Curious Touring

Viviers is a15th century town attached to the past and looking for it’s future.

It is the home of the smallest Cathedral in all of France and the church bells that go with it. The four thousand souls that live there are made up of mostly old and young. The old because they have given up on their stressed village but may have no other place to go. The young because they can buy a a long vacant stone house for less than €100k and give it life again. The 20 year mortgage payment is close to rent that they would have to pay in the area. The Charcuterie closed 16 years ago but the sign remains, things take time here.

All the buildings appear to be the same from the outside; aged by  centuries, pigeon stained, and in disrepair.  There are a few surprises and they tell a different story once you go through the old door. We were invited in to a renovated residence for an aperitif and conversation about the home and the town. The home is magazine worthy, with modern bathrooms, tall ceilings and interesting architectural features throughout. Maryanne and her family are transplanted Vietnamese from the time of the French occupation. Her family moved to France in the 1960’s to escape the challenges of their war torn country. She runs a small Airbnb and is the town’s de facto tourism bureau chief/event organizer. She is subtly recruiting like minded people that are able to buy and renovate homes, with the goal of keeping the town from crumbling into it’s own past. One thing that may help Maryanne’s effort is the fact that Paris is encouraging industries to move out of the city of light for less populated places. The Rhône valley is one of the areas they have identifying as places in the country that can support this state sponsored sprawl. Within a few miles of Viviers there are 12,000 engineering jobs and a high tech village developing.

If you are interested in being part of this boom, the town is going to auction off the huge convent with an attached chapel built only a couple of hundred years ago. I see a fabulous potential location for an upscale hotel with Rhône river views, a restaurant lit by the sun streaming through stained glass windows, with hotel rooms for those looking for recreation or redemption in an ancient revitalized village. I would definitely take a room there.

Viviers,  France April 4th 2018

The start of another phase of our journey, we boarded  the SS Catherine expecting to leave Lyon tonight to sail north. The city has two rivers that surround it, the Rhone and Saône. On the river are the tourist boats, old barges that are converted to bars, restaurants, offices, and floating residences. Our bike tour guide told us that it’s quite chic to live on the water. The river creates millions of €’s in cash flow for the city. You only need €300-500k to buy a barge, €1000 a month for dock fees, plus property taxes, water, sewer, and power charges. Too expensive for most French. Compare the river life to €900-1000 for a small apartment in the modern part of a city where average wages are €1000-1500 per month.
Our vessel is rafted up next to another river boat. When we get to our stateroom our porthole is a hull hole, looking at the other ship. I thought I read that we were on Grand Cru deck. It turns out we are on the crew deck, just a little different. The good thing is I can look river swans in the eye.
Tonight, not as planned, we are staying in Lyon. The rivers are high and the boat too high to make it under some bridges that lead to our next destination.

This is really good news because we hoped to go to a string concert, four violins and two cellos in Temple Du Change, originally built as a stock market in the early 1600’s. It has two clocks on the building. The one of the right for time in hours and minutes.  The one on the left marks days, months and years, maybe to remind early traders that long terms gain was as important as daily profits.

The ceiling is a sculpted crown that reflects both it’s past and the evenings music. I’m not really a violin guy but there is something about music in ancient building that I’m attracted to. It might because I saw ghosts hovering over the artists once in a Paris Norte Dame concert.

The program chosen was uplifting and energetic with works by Vivaldi, Bach, Mozart, and Caccini. Hair flying, bows sawing the violins making music that you could never fall asleep to. After two or three standing ovations and the accompanying encores we left the building and walked back to our ship. What a great evening. It was possible because we arrived in Lyon a couple of days before our boat departure and saw flyers advertising the event.

Lyon April 1st 2018

The last few days have been a bit of a shock to my system. We are now speaking another language that I don’t understand even more than Italian. It’s almost like I was fluent in my inability to speak Italian. How could it be worse, I’m not sure. But in France there is a certain language based intolerance that you feel from some waiters and waitresses that goes beyond anything I felt in Italy. This is not the prevalent attitude but it does happen. Sometimes there is another story to be told.

We were tucked away in good but small restaurant. Not a “seen and be seen” place with a huge sidewalk presence just a few tables in an intimate setting. This is someplace that would be hard to discover but it’s listed in the Michelin guide and suggested by one of our travel companions. The waiter was in his early 20s, French-but humble, an oxymoron. He had spent one year in living in Michigan. The proprietor spoke no English but was a fabulous cook. The young man was the connection between the establishment and us, the clientele. A connection that would have been impossible without him.
We ordered the French Sauvignon Blanc which they were out of. The owner, manager, and waiter all came back with an explanation in English of the two alternatives describing the nuance of each wine. All the while looking to the young man to explain something that they could not have done. There is this French pride that kicks in when there is a language problem.  Maybe is the reason they are sometimes rude when dealing with foreigners.

We told the team that the six of us would take both bottles. I could see how happy they were with their young protege. Later in the evening I told the young man how valuable he was to the restaurant and asked how long he had been there. One week was the answer. At the end of the meal I asked the our novice waiter to translate to the manager what enjoyable evening that we had and how he had been a big part of it. He had a smile of satisfaction on his face while telling his manager, in my words how important he is.  Languge is a funny thing, it can separate us or it can connect us, depending on the circumstances.

Lyon, March 31st 2018

Fossano is a small town in the Piedmont area. It’s just the right size with la passeggiata* which surrounds most of the city center. Every afternoon seniors, families, and lovers spend time recounting the days events and preparing for the dinner hour. Just beyond the low walls of the walkway are the Alps that come into view when the shroud of clouds chooses to reveal them. They are giants in the distance.

Today is market day in our town, I rose before the sun for a magic time walk. The nomadic vendors are streaming into town opening their trucks and filling their displays with subsistence and treasures that they hope will be gone by 2:00 pm. From souvenirs to Nutella you can get it from this mobile bazaar.

We chose to stay in the Piedmont area because of proximity to Barolo and Barbaresco, arguably these areas produce some of the best wines in Italy.
Wineries in Italy can sometimes be difficult to find. The GPS locations are iffy and signage not so good. I think some of the wineries would prefer not to be public, they see themselves as farmers and wine producers, not tourist attractions, hence the poor signage. They usually charge +/- €20 for a small tasting, lots of eduction and a little wine.

The quality of the tour guides are much better than the US. They tend to be sommeliers or other very knowledgeable employees. If you are expecting the a Napa style day of hitting a few wineries and a then a quick lunch you are in the wrong country. The American way of stopping in without an appointment is not appreciated and many times not allowed. With so many languages spoken the winery wants to provide for them whenever they can.
A great alternative is a local Enoteca, wine bars found in or near most towns in the wine regions. No appointment required. Tastings are less expensive and more convenient to reach. You can also taste many different producers or vintages in one location. I suspect that wineries or wine bars don’t sell a lot of wines to Americans. They are hard to carry back. And cost between €90-200 per case just to ship.

This is all about the educating the palette, not stocking the cellar.

* Passeggiata translates to a walk that occurs between 5-8:00 pm and often the walkway that it’s on.

Fossano March 28th 2018

We had lunch and some local wine in Pienza on one of our daily outings from Monte San Savino and walked about the town afterwards. On the way back to our village an officer stepped out in front of our car holding a red reflector on a short stick. Oh great, this is a first, getting pulled over in Italy. I’m pretty sure that I didn’t do anything wrong so is this a DUI stop? The fact that I had forgotten my International Drivers License was my only worry. Would he ask me for my documents? I have a belief that Italians would prefer not to have dialogue with Americans if they don’t have to. It’s a language issue. As the young Carabinieri approached us, his first question was: Italiano? No, no Americano.

My brother in law is an ex Oakland, California police officer and I have watched him chat up the uniforms during a DUI checkpoint. Could I channel that confidence without a shield or license on me? Their English was pretty good, so I thought this may be a long conversation. We talked about where we all lived. Both the officers had children or parents in California. They apologized for their poor English and I apologized for my non existent Italian. Lots of laughter, slightly moderated by the fact that one of them was holding a fully automated machine gun slung over his shoulder. After 5 minutes (felt like 10) we definitely had developed an international detente. They waived us on and its the best arrevederci I have heard since this trip began. One of my travel companions suggested we get a picture of us and the handsome officers. Maybe some other day would be better.

Heading to the Piedmont area on the Autostrada we almost sped passed another Carabinieri It appeared that only the Italians were passing him and all the tourists were hanging back. So here is that promised picture from a safe distance on another day. After this shot we passed him like any good Italian would.

Fact check: There are 110,400 Carabinieri in Italy and they are only one of the four military branches.

Albinea to Fosano March 26th 2018

After extensive research all of my traveling companions have concluded that the Italian wine is easier to drink than American wine. We think, with some validation, that it is because much of the wine here is produced with no or very few chemicals. It’s only fruit juice and yeast. Maybe it has to do with the Italian’s tradition of making their own “house” wine that was meant to be enjoyed by only family and friends, it never traveled far from home, it needed no shelf life. Why spend money on some additive that just took the juice further away from the fruit and the land where it was born.
We spent time with Eleonora Vieri, a sommelier with a day job teaching Italian via Skype. She lives in the village of Castiglione del Lago, where she was born. We visited a tiny wine producer in Montepulciano area for some vineyard walking and tasting. We met Alessandro, a passionate wine producer, grandson of another passionate wine producer, who lives in the same town where he was born, as did his grandfather. He explained to us what he does to make great wine. I will spare you the details but grandfather told him he didn’t have the grit to make his own wine. His first vintage won a silver medal, vey impressive for an area that has a worldwide reputation for great wines.

A tip from Alessandro: A wine’s story is left in the empty glass. If there are chemicals and off flavors you can smell them after you finish. As a bambino he spent a lot of time smelling his grandfather’s empty glasses, and when he smells his empty glass today he thinks of his grandfather.

I asked Elenora what the qualities of a wine are that will give it bottle age.  Alcohol from the fruit, acidity from the soil, and tannin from grape skins and barrel wood if used are all essential.

Hundreds of years ago the priests understood the same properties but called them by different names:

According to Sergio Esposito in the book Passion on the Vine those qualities were:

Spirit, soul, and salt.
The wine’s spirit was it’s alcohol; it’s soul was it’s individuality, it’s fragrance and territorio, how it demonstrated the land from which it came; and it’s salt was its body… but at the base of it all was the belief that the best wine came from the best materia prima-raw natural material. These winemakers considered their wine a being, and treated it with respect. They concentrated first and foremost on growing the best grapes possible because the wine’s power came from nature.

When Alessandro and Elenora talked about wine during the day they used many metaphors that connect wine and life:

When the fruit and yeast are working together it’s like good sex.
When you drink a wine that has not properly matured you’re killing the baby.
This is the price of my wine, if I sell it for less I’m giving away my children.

In Italy life and wine are barely distinguishable from each other.

Moltipolcino March 23rd 2018

Picture a hill town with sidewalk restaurants, colorful dresses blowing in the breeze English speaking Italians inviting you in to shop. This is not where we are.

It’s more like windswept paths, no tourists, locals with their heads down bundled up against the arctic like wind, scurrying to get chores or work done. Empty clothes lines frayed by the weather. There is a Farmers market the morning after we arrived. The vendors are bundled, red faced, and cheerful. A few customers buy quickly and head back to their warm abodes.

The town of Monte San Savino has a mostly intact walls of broken brick and stone rubble randomly placed, and repaired over time. You thought green building methods were invented by our generation and the AIA, these people have been recycling building material for centuries and probably doing it better than we do today.

The street is arc shaped cobbled, wide enough for two smart cars with doors handles touching.
There is a sparsity to this place. Wind quietly whistling though the pathways and cracks in the walls.

The house starts on the third floor with two floors above. Terra-cotta steps with worn smooth centers lead to the top floor which is like a belfry that even the bats have moved from. It took us a while to figure out the heating which is generally not effective when the 35 mile an hour winds are coming through every opening in this 15th century dwelling.
No wonder the owners are a continent away at this time of the year.

We burned all the fireplace wood on the first day and then started burning the furniture that had been disassembled and put in the wood bin. This is a practical solution because sorting and getting rid of the garbage is a procedure that takes two full pages in the house instructions to explain. The caretaker promised a wood delivery yesterday but I think yesterday means whenever I get there in Italian.
This is not a place for the complainers that post photographs of torn wallpaper, a broken tile or dead bug with comments like “don’t stay here” You want Authentic you better be ready for the real thing. Travel has invited me out of my comfort zone and I’m really glad I came. Can you hand me my jacket and gloves please if feels a little chilly in here.

From Florence to Monte San Savino where our home exchange is the expected travel time is 45 min. The idea is to make the destination by dark. It’s a walled city, but we have good directions.
There were just a few obstacles:
We went to the wrong rental car location in Florence +30min
Changing the car’s GPS from Italian to Turkish, wait what? +20 min.
Anyone know the word for “language “ in Turkish? I didn’t think so.
Changing the car’s GPS from Turkish to English +10min
Trying to get the audio on the GPS working, jeez never mind +1min.
After all the language changes GPS lost her voice completely. Are you kidding me?
Multiple wrong turns in Florence during rush hour +15min
Not wanting to take the Autostrada and driving the country roads +45min.
Stopping in Greve, two tasting rooms, which were not open on Tuesdays +15min.
Apparently all Italians know nobody drinks in Greve on Tuesdays.
Shopping in Italian grocery store for food, wine and more translation confusion +22 min.
GPS tells us we have a 1h-17m journey to our destination.

The road has 75 mi views of the Tuscan country side. This is what we are here for.

Well that’s until we arrive at a road block on the washed out country road, not shown on the GPS in any language. Make a u-turn, argue with the navigation system for miles before a re route kicks in + 35 min.

This is Italy things happen…

The tower and walls of the hilltop town come into view. We are almost there.
We lost the address and got disconnected from person who has the keys to the castle +8 min.
By now it’s really cold, dark, and raining. We know the navigation system has no idea how to get us to the address after she tells us to turn up a path that has steps +37min.
Think of the movie The Italian Job.
We finally find the unit with the help of phone navigation and a few Italian curse words.
Total time? Who cares we made it before sunrise.

Monte San Savino, Italy March 20th 2018

There is a Tuscan saying: Keep away from sick doctors, dogs that don’t bark, men who don’t talk, and people who go to mass twice a day.

I wander out of the Hotel 1865 Residenza D’Epoca on our first day in Florence I wanted to see the Duomo and walk under the massive dome before the crowds of tourists and the other faithfully arrived.

Our hotel was built like a fortress and it took a little while to escape from it. As the massive century old doors slammed shut in the rain and wind I realized that I didn’t have the hotel’s umbrella and had no idea how to get back in the door at this hour.  More on the hotel below.

After a few direction changes, and a found umbrella, there is still no Dome in sight. And it’s cold, really cold. I thought maybe I’ll just slip into a church to get warm. As I walked in the bent over priest was checking the attendance to see if he had to do his Vesper’s or could just blow off the morning service for lack of congregants. No chance Father, too many prayers waiting to be said. He entered the nave checking his wristwatch before opening The Book. I learned that there are three times more women than men taking communion at this hour,  I can translate about three words in an Italian church service, and the churches are cold.

Warm and full of hope I hit road to find the really big church in Florence. Then, down an alleyway a glimpse of the Duomo, the architectural pride of city for centuries appeared. It dwarfs the buildings in its shadows.

The shops depend on tourist trade for profits, which the long queues help gather more than their share of. There are two way to see this church. En masse, a long queue that wraps around the church. Or in mass, this being my second service of the day I know to look for the smallest door that has a worship schedule posted and says No Visitors. Just walk past the guards with a pious look on your face. A selfie stick or checking your Facebook account will be a dead giveaway that your intentions are less than prayerful.

Caution:  If you do this you absolutely must be respectful of this sacred place of worship.  You are no longer in a tourist attraction, it is a church, and you are a congregant.

The volume of the space is overwhelming and it took me a minute to recover after walking in.  There’s   not a tourist in sight during the mass. And even when you can’t understand Italian the service adds an authenticity to the visit. I encouge you to try it, even if you go to mass     twice in one day

Even Michelangelo was impressed when he claimed that he could equal Fellippo’s Brunelleschi’s dome but he never surpassed it. In fact he did not even equal it, the Cupolla of St. Peter’s completed in 1590 is almost 10 feet narrower and, arguably, much less graceful.

Hotel 1865 Residenza D’Epoca
I suggest that what makes for a great stay in a hotel is hard to find on line. It is the warmth and attention of the proprietor. When a family can make you feel that you are truly welcome in their home, that’s the above and beyond that we are all looking for. Michele and Cinzia shared stories of their lives including pictures of their family. We talked about the history of the building like we were house guests that traveled from a neighboring town to spend a couple of days with them. Ask them about finding the estate mirror, the one feature hanging in lounge area of the hotel. The atmosphere of the breakfast room encourages travel conversations that last long after the expressos are cold. Most hoteliers are paid to be nice and need to respond to the star ratings. Michele and Cinza are charming because they truly enjoy their guests. And good ratings follow.

Florence, March 18th 2018