We flew into the little Venice airport a day early having booked ourselves into an unremarkable little hotel about a mile away. Then came the lesson: according to the website a free shuttle would take us from the airport to our hotel, a ride of only a few minutes. It took us hours! That was because we simply could not find the shuttle. Couldn't understand what the helpful folks trying to help us were actually saying. Were intimidated about calling. At long last managed to get ourselves to the proper waiting place, on the other side of the parking lot. Obvious if you know how to do it. A complete mystery if you don't. And that was the first lesson: an argument for why we chose to go to Italy with Road Scholar instead of on our own: Efficiency for one thing--we wanted to see so much, and could afford only a month in which to do it. Italy is jammed with delights. How disappointing to miss out on something simply because one didn't know enough to turn left at that corner instead of continuing straight on. Going with a local guide with a small compatible group of like minded people--a joy! In fact, for me, the student of the Renaissance, Italy felt a lot like coming home! The art, the music, the intellectual power, all in the bright sunshine of September.
The trip started with four nights in Padua. Padua? one might wonder, but I was so excited. Yes, Padua--about an hour west of Venice--a university town since the the Fifteenth Century. We were going to spend a day too at the University, one of the oldest, most notable institutions of learning in Europe. Galileo taught here; and Andreas Vesalius, whose revolution in anatomical practice took up a chapter in my dissertation. We'd get to see a replica of that first permanent anatomy theater too, constructed at Padua, beautiful construction, a delicate wooden structure--I could go on and on about that! Worth the trip by itself. In addition, we were to visit the Scrovegni (or Arena) Chapel and spend time with Giotto. So much to see, and a very pleasant way to see it, although there's much more to Padua than we were able to experience. Took a day trip to Ravenna for the mosaics--blow your eyes out mosaics in the manner of Byzantium--brilliant greens and golds and blues. Hard to get enough of them. Like eating the best chocolate in the world--or drinking the smooth old wines of Tuscany.
And then, of course, a week in Venice, surely the most wonder pedestrian environment in the modern world. Transport by foot, or by boat. And again, so much to see. Visited major sites and art museums, wandering the streets, people watching, eating wonderful food, listened to fascinating lectures on history, music, art and culture. Could we go back? Of course we could. A thoroughly unhassled week of beauty. A city as stunning on the outside as it is on the inside.
Finally it came to an end, our friends left for other adventures and we set off to take the train to Lucca. Only to encounter yet another unexpected, but thoroughly Italian event: a Sunday afternoon train strike. Would our train go on strike? Only some did. No-one seemed to know. We stood there in the Florence train station, watching the train to Lucca arrive, the workers arrive, hang out in the train, the people stand around waiting, hoping, to get on. Nobody seemed to know whether the train would go or not. The signs pretended it would. Then finally, a few minutes before departure, the union made its decision--no train to Lucca today. Come back tomorrow. But our hotel was in Lucca!! Take the bus we were told. Oh, Lordy. The bus left from an alley a block or two behind the train station. Tickets were sold in a storefront crammed with other stranded travelers. Got tickets, were told the bus left in four hours. But I didn't believe the man at the counter. Couldn't locate the bus stop. Kept going back and back while Don guarded our luggage at a MacDonald's. Stress mounts. Then all of a sudden a bus driver arrives: shouts to the crowd "Anybody want an express bus to Lucca?" Yes, shout I. We do. Leaves in 10 minutes from around the corner. .. Hot, sweating, stressed out, we clambered on board for the hour long drive direct to Lucca. Where in Lucca would we arrive? Would it be anywhere near our hotel? Who knew. We certainly didn't. We'd just have to figure it out when we got there.... Such is independent travel. A whole lot of time spent on the travel, the unglamorous business of just getting from place to place. Interesting in a way, but it leaves little time for matters like museums and church (unless it is to pray for safe arrivals).
Well, it did work out in the end. Found our hotel, after a whole lot of walking in circles, cheerfully guided by a local guy who himself didn't know where it was. Lucca was a discovery: ancient Roman walled town, walls, narrow streets, high building, dead ends, courtyards, few street signs, churches everywhere. Quite beautiful. The home of Puccini. Tuscany was a whole different experience from the strictly urban life of Venice and Padua. Went from town to town. Fell in love with Sienna. Wound up in Florence--busy with people and buildings and eye-popping art. We need to go back to Florence, three days was hardly enough to scrape the surface...
The trip started with four nights in Padua. Padua? one might wonder, but I was so excited. Yes, Padua--about an hour west of Venice--a university town since the the Fifteenth Century. We were going to spend a day too at the University, one of the oldest, most notable institutions of learning in Europe. Galileo taught here; and Andreas Vesalius, whose revolution in anatomical practice took up a chapter in my dissertation. We'd get to see a replica of that first permanent anatomy theater too, constructed at Padua, beautiful construction, a delicate wooden structure--I could go on and on about that! Worth the trip by itself. In addition, we were to visit the Scrovegni (or Arena) Chapel and spend time with Giotto. So much to see, and a very pleasant way to see it, although there's much more to Padua than we were able to experience. Took a day trip to Ravenna for the mosaics--blow your eyes out mosaics in the manner of Byzantium--brilliant greens and golds and blues. Hard to get enough of them. Like eating the best chocolate in the world--or drinking the smooth old wines of Tuscany.
And then, of course, a week in Venice, surely the most wonder pedestrian environment in the modern world. Transport by foot, or by boat. And again, so much to see. Visited major sites and art museums, wandering the streets, people watching, eating wonderful food, listened to fascinating lectures on history, music, art and culture. Could we go back? Of course we could. A thoroughly unhassled week of beauty. A city as stunning on the outside as it is on the inside.
Finally it came to an end, our friends left for other adventures and we set off to take the train to Lucca. Only to encounter yet another unexpected, but thoroughly Italian event: a Sunday afternoon train strike. Would our train go on strike? Only some did. No-one seemed to know. We stood there in the Florence train station, watching the train to Lucca arrive, the workers arrive, hang out in the train, the people stand around waiting, hoping, to get on. Nobody seemed to know whether the train would go or not. The signs pretended it would. Then finally, a few minutes before departure, the union made its decision--no train to Lucca today. Come back tomorrow. But our hotel was in Lucca!! Take the bus we were told. Oh, Lordy. The bus left from an alley a block or two behind the train station. Tickets were sold in a storefront crammed with other stranded travelers. Got tickets, were told the bus left in four hours. But I didn't believe the man at the counter. Couldn't locate the bus stop. Kept going back and back while Don guarded our luggage at a MacDonald's. Stress mounts. Then all of a sudden a bus driver arrives: shouts to the crowd "Anybody want an express bus to Lucca?" Yes, shout I. We do. Leaves in 10 minutes from around the corner. .. Hot, sweating, stressed out, we clambered on board for the hour long drive direct to Lucca. Where in Lucca would we arrive? Would it be anywhere near our hotel? Who knew. We certainly didn't. We'd just have to figure it out when we got there.... Such is independent travel. A whole lot of time spent on the travel, the unglamorous business of just getting from place to place. Interesting in a way, but it leaves little time for matters like museums and church (unless it is to pray for safe arrivals).
Well, it did work out in the end. Found our hotel, after a whole lot of walking in circles, cheerfully guided by a local guy who himself didn't know where it was. Lucca was a discovery: ancient Roman walled town, walls, narrow streets, high building, dead ends, courtyards, few street signs, churches everywhere. Quite beautiful. The home of Puccini. Tuscany was a whole different experience from the strictly urban life of Venice and Padua. Went from town to town. Fell in love with Sienna. Wound up in Florence--busy with people and buildings and eye-popping art. We need to go back to Florence, three days was hardly enough to scrape the surface...