Quasi Secondo Gol!

 Hotel Spadai in Florence was like a little soft cotton lined cocoon that received us in our bedraggled state. They pet us and made us comfy and smiled at us and encouraged us and helped us (despite charging us for the night we missed). The night we arrived we were both worn so thin, all we could think of was to raid the complimentary fridge, take a shower and order room service. Here came one of the best sandwiches I've ever eaten. Think smoked pecorino, artichoke hearts, arugula, sun dried tomatoes and some kind of thin sliced magical meat on a ciabatta not from Costco. We devoured it, fell in to bed and slept a full 12 hours.

Next up, free breakfast. Oh my word! I complimented the demi god in the black suit that seemed to be orchestrating the whole deal and he disappeared and reappeared with a hot fresh crepe filled with Nutella and thanked me for the kind words. Evidently everything in the buffet is house made by a very young staff he is mentoring. The yogurt was house made, the assortment of sweet pastries was over the top, and then of course eggs, bacon, sausage, wheels of cheese, thin sliced magical meats and the best OJ we've had since moving from Mexico. Good grief it was hard to stop.

We had to leave today, I made another rookie mistake with a money changer and made an executive decision to let it go. 

At the airport we got our little Italian shitbox that turned out to be better than expected and turned south to Siena. Miracle of miracles, google maps and my intrepid chauffer got us to our BnB flawlessly.

I've ridden alongside this man for many many miles and only had to start actually pulling my weight as a navigator recently.

I didn't get pics of our homestay before we trashed it, but this is the view:

Looks like a cartoon view to the right.

Old Town to the left.

And here comes the "quasi". In Italy's historic districts there are strictly enforced zones where you must not go on wheels. Weeeellll, nobody told google maps and we traversed what felt like the entirety of Old Town in our little shitbox.  Bless Ev, he was dodging mindless gelato eaters, planters full of geraniums, bistro chairs and unruly spaniels on leashes that have probably never seen a car. There is no telling how many euros I'll have to pay in fines. All I wanted was coffee and cream for in the morning at a promising grocery store. We managed to find pizza and will try try again in the morning.

A Few Things I Learned In One Day in Florence

 The famous cathedral was a work in progress for hundreds of years, having first been built in a gothic style in the 12th century. Three hundred years later (aboutish) it was torn down and rebuilt in a more modern renaissance style. Pieces of the original cathedral were found and saved by local preservationists. The craftmanship of the little preserved chunks is astounding.

The rebuild is no slouch, either. The technical aspects of a building this large and complex is mind bending even today. Then you have the artistry of all the famous renaissance masters of the day, putting the icing on the cake. Biggie up these images up and see what I mean about the details. It is beyond imagination.

I particularly like this little cherub doing a big job.

Leonardo da Vinci, who was active as a painter, engineer, scientist, sculptor, artist and architect was highly regarded at the time even though he had quite a few big failures. He tried to reroute the Arno River before Caterpillar was a company. He failed, causing widespread flooding and quite a few deaths. He really really wanted to fly, so he devised a bird outfit and threw himself off a cliff. Someone with a good sense of humor thought it would be funny to carve an image of him for the cathedral as part of a panel of 12 desirable personality traits under the virtue “Temperance”.

Leo's big idea: let's divert this river with hand shovels and rocks and make Pisa thirsty!

Temperance: moderation in thought, action and feeling.Not.

While others were imagining and creating huge structures and fantastic representational art, Galileo had his heart set on defining light, seeing the teensiest of things, predicting the weather, determining where he was in space, understanding the physics of motion and standardizing how to conduct experiments. In short, he was understood as a heretic and spent the last of his life under house arrest. Poor guy.

The instruments he designed and used were remarkable but I was struck by their beauty. The etching and fine machining on each little tool was a sight to behold. Everything was behind glass so you will just have to imagine it. Each tool had it's own cherry or rosewood dovetailed box made especially to house it. Made my palms sweaty.

Journal Envy

Look at this inlaid and keyed lens cover for a newtonian telescope. What Pop would have given to have a keyed lens cap!

More time is needed in this busy little city.

GOL!

 After 48 hours of rookie mistakes combined with a little United Hell, and 3 bonafide angels in the Frankfurt Airport we've arrived in Firenze. It's 8:45pm, we've just showered and ordered room service and are looking forward to bed.

 I had a little bad feeling this morning when I woke up. We were packed, I didn't have any last minute crisis additions to the luggage, things were going well with Kino but still my little bad feeling persisted.

Onward. 

Robert picked us up, we arrived at the airport at 11:40, a full two hours before our flight. I looked over at Tata, he looked like he was being led to the guillotine but he mustered a gamely smile thinking about the pizza he was going to eat.

Flight to Denver, on time! We shuffled to our gate.

Half the passengers were loaded, when suddenly the process was halted.  We heard, "We're calling maintenance, the door is malfunctioning." quickly followed by "The flight is cancelled"

I'm so disappointed, aggravated and all the bad things I can't really even speak. We're reticketed for tomorrow but that only gives us 2 nights in Florence and we're forfeiting the tickets I got for David and Galileo.

To retrieve our luggage, one by one, each of the 189 of us on the flight had to go to the ticket counter and describe our bag to a lone guy who would dive into the bowels of the airport and drag it up. Someone squawked on the little microphone pinned to our helper's shoulder, "Calm the fuck down!" The crowds roared.

Rather than go home, I took the stinkin' voucher from United and got us a cab to The Clyde. The sweet young thing at the desk asked me if I had a floor preference and I said, "as high up as possible and facing the mountain if you can." She said, "I can do BOTH of those things!"

I see no mountains, only antennae. 

The End

Addendum: Had dinner in the hotel bar. "I'll have the Clyde's Fizz, the hotel's signature cocktail", he said. "We're out of egg whites", the bartender retorted. "I'll have a icy cold glass of your Pinot Grigio", she said.  "Let me go get it out of the hot and stuffy storage room.", the bartender responded.

Headed to bed now, hoping to recoup my sunny disposition tomorrow.

What day is this?

Waiting on the activities director to tell them what's next, campsite view, sunset on the Salton Sea (lasts forever), daily morning walk in the desert.

"It's important to remember when you're traveling in your motor home that life doesn't stop. You are still shopping, meal planning, cooking and cleaning. It's necessary to schedule occasional days to give yourself permission to just do nothing and enjoy the scenery." Advice from an RV Blogger.

Um, no problem. We've pretty much gone from hot tub to patio to pool and back again. Meals are  whatever we feel like grabbing out of the stash I brought. My most stressful thought has been, "where are we going next?" rivaled only with "what day is this?" 

My Spirit is Greige

What we said we were going to do was rent an RV, go to the Tucson Rock show and then head out to California to Fountain of Youth to spend a couple of days with our good friends Debbie and Jesus Prada. What we did was cruise Craig's List and buy a little greige rig called an Itasca Spirit. After two nights, I can say it's a pretty cool little deal.

The stays:
Night 1: NM state campground City of Rocks. $18 bucks a night, tables, water electric and group dump. Beautiful group area available. Dry camp available, too. Dark dark skies.
Night 2, 3: Prince of Tucson Commercial Park $42 a night. Kind of awful: on the freeway, choc-a-block full because of the rock show but has showers, a laundry, pool and hot tub.

Evidently, we've had a government shut down so national parks are unavailable at the moment making commercial parks crowded.

The driving: Evdad is obsessed with "squeezing 10mpg out of this bitch" so we're drving 55 mph. Just shoot me now. Wind was howling yesterday on I-10 so he worked really hard keeping our high profile from buffeting too much (beer for you, honey as soon as you back in to our spot successfully). We only had shit go flying once-we were clambering up a mountain that he usually does on his motorcycle and he forgot he was on 6 wheels instead of two. It was the silverware drawer. Ooops.

Wallmart: I guess if you have an RV, you're doomed to go to Wallmart every day for the rest of your fucking life.

July 2017 Slices of Quince

Our village, Ixtlahuacan de los Membrillos, is named for the quince we grow and sell here. As far as I can tell, it's mainly used to make cajeta-a local sweet. Cajeta has the consistency of canned cranberry sauce only with a little more fiber. You remember, it came out in a slab and your mom cut it into perfect 1/2 in slices. Cajeta's taste is reminiscent of apple sauce. A slice is eaten before bed with a glass of full-fat milk, or with sharp cheese and a shot of tequila. The bravest eat membrillo raw, off the tree, with Tajin and lime. Owl and Pussycat eat it with a runcible spoon.

We sell the membrillo from our yard or trade it for cajeta that we give away to Lupe and Jose. Today was harvest day, we all agreed we had fewer fruit than last year but they were bigger and less blemished. It's so satisfying to pick a crop you've nurtured and see it sold to become what it's meant to be. I loved working with Jose today-we chatted about cock fights, moving to the USA, his girls and the general state of the world. Ev went with Jose to sell them, where we discovered our former gardener was getting a much better price per kilo than he was passing on to us!

About two weeks ago, Kino was attacked by a pack of street dogs during our morning walk. Hilde was with us, I don't even remember getting home with them after it happened. Ev got him in the car and we took him to the vet immediately. She had to put him to sleep to evaluate his wounds and stitch him up. Physically he is recovering, emotionally I'm struggling-which means he is struggling. We went on a long migratory walk together as a pack yesterday. Everyone is more at ease when daddy goes.

This beautiful butt is scarred forever.

Feeling confident with Evdad.

As we made our way home I looked up and every hot cowboy in this town that owns a horse was riding towards us.

Our Fiestas Patronales, celebrating San Santiago, coincide with the membrillo harvest and start Sunday. The festival ends on July 25, his feast day. It's a big deal.  Our village bought a new effigy this year, he arrived and was installed today. We happened to be coming home during the installation, a big crowd was gathered. He's gorgeous, with extra long false eyelashes and silver stirrups. The crowd gasped with pleasure as he was raised on to the platform-there are so many things to cherish about Mexico. (not the M80's that go with the fiestas)

Is the spectator with his head on his arms, underwhelmed or overwhelmed?

The smaller version of Santiago lives in our church. During the Fiestas Patronales, he is taken out and paraded each evening through a different bario or neighborhood. That day, your 'hood is decorated with papel picado and is treated to all day fireworks. It pretty much sucks if you're a dog or if you startle easily. Everyone sits out on their stoop to watch the parade. As the parade passes an elder, the men who are carrying him ease him down off of their head and bring him over so the elder can touch him and whisper a prayer. It is the sweetest thing ever to behold.

This year, I sat with Catalina and Elario for the parade. The look on Catalina's face as she got to touch San Santiago's hem was reverent, hopeful and all other good things. I felt lucky to get to witness it. The festival is drawing to a close, our village has had enough hoopla to last us a year.