First Annual (only!) Best and Worst List

Dispatch: Paris, October 26, 2008 - 21:30 hours - With only five days left we felt the need to paint some kind of culminating picture of what has been an incredible six months.  We've had enough experiences both wonderful and weird to fill both our suitcases several times over.  But out of all of that we managed to winnow out few gems and a (very) few rough bits.  

So, drum roll please..... please find below in no particular order and with the full and complete knowledge that they are just the perceptions of two over-stimulated Canadians we give you....

"Our Best and Worst of Six Months Travel List"

Best Salon experience: (what could be more important?!)

Male - Granada - 9 euros - He simply said, "Not too short please."  And it was done.  He didn't even have to say that he was going to a wedding or a funeral the way he usually does in Canada.  Good thing since our Spanish was limited to ordering beverages.

Female - Fetiyah, Turkey.  The "Full Meal Deal."  Went in for a colour and was treated to colour, cut, pedicure and every single superfluous hair removed from my face (that was a bit scary) for 70 Turkish lire (YTL's) we called them "yittles," that was about $25.00 Can.  Amazing.  They were so fast and fun to watch.  The fellow who worked his magic on PJ's hair had an enthusiastic assistant who held the hairdryer while the master did the twirling.  All of this took place in an uber chic salon tucked away down a back alley in this small port town.

 Car Rental Experience:

We rented cars all over Europe - Italy, Spain, France, Portugal, Greece so we had lots of chances to compare and contrast.

Best: 

National Car Rental - anywhere in Europe that you work with them they are fast, fair, and efficient.  These are not always words synonymous with car rental companies.

 We did rent cars from other places like a really small, Opel, Panda we rented in Greece from Papa John's.  And only once because the other car broke down, a really big car -some kind of four by four that practically drove itself in France.  But by far our favourite was the Citroen C5 - midsized, big trunk and diesel so it was great on fuel.

Worst:  

Europcar in Nice, France. S-L-O-W, and confused and slow and disorganized and slow and..... We ended up with a really small car for the same price we had been paying for mid-sized. 

Public Washrooms:

When you are living your day to day life you rarely give a thought to the lowly public washroom.  But take yourself out of your normal routine, eat weird food, drink lots of water, feel nervous sometimes and voila suddenly toilets are all you can think about.  Where are they, do they cost anything, will there be paper...will I make it!

Best: 

 

Represol Gas Station in Lanjaron, Spain. We were high in the Sierra Nevada Mountains in the Alpujaral region.  Nothing around for miles (except bushes of course) and then it appeared in the distance like a dream.  It was clean, there was enough toilet paper to make a dress, there was hot and cold running water, a mirror made of glass not polished metal that when you look in it makes you all distorted and scary looking.  It was everything you could want in a washroom and more.  I think I said "Gracias", 10 times to the attendant.

Worst: 

 

Any public washroom in Turkey.  They all make you want to weep.  Those washrooms were especially troublesome for someone with not yet quite up to snuff in terms of butt and thigh strength trying to fit your feet into the two marked spots perked ever so precariously over the hole.  The muscles quivered and shook as I attempted to maintain balance, not do myself and injury, not end up with anything unwanted anywhere on myself and all of this while trying not to touch a surface.  A note: We LOVED Turkey (more later about that) but oh those public washrooms - a true test of a tourist's stamina.

Sangria:

This fabulous drink deserves a category all of its own.  Having now drunks gallons of it we feel qualified to make some judgements on this most sunny of beverages.

Best:

Motril, just outside of Granada on the Costa del Sol.  Mmmmm, nectarines cut into little bits, firm but not crunchy. Tart fruit but not mouth puckering.  A wonderful blend of wine and juices. Nectar of the gods.

Worst:

Valencia.  OK it was cool outside and we were sitting outside on a walking street and we were just a bit tired after driving all day from Cartegana but still... it was like Kool Aid masquerading as Sangria.  Two or three tired bits of apple floated sadly in the jar.  They looked as bad as we felt. (More about Valencia later too)

Form of Transportation:

Getting around fifteen (15!!) countries in six months requires a bit of imagination, a lot of money, stamina, a good sense of humour, a many, many forms of transportation.  We used planes, boats, trains, cars, ferries, hop on hop off buses, taxis, but by far our favourite way to get around was the....

Best:

Pedal car in Pescarisolia  in the Abbruzzi mountains with Anita and Lui.  You've seen those little cars.  This one had room for four, two in front two in back.  It has a steering wheel and a thing on the wheel that acted as a brake.  (See AJ's pictures in a previous post.)  It was not something we had planned to do and looked so darn touristy but what the heck we were all in the mood and off we went.  Really!  Down, down the hill we flew completely out of control and everyone laughing so hard we hardly cared. We careened down narrow streets making little old ladies dressed all in black jump out of the way.  

It is such a great memory of a time with family even far away from home.

Worst:

The return train trip from Rome to Pescina.  Maybe because we had just had one of the hottest, hardest days we had experienced so far.  We had spent a really hectic day in Rome battling crowds of tourists (we will ever forget the hordes at the fountains) or the "Christian Bus tour?" Whatever the reason we were all exhausted, cranky and wondering "Are we there yet?"

Mussels:

OK it's true not everyone loves mussels but if they are a favourite bivalve and you get good ones, well, it's like a little piece of heaven.

Best:

Cassis is a story book village in the south of France.  It is almost too perfect with its gorgeous blue water, boat trips out to the Calanques, chi chi shops.  But then to make it even more perfect on the waterfront we ate the plumpest, fattest, juiciest mussels served simply with white wine and lemon juice. Ambrosia!  And as if it couldn't get any better they were served with what was then my favourite side - crispy, hot frites. Since then we have been served enough french fries to sink a ship (and put padding where it doesn't need to be.) At home they were always the once in a blue moon treat.  But having them sit staring up at you with every meal has taken off their special aura.

Worst:

There was a terrible storm the day we drove to Cartegena, Spain.  The rain came down in rivers making driving a test of stamina and nerve.  Passengers simply grip the door handle bar and close their eyes.  Somehow we made it to Los Lomas Village a surreal Hyatt resort/golf haven/old folks retirement villa just outside of the city.  We had rented an apartment which was part of this behemoth of a property development which was a big as a small town.  Our space was huge with a bed big enough for five, flat screen TV (and an English movie!!) with views (when the rain stopped) of the golf course.  All very lovely.  We were told it was best to make reservations for one of the on-site restaurants. We chose a Spanish themed one and hoped for tapas.  We got their version of.  The mussels (no I haven't forgotten them) we stringy, chewy, cold and gritty.  Everything you don't want in a mussel.  We had to drink of lots of wine to drown our sorrows at such poor shellfish. 

Value for Money in Accommodation:

Best:

Quinta Serra Monte - in the Algarve, Portugal -   sixty (60!!) euros a night.  It was huge!  A gorgeous fully equipped kitchen (it had everything you could ever want in a kitchen and more) a great living room (AJ says they were the most comfortable chairs he had sat on in Europe) BIG bedroom, glorious tiled bathroom and the best host ever. This little house was part of Jean Jacques property which was large and full of fruit trees.  We ate pomegranets and oranges from his trees.

 If you read my post about Portugal you know I had a few gripes.  But you will also note that they never included the Algarve.  Our only complaint was that we didn't have enough time in that area.  We are definitely going back.

Worst:

For most of our six months we planned our route, our time, where we wanted to be, what we wanted to do and when we wanted to do it.  All except for Ireland.  We thought with only two weeks to spend on that Fair Isle we would let someone else organize our accommodation.  Our first mistake.  We spent two weeks touring Ireland.  What a beautiful, magical place it is.  And at the end of each day we had to find ourselves at our next B&B.  All began well enough with a satisfactory hotel in Dublin but then things began to go sideways. On average we paid about 90 - 100 euros/night.  Now this isn't actually bad in Europe but as we found out the places that we had been booked into were only receiving around 30 euros a night.  So, you can imagine what you get for 30 euros a night.  The worst of the lot shall remain nameless to protect the two, elderly befuddled folk who were running the place.  They welcomed us in good Irish style and showed us to our room.  Up the creaky stairs you go to a musty old room with two shaky little beds.  It must have been (still was?) someone's bedroom because all their clothes were still in the cupboards.  The damp room had that special musty smell that comes from lack of air.  It was a sad, little place made sadder by the fact that the washroom was down the hall. 

Meal:

Best:

Aix en Provence -  Anyone who knows AJ knows how much he likes to cook.  You can take the kitchen away from AJ but not the urge.  We rented apartments throughout most of our trip primarily so we would have more space and could cook some of our own meals.  This worked for the most part. Our most successful adventures in cooking came in France in particular while we were staying in our little pigeon house in Aix.  It was a sweet place with a fairly well equipped kitchen.  The best part however was the availablity of inexpensive, delicous fruits, vegetables and meat.  There was one particular meal of lamb chops which AJ prepared which still makes us smile.  We ate countless meals in restaurants while we've been away but that meal which combined the tastes of home with a dash of the exotic remains a favourite.

Worst:

Aix en Provence - yup, it wins in both categories.  It was late, we were tired (it's a theme) we saw a light in a restaurant (I use the word loosely).  We ordered the plate de jour - this is usually supposed to be the best deal.  We didn't really know what we were ordering - we thought maybe it was some kind of meat.  It came.  We looked.  We still do not know what it was.  They were oval like a butterfly pupa (three per plate) and white.  They were covered with a red sauce (ketchup?) and a scoop of rice.  At first we thought that maybe something was encased inside the white stuff.  Cutting into it revealed nothing, except more whiteness.  It had the consistency of glue and tasted like it too.  We chalked it up to experience.  We have eaten other strange meals but those ghostly blobs were the extreme in awful.

Transportation Systems:

Underground train transportation in most European cities is amazing.  It is fast, cheap, effective and efficient.  Why can't we get it right in our beautiful city?

Best:

Athens hands down, no question.  Its underground stations are beautiful examples of mixing art and technology.  There is music playing all the time - soft and soothing. It cost 80 euro cents to travel from the heart of Athens up onto the train line outside and on to the coast.  It is a ride that takes about 40 minutes.  The seats are comfortable, the signage actually is understandable, the air inside is clean and fresh.  The calming voice tells each station as it is coming in Greek and English. Loved it. 

Worst:

London's Heathrow:

What the h---!  Oh sure they brag about their multicoloured lines and how they go everywhere you want to go all you have to do is get to them.  No elevators or escalators.  You (read AJ) have to drag your monstrous bags up several very steep steeps and then down very steep steps. It was our first experience when we landed and we were not happy campers.  If it is just you and your brollie then your OK you can run and dodge and duck and weave with the rest of them.  There are lifts but only at some stations.  Too bad if you have mobility issues.

And we could go on and on....  

If you want more stories and hey who doesn't,  you could always come over to our house and we could show you our pictures... all six thousand ( 6000!) of them give or take one or two.

AJ is actually going to try to post a few pics now that we have purchased all this internet time.  Wish him luck.  See you all soon.  Five days and counting!

 

Smile and the World Smiles With You, Cry and....

The title for the blog usually comes first but for now here's hoping the title makes itself known. some possibilities:

Portugal - once is enough

Portugal - Ten reasons to come... once

Portugal Problems

We've been in Portugal about twelve days now.  Sammy has joined us and just having her here for a week has brought us so much fun and laughter.  And a good thing too because the Portugese are just about the most serious, non-fun loving people you can imagine.  No wonder Fado music is such a hit here.  It is all about longing, and loss and a great sense of sadness and it certainly shows in the peoples' faces.  The only happy person we have met so far was a waiter at an amazing restaurant, he was Tunisian!  People walk down the street head down or if they are talking to someone it always seems they are planning the overthrow of the government.  Furrowed brows, pursed lips and definitely NO laughter.

AJ and PJ spent a week in the Algarve before we came to Lisbon and probably should have ended our trip in Portugal there.  We stayed in a gorgeous little house out in the country about 30Km from Faro.  As usual we took day trips here, there and everywhere.  The beaches were a favourite destination.  Miles and miles of soft, white sand with barely a soul in sight.  The shells begged us to pick them up and practically threw themselves into our hands.  The sun sparkled on the clear, blue water...heavenly.  Our host Jean Jacques (a misplaced Belgian) who has lived and owned his huge property in Portugal for a very long time warned us.  "The Portuguese are not an outgoing people."  Well that is definitely the understatement of the year. But quiet and non demonstrative is one thing, distrustful, wary and downright rude is another.

Several cases in point:

• tonight after a day of touring outside the city PJ went off in search of food for dinner.  AJ said he would come down and help her back with the bags of heavy things (mostly wine).**  I finished my shopping and still couldn't see the man.  I left the store - my first mistake.  Then I trolled along the outside perimeter of the store (it is a huge store inside an even bigger mall).  I spotted him down a very long aisle.   I headed back into the store - at least I tried to.  The cashier wagged her finger at me "No, you must go back and come in through main door."  OK. 

I am not happy, the bags are getting heavier by the second.  But I do it.  I get to the main entrance and head into the store.  "STOP!"  Two store employees yell at me, they look like they are about to tackle me.   I look at them dazed.  "What?"  You can't take those bags in there," they both shriek at me.  OK.  "But my husband is in there I just want to go find him."  "NO you must let me check your bags," says a woman who looks like one of those woman prison guards from the second world war."  OK.  "I will just leave them here and go find him."  "NO, she shouts, that is not the way we do it here."  Everything in her tone said, "Stupid tourist you think you can come in here and try to push your way around and get what you want, hah, we will show you."  I can't understand what they were trying to protect.  They didn't ask to see my bill, I had offered to leave the bags behind but no.  It was clear they just couldn't believe that someone might just want to go back in the store to find someone. It just shows how important imagination really is.

I told her what she could do with her store and her store policy and stormed off.  I sat panting on a bench in the mall muttering to myself.  People moved away.  Then I realized I had to go back.  AJ was still wandering around the belly of the beast they call Continente.  I go back.  I troll again.  I spot him, I yell to him.  Of course he doesn't hear.  I try another approach.  I go up to the "Customer service representative."  I think that is what the sign above his head says.  I smile a big, broad Canadian smile.  "May I please leave my bags with you and go in to find my husband?"  "NO, you must go to the main entrance and have them check your bags."  They are nothing if not consistent. D---. @#$%^  Fortunately at that moment AJ turned up.  After giving the helpful clerk a few choice comments we left. Now I am very red in the face, sweating and the closest to crying I have been in six months.

Now that I can breathe again I realize how really sad and telling the whole experience was.  Poor Portuguese.  They still think Salazar is looking over their shoulders after thirty four years.   The lack of trust here is like a religion.  Far reaching and very, very invasive.  I am sure they have me on video camera - they are everywhere - and will arrest me if I try to go there again.  I won't.

** A note on Portuguese wine.  Ah, excellent and so inexpensive.  You can get a really good bottle of white for 1.89 euros.  I think the Portuguese should drink more of their wine and lighten up a bit.

•when we went to pick up Sam at the airport we did the usual buy a ticket, take the ticket with you pay before you leave thingee.  Except that when we got to the spot to feed your ticket in  it just kept spitting it back.  We tried several times.  The line up behind us grew.  Then several young men came and did lots of unhelpful things with the ticket.  Finally one of them signalled that we must follow him.  It is now about ten minutes that we have been trying to get out of the airport parking.  We dutifully follow him to the parking ticket office.  He indicates to AJ you must get out.  AJ goes in and stays a long, long time.  All we want to do is go home with Sammy.  In frustration I go into the office.  A mistake.  I am ignored.  This is not a good thing.  I demand to speak to the manager who is refusing to make eye contact in his office behind glass where he is staring at his computer screen.  I bang on the window.  He waves distractedly at me.  I bang on the counter.  "What is going on here!" The woman behind the counter continues to ingore me.  A mistake.  I leave (read storm) out.  I return to the car where I begin to honk the horn, again, and again and again.  It feels good but does no good.

We are now about twenty minutes in the parking lot.  The bottom line is they say the ticket was stolen.  How or why AJ would steal the ticket is not made clear.  He repeats, "I took the ticket, I paid the ticket when we were leaving."  Now they want identification..... It went on and on.  We finally got out.  They probably have us on video camera there too.

All this ridiculous high drama that achieved nothing but aggravation and more mistrust. Something about all these incidents reeks of misplaced priorities.  Maybe these are all make work projects or maybe that is it.  They just don't trust. All that wasted energy.

•Driving back today from a trip into the country (lovely by the way - glorious vistas from the top of a Moorish castle) I noticed graffiti painted on the old stone walls.  Graffiti is everywhere in Europe no more here than anywhere else.  What stood out was the message.  It had originally said "Nazis, go home."  Someone had used more spray paint to black out the word Nazis and now it just said, "Go home."  The message was repeated several times along the walls.  

I am composing this from the solitude and safety of the seventeenth floor of a glorious apartment building.  From here the lights of Lisbon shine in all directions. It all looks so peaceful.  A thin strip of lights marks the arch of the long, lean bridge which crosses the Targus river making everything seem right and tranquil almost peaceful.  Oh to just stay up here away from the intensity and uptightness of the people in the street.

It is absolutely possible that there are lovely, warm people in Portugal I just wish we could have met a few.  

Communication - and a French Quiz

If this was 1932, or even 1962 the following blog wouldn´t even be an issue but it isn´t it is 2008 - a time of internet and email and blogs. If AJ and I had taken this trip in a bygone time we would have sent written missives across the ocean and folks would have expected to receive them once or twice the whole time we were away. As it is we have set up expectations for ourselves to keep in touch often and with aclarity. And there in lies the rub.
We brought along a little ASUS computer, no bigger than two passports. Lightweight, loaded with programmes like SKYPE, a built in mic and camera and the ability to use European voltage without a convertor. Awesome. Yup, for the first month. Then, things went down hill and Eddie as we came to call it, just wouldn´t perform. Then we began our discussions with the ASUS folks back home. Well they said there are no dealers to fix it in Europe and if you take it somewhere else to get it fixed it will void the warranty. Ok we said, how about if we send it home and you fix it there? Sure they said, just send it in the original packing but we won´t send it back to you unless you pay of course. Sooooo, of course we don´t have the original packing and anyway what good would it do to fix it if we can´t get it back. We will be dealing with ASUS (rhymes with Jesus) when we get home. In the meantime....
We have been forced to ferret out internet cafes like a couple of little hound dogs sniffing out a little action. It has often proved to be unsuccessful. All these cafes are built around the same plan - you would think that there was some kind of corporate design but of course there isn´t - just a general willingness to use the smallest amount of space stuffed with the greatest amount of computers. The computers are usually satisfactory if not always packed with programs. Most often there is no SKYPE so that always makes us sad.
Internet cafes don´t just attract travelers. In many of them very overweight young boys play noisy, scary killing games. Others seem to draw dark skinned men with hoods sitting very close to computers with pictures of girls doing a variety of interesting things. The sound track for all this humanity ranges widely. This morning there was some kind of Arabic music, a bit like a dentist drill - on and on it went. Often it is hip hop, but sometimes it is just the local pop radio station playing the same three songs over and over. Just like home except in a language you can´t sing along with. And then, like a cloud wreathing the entire little room is smoke and lots of it. Smoking, the real religion of the people. It is ubiquitious and absolutley unavoidable. So you end up with this magic mixtures of smoke, heat, noise and strangers bodies just way too close for comfort. It all combines to make being eruidte a huge challenge. Anyway, that is my excuse and I am sticking to it.

I didn´t really intend to winge about internet access I intended to dispel some French myths. And now that I have my rant off my chest maybe I will. Take the following true or false test. Four or more correct and you are a real Frenchophile. No looking ahead for answers!


1) French people are rude. T or F
2) French food is the most fantastic in the world. T or F
3) All French people have great clothing sense. T or F
4) The really interesting parts of France are its cities. T or F


Answers: (well our answers)

1) Surprise, they weren´t. They sometimes sighed the long suffering sigh of those who can´t believe everyone hasn´t mastered their lovely language but they always tried to help us. They smiled indulgently at our pathetic attempts at francaise and muddled along with us. They were kind as could be when helping sort out the menus (which often were bilingual thank God). They gave directions with wild waving of hands and big smiles. They encouraged us to try and clarifiy when we were confused and filled in blanks when we just couldn´t find a word or action. In fact their generosity of spirit was one of the lovely surprises of our time in France.

2) Well, food in the grocery stores is inexpensive and fresh. We often cooked at home and AJ continued his tradition of fine cuisine even far away from home. Eating out in restaurants was not the soul enhancing experience we had hoped for however. It was certainly more than edible - especially compared to Ireland - but then we could write pages about the food in Ireland but that is for another time. But we aren´t coming home with a meal that we will always remember except the one of lamb chops that Arne cooked in our little house in Aix.

3) True. Even the old men and ladies have some kind of special way of wearing their clothes that looks effortless and yet elegant. They wear scarves in a thousand different ways and always look just chi chi. They always seem dressed for the occassion whether its shopping in the early morning market or dining out. I am so jealous because although we can dress well in Canada we just don´t. Go to the ballet anytime or wedding or a funeral for that matter. Canadians never seem to be wearing what the occasion calls for even though we could. It seems as if we have taken casual to mean crappy. It makes me sad when I think how much we have on offer and how little energy we seem to put in to it.

4) The beautiful cities take your breath away but for sheer amazing, ¨we will never forget that¨memories¨you just gotta ¨get out of Dodge.¨ The colours of the French country side are so soothing. Pale mauve, soft pink, and every shade of green imaginable. Sunsets that make you weep, vistas small and spreading to make your soul leap. These are things we will always hold close.

Of course if our &/(=(/(%$ computer had worked we would be sending you all those great photos but you know......

Pescina, to August 16th

This is the town of Confetti, Sulmona.  Only thing is the confetti is candy wrapped up to look like different things, flowers, lady bugs, corn etc

 
Getting ready for the big August 15 Festa and a partial family BBQ

 
Aqua duct in Sulmona

The  boys around the campfire Aug 15

The girls around the campfire

Draining the Pasta, you need a big fork in Italy

The moon rising over the BBQ

Italian  Bush Road rash

Introduced three-legged races to Italy, Pescina anyways

Enjoying the fun of the moment

IS the pasta ready yet?

Nothing goes to waste especially when there are no plates left

Getting the fire ready

There were hundreds of these Rosteccni's (?) served at the picnic

This was a small bottle of wine going around

Getting set for our heat of 3 legged racing, bit of a height difference but what the hey

We rounded the clubhouse turn and centrifugal force through us off stride, although I still say there was a push from behind,  Road rash was after this

A beauty of the night, note the shawl 

we got caught in the middle of the procession on the day of the Festa in Pescina

Anita after the procession at the apartment they were staying at

The Night Before the Festa 

Quite a show for fro such a small town

 
We were at a town function and these are the ROTECCINIS being prepared for sale, wine was 3 euro and that was for a bottle, beer was 2 euro for a .5 L bottle

Ok is there enough smoke, the fires in the back provide the coals for the Roastticcinis

The dinner was pasta with wild boar sauce, Roasticcini and WINE
 A nice doorway on our pedal bike trip

Finally got Arnesto to smile, this was the dance with the town dinner

A marching band going past Lui & Anita's apartment

Another good lunch with family

A church roof and some of the detail in a small church, Pescina
look out here we come, 4 pedal spots but only 2 working up hill and when we went down no work at all.  That stick shift is the brake and you really really need to reef on it to stop in some cases.  Great fun and we never laughed so much on the entire trip.  wait unitl you see the movie Lui took.

The ride was a bit bumpy but beautiful

this was pizza night in Pesciana, you could have plain or with jewels of the sea, Anchovies.

we had had the pizza and watched the show

Lui, Antia & Venccezo

A few of Liu's relatives in town for the Festa

Pave' & Angelina., the pasta maker for the town and it was fantastic, had to slap the money down and run with her chasing because she did not want to be paid.

Cavtat & Dubrovnic, Croatia (some not all) No. 2

PLEASE REMEMBER THE PHOTOS ARE NOT IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER AS THE POSTINGS OF THE PHOTOS MOVED EVERYTHING ABOUT  

Thx  AJ

Napoleon's fort above Dubrovnic

Just a street photo

Pave' & John on their way down to the water but to get there you have to go through a restaurant.

 
At the bottom of the stairs

Some war damage from ~1992, we were told they are just starting to repair this damage

Our balcony through the trees, maybe this was already posted

John & Pave' at our entrance, see our balcony

Luka helping pack but a little uncertain how to dress for the next day

  
A balcony shot after a great dinner

A museum in Dubrovnic

A view from the sidewalk along the water

 
Pave' trudging up yet another set of stairs, to think she had the hip replacement just over a year ago

Start of Pescina time

Luka having Ice Cream Spaghetti 

One of our fabulous lunches, Pave', John, Deb, Lui, Anita

 
ONE of Lui's aunts & Uncles they lived next door of the apartment Anita & Lui had for their use

OK, We were headed tot he train or bus station after being picked up at the hotel in Pescara to goto Pescina, Lui's home town.  Just as we got tothe station our driver, Ronaldo, asked were we were headed, Pascina we answer,  I will take you for 100 Euros.  Sold on the air conditioning and off we go.

Can't say why but Ronaldo loved having a conversation with me, Do I look Italian?

Some more rellies, Aunty and Cousin Arnesto who visited  Canada a couple of years ago