula 1 first hand at the home Italian motor racing in Monza, Milano. It was a truly Italian experience, even though the majority of the group we were with were American. But that’s another story!
After a stunning day and just as it came time to leave the track the heavens opened! Being a long way from where we had parked – so far in fact that we had had to take taxis to reach the gate – the decision was made to walk back to the carpark cutting the long way through the inside of the track. Hmm... does this sound like a good plan? As no-one actually knew where we were going we were (patiently and politely) at the mercy of the Man in charge. We got lost. After an hour of this and now completely devoid of patience I told my husband I had a map and I’d had enough. Blow being polite any longer I was getting us out of there. Too late – good manners returned and so we continued the trail realising that we were at least finally heading in the correct direction. Sodden, stressed, and tired we wound our way through the crowds making for the exit. Suddenly I realised Caitlin wasn’t keeping up... Her body had had enough.
A quick assessment of the situation showed Caitlin to be having difficulty breathing, having some pain in her chest. She was dizzy, disoriented, nauseous, headachy and just before I could get her body to a seat she fainted! Two of the other mums in the group quickly picked up on the situation and came back to help. We needed to get Caitlin out of the eweather and back to car pronto. My dear friend Missy, a real take-charge gal, tried to get help from the local police to no avail... an ambulance was all they could offer. Not to be beaten she flagged down a passing support crew van and asked them to take Caitlin and I to the exit gate. Happy to help they allowed us to climb in. After a short and memorable altercation with a typically arrogant carabinniere officer whose car we were blocking in order to get Caitlin on board, we u-turned and headed for the gate.
Although Caitlin seemed much better after a warm shower and a change of clothes at a nearby friend’s house she remained very tired, dizzy and headachy. Spending most of Sunday resting provided no improvement. We headed off to the doctor’s surgery on Monday morning... and so it began... ultrasound of her thyroid and blood tests on Tuesday morning... back to the doctor Thursday who insisted we go to the Pronto Socorso (Italian equivalent of A&E or Emergency Room) for a CAT scan. Unfortunately we went to the wrong Pronto Socorso – we should have gone to the one at the Children’s hospital – not the one at the main hospital – Who knew????
After several arguments with staff (thanks Silvia our translator – what would I do without you!) they agreed to do the requested CAT scan at the main hospital. But. We would then have to be seen by the paediatrician – at the Childrens’ hospital. And. We had to go by their ambulance. Eight hours, another fainting spell, many proddings and a CAT scan later they let us go home with instructions to be back at 9am the next morning.
Friday morning we were back at the children’s hospital (where there is almost no public parking) ready to wait to go by ambulance to the main hospital (where we could easily have parked the car). A visit to an ‘otoneuroligica’ specialist resulted in long waiting periods and many, many more examinations related to her ears. This man put Caitlin through an amazing battery of tests. The worst according to Caitlin required two electrodes to be attached to her lobes and a needle electrode to be inserted in her scalp. All tests proved negative except to confirm some high frequency hearing loss (which we already knew about). His final diagnosis was to take kava kava tablets and see a psychiatrist.
Back at the Pronoto Socorso in the Children’s hospital the paediatrician laughingly disagreed, pointing out that the gentleman was assuming that because he could find nothing where he was looking that nothing was actually wrong. The paediatrician felt there was still a long way to go before making any firm conclusion. More prodding and poking from the five medical staff in the room followed with Caitlin very considerately coming close to passing out again – giving a clear demonstration to the medicos of her low blood pressure and complimentary low heart rate – a bad combination!
Unfortunately the Ped’s next decision was to admit Caitlin so that her blood pressure and heart rate could be monitored more closely for 24 hours and an MRI booked for the following week. A few phone calls and we found ourselves in a hospital room. Hospitals are scary places to stay at the best of times but in a different culture and with a different language it can be quite frightening; Caitlin needed me to stay with her. This is obviously common as all the hospital beds have an accompanying a pullout bed for a parent to sleep on. Also with Caitlin’s often unexpected fainting spells we were told that she must not walk around without one or other of us beside her. That confirmed my booking! Barry packed a couple of small back packs with essential supplies and brought them to us.
Nothing of course is ever simple in Italy. No monitor applied all weekend and little sleep after Caitlin gained a roommate at 5am on Sunday morning; another adolescent girl who suffered from sleep apnoea. A children’s ward is filled with many small children and babies, none of whom are well and few of whom are happy, the sound of crying babies was a constant. Daily visits from the medical team top scored with 12 doctors of various levels plus the two bigwigs in one conference – creepy to be the centre of that much attention. More ultrasounds, a chest xray, tb Mantoux test, allergy prick tests, respiratory tests, urine collection, 24 hour blood pressure monitor... all conducted in full on Italian – right up until I spat the dummy! Caitlin was becoming more and more overwhelmed and suddenly the Mother Lioness sprang to the defence of her cub. NO MORE tests unless we clearly understand IN ENGLISH what is going on and why. Things improved rapidly with the medical staff doing their best in English and us confirming in broken Italian that we had got the correct message. The rest of the week settled into a routine of tests and waiting. Each evening after work and a quick dinner Barry would come up to the hospital for a couple of hours and I would go home for a shower (no towels in the hospital and no evening meals for parents) and a meal then back to swap over again. The enforced rest certain did Caitlin no physical harm but her frustration grew rapidly.
The MRI was finally booked for Friday and after more waiting... and another ambulance ride... and a 40 minute attempt in a broken machine... Caitlin finally got her MRI, an experience she vows NEVER to repeat, the noise being so loud she thought her eardrums would burst. More waiting for a return ambulance ride to the children’s hospital and another wait to get discharged. We eventually got to go home about 7pm Friday night with a discharge diagnosis of ‘headache with dizziness’ and instructions to see our own doctor again once we receive the final test results – by mail (by mail? In this country? With it’s awesome and predictably accurate postal system?).
A restful but getting more active weekend has seen Caitlin back at school this week. She has survived the first day with only one spell of feeling faint. Guess we’ll wait and see what the post brings us!
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
The FIC Road Trip – Day 14 Sirmione and Home
Three generations of women on a two-week tour of Italy – the adventure concludes!
Thank goodness for a hotel with air conditioning and a good night’s sleep. It was hard to believe that this was our last morning and we would be home later in the day. Wandered down for a leisurely breakfast and then got ourselves tidied up and re-packed. Checked out and then gingerly opened the car, desperately hoping the clean-up job had worked and the car wouldn’t smell like a brewery. Success! The car smelt fine.
With our route home passing close to Lago Garda we thought we should at least make a visit to the shore. Using the map book we identified a spit of land that extends out into the lake. Setting the GPS for ‘Sirmione’ we were away. What a find!
We parked in a public carpark that seemed to be well out along the bar then walked on from there. Passing several touristy shops and some gorgeous hotels we suddenly came upon the castle, La Rocca Scaligeri. Named for the Della Scala family from Verona it was one of their family homes. Building began in 1277 and the fortress evolved over the next 100 odd years in four distinct stages finishing with the addition of the walled harbour.
Thank goodness for a hotel with air conditioning and a good night’s sleep. It was hard to believe that this was our last morning and we would be home later in the day. Wandered down for a leisurely breakfast and then got ourselves tidied up and re-packed. Checked out and then gingerly opened the car, desperately hoping the clean-up job had worked and the car wouldn’t smell like a brewery. Success! The car smelt fine.
With our route home passing close to Lago Garda we thought we should at least make a visit to the shore. Using the map book we identified a spit of land that extends out into the lake. Setting the GPS for ‘Sirmione’ we were away. What a find!
We parked in a public carpark that seemed to be well out along the bar then walked on from there. Passing several touristy shops and some gorgeous hotels we suddenly came upon the castle, La Rocca Scaligeri. Named for the Della Scala family from Verona it was one of their family homes. Building began in 1277 and the fortress evolved over the next 100 odd years in four distinct stages finishing with the addition of the walled harbour.
We crossed the moat and paying a small entrance fee began to explore the simple interior. There are three main levels to the castle; the ground floor, the walls and the high tower. Caitlin, Mum and I easily made it up the first set of 77 steps to the top of the surrounding walls and that was more than high enough for Caitlin. Turns out she is definitely her father’s daughter and has inherited his family aversion to heights.
Mum and I ventured on up to the next stage - the tall tower. This was much more of a challenge with some of the flights more like ladders than stairs. The view was definitely worth the effort required to clamber backwards down the ladders to reach Caitlin again.
From the walls the descent to the floor of the castle was easily made. Caitlin was mightily pleased although, getting her ‘grounded’ again took a little time and was greatly aided by a plastic bowl of delicious fresh melon and a paddle on the rocks.
Homeward bound we headed on the last leg of our grand expedition and two hours later the gates were at last in sight. As we pulled into the carpark we realised just how much we had been missed.
The FIC Road Trip – Day 13 Bologna and Verona
We coped with the heat and then dragged ourselves downstairs to a very marginal breakfast, hitting the road as soon as reasonable. Not a place to return to.
GPS not keen to be helpful but eventually re-joined our side on the road back to the autostrada. We took a detour into Bologna in search of a farmacia. Managed to find a carpark, a food spot and get back on the road – all without the help of the GPS who had packed up again.
More variations in architecture and landscape, intensely farmed land with more closely scattered buildings. With the GPS not working, we couldn’t risk getting off the autostrada to visit Modena, or Mantova, although both looked fascinating.
A refuel stop on the motorway topped up the car - and our tummies. And then, once again, with 40 km to go the GPS kicked back in. We found the hotel “Euromotel Croce Bianca” in Verona following both the emailed instructions and the GPS.
We discovered a lovely helpful guy in reception which was great, as I was in no mood to deal with anything else. As I had lifted one of the cases out of the boot of the car I broke one of the bottles from Alberobello (my favourite one!) all over the inside of the boot - DAMN!! Had to swiftly chuck everything out of the car onto the carpark and rinse the base out with bottled water. To top things off the first room we were offered in the hotel smelled of smoke so back downstairs we went - new room further down the corridor. Turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the new room was much bigger and had three good size beds. Good move! We all had a lie down for a rest and then caught a bus from outside the hotel into the city proper about 3.40.
We followed a walking itinerary from a map we got at the hotel. What a city! There was so much to see but heat and sore feet really meant we didn’t appreciate it as we should. We were almost tempted to get tickets to the Verona opera as Placido Domingo was singing to-night but, luckily, decided against it – we’d never have survived.
Our first stop off the bus was the Castel Vecchio, with the attached Ponte de Scagleri. The castle has a drawbridge and moat at the front and backed onto the river. The drawbridge is still there and we walked across it. The place is now a museum/gallery. The bridge was rebuilt in the 1950s after being destroyed by a German mine in 1945. As far as possible, original materials were used, and the original design followed. It is extraordinary. We walked across the bridge and back then wandered around the courtyard of the castle before moving on.
We decided to head towards our bus stop before grabbing a quick bit to eat. Poor and slow service followed – although the ‘people watching’ was fascinating!! They were all dressed up for the Opera.
Upon checking the bus sheet for final departure times and bus pick-up points I found we were on the wrong road for the last bus that would be stopping over the road from the hotel – Oh dear!!
Luckily there were two other bus numbers that stop relatively close to the hotel and we managed to catch one of these. With the help of an English speaking local on the bus we got off at the correct stop and walked/trudged/dragged our weary butts the last few blocks to bed. Caitlin and I entertained ourselves over this last stretch creating a story all about “Harry and his imaginary friend Charlie, a helephant, who both liked hairyplanes and helichopters!” Hee, hee, hee...
GPS not keen to be helpful but eventually re-joined our side on the road back to the autostrada. We took a detour into Bologna in search of a farmacia. Managed to find a carpark, a food spot and get back on the road – all without the help of the GPS who had packed up again.
More variations in architecture and landscape, intensely farmed land with more closely scattered buildings. With the GPS not working, we couldn’t risk getting off the autostrada to visit Modena, or Mantova, although both looked fascinating.
A refuel stop on the motorway topped up the car - and our tummies. And then, once again, with 40 km to go the GPS kicked back in. We found the hotel “Euromotel Croce Bianca” in Verona following both the emailed instructions and the GPS.
We discovered a lovely helpful guy in reception which was great, as I was in no mood to deal with anything else. As I had lifted one of the cases out of the boot of the car I broke one of the bottles from Alberobello (my favourite one!) all over the inside of the boot - DAMN!! Had to swiftly chuck everything out of the car onto the carpark and rinse the base out with bottled water. To top things off the first room we were offered in the hotel smelled of smoke so back downstairs we went - new room further down the corridor. Turned out to be a blessing in disguise as the new room was much bigger and had three good size beds. Good move! We all had a lie down for a rest and then caught a bus from outside the hotel into the city proper about 3.40.
We followed a walking itinerary from a map we got at the hotel. What a city! There was so much to see but heat and sore feet really meant we didn’t appreciate it as we should. We were almost tempted to get tickets to the Verona opera as Placido Domingo was singing to-night but, luckily, decided against it – we’d never have survived.
Our first stop off the bus was the Castel Vecchio, with the attached Ponte de Scagleri. The castle has a drawbridge and moat at the front and backed onto the river. The drawbridge is still there and we walked across it. The place is now a museum/gallery. The bridge was rebuilt in the 1950s after being destroyed by a German mine in 1945. As far as possible, original materials were used, and the original design followed. It is extraordinary. We walked across the bridge and back then wandered around the courtyard of the castle before moving on.
Next door is the Arc of Gavi –from the 1st century! To think of its age – what has passed before it? We passed a number of churches of course – before passing under a set of arches and into the old city proper. These gates are also from the 1st century and this is where taxes were levied and collected on goods passing into and out of the city. Roads either side of the gate go up quite steeply. This area has been deliberately kept at this level to keep the gates in use! 
The road from the gates, lined with expensive shops, led to the Piazza Erbe, once the heart of the city and named for the regular vegetable market held here. Whilst still maintaining its original length of 150m (two Roman blocks) its width of 75m has been greatly reduced with encroaching buildings. The central area is still a market but predominantly touristy. In desperation to escape the heat we sat at an outside bar where fine, fine sprays of mist drifted over us from jets under the umbrellas every 15-20 seconds – BLISS!!
More exceptional, but fortress like, buildings followed. Many have swallowtail Ghibelline merlons along the tops. What a war-like place! The buildings are on the most part well preserved although some have suffered from poor rebuilding.
Strange things hang from overhead arches between blocks – a whale rib near a pharmacy, examples of torture equipment to discourage bad behaviour. Much of this from Venetian times, but, most much earlier.
We passed a house purported to b the home of Romeo Montecchi the ‘real’ Romeo. Also visited the house dedicated to Juliet where we took photos beside her statue.
The Verona arena, or colosseum, is large - but not as large as the amphitheatre in Rome although built before it. The Verona arena could hold 30,000 people in its day - more than the population of the city at the time. Today the arena is back in use. Over the summer period it hosts a number of operas in the open. Exhausted at this point of the day we followed the curve of the arena, passed the displays of sets for the operas currently running, amazed at the enormous crowds of people.
Leaving the walls of Verona and finding that there is still a world out there, irrespective of Shakespeare’s claim;
"There is no world without Verona walls,
But purgatory, torture, hell itself,
Hence banished is banish'd from the world,
and world's exile is death....."
We decided to head towards our bus stop before grabbing a quick bit to eat. Poor and slow service followed – although the ‘people watching’ was fascinating!! They were all dressed up for the Opera.Upon checking the bus sheet for final departure times and bus pick-up points I found we were on the wrong road for the last bus that would be stopping over the road from the hotel – Oh dear!!
Luckily there were two other bus numbers that stop relatively close to the hotel and we managed to catch one of these. With the help of an English speaking local on the bus we got off at the correct stop and walked/trudged/dragged our weary butts the last few blocks to bed. Caitlin and I entertained ourselves over this last stretch creating a story all about “Harry and his imaginary friend Charlie, a helephant, who both liked hairyplanes and helichopters!” Hee, hee, hee...
The FIC Road Trip – Day 12 Brisighella
Got underway as soon as reasonable after food, pack and check out. The GPS accepted the next destination and then worked for three minutes!
Back on the motorway and headed for Brisighella, we decided to detour to Cattolica where Mum had holidayed over 50 years ago. Scary place, so totally over run with humanity in all its forms. The question of the day was - should you still be wearing a bikini when the bikini top wraps around your middle in order to cover your nipples? You know your boobs have dropped when your swimsuit only comes half way up your torso and still covers your top bits. Scary, scary, scary.
The heat finally beat us and we had to seek sanctuary in the car. The GPS refused to work so we had to resort to Italian road signs to find the autostrada. Luckily - and very surprisingly - this worked.
Another hour or more of driving and the GPS kicked in - bless her - with 30 km to go, and took us straight to the door. Our hotel, “Albergo La Rocca”, is on the edge of the historic part of town. Imagine a hotel from the 1950s with no air conditioner, no fridge, dreadful curtains and wallpaper peeling. The pull-out bed had a huge dip in the centre and was not set up, nor were there sufficient towels or pillows. After a somewhat refreshing sleep... off we went in 40°C heat to find the information centre and a half decent map, something the hotel could not supply. This is a town moving towards tourism but not yet there.
Took a drinks break in a small cafe and watched television (cartoons in Italian) for a while so our bodies could cool down again.
Followed instructions from the map, and the information centre lady, to get to La Rocca, the medieval fortress overlooking the town, and on to the 6-hour clock (connected by a road not shown on the maps) ...only to discover both CLOSED. It’s the only reason we came here!!! They are only open Saturday, Sunday and public holidays. Too ridiculous for words. Still, we took what photos we could.
Like many clock towers in Italy this one works with two bells, one marking the hours and the other the ¼ hours. The hour bell gives one peal for each hour up to 6 a.m. then just one peal for 7 a.m., two for 8 a.m., you get the picture. It is supposed to be obvious to the locals that what the one chime means when they hear it. One can easily tell whether it is one in the afternoon or seven in the morning.
Another rest and we got dressed to go out for dinner down to a restaurant Caitlin had spotted beside the Memorial/Remembrance Park - gorgeous statue near the park with the huge stone ball fountain.
Dinner was great and before long the entire place was packed. We finished dessert and paid the bill then went in search of the free concert we’d seen advertised. Our ears led us to a delightful little church, brightly lit inside with magical playing by violinists, a harpsichordist and a classical guitarist. What a stunning end to our evening. We gently meandered back to the hotel stopping to photograph the ‘ass’s way’, and old covered road used by the donkeys carrying loads from the quarry - there must be a story there.
Arrived back at the hotel to be greeted by a woman and berated by some bloke; something about using the key to get in through another door. We’d been told we only needed that after midnight and it was only 11.20 so couldn’t understand the issue. Put a huge damper on an otherwise totally magical evening.
Another no air-con and another 3O+°C night...
Back on the motorway and headed for Brisighella, we decided to detour to Cattolica where Mum had holidayed over 50 years ago. Scary place, so totally over run with humanity in all its forms. The question of the day was - should you still be wearing a bikini when the bikini top wraps around your middle in order to cover your nipples? You know your boobs have dropped when your swimsuit only comes half way up your torso and still covers your top bits. Scary, scary, scary.
The heat finally beat us and we had to seek sanctuary in the car. The GPS refused to work so we had to resort to Italian road signs to find the autostrada. Luckily - and very surprisingly - this worked.
Another hour or more of driving and the GPS kicked in - bless her - with 30 km to go, and took us straight to the door. Our hotel, “Albergo La Rocca”, is on the edge of the historic part of town. Imagine a hotel from the 1950s with no air conditioner, no fridge, dreadful curtains and wallpaper peeling. The pull-out bed had a huge dip in the centre and was not set up, nor were there sufficient towels or pillows. After a somewhat refreshing sleep... off we went in 40°C heat to find the information centre and a half decent map, something the hotel could not supply. This is a town moving towards tourism but not yet there.
Took a drinks break in a small cafe and watched television (cartoons in Italian) for a while so our bodies could cool down again.
Followed instructions from the map, and the information centre lady, to get to La Rocca, the medieval fortress overlooking the town, and on to the 6-hour clock (connected by a road not shown on the maps) ...only to discover both CLOSED. It’s the only reason we came here!!! They are only open Saturday, Sunday and public holidays. Too ridiculous for words. Still, we took what photos we could.
Like many clock towers in Italy this one works with two bells, one marking the hours and the other the ¼ hours. The hour bell gives one peal for each hour up to 6 a.m. then just one peal for 7 a.m., two for 8 a.m., you get the picture. It is supposed to be obvious to the locals that what the one chime means when they hear it. One can easily tell whether it is one in the afternoon or seven in the morning.
Another rest and we got dressed to go out for dinner down to a restaurant Caitlin had spotted beside the Memorial/Remembrance Park - gorgeous statue near the park with the huge stone ball fountain.
Dinner was great and before long the entire place was packed. We finished dessert and paid the bill then went in search of the free concert we’d seen advertised. Our ears led us to a delightful little church, brightly lit inside with magical playing by violinists, a harpsichordist and a classical guitarist. What a stunning end to our evening. We gently meandered back to the hotel stopping to photograph the ‘ass’s way’, and old covered road used by the donkeys carrying loads from the quarry - there must be a story there.
Arrived back at the hotel to be greeted by a woman and berated by some bloke; something about using the key to get in through another door. We’d been told we only needed that after midnight and it was only 11.20 so couldn’t understand the issue. Put a huge damper on an otherwise totally magical evening.
Another no air-con and another 3O+°C night...
The FIC Road Trip – Day 11 Termoli, Loreto and Porto Recanati
Three generations of women on a two-week tour of Italy – the adventure continues!
Got up early after being awakened before 7 by some beggar thumping away with a hammer... not best pleased I can tell you. Still, it got me up and moving. Quick shower and dressed and back up to photograph the row of five trulli with their signs on the roofs. Great shot with the sun fully on them, the streets clear of people and the shop junk not yet on display.
Wandered back and go everyone underway. Once we packed up we walked the bags down the path to the main road. Mum and Caitlin stayed with the bags whilst I got the car. Did an ‘Italian’ and swung in to park on the wrong side of the road so we could pack the car. The GPS co-operated long enough to get us back to the office where we parked and had breakfast at a nearby cafe. After light brekkie we checked out and set course for Loreto (had to select by postcode as there are lots of places called Loreto in Italy). With five hours of driving ahead we got started.
The changes in landscape over the journey on this day were marked - red earth, stone, olives and cacti in Puglia; verdant green pasture, crops and white dust of quarry slag in Marche.
To break the drive, we stopped at a beach in Termoli – a truly Italian beach experience; €22 for two sun-beds and an umbrella in the second row on the creamy white sand. The repeated dips in the salty, salty water did little to refresh body temp. Water just doesn’t cool one. Still the three hour rest was appreciated.
Another 2 ½ hours driving all on the autostrada meant we finally arrived in Loreto about 6 p.m. The place we were staying that night was a Franciscan monastery. The rooms were very simple; three beds and a bathroom, small table and two chairs. No air con!! Ah well!!
After a good shower to get rid of the salt and sand we bravely ventured into the town of Porto Recanati, on the other side of the motorway. Brave it was because the GPS was again on strike - as she had been for about three hours of the drive.
We found our way to the beach and even got Mum some diuretics (and new sandals) from a pharmacy. This entire thing being accomplished in far from fluent Italian. Caitlin found the largest beach soccer ball ever seen and added it to our growing luggage collection.
Checked out various restaurants along the strand, before finally settling on one, and ordering a seafood feed. Was feeling really hungry as lunch was only nibbles and muesli bars at the beach. Dinner was okay but the drive home was almost a disaster with the GPS refusing to play the game for some time before finally trying to send us up a goat track!
Back at the Monastery we borrowed a key from reception an went out onto the fourth floor terrace to see the view of the coast and the huge basilica on the hill nearby, an amazing view for certain sure. We were well ready for sleep, after all the salty air and water and the concentrated driving.
Got up early after being awakened before 7 by some beggar thumping away with a hammer... not best pleased I can tell you. Still, it got me up and moving. Quick shower and dressed and back up to photograph the row of five trulli with their signs on the roofs. Great shot with the sun fully on them, the streets clear of people and the shop junk not yet on display.
Wandered back and go everyone underway. Once we packed up we walked the bags down the path to the main road. Mum and Caitlin stayed with the bags whilst I got the car. Did an ‘Italian’ and swung in to park on the wrong side of the road so we could pack the car. The GPS co-operated long enough to get us back to the office where we parked and had breakfast at a nearby cafe. After light brekkie we checked out and set course for Loreto (had to select by postcode as there are lots of places called Loreto in Italy). With five hours of driving ahead we got started.
The changes in landscape over the journey on this day were marked - red earth, stone, olives and cacti in Puglia; verdant green pasture, crops and white dust of quarry slag in Marche.
To break the drive, we stopped at a beach in Termoli – a truly Italian beach experience; €22 for two sun-beds and an umbrella in the second row on the creamy white sand. The repeated dips in the salty, salty water did little to refresh body temp. Water just doesn’t cool one. Still the three hour rest was appreciated.
Another 2 ½ hours driving all on the autostrada meant we finally arrived in Loreto about 6 p.m. The place we were staying that night was a Franciscan monastery. The rooms were very simple; three beds and a bathroom, small table and two chairs. No air con!! Ah well!!
After a good shower to get rid of the salt and sand we bravely ventured into the town of Porto Recanati, on the other side of the motorway. Brave it was because the GPS was again on strike - as she had been for about three hours of the drive.
We found our way to the beach and even got Mum some diuretics (and new sandals) from a pharmacy. This entire thing being accomplished in far from fluent Italian. Caitlin found the largest beach soccer ball ever seen and added it to our growing luggage collection.
Checked out various restaurants along the strand, before finally settling on one, and ordering a seafood feed. Was feeling really hungry as lunch was only nibbles and muesli bars at the beach. Dinner was okay but the drive home was almost a disaster with the GPS refusing to play the game for some time before finally trying to send us up a goat track!
Back at the Monastery we borrowed a key from reception an went out onto the fourth floor terrace to see the view of the coast and the huge basilica on the hill nearby, an amazing view for certain sure. We were well ready for sleep, after all the salty air and water and the concentrated driving.
The FIC Road Trip – Day 10 Alberobello
Three generations of women on a two-week tour of Italy – the adventure continues in a trullo!
Slept like a log! Although I did hear the bells at three. The deep bell marks the hours and the higher pitched bell the ¼ past, ½ past, and ¼ to. Dressed and made our way downstairs for breakfast about 9.30 - lots of sweet things including another tart for brekkie and lovely albiccoca marmelata (apricot jam); sharp and tangy. Cappucini for the lot then up to pack. This didn’t take long, of course, as we had only taken inside one back-pack between us. Went to pay the bill, trying to guesstimate the cost of wine and dinner from the previous evening. Total cost – accommodation for three, breakfast, dinner, wine tasting and nibbles? €70!!! Wouldn’t take more. We were their first international visitors. We will spread the word! http://www.aldihost.it/
Got underway for Alberobello with the GPS showing about 3 ½ hours on the clock; all went well - even being stopped at a random Polizia road stop – UNTIL – the GPS got seriously confused again. A little scary but, after a short rest and a reset of the target, she came right. Thank goodness.
What a changing landscape we saw, especially today. From Melizzano and nearby area with tightly packed grapevines and rolling hills, steep mountain sides and green green, green, to red dirt - FLAT, cactus and olive grove scattered land.
A roadside ‘snack bar’ stop for lunch let us have a leg stretch and toilet break. We arrived in Alberobello about 2.15 p.m. to discover that the office for our trulli rental company didn’t open until 3 p.m.! Went for a wander then decamped to a cafe for a rest and a toilet.
Once the office opened and we were suitably briefed by one of the staff who drove with us to show us where to park the car and then helped with the bags to our trullo. A really sweet small space about five metres in diameter with two curtained sleeping alcoves, a kitchenette, bathroom with shower toilet and bidet. Dining table in the centre is now the suitcase holder! Tiny, compact, fabulous! I want a trullo!!
Caitlin and I went to the local internet point whilst mum had a short rest. No charge for internet, just a donation. Caitlin had a good 30-40 minutes, I had 5. Couple of quick up-dates and off for a beer (me) and a foccaccia (Caitlin). After suitable interval we wandered back to our trullo to see how the Gran was - ‘Doing Well’ and raring to go!
We spent hours wandering up and down marble paved paths and roads, in and out of trulli; tasting, touching and admiring.
Bought nibbles and aperitivo/digestivos to take home. On the recommendation of the Trulli Holiday guy we dined at La Pinnacolo restaurant - almost next door. Prices very reasonable, great view from the terraced garden outside, and only a short pour home for the night. With Caitlin and Mum giggling over their books I finished up my diary notes for the day and soon joined them!!
Slept like a log! Although I did hear the bells at three. The deep bell marks the hours and the higher pitched bell the ¼ past, ½ past, and ¼ to. Dressed and made our way downstairs for breakfast about 9.30 - lots of sweet things including another tart for brekkie and lovely albiccoca marmelata (apricot jam); sharp and tangy. Cappucini for the lot then up to pack. This didn’t take long, of course, as we had only taken inside one back-pack between us. Went to pay the bill, trying to guesstimate the cost of wine and dinner from the previous evening. Total cost – accommodation for three, breakfast, dinner, wine tasting and nibbles? €70!!! Wouldn’t take more. We were their first international visitors. We will spread the word! http://www.aldihost.it/
Got underway for Alberobello with the GPS showing about 3 ½ hours on the clock; all went well - even being stopped at a random Polizia road stop – UNTIL – the GPS got seriously confused again. A little scary but, after a short rest and a reset of the target, she came right. Thank goodness.
What a changing landscape we saw, especially today. From Melizzano and nearby area with tightly packed grapevines and rolling hills, steep mountain sides and green green, green, to red dirt - FLAT, cactus and olive grove scattered land.
A roadside ‘snack bar’ stop for lunch let us have a leg stretch and toilet break. We arrived in Alberobello about 2.15 p.m. to discover that the office for our trulli rental company didn’t open until 3 p.m.! Went for a wander then decamped to a cafe for a rest and a toilet.
Once the office opened and we were suitably briefed by one of the staff who drove with us to show us where to park the car and then helped with the bags to our trullo. A really sweet small space about five metres in diameter with two curtained sleeping alcoves, a kitchenette, bathroom with shower toilet and bidet. Dining table in the centre is now the suitcase holder! Tiny, compact, fabulous! I want a trullo!!
Caitlin and I went to the local internet point whilst mum had a short rest. No charge for internet, just a donation. Caitlin had a good 30-40 minutes, I had 5. Couple of quick up-dates and off for a beer (me) and a foccaccia (Caitlin). After suitable interval we wandered back to our trullo to see how the Gran was - ‘Doing Well’ and raring to go!
We spent hours wandering up and down marble paved paths and roads, in and out of trulli; tasting, touching and admiring.
Bought nibbles and aperitivo/digestivos to take home. On the recommendation of the Trulli Holiday guy we dined at La Pinnacolo restaurant - almost next door. Prices very reasonable, great view from the terraced garden outside, and only a short pour home for the night. With Caitlin and Mum giggling over their books I finished up my diary notes for the day and soon joined them!!
The FIC Road Trip – Day 9 Napoli and Melizzano
Three generations of women on a two-week tour of Italy – the adventure continues!
Made it down to breakfast by 9.30 after doing most of the re-packing. This was good timing as we got a plate of freshly cooked bacon just for us; also had a machine for freshly squeezed orange juice – yum.
Checked out, repacked the car and set the GPS for Melizzano – next stop on the magical mystery tour. At one stage the reading on the GPS was 123km to the next turn off. Passed the infamous Monte Cassino and stopped by the side of the road to take photographs. Sad to think so many died here.
As we got further along the road we realised we would pass only 40km from Napoli. It seemed so close and we had so much time on our hands – detour it was!!!
What an experience! Much like Wellington, you enter the city via the port. Not a good welcome. We had set the GPS for city centre and stopped near this in a public car park very near the old fort. We lunched in a great place across the road ‘Il Pomodorino’. Great food and service; a rare combination.
From the carpark bus tours of the city leave frequently. We caught one just leaving on a ‘hop-on hop-off’ tour of the historic centre. The commentary tried to dress it up but nothing could cover the fact that this is a dirty, sad looking city with few, if any, redeeming features. We can now say we’ve ticked that box – a return visit will NOT be on any future itineraries. The drive out was even more of an experience than the drive in and I was extremely glad to see the back of the place.
On we went to Melizzano, a tiny country town off the main road on the way from Roma to Bari via Benevento. All seemed to be okay until the GPS suddenly began to play up. After a struggling conversation by cell phone we met up with a son of the household from the bed and breakfast place we were to stay in. He came and found us at our car, showed us where to park and then walked us to the house.
The place was built in the 1400s and has been totally renovated by the current generation. We had a little rest then decided to head out for a wander but were intercepted by ‘Mama’ who suggested to her son that he show us the rest of the old house. We agreed and then he took us below ground...Incredible! There is another huge area underground, all carved out of rock. It is a constant 12°C and keeps the wine at a perfect temperature. You could see the old chimney where the salami was smoked and also the well. All this was used to store the oil from the huge press still to be seen upstairs.
We talked about how good Italian food and wine is. The son then offered us a tasting of their own wine. We agreed... this led to sharing the entire bottle with them and tasting their home cured prosciutto and then a little dolce – home made plum tart. The prosciutto was carved by ‘Papa’ from a large ham held in a wrought iron stand, resting on the olive press. All their preserves and wines are ‘biologica’. The fruit is all collected from the forest on the mountain. The wine is prepared according to the phases of the moon.
We wandered off around town and then met ‘Papa’ who insisted on taking us in for coffee – espresso Arabica – and a gelato for Caitlin. He explained that the local castle is still occupied by the Duco. One of the sons later told us that the Duco did not live there as he was frightened of the ghosts.
About 8.30 we went downstairs to the taverna for dinner. We were met by Emilio, the younger son, for conversational attempts. We sat at a table with the family and ate tomato, cucumber, olive oil and basil - then prosciutto, olives, pickled wild asparagus, homemade bread, five year old cheese, and fig tart accompanied by house red, then a sweet muscat style white and then Lemoncello Crema...and then finished with a little cafe. Every time Caitlin took her eyes off her plate ‘Mama’ put more prosciutto on it and signalled for her to eat up. Some friends of the sons’ came for dinner too. I took a photo of the group – Caitlin, Lucia, Gerardo, Emilio, Carlo, Amerio, Maria, and Mum. Amerio is in politics and works with the Mayor.
We had a ball!!! Great night and conversation got more free flowing and loud as the evening progressed. Great, great family evening.
Made it down to breakfast by 9.30 after doing most of the re-packing. This was good timing as we got a plate of freshly cooked bacon just for us; also had a machine for freshly squeezed orange juice – yum.
Checked out, repacked the car and set the GPS for Melizzano – next stop on the magical mystery tour. At one stage the reading on the GPS was 123km to the next turn off. Passed the infamous Monte Cassino and stopped by the side of the road to take photographs. Sad to think so many died here.
As we got further along the road we realised we would pass only 40km from Napoli. It seemed so close and we had so much time on our hands – detour it was!!!
What an experience! Much like Wellington, you enter the city via the port. Not a good welcome. We had set the GPS for city centre and stopped near this in a public car park very near the old fort. We lunched in a great place across the road ‘Il Pomodorino’. Great food and service; a rare combination.
From the carpark bus tours of the city leave frequently. We caught one just leaving on a ‘hop-on hop-off’ tour of the historic centre. The commentary tried to dress it up but nothing could cover the fact that this is a dirty, sad looking city with few, if any, redeeming features. We can now say we’ve ticked that box – a return visit will NOT be on any future itineraries. The drive out was even more of an experience than the drive in and I was extremely glad to see the back of the place.
On we went to Melizzano, a tiny country town off the main road on the way from Roma to Bari via Benevento. All seemed to be okay until the GPS suddenly began to play up. After a struggling conversation by cell phone we met up with a son of the household from the bed and breakfast place we were to stay in. He came and found us at our car, showed us where to park and then walked us to the house.
The place was built in the 1400s and has been totally renovated by the current generation. We had a little rest then decided to head out for a wander but were intercepted by ‘Mama’ who suggested to her son that he show us the rest of the old house. We agreed and then he took us below ground...Incredible! There is another huge area underground, all carved out of rock. It is a constant 12°C and keeps the wine at a perfect temperature. You could see the old chimney where the salami was smoked and also the well. All this was used to store the oil from the huge press still to be seen upstairs.
We talked about how good Italian food and wine is. The son then offered us a tasting of their own wine. We agreed... this led to sharing the entire bottle with them and tasting their home cured prosciutto and then a little dolce – home made plum tart. The prosciutto was carved by ‘Papa’ from a large ham held in a wrought iron stand, resting on the olive press. All their preserves and wines are ‘biologica’. The fruit is all collected from the forest on the mountain. The wine is prepared according to the phases of the moon.
We wandered off around town and then met ‘Papa’ who insisted on taking us in for coffee – espresso Arabica – and a gelato for Caitlin. He explained that the local castle is still occupied by the Duco. One of the sons later told us that the Duco did not live there as he was frightened of the ghosts.
About 8.30 we went downstairs to the taverna for dinner. We were met by Emilio, the younger son, for conversational attempts. We sat at a table with the family and ate tomato, cucumber, olive oil and basil - then prosciutto, olives, pickled wild asparagus, homemade bread, five year old cheese, and fig tart accompanied by house red, then a sweet muscat style white and then Lemoncello Crema...and then finished with a little cafe. Every time Caitlin took her eyes off her plate ‘Mama’ put more prosciutto on it and signalled for her to eat up. Some friends of the sons’ came for dinner too. I took a photo of the group – Caitlin, Lucia, Gerardo, Emilio, Carlo, Amerio, Maria, and Mum. Amerio is in politics and works with the Mayor.
We had a ball!!! Great night and conversation got more free flowing and loud as the evening progressed. Great, great family evening.
The FIC Road Trip – Days 6-8 Roma
Three generations of women on a two-week tour of Italy – the adventure continues in Rome
Day 6
Great night’s sleep surprisingly and a good breakfast after a leisurely sleep in. Took our time getting organised, as we had plenty of time.
Reasonable roads on the way to Rome and a combination of GPS and email instructions saw us make the hotel, a Holiday Inn, about 12.30 p.m. First room we were given stank of cigarettes so a return trip to reception netted a change of room in reasonably quick time.
The hotel is to the west of the city and runs free buses into and out of the historic town centre. The buses go at various times throughout the day. With the next bus into the city not due to leave until 4 p.m. a quick planning session was held. This resulted in a change into swimsuits and lunch at the bar (in the opposite order!) We made the most of the relax time in the cool water and chatted to a couple of Kiwis who were here on a bus tour.
The hotel was busy with international guests for Roma 09 - the FINA world swimming (water-polo, synchronised swimming and diving) champs. The Israeli synchro team and the Korean and Croatian water-polo teams were definitely here, as was a very visible Carabinieri presence.
Caught the bus in to the city at 4 p.m. and were dropped near Largo Argentina. We made our way to the Colosseum, or Flavian Amphitheatre to give it its correct title, and did the audio guide tour. A gentle stroll from there allowed us to explore the Traiano (Trajan) market area, which then led us back past the hotel Patch and I had stayed in when we were here in April. A little shopping and then dinner at ‘Mother India’ – once again an awesome meal.
We strolled our way back to the courtesy bus pick-up point via the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, an incredibly impressive building. A 30 minute wait and we were headed for ‘home’.
The ride went via the Vatican City and the driver gave us time to go and take photos. It is an amazing place and quite magical at night.
Day 7
Slept in!!! Dragged our weary asses down to breakfast about 10.15 and had a huge brunch. Yummy to the tummy. The dining room was presided over by a lovely old guy who was very friendly. So different from almost every place we have eaten to date.
Had a lazy morning/mid-day, planned and followed that plan, almost, to the letter. Mum sat by the pool. Caitlin read and had a bath. I read and then went to the supermarket and electronics store to get Mum an extra XD card for her camera. Once again caught the 4 p.m. hotel bus into the city.
On arrival in the city our first stop was the Pantheon... and once again we got caught out by a service. Dang! Couldn’t get in for at least an hour so moved on to the Trevi fountain - Fabulous. Took photos as we tossed coins in the fountain... right hand over the left shoulder. It means you will come back to Roma one day. Worked last time I did it.
From the Trevi we made our way to the Spanish steps. Took our time and climbed them together. Stopped to admire a wedding party who were trying to take photos, also admired the artists at the top of the stairs.
Finally decided to get Caitlin’s portrait drawn by one of the street artists at her request. Beautiful job.
Counting all the steps on the way down we reached the bottom and the fountain of the flooded boat.
We started back towards the Pantheon via Via Condotti. Name a label, it is here... Gucci, Feregamo, Jimmy Choo!!! Yum Yum Yum!!! Then along Via del Corso. Caitlin tried on a few things but nothing terrific, thankfully.
Arriving back at the Pantheon we found it closed. So with hunger starting to grumble, we found a little cafe and ordered pasta, and beer and water. Great feed. A leisurely stroll again... (story of this trip) ... and with time to spare to catch the bus, we called into the ‘Feltrinelli’ bookshop which has a good English section. Purchases completed, and getting close to bus time, we wandered round Largo Argentina.
Caitlin spotted a cat up on a wall and then another on a ledge further down the wall. Below there seemed to be a cafe set-up in a narrow alley – a cafe with a difference – there was another cat asleep, draped across a table. It was then we noticed the sign ‘Cat Sanctuary –www.catsanctuary.com’ and then we spotted more and more cats – Caitlin happy!
On to the pick-up point - and only five minutes to wait for the bus. Seriously footsore, and glad to get back to the hotel
Day 8
Weird night’s sleep. Caitlin was talking – insisted to her Gran that she had “caught the stick”. Her Gran told her that that was “very good Caitlin” and both returned to sleep, until Mum woke me to tell me to turn over as I was making a noise. This from the woman who snores like a train!!!
Caught the 10.15 a.m. bus into the city and wandered in search of the Fendazione Roma in Via del Corso to see an exhibition of work by Japanese artist Hiroshige. He was a major master in his field in the mid 1800’s He even inspired several works by Van Gogh who copied his prints in oil. Amazingly detailed, especially considering the method of printing.
Wandered towards the Pantheon on the off change it was open – and it was! Spent some time being impressed once again. The workmanship is astounding for something nearly 2000 years old. We’ve learned so little.
Strolled on to Piazza Navona, admiring the three large fountains there, and decided on late lunch before admiring the art work on display around the piazza.
There we are sitting in a little, awesome cafe in Rome on a back street when a Kiwi accent said “Oh my God – Fiona”. It was Natalie and Jess from Milano and a friend from (now) Perth – another ex-Kiwi. We chatted for an age and then they headed off on their adventures.
We then went on to visit the artists in the piazza and head for Piazza de Fiori. With time getting on we set off for the pick-up point arriving with 5 minutes to spare.
Arriving back at the hotel I did some washing and then joined Mum and Caitlin down at the pool for some relax time. The swim left us all wonderfully cool for the first time all week.
A change into real clothes and we walked down the hill to the superette for wine, beer, coke and chocolate and then to McDonald’s for burgers which we brought back to our room. Well fed and watered we tumbled and poured ourselves into bed with books...
Day 6
Great night’s sleep surprisingly and a good breakfast after a leisurely sleep in. Took our time getting organised, as we had plenty of time.
Reasonable roads on the way to Rome and a combination of GPS and email instructions saw us make the hotel, a Holiday Inn, about 12.30 p.m. First room we were given stank of cigarettes so a return trip to reception netted a change of room in reasonably quick time.
The hotel is to the west of the city and runs free buses into and out of the historic town centre. The buses go at various times throughout the day. With the next bus into the city not due to leave until 4 p.m. a quick planning session was held. This resulted in a change into swimsuits and lunch at the bar (in the opposite order!) We made the most of the relax time in the cool water and chatted to a couple of Kiwis who were here on a bus tour.
The hotel was busy with international guests for Roma 09 - the FINA world swimming (water-polo, synchronised swimming and diving) champs. The Israeli synchro team and the Korean and Croatian water-polo teams were definitely here, as was a very visible Carabinieri presence.
Caught the bus in to the city at 4 p.m. and were dropped near Largo Argentina. We made our way to the Colosseum, or Flavian Amphitheatre to give it its correct title, and did the audio guide tour. A gentle stroll from there allowed us to explore the Traiano (Trajan) market area, which then led us back past the hotel Patch and I had stayed in when we were here in April. A little shopping and then dinner at ‘Mother India’ – once again an awesome meal.
We strolled our way back to the courtesy bus pick-up point via the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, an incredibly impressive building. A 30 minute wait and we were headed for ‘home’.
The ride went via the Vatican City and the driver gave us time to go and take photos. It is an amazing place and quite magical at night.
Day 7
Slept in!!! Dragged our weary asses down to breakfast about 10.15 and had a huge brunch. Yummy to the tummy. The dining room was presided over by a lovely old guy who was very friendly. So different from almost every place we have eaten to date.
Had a lazy morning/mid-day, planned and followed that plan, almost, to the letter. Mum sat by the pool. Caitlin read and had a bath. I read and then went to the supermarket and electronics store to get Mum an extra XD card for her camera. Once again caught the 4 p.m. hotel bus into the city.
On arrival in the city our first stop was the Pantheon... and once again we got caught out by a service. Dang! Couldn’t get in for at least an hour so moved on to the Trevi fountain - Fabulous. Took photos as we tossed coins in the fountain... right hand over the left shoulder. It means you will come back to Roma one day. Worked last time I did it.
From the Trevi we made our way to the Spanish steps. Took our time and climbed them together. Stopped to admire a wedding party who were trying to take photos, also admired the artists at the top of the stairs.
Finally decided to get Caitlin’s portrait drawn by one of the street artists at her request. Beautiful job.
Counting all the steps on the way down we reached the bottom and the fountain of the flooded boat.
We started back towards the Pantheon via Via Condotti. Name a label, it is here... Gucci, Feregamo, Jimmy Choo!!! Yum Yum Yum!!! Then along Via del Corso. Caitlin tried on a few things but nothing terrific, thankfully.
Arriving back at the Pantheon we found it closed. So with hunger starting to grumble, we found a little cafe and ordered pasta, and beer and water. Great feed. A leisurely stroll again... (story of this trip) ... and with time to spare to catch the bus, we called into the ‘Feltrinelli’ bookshop which has a good English section. Purchases completed, and getting close to bus time, we wandered round Largo Argentina.
Caitlin spotted a cat up on a wall and then another on a ledge further down the wall. Below there seemed to be a cafe set-up in a narrow alley – a cafe with a difference – there was another cat asleep, draped across a table. It was then we noticed the sign ‘Cat Sanctuary –www.catsanctuary.com’ and then we spotted more and more cats – Caitlin happy!
On to the pick-up point - and only five minutes to wait for the bus. Seriously footsore, and glad to get back to the hotel
Day 8
Weird night’s sleep. Caitlin was talking – insisted to her Gran that she had “caught the stick”. Her Gran told her that that was “very good Caitlin” and both returned to sleep, until Mum woke me to tell me to turn over as I was making a noise. This from the woman who snores like a train!!!
Caught the 10.15 a.m. bus into the city and wandered in search of the Fendazione Roma in Via del Corso to see an exhibition of work by Japanese artist Hiroshige. He was a major master in his field in the mid 1800’s He even inspired several works by Van Gogh who copied his prints in oil. Amazingly detailed, especially considering the method of printing.
Wandered towards the Pantheon on the off change it was open – and it was! Spent some time being impressed once again. The workmanship is astounding for something nearly 2000 years old. We’ve learned so little.
Strolled on to Piazza Navona, admiring the three large fountains there, and decided on late lunch before admiring the art work on display around the piazza.
There we are sitting in a little, awesome cafe in Rome on a back street when a Kiwi accent said “Oh my God – Fiona”. It was Natalie and Jess from Milano and a friend from (now) Perth – another ex-Kiwi. We chatted for an age and then they headed off on their adventures.
We then went on to visit the artists in the piazza and head for Piazza de Fiori. With time getting on we set off for the pick-up point arriving with 5 minutes to spare.
Arriving back at the hotel I did some washing and then joined Mum and Caitlin down at the pool for some relax time. The swim left us all wonderfully cool for the first time all week.
A change into real clothes and we walked down the hill to the superette for wine, beer, coke and chocolate and then to McDonald’s for burgers which we brought back to our room. Well fed and watered we tumbled and poured ourselves into bed with books...
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
The FIC Road Trip – Day 5 St Galgano, Capalbio, Giardino dei Tarocchi
Three generations of women on a two-week tour of Italy – the adventure continues!
We set the GPS for our next night’s destination, Capalbio, and hoped to find signs somewhere along the road to see the sword of the sword of San Galgano Guidotti de Chiusdino. Mum found a reference to a nearby town so we set the GPS for the new target of Monticiano and followed her lead.
After following narrow, tree lined, back roads suddenly through the leaves we glimpsed weird, red rock formations. Stopping as quickly as was safe we leaped out to go and investigate. It looked like someone had taken a giant cake knife and smeared thick, strawberry icing roughly all over the side of the hill.
Nearly 40km south of Siena, and way off the beaten track, we found the Abbey of San Galgano, said to be the best example of gothic architecture in Tuscany, if not all Italy. Amidst preparations for an opera performance to be held the following evening the abbey was once again filled with pews, if only of the plastic folding variety. This huge ancient building, abandoned 400 years ago, now roofless and carpeted in weeds is undergoing a gentle renaissance of its own. The parking lot is perfectly prepared, but the path from the abbey to the hermitage where the sword in the stone resides is a deeply rutted, loose- stoned track, poorly suited to stock let alone pilgrims. We scrambled slowly up the pathway only to find ourselves with a 30 minute wait for a mass to finish.
For interim entertainment we engaged in a one-sided conversation with the crone from the attached ‘gift’ shop. Much flat out Italian exclamation on her part, which we interpreted to be about her cats – one of whom was apparently killed by a car when only a few weeks old – and much sympathetic nodding on our part. So people, – DON’T PLAY WITH THE CATS - otherwise (a) they might follow you and others to the car park and get run over; and (b) the crone will hiss at you and tell you to go away. You’ve been warned!
The sword in the stone is quite interesting tale set in the later part of the 12th century. Galgano, so the story goes, son of a wealthy family was world-weary with his dissolute, ravaging and rampaging lifestyle and with a nudge and a shove off his horse from the arch angel Michael gave up his knightly ways driving his sword into a rock to prove his determination to change. He proceeded to live as a hermit offering healing to those who visited his hermit shack.
Declared a saint, only a few years after his early death, pilgrims built the current hermitage over the spot, approximately 900 years ago. Scientific testing so far has done nothing to dispel the myth surrounding the origin of the sword in the stone. Metallurgic testing shows support or the timing, suggesting an age for the hilt as C12th.
On the road again we set target for Capalbio and after a hurried lunch grabbed on the fly in made the hotel about 2.30 p.m. A short rest and quick sort out and we headed for ‘Il Gardino dei Tarrochi’ the great mosaic Tarot Garden of Niki de Saint Phalle (1930-2002), a fascinating artist/woman. What I had read and researched had whet my appetite considerably, but nothing had prepared me for seeing the garden for real. Her work is to me a coming together of so much and so many that have inspired me. The ancient Venus figurines, SARK, Gaudi... Explosions in my brain, ideas tumbling and scrambling over each other, rushing, half-formed, into another incarnation of thought and design... words don’t have the ability to describe the experience. This is what inspiration is.
Poor Mum and Caitlin had to give up and went in search of food and water. It took me another hour to tear myself away, having bought two of de Saint Phalle’s autobiographies and a book about the garden.
Returning to the hotel ‘Valle del Buttero’ in Capalbio, Mum and I got straight out to the pool. Refreshed and re-invigorated, we put on some clothes and all walked up the hill to explore the ancient walled part of the town in search of dinner. After eating we decided to go back to the piazza where we had seen lights and chairs being set up earlier for a 9.30 start of ‘Leopardi Sotto le Stelle’. Having no idea who or what was about to perform we stood sardine crowded at the edge of the square. After a long wait, the lights finally dimmed and in came someone who went on and on ... until finally he introduced someone who was very nervous who went on and on...and then, at last, the performer himself appeared and went on and on...UNTIL at last we cottoned on... this was a poetry recital. Caitlin made us leave, and giggling our way back to our room we agreed. Poetry in your own language is one thing; in a foreign language, after bad dinner service, a long day and swollen ankles – it is right out...
We set the GPS for our next night’s destination, Capalbio, and hoped to find signs somewhere along the road to see the sword of the sword of San Galgano Guidotti de Chiusdino. Mum found a reference to a nearby town so we set the GPS for the new target of Monticiano and followed her lead.
After following narrow, tree lined, back roads suddenly through the leaves we glimpsed weird, red rock formations. Stopping as quickly as was safe we leaped out to go and investigate. It looked like someone had taken a giant cake knife and smeared thick, strawberry icing roughly all over the side of the hill.
Nearly 40km south of Siena, and way off the beaten track, we found the Abbey of San Galgano, said to be the best example of gothic architecture in Tuscany, if not all Italy. Amidst preparations for an opera performance to be held the following evening the abbey was once again filled with pews, if only of the plastic folding variety. This huge ancient building, abandoned 400 years ago, now roofless and carpeted in weeds is undergoing a gentle renaissance of its own. The parking lot is perfectly prepared, but the path from the abbey to the hermitage where the sword in the stone resides is a deeply rutted, loose- stoned track, poorly suited to stock let alone pilgrims. We scrambled slowly up the pathway only to find ourselves with a 30 minute wait for a mass to finish.
For interim entertainment we engaged in a one-sided conversation with the crone from the attached ‘gift’ shop. Much flat out Italian exclamation on her part, which we interpreted to be about her cats – one of whom was apparently killed by a car when only a few weeks old – and much sympathetic nodding on our part. So people, – DON’T PLAY WITH THE CATS - otherwise (a) they might follow you and others to the car park and get run over; and (b) the crone will hiss at you and tell you to go away. You’ve been warned!
The sword in the stone is quite interesting tale set in the later part of the 12th century. Galgano, so the story goes, son of a wealthy family was world-weary with his dissolute, ravaging and rampaging lifestyle and with a nudge and a shove off his horse from the arch angel Michael gave up his knightly ways driving his sword into a rock to prove his determination to change. He proceeded to live as a hermit offering healing to those who visited his hermit shack.
Declared a saint, only a few years after his early death, pilgrims built the current hermitage over the spot, approximately 900 years ago. Scientific testing so far has done nothing to dispel the myth surrounding the origin of the sword in the stone. Metallurgic testing shows support or the timing, suggesting an age for the hilt as C12th.
On the road again we set target for Capalbio and after a hurried lunch grabbed on the fly in made the hotel about 2.30 p.m. A short rest and quick sort out and we headed for ‘Il Gardino dei Tarrochi’ the great mosaic Tarot Garden of Niki de Saint Phalle (1930-2002), a fascinating artist/woman. What I had read and researched had whet my appetite considerably, but nothing had prepared me for seeing the garden for real. Her work is to me a coming together of so much and so many that have inspired me. The ancient Venus figurines, SARK, Gaudi... Explosions in my brain, ideas tumbling and scrambling over each other, rushing, half-formed, into another incarnation of thought and design... words don’t have the ability to describe the experience. This is what inspiration is.
Poor Mum and Caitlin had to give up and went in search of food and water. It took me another hour to tear myself away, having bought two of de Saint Phalle’s autobiographies and a book about the garden.Returning to the hotel ‘Valle del Buttero’ in Capalbio, Mum and I got straight out to the pool. Refreshed and re-invigorated, we put on some clothes and all walked up the hill to explore the ancient walled part of the town in search of dinner. After eating we decided to go back to the piazza where we had seen lights and chairs being set up earlier for a 9.30 start of ‘Leopardi Sotto le Stelle’. Having no idea who or what was about to perform we stood sardine crowded at the edge of the square. After a long wait, the lights finally dimmed and in came someone who went on and on ... until finally he introduced someone who was very nervous who went on and on...and then, at last, the performer himself appeared and went on and on...UNTIL at last we cottoned on... this was a poetry recital. Caitlin made us leave, and giggling our way back to our room we agreed. Poetry in your own language is one thing; in a foreign language, after bad dinner service, a long day and swollen ankles – it is right out...
Monday, August 17, 2009
The FIC Road Trip – Day 4 Monteriggioni and Siena
Three generations of women on a two-week tour of Italy – the adventure continues!
On the road the next morning for Siena we stopped at Monteriggioni, a medieval hilltop village still surrounded by a fully intact fortified wall. Signs of the village’s age abound and can be seen in architectural features such as the single stone lintels. Over a doorway we found a dedication stone “Upon this sign, Peace and Goodwill, 1216”.
Once a farm-focused community it is now almost totally tourist oriented. A yearly medieval festival early in July is extremely popular with local and foreign visitors.
Following the back roads through typical Tuscan countryside patch-worked in stripes of cropped hay and pencil pines and polka-dotted with olive groves we came to the walls of Siena. After an unexpected detour we eventually discovered our hotel and, once parked and unpacked, took off to explore.
The city sits high above its surroundings and the hotel was just outside the walls,almost directly cross the road from the five flights of escalators that take you effortlessly into the ancient city site. Investigating the piazza we discovered not a church but part of the university in Siena. The old cloister is now a space for students to gather with examples of early building ornamentation adorning the walls.
Following the back roads through typical Tuscan countryside patch-worked in stripes of cropped hay and pencil pines and polka-dotted with olive groves we came to the walls of Siena. After an unexpected detour we eventually discovered our hotel and, once parked and unpacked, took off to explore.
The city sits high above its surroundings and the hotel was just outside the walls,almost directly cross the road from the five flights of escalators that take you effortlessly into the ancient city site. Investigating the piazza we discovered not a church but part of the university in Siena. The old cloister is now a space for students to gather with examples of early building ornamentation adorning the walls.
A quick bite of divine ‘panzanella’ salad for lunch and then we followed signs on the walls of buildings to reach the campo. Through an arch and down a short flight of steps the site of the famous Siena ‘Palio’ was revealed. The campo is huge and horizontally bowl shaped. The thought of horses pounding around the tight corners at a gallop is frightening. The whole scene is dominated by the campanile towering above.
The magnificent Duomo of Siena, with only a short queue in the direct sun was worth the burn and the wait. Exquisite! Just to the left of the church interior was a small shop and further along the Picolomini Library where large original manuscripts lie open in upright glass cases showing off the superbly illuminated pages. The patience, the time, the talent. Then we noticed the walls and the ceilings. This place is beauty.
Afterwards we sat outside on a marble ledge, leaning against the church walls to recover. What a place!
With food and liquid once again a priority we found a nearby cafe ‘Roxy Bar’ and had frappes, water (with mineral salts) and chippies. Caitlin really wanted to see the medieval fortress showing on the map – Fortezza Medicea – a long walk across town past wonderful side streets with awesome views. The fort is now home to an enoteca (wine shop and bar), open air cinema and the Siena Jazz Association.
With desperation setting in we made for the hotel only to realise that Caitlin’s new leather bracelets purchased in Monteriggioni, were left in the bathroom of the Roxy. A rescue mission was mounted – abandoning bags and grandmother for a fast return to the cafe. Mission accomplished and prize reclaimed, we all but crawled back to the hotel.
With food and liquid once again a priority we found a nearby cafe ‘Roxy Bar’ and had frappes, water (with mineral salts) and chippies. Caitlin really wanted to see the medieval fortress showing on the map – Fortezza Medicea – a long walk across town past wonderful side streets with awesome views. The fort is now home to an enoteca (wine shop and bar), open air cinema and the Siena Jazz Association.
With desperation setting in we made for the hotel only to realise that Caitlin’s new leather bracelets purchased in Monteriggioni, were left in the bathroom of the Roxy. A rescue mission was mounted – abandoning bags and grandmother for a fast return to the cafe. Mission accomplished and prize reclaimed, we all but crawled back to the hotel.
After a wash and brush up, we could only make it as far as downstairs for dinner. The Menu di Giorno at €20 a head was the obvious choice along with a bottle of Prosseco.
Fell upstairs and into bed with the air con rattling by 10.30.
The FIC Road Trip – Day 3 Firenze/Florence
Three generations of women on a two-week tour of Italy – the adventure continues!
After an excellent sleep and a great breakfast we bought bus tickets at the hotel reception and caught a bus from right outside the hotel going into town. Alighting at the train station our first stop was the Chiesa di Santa Maria Novella with a stunning two-tone marble facade.
After an excellent sleep and a great breakfast we bought bus tickets at the hotel reception and caught a bus from right outside the hotel going into town. Alighting at the train station our first stop was the Chiesa di Santa Maria Novella with a stunning two-tone marble facade.
With the help of a local street vendor we went in search of the oldest pharmacy in Europe. Officina Profumo-farmaceutica di Santa Maria Novella opened in 1221 by the monks of the associated monastery. Eventually confiscated from the church by the government it became a SOE in 1866 and soon after was handed back to the nephew of the last monastic director. The family continue to run it to this day.
Through the back streets we visited the Chiesa di Santa Maria di Fiori, another stunning building. The doors on the baptistery are particularly famous. Next stop the Accademia to see the original ‘David’. Defeated by the huge queues we made for the Chiesa di Santa Croce, burial place of Galileo, Michelangelo and Dante, only to discover even longer queues. A similar story later at the Uffizi. We had baulked at pre-booking tickets on line to avoid queuing, as a cost of €9.50 (only I had to pay as Mum is over 65 and Caitlin under 18, both with E.U. passports) ballooned to about €40 for each site with booking fees etc included.
With energy levels flagging, and Caitlin beside herself, a street vendor’s determination to show us his wares nearly finished us. Almost in tears Caitlin leaned in against me and again the vendor appeared, this time realising her condition. He pressed a woven thread bracelet on her saying “No money, no money”. Such a kind gesture! Suddenly Caitlin spotted the best sight we had seen all day – the number 22 bus. We ran as best we could and leapt on board – only to have to wait 10 minutes for the driver to have a smoke! Thirty minutes later we were back at the hotel stripping off 37°C sweat-soaked clothing. A long rest later we settled for a return to the doner kebab shop for dinner where we were warmly greeted – then back to the hotel for blessed sleep.
Through the back streets we visited the Chiesa di Santa Maria di Fiori, another stunning building. The doors on the baptistery are particularly famous. Next stop the Accademia to see the original ‘David’. Defeated by the huge queues we made for the Chiesa di Santa Croce, burial place of Galileo, Michelangelo and Dante, only to discover even longer queues. A similar story later at the Uffizi. We had baulked at pre-booking tickets on line to avoid queuing, as a cost of €9.50 (only I had to pay as Mum is over 65 and Caitlin under 18, both with E.U. passports) ballooned to about €40 for each site with booking fees etc included.
We crossed the Arno river at the Ponte alle Grazie with a great view of the famous Ponte Vecchio further up river, then returned over the Ponte Vecchio – home of Florentine goldsmiths since the 1500s.
As a visit to the Uffizi was right out we made the most of the outdoor exhibitions and entertainments; street artists and entertainers abound around the Uffizi. Took mum’s photo with a living statue then took refuge from the sun in the Loggia at the Piazza della Signoria, protected by the Roman statues of six ancient heroines. A replica David stands in the Piazza along with other amazing works in marble. It is impossible to express the grandeur of the place.
A shopping urge dragged us to the Mercato del Porcellino – the market of the little pig, presided over by a bronze, drooling boar. Rumour has it that rubbing his nose guarantees your return to this extraordinarily artistic city. Of course I rubbed - my beautiful new Florentine leather handbag may need a mate at some point.
With energy levels flagging, and Caitlin beside herself, a street vendor’s determination to show us his wares nearly finished us. Almost in tears Caitlin leaned in against me and again the vendor appeared, this time realising her condition. He pressed a woven thread bracelet on her saying “No money, no money”. Such a kind gesture! Suddenly Caitlin spotted the best sight we had seen all day – the number 22 bus. We ran as best we could and leapt on board – only to have to wait 10 minutes for the driver to have a smoke! Thirty minutes later we were back at the hotel stripping off 37°C sweat-soaked clothing. A long rest later we settled for a return to the doner kebab shop for dinner where we were warmly greeted – then back to the hotel for blessed sleep.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
The FIC Road Trip – Fiona, Iris and Caitlin (Days 1&2)
Three generations of women on a two-week tour of Italy – an awesome experience!
Day One
We left home in a well packed car on Sunday 12 July and drove to Gallarate, less than half an hour, to have lunch with Italian friends. About 3pm we got on the road again and headed for the really little town of Carrodano, up in the hills above the Cinque Terre on the Ligurian coast. This was the first night of our adventure and the fun was just beginning. Did I mention this was a really small town? No restaurants! At the recommendation of the receptionist/night-manager we drove down to the coast to Levanto and dined at a beachside bar. For Caitlin and I this was the first time we had been at the seaside since leaving New Zealand – Caitlin and Iris did a little celebration dance at the water’s edge.
Day One
We left home in a well packed car on Sunday 12 July and drove to Gallarate, less than half an hour, to have lunch with Italian friends. About 3pm we got on the road again and headed for the really little town of Carrodano, up in the hills above the Cinque Terre on the Ligurian coast. This was the first night of our adventure and the fun was just beginning. Did I mention this was a really small town? No restaurants! At the recommendation of the receptionist/night-manager we drove down to the coast to Levanto and dined at a beachside bar. For Caitlin and I this was the first time we had been at the seaside since leaving New Zealand – Caitlin and Iris did a little celebration dance at the water’s edge.
Day Two
Monday morning we began to explore the Cinque Terre region. This extraordinary area of five towns clinging to the very rugged west coast of Italy is a National Park, a Protected Marine Area, and a UNESCO World Heritage site - the first of several we visited on our tour. We took the train from Levanto to Riomaggiore, the southern most of the five ‘terre’, and began the return journey by walking along the Via dell'Amore or ‘lover’s way’ to Manarola. Lovers write their names on padlocks which they affix to the wire stays – ‘locked in love’.
At Manarola we stopped for a gelato and waited for the ferry to arrive.
Many people chose to walk the entire 12km back to Monterosso al Mare but with a 382 step climb up and down between Corniglia and Vernazza we decided to take the ferry and see the villages from the water.
Back at Monterosso al Mare we had lunch and shopped before Caitlin and Iris took the plunge trying out their newly purchased swim suits. Feeling refreshed from the water we trekked back to the train station at the northern most end of Monterosso and trained back to Levanto.
Heading south on the way to Firenze (Florence) we passed Carrera and from the road could clearly see the great, blindingly white scars on the distant hills where the carrera marble is mined. Detouring slightly we made a short stop in Pisa to see the tower – and it really does lean at an incredible angle. One can climb to the top but the view from the ground was more than enough for me. We took the obligatory photos, bought a book and got back on the road.
Arriving in Firenze at the ‘Hotel Alexander’ just off the motorway we checked in, schlepped our bags to the fourth floor and collapsed, only rising to go in search of a nearby eatery. With almost nothing on offer locally we gave in and settled for a doner kebab and a beer – excellent choice as it turned out. Dragged our weary butts back to the hotel and we were out cold for the night by 8.30pm!
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Commencement Address by Paul Hawken
The following was shared with me by the head lecturers from my Masters course, my friends Phil Gang and Marsha Morgan. I wanted to share it my other friends.
When I was invited to give this speech, I was asked if I could give a simple short talk that was “direct, naked, taut, honest, passionate, lean, shivering, startling, and graceful.” Boy, no pressure there.
But let’s begin with the startling part. Hey, Class of 2009: you are going to have to figure out what it means to be a human being on earth at a time when every living system is declining, and the rate of decline is accelerating. Kind of a mind-boggling situation – but not one peer-reviewed paper published in the last thirty years can refute that statement.Basically, the earth needs a new operating system, you are the programmers, and we need it within a few decades.
This planet came with a set of operating instructions, but we seem to have misplaced them. Important rules like don’t poison the water, soil, or air, and don’t let the earth get overcrowded, and don’t touch the thermostat have been broken. Buckminster Fuller said that spaceship earth was so ingeniously designed that no one has a clue that we are on one, flying through the universe at a million miles per hour, with no need for seatbelts, lots of room in coach, and really good food – but all that is changing.
There is invisible writing on the back of the diploma you will receive, and in case you didn’t bring lemon juice to decode it, I can tell you what it says: YOU ARE BRILLIANT, AND THE EARTH IS HIRING. The earth couldn’t afford to send any recruiters or limos to your school. It sent you rain, sunsets, ripe cherries, night blooming jasmine, and that unbelievably cute person you are dating. Take the hint. And here’s the deal: Forget that this task of planet-saving is not possible in the time required. Don’t be put off by people who know what is not possible. Do what needs to be done, and check to see if it was impossible only after you are done.
When asked if I am pessimistic or optimistic about the future, my answer is always the same: If you look at the science about what is happening on earth and aren’t pessimistic, you don’t understand data. But if you meet the people who are working to restore this earth and the lives of the poor, and you aren’t optimistic, you haven’t got a pulse. What I see everywhere in the world are ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world. The poet Adrienne Rich wrote, "So much has been destroyed I have cast my lot with those who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world." There could be no better description. Humanity is coalescing. It is reconstituting the world, and the action is taking place in schoolrooms, farms, jungles, villages, campuses, companies, refuge camps, deserts, fisheries, and slums.
You join a multitude of caring people. No one knows how many groups and organizations are working on the most salient issues of our day: climate change, poverty, deforestation, peace, water, hunger, conservation, human rights, and more. This is the largest movement the world has ever seen.
Rather than control, it seeks connection. Rather than dominance, it strives to disperse concentrations of power. Like Mercy Corps, it works behind the scenes and gets the job done. Large as it is, no one knows the true size of this movement. It provides hope, support, and meaning to billions of people in the world. Its clout resides in idea, not in force. It is made up of teachers, children, peasants, businesspeople, rappers, organic farmers, nuns, artists, government workers, fisherfolk, engineers, students, incorrigible writers, weeping Muslims, concerned mothers, poets, doctors without borders, grieving Christians, street musicians, the President of the United States of America, and as the writer David James Duncan would say, the Creator, the One who loves us all in such a huge way.
There is a rabbinical teaching that says if the world is ending and the Messiah arrives, first plant a tree, and then see if the story is true. Inspiration is not garnered from the litanies of what may befall us; it resides in humanity’s willingness to restore, redress, reform, rebuild, recover, reimagine, and reconsider. "One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice," is Mary Oliver’s description of moving away from the profane toward a deep sense of connectedness to the living world.
Millions of people are working on behalf of strangers, even if the evening news is usually about the death of strangers. This kindness of strangers has religious, even mythic origins, and very specific eighteenth-century roots. Abolitionists were the first people to create a national and global movement to defend the rights of those they did not know. Until that time, no group had filed a grievance except on behalf of itself. The founders of this movement were largely unknown – Granville Clark, Thomas Clarkson, Josiah Wedgwood – and their goal was ridiculous on the face of it: at that time three out of four people in the world were enslaved. Enslaving each other was what human beings had done for ages. And the abolitionist movement was greeted with incredulity. Conservative spokesmen ridiculed the abolitionists as liberals, progressives, do-gooders, meddlers, and activists. They were told they would ruin the economy and drive England into poverty. But for the first time in history a group of people organized themselves to help people they would never know, from whom they would never receive direct or indirect benefit. And today tens of millions of people do this every day. It is called the world of non-profits, civil society, schools, social entrepreneurship, and non-governmental organizations, of companies who place social and environmental justice at the top of their strategic goals. The scope and scale of this effort is unparalleled in history.
The living world is not "out there" somewhere, but in your heart. What do we know about life? In the words of biologist Janine Benyus, life creates the conditions that are conducive to life. I can think of no better motto for a future economy. We have tens of thousands of abandoned homes without people and tens of thousands of abandoned people without homes. We have failed bankers advising failed regulators on how to save failed assets. Think about this: we are the only species on this planet without full employment. Brilliant. We have an economy that tells us that it is cheaper to destroy earth in real time than to renew, restore, and sustain it. You can print money to bail out a bank but you can’t print life to bail out a planet. At present we are stealing the future, selling it in the present, and calling it gross domestic product. We can just as easily have an economy that is based on healing the future instead of stealing it. We can either create assets for the future or take the assets of the future. One is called restoration and the other exploitation. And whenever we exploit the earth we exploit people and cause untold suffering. Working for the earth is not a way to get rich, it is a way to be rich.
The first living cell came into being nearly 40 million centuries ago, and its direct descendants are in all of our bloodstreams. Literally you are breathing molecules this very second that were inhaled by Moses, Mother Teresa, and Bono. We are vastly interconnected. Our fates are inseparable. We are here because the dream of every cell is to become two cells. In each of you are one quadrillion cells, 90 percent of which are not human cells. Your body is a community, and without those other microorganisms you would perish in hours. Each human cell has 400 billion molecules conducting millions of processes between trillions of atoms. The total cellular activity in one human body is staggering: one septillion actions at any one moment, a one with twenty-four zeros after it. In a millisecond, our body has undergone ten times more processes than there are stars in the universe – exactly what Charles Darwin foretold when he said science would discover that each living creature was a "little universe, formed of a host of self-propagating organisms, inconceivably minute and as numerous as the stars of heaven."
So I have two questions for you all: First, can you feel your body? Stop for a moment. Feel your body. One septillion activities going on simultaneously, and your body does this so well you are free to ignore it, and wonder instead when this speech will end. Second question: who is in charge of your body? Who is managing those molecules? Hopefully not a political party. Life is creating the conditions that are conducive to life inside you, just as in all of nature. What I want you to imagine is that collectively humanity is evincing a deep innate wisdom in coming together to heal the wounds and insults of the past.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once asked what we would do if the stars only came out once every thousand years. No one would sleep that night, of course. The world would become religious overnight. We would be ecstatic, delirious, made rapturous by the glory of God. Instead the stars come out every night, and we watch television.
This extraordinary time when we are globally aware of each other and the multiple dangers that threaten civilization has never happened, not in a thousand years, not in ten thousand years. Each of us is as complex and beautiful as all the stars in the universe. We have done great things and we have gone way off course in terms of honoring creation. You are graduating to the most amazing, challenging, stupefying challenge ever bequested to any generation. The generations before you failed. They didn’t stay up all night. They got distracted and lost sight of the fact that life is a miracle every moment of your existence. Nature beckons you to be on her side. You couldn’t ask for a better boss. The most unrealistic person in the world is the cynic, not the dreamer. Hopefulness only makes sense when it doesn’t make sense to be hopeful. This is your century. Take it and run as if your life depends on it.
~~~~~
Paul Hawken is an environmentalist, entrepreneur, journalist, and author. His books include Blessed Unrest.
Paul Hawken
Commencement Address to the Class of 2009
Commencement Address to the Class of 2009
University of Portland, May 3rd, 2009
When I was invited to give this speech, I was asked if I could give a simple short talk that was “direct, naked, taut, honest, passionate, lean, shivering, startling, and graceful.” Boy, no pressure there.
But let’s begin with the startling part. Hey, Class of 2009: you are going to have to figure out what it means to be a human being on earth at a time when every living system is declining, and the rate of decline is accelerating. Kind of a mind-boggling situation – but not one peer-reviewed paper published in the last thirty years can refute that statement.Basically, the earth needs a new operating system, you are the programmers, and we need it within a few decades.
This planet came with a set of operating instructions, but we seem to have misplaced them. Important rules like don’t poison the water, soil, or air, and don’t let the earth get overcrowded, and don’t touch the thermostat have been broken. Buckminster Fuller said that spaceship earth was so ingeniously designed that no one has a clue that we are on one, flying through the universe at a million miles per hour, with no need for seatbelts, lots of room in coach, and really good food – but all that is changing.
There is invisible writing on the back of the diploma you will receive, and in case you didn’t bring lemon juice to decode it, I can tell you what it says: YOU ARE BRILLIANT, AND THE EARTH IS HIRING. The earth couldn’t afford to send any recruiters or limos to your school. It sent you rain, sunsets, ripe cherries, night blooming jasmine, and that unbelievably cute person you are dating. Take the hint. And here’s the deal: Forget that this task of planet-saving is not possible in the time required. Don’t be put off by people who know what is not possible. Do what needs to be done, and check to see if it was impossible only after you are done.
When asked if I am pessimistic or optimistic about the future, my answer is always the same: If you look at the science about what is happening on earth and aren’t pessimistic, you don’t understand data. But if you meet the people who are working to restore this earth and the lives of the poor, and you aren’t optimistic, you haven’t got a pulse. What I see everywhere in the world are ordinary people willing to confront despair, power, and incalculable odds in order to restore some semblance of grace, justice, and beauty to this world. The poet Adrienne Rich wrote, "So much has been destroyed I have cast my lot with those who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world." There could be no better description. Humanity is coalescing. It is reconstituting the world, and the action is taking place in schoolrooms, farms, jungles, villages, campuses, companies, refuge camps, deserts, fisheries, and slums.
You join a multitude of caring people. No one knows how many groups and organizations are working on the most salient issues of our day: climate change, poverty, deforestation, peace, water, hunger, conservation, human rights, and more. This is the largest movement the world has ever seen.
Rather than control, it seeks connection. Rather than dominance, it strives to disperse concentrations of power. Like Mercy Corps, it works behind the scenes and gets the job done. Large as it is, no one knows the true size of this movement. It provides hope, support, and meaning to billions of people in the world. Its clout resides in idea, not in force. It is made up of teachers, children, peasants, businesspeople, rappers, organic farmers, nuns, artists, government workers, fisherfolk, engineers, students, incorrigible writers, weeping Muslims, concerned mothers, poets, doctors without borders, grieving Christians, street musicians, the President of the United States of America, and as the writer David James Duncan would say, the Creator, the One who loves us all in such a huge way.
There is a rabbinical teaching that says if the world is ending and the Messiah arrives, first plant a tree, and then see if the story is true. Inspiration is not garnered from the litanies of what may befall us; it resides in humanity’s willingness to restore, redress, reform, rebuild, recover, reimagine, and reconsider. "One day you finally knew what you had to do, and began, though the voices around you kept shouting their bad advice," is Mary Oliver’s description of moving away from the profane toward a deep sense of connectedness to the living world.
Millions of people are working on behalf of strangers, even if the evening news is usually about the death of strangers. This kindness of strangers has religious, even mythic origins, and very specific eighteenth-century roots. Abolitionists were the first people to create a national and global movement to defend the rights of those they did not know. Until that time, no group had filed a grievance except on behalf of itself. The founders of this movement were largely unknown – Granville Clark, Thomas Clarkson, Josiah Wedgwood – and their goal was ridiculous on the face of it: at that time three out of four people in the world were enslaved. Enslaving each other was what human beings had done for ages. And the abolitionist movement was greeted with incredulity. Conservative spokesmen ridiculed the abolitionists as liberals, progressives, do-gooders, meddlers, and activists. They were told they would ruin the economy and drive England into poverty. But for the first time in history a group of people organized themselves to help people they would never know, from whom they would never receive direct or indirect benefit. And today tens of millions of people do this every day. It is called the world of non-profits, civil society, schools, social entrepreneurship, and non-governmental organizations, of companies who place social and environmental justice at the top of their strategic goals. The scope and scale of this effort is unparalleled in history.
The living world is not "out there" somewhere, but in your heart. What do we know about life? In the words of biologist Janine Benyus, life creates the conditions that are conducive to life. I can think of no better motto for a future economy. We have tens of thousands of abandoned homes without people and tens of thousands of abandoned people without homes. We have failed bankers advising failed regulators on how to save failed assets. Think about this: we are the only species on this planet without full employment. Brilliant. We have an economy that tells us that it is cheaper to destroy earth in real time than to renew, restore, and sustain it. You can print money to bail out a bank but you can’t print life to bail out a planet. At present we are stealing the future, selling it in the present, and calling it gross domestic product. We can just as easily have an economy that is based on healing the future instead of stealing it. We can either create assets for the future or take the assets of the future. One is called restoration and the other exploitation. And whenever we exploit the earth we exploit people and cause untold suffering. Working for the earth is not a way to get rich, it is a way to be rich.
The first living cell came into being nearly 40 million centuries ago, and its direct descendants are in all of our bloodstreams. Literally you are breathing molecules this very second that were inhaled by Moses, Mother Teresa, and Bono. We are vastly interconnected. Our fates are inseparable. We are here because the dream of every cell is to become two cells. In each of you are one quadrillion cells, 90 percent of which are not human cells. Your body is a community, and without those other microorganisms you would perish in hours. Each human cell has 400 billion molecules conducting millions of processes between trillions of atoms. The total cellular activity in one human body is staggering: one septillion actions at any one moment, a one with twenty-four zeros after it. In a millisecond, our body has undergone ten times more processes than there are stars in the universe – exactly what Charles Darwin foretold when he said science would discover that each living creature was a "little universe, formed of a host of self-propagating organisms, inconceivably minute and as numerous as the stars of heaven."
So I have two questions for you all: First, can you feel your body? Stop for a moment. Feel your body. One septillion activities going on simultaneously, and your body does this so well you are free to ignore it, and wonder instead when this speech will end. Second question: who is in charge of your body? Who is managing those molecules? Hopefully not a political party. Life is creating the conditions that are conducive to life inside you, just as in all of nature. What I want you to imagine is that collectively humanity is evincing a deep innate wisdom in coming together to heal the wounds and insults of the past.
Ralph Waldo Emerson once asked what we would do if the stars only came out once every thousand years. No one would sleep that night, of course. The world would become religious overnight. We would be ecstatic, delirious, made rapturous by the glory of God. Instead the stars come out every night, and we watch television.
This extraordinary time when we are globally aware of each other and the multiple dangers that threaten civilization has never happened, not in a thousand years, not in ten thousand years. Each of us is as complex and beautiful as all the stars in the universe. We have done great things and we have gone way off course in terms of honoring creation. You are graduating to the most amazing, challenging, stupefying challenge ever bequested to any generation. The generations before you failed. They didn’t stay up all night. They got distracted and lost sight of the fact that life is a miracle every moment of your existence. Nature beckons you to be on her side. You couldn’t ask for a better boss. The most unrealistic person in the world is the cynic, not the dreamer. Hopefulness only makes sense when it doesn’t make sense to be hopeful. This is your century. Take it and run as if your life depends on it.
~~~~~
Paul Hawken is an environmentalist, entrepreneur, journalist, and author. His books include Blessed Unrest.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
