Travel Log, Part Three

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Most amazing meal last night in an old palazzo. A bistro. The waitress took good care of me and made local suggestions that made the night. Had two different wine pairings, one a Sicilian with an appetizer of anchovy crostini (anchovies frozen, marinated in lemon and vinegar). Then an Emilia Romagna paired with my main course of John Dory with capers and porcini mushrooms in a potato butter (sure there was tons of butter) sauce. It was divine. Dessert? I wanted the panna cotta but she gave this little "ehhh" and suggested the homemade crema ice cream with local white peaches. Thank goodness for experts. It was divine. Read some of Julian Barnes Sense of an Ending and topped the evening off w a decaf espresso.

Walking home I toured the city center. It was magical in the darkness with Romanesque buildings rising up and people everywhere in passeggiata. Italian people. No other Americans. No English. I haven't been somewhere this authentic since.....?? Lots of bicycles too.

Morning -- made the mistake of posting on Facebook about my parking ticket. Social media fail or as MJ posted #humblehorn. Ha. He's totally right. What happens when you travel alone. I am in possession of a 39 euro parking ticket for who knows what. Sweet little man manning the hotel last night helped me move the car and access the internet. Still working on B's project.

This morning, the most delightful prima colazione spread. Had grilled veggies and fruit. Some yogurt. But best of all was the coffee served americano in its own small ceramic pitcher with a matching pitcher of milk. The man serving breakfast parle niente inglese. I love it. No one in the breakfast room is speaking English.

Off to the sites. Then off to Ravenna.

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Este Castle -- magnificent ceilings and staffed by darling ancient museum relics ie the guards. Practically a retirement home. Excellent informative displays.

Smell of cookies being baked. Sound of piano practice. Ferrara is known for its gardens.

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Driving to Ravenna through the eastern Italy. Passing by vineyards that have sunscreens for grapevines. Who knew?

Radio playing: “Don't worry, be happy”

### Ravenna

Most industrial, port city.

Mosaics were incredible and not to hate but maybe in too good of condition to be from 6th century?

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I had the most ridiculously ridiculous travel from Ravenna in car. Two tries to fill up w gas at Venice airport. Exorbitant taxi ride from airport to public ferry where I had to buy another ticket. Get dropped off one five minute walk and two pedestrian bridges away from the hotel, loaded down with my idea of low maintenance: one stuffed LL Bean camouflage tote and a red rolling bag that died on the trip. The handle broke somewhere between Ferrara and Ravenna. I shuffle along looking absolutely ridiculous. Sweat pouring down my face. Smile affixed so firmly that it is a grimace. Once checked in, this old American fatty at the hotel wanted to chat with me, and I had had just enough. I pretended to be Italian.

### Venice

Hotel Mulino Sticky was hilarious. Like an American Disneyland plopped across from Piazza San Marco. Everyone speaks English. It is truly tourist central. First few days of that were wonderful, like jetting home to familiarity, but then became annoying. WAS and MH were most amazing company. Tiramisu at midnight on the rooftop bar because W used her "sexy voice" on Francesco. Visited to the Ghetto on Saturday. Note to self, quietest place to be found in the city during high tourist season is Jewish quarter on the Sabbath. After the ghetto, I toured the Dogana, Francois Pinault’s art collection in a converted customs house by Tadao Ando. The redo was spectacular. My favorite room encased two enormous canvases by Julie Mehretu. Had to call E.

M and S's drinks on Fri were thrown by M's godmother who was charming but wore no makeup. The hotel was a fifteen minute walk from Saint Mark’s Square and totally midcentury modern. Reminded me of the interior of the UN in New York.

Friday, they went to the rehearsal dinner. I ate dinner at Harry's Dolci overlooking the stretch of water between Giudecca island and Venice. Watched the sun set and the colors change.  Watched the little fatty Midwestern family of four gorge on pasta and lick their lips on dessert. Watched the chic French family move between English and French as they gorged on pasta and licked their lips on dessert. Biased.

Saturday's wedding was gorgeous. At the Hotel Bauer. Elegant, small, unpretentious. W read a Pablo Neruda’s poem. M and S wrote their own vows.

Sunday brunch at the Danieli terrace. Four flights up over looking the canal. Magical view. Lots of laughing too with W and M. I forget how much I love laughing.

### Verona

Hotel was cool. Old 17th century villa filled with hyper modern art. An astounding number of naked women in the art and a definite bias against naked men. Had never seen Damien Hirst's butterfly series and enjoyed it. More Jeff Koons whom I will never understand as more than a marketing sensationalist. Anish Kapoor sculpture and a photo of that performance artist, Marina Abramovic (sp?) clutching her naked breasts. The color punctuation of the toiletries, napkins, slippers, and hotel accessories were fantastic. Arrayed in wild bright colors. But otherwise, I didn't think the staff friendly. The hotel is too expensive not to lose points for being snobby and aloof.

Opera season in Verona. The arena is open air, Roman and huge. It holds 20,000 people. It was a spectacular setting for a spectacular evening. We started the evening with everyone lighting candles in the tradition of when Verdi's performances were first presented, and since Aida is set in Egypt, the lights of all the candles flickered illuminating a stage set with two 30 foot tall obelisks and a lion.

The opera was spectacular.