Typical day in the life…

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The blue in this photo is a small kiddy pool on the shared patio next door.  We don’t use that area due to the plants surrounding it that seems to attract more wasps and bees than on either our private patio or veranda. By the way, we do not take photos of topless sunbathers, often seen lounging on this shared patio.

A number of our friends have asked, “What do you guys do all day?”

With no yard work, no major cleaning, no visitors, no dog to walk, no nearby store or health club, no family coming for breakfast or dinner, no cable TV, and no English speaking neighbors to chat within the yard, how in the world could we possibly keep from getting bored?

This is not exclusively our dilemma.  Many retirees eventually move to a low maintenance lifestyle in warm climates far from family and friends, facing a similar situation. 

While living in Scottsdale, Arizona from November 4 to January 1, 2013, we were entrenched in such a lifestyle.

Tom’s sisters and brothers-in-law were living only a half-hour away in Apache Junction Arizona as they did each year to escape Minnesota’s rough winters. Connecting with them each week or so was a respite from our daily flurry of activities as we prepared to leave the US.

Switching back and forth between two local restaurants for breakfast every few mornings, dining out for dinner each week, and occasionally attending a local comedy club created a pleasant break in our daily routine.

During that two month period in Arizona, we were busy preparing documents to enable us to leave the US for an extended period, learning to use our new digital devices, preparing our taxes, and spending a week in Henderson Nevada with family over Christmas.  Actually, we visited Henderson on another occasion, to babysit our grand dog Monty while son Richard traveled out of town.

Without a doubt, it was a busy two months, not unlike the busy times spent with many of our retired friends who have condos in warm climates, living a rewarding and fulfilling life.

As for us living in Boveglio, it was a culture shock to realize no one and I mean no one speaks English. Not at the grocery store, not in the street, not a neighbor, not our landlords, not our cleaning lady, no one. Adapting to this reality has been challenging.

Much to my surprise, now when a person speaks to me in Italian I am able to decipher the gist of the conversation, although not able to translate word for word nor respond in other than a few Italian words I’ve managed to learn. 

Today, I researched the word for “thick” in Google Translate.  The butcher at the deli slices the bacon (US type) too thin, resulting in in cooking too quickly and well done. There are several options for “thick” in Italian: “spesso,” “denso,” “grosso.” We’ll see how it goes when we shop for groceries in the next few days when I attempt to explain the preferred thicker slicing of the bacon.

Two to three times per week someone rings our doorbell immediately speaking to me in Italian. (Tom refuses to answer the door, understanding less than my feeble attempt). They are either selling mops, brooms, and dustpans, frozen foods, looking for an address, looking for a person, or our kindly Santina, dropping off yet another bag filled with vegetables from her garden which we cook daily, never seeming to run out.

A few days ago, Tom and I chuckled over the fact that we’ve had more surprise visitors at the door in the past seven weeks since we’ve arrived in Boveglio, than we had in the prior seven years in our old lives, with each exchange challenging my language skills.

The point well-made: Not speaking Italian has had an enormous effect on the activities if our daily lives. So, how do we stay busy each day?

Here’s the rundown of our activities today.  Tom’s day is similar spending more time online than I do. (I’d be curious to hear from others as to their daily activities.  I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re similar.  Please do share).

7:30 am
Bolt out of bed.  Turn on the coffee. Shower and dress for the day.  Make the bed together.

8:00 am
Start a load of laundry.  Then, drink coffee and fire up the laptop, checking in.  Put away dried dishes from last night’s dinner.  (In my old life, I never left a plate to dry in the sink overnight).

8:30 am
Make breakfast: sausages, bacon, and eggs. Eat breakfast.

9:00 am
Do dishes. Decide on dinner. Hand cut the cabbage and carrots for the coleslaw, a daily task. There’s no pre-cut coleslaw mix here. Cutting it fresh each day seems to add to its crunchy texture. Slice and dice any other veggies for dinner.

9:30 am
Removed all the food in the freezer stacking it in the kitchen sink to begin the process of defrosting the freezer for the third time since we’ve arrived. The freezer is tiny. We need every inch of space for our next shopping trip. 

10:00 am
Tom poured the hot tea water into a pan, placing it in the freezer to aid in the defrosting process, repeating three times. Within a half-hour, the freezer was defrosted. I replaced the food, noting what we have on hand for the upcoming shopping trip.

10:30 am
Took the laundry out of the washer, starting another load of whites, hanging it outside on the patio (where the bees congregate). Quickly hung the laundry, in another successful attempt to avoid being stung.

11:00 pm
Made hot tea, taking it out to the veranda with my laptop in hand, to begin writing this post, while responding to email, etc. Continued to check the laundry. When the sweat started dripping off of me, I switched to iced tea, capping off the liter container. Used the remaining hot water in the coffee machine to make a new batch of iced tea.

11:30 am
Observed topless woman arranging her chaise lounge on the patio next door. Mentioned this to Tom. Using his monitor as a mirror, he checked it out to no avail. Turning around would have been tacky and obvious. I had a better vantage point.

11:56 pm
Heard twelve clangs of the clock tower next door, always four to five minutes early, repeating at 11:58.  Removed the second load of laundry from the washer heading out to our patio to hang today’s final load. Finished making the pitcher of iced tea, chilling it in the fridge. Back to the veranda to work on my laptop.

1:00 pm
Laptop batteries were almost dead. Returned laptops to the kitchen table to recharge and began downloading TV shows and movies from Graboid for tonight’s viewing. Sat in the living room, playing Gin with Tom while English speaking international news program played in the background.  He won.

2:30 pm
Laptop batteries recharged, Tom headed back to the veranda while I read my latest mystery novel on my smartphone while lounging on the lumpy 100-year-old sofa in the living room. It was 95 degrees and steamy yesterday. Today it was only 90 but steamy as a gentle breeze wafted from the living room window, the opening now covered with mosquito netting, keeping the bees and flies at bay.

4:30 pm
Tea time, a daily ritual, hot or not. Tom had already showered and returned to the veranda with his charged laptop.  I brought in the now dry laundry from the patio while once again batted off the bees, folded everything, and put it all away.

5:45 pm
Begin final prep for our dinner, planned as usual for 7:00 pm. Yesterday, I prepared, but didn’t cook our dinner for tonight, a common practice with no microwave, making two night’s meals, cooking one each night for optimum freshness and enjoyment. Chopped more zucchini, to soon be cooked in olive oil with fresh garlic and herbs from the garden.

6:00 pm
Arranged the clean and dry tablecloth onto the kitchen table, setting our places for dinner: linen napkins, forks, and sharp knives.

6:15 pm
Mixed up the coleslaw dividing it into two batches and placed them back into the refrigerator to stay cold.  Preheated the oven to bake the cheesy chicken/bacon roll-ups, a recipe I got off Facebook, which I modified with local ingredients. Chopped the sausage and onion for the stir fry side dish. Prepared the fresh green beans. It’s a good thing that Tom does the dishes with so many pots to wash. Good thing there are enough pots in which to cook.

6:30 pm
Put the chicken in the oven. Started the stir fry sausage and onions.

This is the pan of yet to be cooked bacon and pancetta-wrapped chicken scallopini (thin slices of chicken breasts pounded by the butcher) that I stuffed with seasoned ricotta cheese and chopped herbs from our private garden, wrapping them in in the two versions of “bacon,” Tom prefers regular US-style bacon and me, loving the thin-sliced pancetta.  These cooked for 30 minutes at 375 degrees (180 centigrade). I topped this with an Italian pesto sauce I’d made using ingredients from the garden.

6:45 pm
Started the green beans. Reheated the zucchini. Tended to the stir fry as it cooked.

7:00 pm
Served dinner with each of us easily moving through the kitchen to fill our various plates with a wide array of food. Sat at the kitchen table eating our meal while watching a show, a favorite ritual when its just the two of us. Again tonight, we watched another episode of the current season of  “America’s Got Talent.” More light entertainment we find to be rather humorous and entertaining.

7:45 pm
Having enjoyed our dinner with the show over, Tom washed the mountain of dishes while I cleaned off the table the stove, and the countertops.

8:15 pm
Set up my laptop in the living room in order for us to watch two shows tonight, the final first season’s episode of The Killing (AMC) as well as episode 5 of House of Cards (Netflix production). Positioned ourselves as comfortably as possible on the lumpy 100-year-old sofa. 

9:45 pm
Finished watching the two shows.  Downloaded from Graboid, there are no commercials reducing the actual viewing time. It’s at this time, I usually take my smartphone to bed to read until Tom comes to bed.  (I read my downloaded ebooks on the same smartphone I’d dropped on the cement in March in Belize. Never having had the screen repaired due to the inconvenience of shipping it back and forth, I quickly read the first sentence at the top of the screen which was the most damaged area. Once past that first sentence, the remainder of the reading is a breeze.

11:30 pm
Tom came to bed, his smartphone in hand to read his book while I attempt to go to sleep. By midnight, he turns off his phone, lightly snoring a few minutes later.

12:00 am
Tossing and turning I struggled to find a comfortable spot for my still painful but improved right shoulder.  Within a half-hour, blissful slumber overtakes me only to be interrupted by dreams of having to get up to go to “work,” driving in the snow, office politics, deadlines, trying to achieve the impossible, a true “frustration dream” often similarly repeated several times a week. 

Does this mean I feel guilty about our simple life, our never boring routine? I don’t feel guilty, but I do still pinch myself every few days as many retirees may do, asking themselves, “Am I really free? Is it true that I don’t have to go back to work on Monday morning? May I now enjoy Sunday afternoons, angst-free, knowing that Mondays are just another “typical day in the life?

On high alert…Traveler’s warnings…What’s our plan?…In 30 days, off to Kenya…

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A kindly reader of our blog posted a comment that we received overnight, inquiring as to our concern over traveling to Kenya with the recent embassy and consulate closings in countries all over the weekend. For the full article, please click here.

Yes, we’re concerned. How could we not be? It’s this level of concern that prompts us to do all we can to ensure our safety to the best of our ability. There are always unknowns.

Looking up stats on various countries worldwide, we see that Belize had a higher homicide rate per capita than Kenya. After spending almost three months living in Belize, aware of the risks, we never let our guard down, never taking our safety for granted.

Such will be the case when living in Kenya for a few days short of three months from September 3, 2013, to November 30, 2013, when we depart for South Africa. We’ll be exercising extreme caution, none of which is a guaranty of our safety but reduces the risks.

Having registered for the Smart Traveler Program at the US Department of State we’ll be receiving any warnings via email that may require us to leave Kenya or later South Africa if the tension in our area escalates.

A few portions of our travel plans to Kenya give rise to added concern; our arrival at the Mombasa Airport in the middle of the night and, the subsequent over one hour ride to our vacation rental in the middle of the night.  Most crime occurs in the dark in these high-risk areas.  Yes, we’ll be nervous until firmly ensconced in our new location. 

Have we considered changing our plans?  Yes, we have. But we’ll continue to carefully watch the world news, reports from the State Department, online posts and comments. Should these next few weeks bring rise to added concerns in the areas we plan to travel with warnings from the State Department to cancel travel plans, we’ll do so. 

We realize that doing so will cost us around $6000 from loss of paid-in-advance rent and non-refundable airfare. This is a big loss to incur but our safety supersedes money, doesn’t it?

What plans do we have in place to ensure our safety, the reader inquired?  Here are what we have thus far:

1.  Destination contact:  We’ve established a plan with my sister that we will notify her by email when we depart any area and immediately when we arrive, having provided her with the address, contact person’s name, phone, and email plus travel arrangement information for our destination. If she doesn’t hear from us within 12 hours of our estimated arrival time, she is to begin the process of finding out what’s happened to us, contacting the embassy, state department, etc.  (if we have airport delays we will contact her as they occur).
2.  No rental car. We’ve been made well aware that driving in Kenya can be risky, even in the tourist area we’ll be living. Once arriving, we’ll make arrangements with a driver for weekly trips for shopping, daytime dining out and any touring.
3.  Deciding on safari trips based on safety in a specific area, airports, etc.  The property owner suggested we wait until we arrive to decide on safaris as he will assist us in making arrangements with people he knows and trusts.
4.  News updates: With no TV at the property (as we have here in Italy with a few English speaking news stations:  BBC, France 24, and CNBC, we’ll be watching news updates on our computers on a daily basis.
5.  No venturing out after dark. Period. 
6.  No wearing of jewelry, watches, any items that may attract attention. 
7.  Dressing “down” when out during the day, jeans, shorts, tee shirts, no clothing that attracts attention.
8.  Keeping money and documents secure at all times. We carry very little cash, mostly using credit cards.
9.  Staying together at all times when out and about.
10. Never, ever, loosening our guidelines for what appears to be “special circumstances.” Neither of us is naïve.  It is unlikely that we’d fall prey to some “scammer” attempting to divert our attention. Keep walking, don’t make eye contact, be guarded with confidence and astuteness.

There is nothing anyone can do to be exempt from danger. Where we lived in Minnesota it was only a 30-minute drive to an area where one wouldn’t dare get out of their car at night, let alone during the day.  Tom’s mother’s home in a less desirable area in North Minneapolis had bullet holes in it when it was finally taken by the city by eminent domain. 

Over the years, while she still lived in the house, he and the family worried that she could fall prey to drive-by shootings occurring all over the neighborhood. Luckily, she got out in time, living to be a healthy 98 years old. 

There are risks wherever one may be at any given moment; a movie theatre in Colorado, a train in France, or running a marathon in Boston, MA.  We can only hope and pray for safety, exercising caution to the best of our ability while allowing ourselves the privilege of reveling in every moment of our world travels

Musings of life on the road…

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The loud clanging of the clock tower next door to us engaged my brain as the first chime prompting me to count. Seven clangs. It was time to get up. 

My brain was inspired to bolt out of bed. My body not so much, the aches and pains of endless humid days gripping my aging joints into stiff denial of their intended purpose.

The light from the bathroom window filtered through the mosquito netting Lisa had stapled to the frame, now fluttering on the edges in the gentle breeze inviting the smallest of the rambunctious biters to enter at will.

Tom slept quietly beside me as I lay on my back looking at another ceiling I had yet to notice until now almost seven weeks later. At least once, wherever we’ve lived, I’ve spent a morning, an evening, observing the ceiling almost in an effort to get my bearings. 

Where am I?  Is this really me? Is this the person of ritual, of routine always striving to make a concerted effort to be reliable, dependable, a person “you-can-bank-on”, one could always count on?

Where are the people I spent a lifetime trying to please? Not here. The one with me expects so little and gets so much, give so much, effortlessly. “They” never asked or expected anything of me. It was my own doing. I had to leave to stop. It was my own doing.

In part, it’s a “woman/mother” thing, giving without being asked, doing when doing didn’t need to be done, reaching out when the only hand extended was my own.

I miss them. But I don’t miss who I was when I was with “them,” the perpetual hunger to please, to be available when I wasn’t and near the end when I couldn’t eke out another moment of trying. None of “their” doing. All my own. Needing to be free.

Selfish? No. Self saving? Yes.  As one would go off on a quiet retreat to renew, rediscovery, refresh to someday return to a more accessible environment with a perspective of commonality, not sacrifice; of unity, not autonomy. To be free, in their midst. That’s the dream. It will come, by my own design. In time, it will come.

In the meanwhile, like the well-built and creatively designed ceiling looms in my range of vision, my weary joints coming to life, I roll off the too-close-to-the-floor bed, rise to my feet with a smile on my face, ready for another clear day; clear in spirit, clear in heart and now, clear in mind.

Until then, I am home.

Prescriptions are on the way…Best pricing ever!…Gift from Santina, with photo…

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Santina cleaned our house this morning, bringing this fabulous plate of “torte” she’d made. How thoughtful she is! With the pie crusts made with flour,  I won’t be able to take a taste, but Tom will definitely try all three of these.  There’s no doubt they are delicious.  I will savor them via my eyes, otherwise known as being a “food voyeur.”

It’s hard to believe that almost a year ago that we purchased a year’s supply of prescriptions, the few we take, to get us through the first year of our travels. By the end of this month, we’ll have been gone for nine months.


Realizing months ago that getting mail in Kenya was going to be sketchy at best, we knew we’d have no choice but to order our prescriptions while still in Italy. 

Keeping in mind that the only way we’ve received mail thus far has been through our mailing service in Nevada (with similar such mailing services all over the US).

Luckily, we were able to make arrangements with the owners of our house here in Boveglio, Italy as to how we’d receive the multiple packages being sent to us from the mail-order pharmacy.  By using our address in Boveglio and the owner’s name on the packages, we were assured the package will arrive at our door.

While posting when still living in the US, we made many references as to how we’d receive a year’s worth of prescriptions.  Our doctor wrote the prescriptions for one year, leaving it up to us to pay for the upcoming full year out of our pockets without using insurance.  The insurance company wouldn’t approve more than three months at a time.

Ironically, the cost of the full year’s of medications was actually less than a full year of co-pays we’d paid for the same prescriptions, each of the prior two years. Hum…

As we priced, our prescriptions using this “new to us” online pharmacy, we were shocked that their prices were $200 a year less than the amazing deal we received from our local pharmacy in the US almost a year ago.  Our local pharmacy had agreed to beat any of the local prices we found at the time, including Walmart. Now, at less yet, we’re thrilled.

For those of you wanting to use this online pharmacy, you need only produce copies of your prescriptions that you may either snail mail or email to the company.  You can do it for one month to three months.  They allowed the 12 months of prescriptions for us, due to our travel schedule which we provided.  They ship free anywhere in the world with a $20 extra fee for the expedited per package. Their customer service is excellent with them quick to respond to email inquiries. I never had to speak to them on Skype.

If one is paying too much for prescriptions, it is certainly worth a few minutes to check their online pricing. Also, this company made the process so easy.  If one doesn’t have the actual prescriptions, they will accept photos of the prescription bottles. This company is approved by the Better Business Bureau and others.

The only hitch for us, we need to be here when they arrive since they’ll be left outside the door.  The anticipated arrival time for us in our remote location could be up to 21 days, which we’re counting off on the calendar.  If ordered in the US, the package(s) will arrive in a few days. Outside the US, it may be a few weeks, requiring one to order well in advance of running out. 

Their website allows for automatic refills which we didn’t do since we’ll need to figure out a new mailing address next summer while in Madeira, Portugal, or Marrakesh, Morocco. 

So often, I’ve talked to seniors frustrated over the cost of their medications. We don’t have to sit back, a captive audience for the prescription plans we are familiar with. It’s imperative in these tough economic times that we reach out for other options to save as much as possible along with convenience.

If you have any further questions, please feel free to post comments or email me directly at jessicablyman@gmail.com. I’m happy to help. Their website is user friendly, so easy to use, even if you aren’t an avid online shopper.

Another consideration at this time is the fact that we’ve yet to hear about what happens with the rental car that we’ve been informed has been sold. We’ve been told to “stand by” for instructions as to when and where the car will be swapped out. 

This definitely limits our previously arranged and later canceled plans to travel for a few days. If they say they are coming to Boveglio on a certain day and we’re staying in a hotel in another remote location, this creates undue stress for us.  The language barrier further adds to the complexity of this situation.

Plus, the six prescriptions we’ve ordered (including more Malaria pills and antibiotics after I’d used a Z-Pak in Dubai needing to replace it) will arrive in six separate packages, possibly on separate days beginning in two weeks. At the moment we feel we must stay put.

Actually, we don’t mind staying put for now. We have much travel ahead of us. The pleasant and fulfilling routine, we’ve established in Boveglio, is all we could ask for at the moment.

We spend most of each day outdoors on the shaded veranda with expansive views in front of us.  Our evenings are full and rewarding. Sleep is comfortable in our bug-free bedroom with the fan quietly cooling us as we languish in the comfortable bed and covers. Our meals are fabulous, mostly easy to prepare. Plus, Tom does the dishes.

Tonight at 9:00 pm, we’ll walk to the “square’ for the weekly gathering at Bar Ferrari making our way back home a few hours later, uphill all the way. The locals, used to the climb, don’t seem to huff and puff as they maneuver the hills. I hope before we leave here in less than six weeks, that we’ve built enough stamina to do the same.

A night to remember…New friends…A story told…

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Blurry photo. Handing off the camera to a kind gentleman to take our photo, I must have accidentally changed to “out of focus background,” which I overlooked until this morning. After our fabulous night, I couldn’t resist posting these photos, although they’re all out of focus. Daniela is in the photo with us at my left and Armenia at her left, sitting on the steps.
The interior of the “theatre” in the square, where, with mouths agape, we viewed each photo with our new friends encouraging us along, telling stories mainly in Italian, so proud to share their history with us. It was a night we’ll never forget. Y

Yesterday we thanked Michela, the owner of Not Only Pinocchio B & B. She suggested we walk down to the Bar Ferrari in the “square” around 9:00 pm when the locals mingle on Friday night (actually other nights also, from what we heard). She offered to meet us to “make the presentation” of us, as she said in her easy-to-understand broken English.

Neither of us couldn’t recall the last time we went out after 9:00 pm, old-timers and early risers that we are. Without hesitation, we decided to go, knowing full well that we’d have the steep walk on the return home in the dark, with the departure downhill.
Bringing our cell phones for light, we were relieved as we began the descent to see street lights atop the houses, lighting the way along the road every few hundred feet. We’d be alright on the return, albeit out of breath at the end of our long day.
Anticipating that we’d sit inside the bar Michela steered us to one of the several groupings of chairs and benches outside the bar after we’d each grabbed a beverage, me water with “gas” (as they say) as opposed to water with “no gas” and Tom a beer, again the total for both in Euro $1.50, US $1.95.
Many of us have old photos of our deceased and living relatives, bringing us a warm sense of our roots and family history.
As Michela presented us to an entire row of no less than eight older women, traditional in their shirtwaist dresses, cautious about newcomers, they, none less, welcomed us as we desperately tried to remember their names with little luck.
None of the photos were dated, but the clothing may indicate the early 1900s.
Moments later, we were seated on a bench with Michela as more and more residents gathered outside, undoubtedly curious about the strangers and yet comfortable in their familiar gathering spot on Friday nights after 9:00.
Based on the clothing, this wedding procession could have been in the 1950s. This was the unpaved road leading to the church and cemetery we highlighted in the post-dated July 16, 2013.
These are the inner working of the clock tower that clangs four times an hour, often irregularly, located next door to us. We laughed when the locals mentioned how close we were to the sound of the clock, using the typical head and hands signal one uses to indicate sleep, as they inquired about our ability to sleep through the noise.
This is the then unpaved road closest to the street, near the church, that leads to Bar Ferrari.
Our house is located on the right side of this road, difficult to see with the trees.
The construction of the road to our house, It’s hard to conceive of the degree of manual labor required to build the steep streets in this area in this era.
Other than a walking path for residents and animals, there was no road to our house in these photos. It’s hard to imagine the difficulty in getting from place to place, not only here but in remote areas worldwide.
We aren’t able to determine this period from this blurry photo.

Later, on our steep walk home, we couldn’t stop talking about our evening; the laughter, the camaraderie, the warmth, and the joy that we felt at having discovered, thanks to Michela, this world of people that were around us all along, the entire month we’d be here. 

We’ll be busy every Friday night after 9:00 pm for our remaining time in Boveglio. Plus…Bingo Night is on the horizon!

Tom determined that we translate this document that was drafted at the time of the presentation of the photos on the theatre walls. It was a slow, painstaking process as he read each letter to me as I typed them into Google Translate. Read below for the complete translation. Although not an old document, the photos on the walls had a tremendous influence on the village residents of Boveglio. We were honored last night as they proudly showed us the photos and their prized “theatre,” where beginning on August 10, Bingo will be held each night. Of course, we’ll attend!

The image of eyes to listen to our days is one of your most powerful communication vehicles. We experience this huge power every day through posters and billboards but also through reports and photos of authors who are able to get in touch with reality distant from the point of view of geography, culture, customs, and costumes

But there are other images, which beyond their artistic value and correspondence to the rules and techniques of photographers, can speak to our eyes as long as we are willing to stop for a moment and listen. It‘s the case of fifty-four shots proposed by the photographic exhibition “Once upon a time in Boveglio,” organized by the Loco to give everyone, villagers, vacationers, and casual visitors, a chance to learn more about a country, a region, and its people, educated and active in several moments of everyday life, ranging from work to sport and leisure from ceremonies, religious commemorations, civilians, all linked by the common thread of energy who spends that leaves an indelible mark on the territory and the people …

The Pro Loco invites all to spend between these photographs taking the time to see, admire, and understand. Potra happens that pausing a moment longer in front of the “snack,” a young man of Boveglio laid down his glass; there whispers an amusing anecdote of that day of what were the daily tasks of mothers and grandmothers so long ago.

The Pro Loco would like to thank those who, with their generosity and participation, have made possible the preparation of the exhibition by providing photos of their scrapbook. A special thanks to Francesco Ricci, who worked with passion and skill set-up and the technical part of the exhibition. Go to all the invitations to have sharp eyes, to listen.

Boveglio July 25, 2009K

KatiaSebastiana”

Potential car rental nightmare…

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While in Dubai from May 21, 2013 to June 4, 2013 the time had arrived to arrange the rental of a car for the summer in Italy.   Our objective was to pick up the car at the Marco Polo Airport once we arrived in Venice, Italy by cruise ship.  Once in our possession, we’d drive the five hour journey to our awaiting home for the summer in Boveglio.

Although we weren’t particularly concerned about renting a car, we had several factors to consider:

  1. When it was time to leave Italy on September 2, 2013 to fly to Mombasa Kenya, which airport would provide us with the best fares, best flights along easy access to return the car? 
  2. Which car rental companies would we feel most comfortable after reading reviews as to renting a car in Italy?
  3. The total cost for the lengthy period from June 16 to September 2, 2013, any potential “hidden” costs. (Renting a car for two and a half months isn’t typical. This is a totally different scenario that the usual one or two week rental while on vacation).
  4. Which types of available cars that would allow enough room for our over sized luggage?
  5. Which cars were most economical in regards to gasoline usage, priced at roughly US $8.50 per gallon in the Tuscan region of Italy?
  6. With us no longer owning a car with it subsequent insurance that typically provides coverage for rental cars, what would we do when the average cost for the “extra” insurance is US $10 per day.
  7. The time of day we’d pick up the car and reserve it to ensure we didn’t have to pay extra fees for a late drop-off or in some case, an entire extra day.

Shopping online at several familiar sites, comparing prices, reading  reviews and conditions of the rental agreements, it proved to take a lot longer than we’d expected.  Since quite ill while in Dubai, I left most of the research up to Tom.  He went at it with gusto.

While conducting this research, we also had to shop for the best airline prices to get us from Italy to Mombasa, Kenya from the several options in Italy which proved to be a huge factor in determining where we’d drop off the car in the end.   Would it be Venice, Rome, or Florence, all within a five hour drive of our summer home in Boveglio?

It took several days of reviewing all of these factors until, until we found the best overall conditions, considering the above factors. 

We ultimately decided that we’d pick up the car in Venice at the Marco Polo Airport with the goal of eventually flying out of the Marco Polo Airport to Mombasa, Kenya on September 2, 2013. 

Of course, with the five hour drive from Boveglio, we’d have no alternative but to spend one night in a hotel in Venice close to the airport.  (A week later we booked a nearby hotel, offering free shuttle service to the airport, allowing us to drop off the car a day early, if we so chose, to reduce the stress at the airport on our flight day).  Good plan.  

As we continued on in the booking process from RentalCars.com, a site more user friendly for Italy, we discovered a fact that threw us for a loop:

Based on the lengthy period of time for the contract, the rental car company, in this case, Budget, would require two and a half times the cost of the long term rental, to be held on our credit card for the entire duration. 

Upon realizing this fact, we jumped to other rental companies to discover that these circumstances were common, especially in well known rental car companies, such as Budget, Avis and Hertz.  We’d decided that under no circumstances, would we use a small local company after we’d read many negative reviews describing nightmarish circumstances for long term rentals.  The more well-known companies were definitely the way to go but, as it turned out, all of them required this credit card “hold.”

At the rate of US $830.00 per month over the summer in Italy, our total rental would be roughly US $2075.  None our credit cards charge an exchange rate for paying in Euros and, they offered “free” insurance when using the card to pay for the rental, which in itself saved us a small fortune.

However, there was nothing the credit card company could do to avert the necessity of the Budget (which had the best pricing) “holding” two and a half times of the funds for the entire rental period which would total US $5187.50!   

We weren’t thrilled with the concept of Budget “holding” funds against one of our cards in this amount for this extended period.  Although we use several credit cards for our travels, with future expenses, hotels, flights and rentals required to pay in advance, we were against any of our cards being tied up for this amount for almost three months.

Our only option was clear to both of us:  Rent the car for one month allowing them to “hold” over $2000 which appeared to be their concern over two factors for any long term rentals; one the credit card may become maxed out during an extended period resulting in insufficient funds to pay at the end of the rental period and two, to cover the cost in the event of damage to the vehicle not covered by insurance.  This is a sensible policy from their perspective, protecting their interests only.  For us, quite annoying.

On June 16th, we rented the car at the Marco Polo airport for one month until July 15, 2013 which ends this upcoming Monday, with the plan to contact them on July 8, a week earlier to extend it. 

At Budget rental office, we inquired as to the procedure to extend the rental with assurance that the process was simple;  either call or process the extension online within 24 hours of the end of the rental period.

Here’s how it went beginning this past Monday, one week before the car was to be returned:

  • Sent an email to Budget confirming the procedure to extend the rental when we couldn’t find a place on their international website to extend it
  • They sent an email back, after they charged us $2 for the online inquiry, informing us we’d have to call the Budget desk at the Marco Polo Airport where we got the car.  This had to be done over the phone.
  • Called the number for Budget at Marco Polo Airport, asking to speak to an English speaking representative.  After being on hold, while paying for the call (no toll-free number to the location), for no less than 10 minutes, someone came back on the line, saying “No English” and hung up on me.

Add to that, the rental agreement itself was all in Italian.  Using Google Translate we became further frustrated in an effort to translate the many numbers, codes and notations that could or couldn’t be our reservation number, customer number, booking number and contract number.  It was nearly impossible to decipher which was which.

Hoping if we waited a day to call back, they may have an English speaking representative on duty. 

  • Again, called the Budget desk at the Marco Polo Airport.  A woman spoke poor English asking me for the reservation number.  There were four numbers on the “written in Italian” form.  I read all of them to her. They were lengthy, numbers and letters.  I spoke clearly.  She kept getting them wrong.  I explained our goal to extend the contract.  She said we’d get a confirmation email before the end of the day.
  • Two days later, no response, no email, no confirmation.  Called again. Again, no one spoke English. The representative yelled at me and hung up.
  • Looking online for Budget’s International Customer Service, we found a number in the UK.  We called, speaking to a nice guy.  He couldn’t do anything since he didn’t have access to the files for Italy, suggesting we try calling the Marco Polo location once again.  I did.  Again, no one spoke English. Our frustration factor continued to grow as each day passed adding a certain amount of worry to the mix.

Need I say this process continued over five days?  Calling back the UK office on Thursday, we were given a private email address for the Marco Polo location. Sending an email to this “unpublished” email address, copying the international corporate headquarters, within hours we received an email that stated, “We extended the contract for you.”

Of course, I immediately stored the response into the “Car Rental Italy 2013” folder in Outlook for future reference.  As of this date, they’ve yet to bill us for the remaining six and a half weeks.  Hopefully, they’ll prorate the balance based on the original cost and not some arbitrary amount.  I’ll keep checking the balance on the credit card, knowing whatever amount they’ll charge will include the “holding” amount for the remainder of the period. 

I wish I could say that we’ve learned something from this annoying experience.  Is it “shut up and pay?” Possibly.  On the other hand, it may well be a by-product of the nature of our lives…to expect these types of situations to occur from time to time.

Surely, the language barrier played a role in preventing us from easily accomplishing an otherwise simple objective.  

Long ago while still in the US, I recall spending hours and eventually days, on the phone, in English, with our past cable company in an attempt to resolve an issue with the operation of our service which ultimately wasn’t resolved for over a year.  With no other options available in the area, we were a captive audience, as in this case…in possession of Budget’s little navy blue Fiat, not interested in driving back to Venice in a few days to stand in line for two more hours, only to turn around and drive the five hours back to Boveglio.  

Now this issue behind us, we’re back to the freedom of spirit and peace of mind in which we strive to languish each and everyday.  Tonight’s “taco salad night,” minus the chips, minus the shell “bowl” but with all the fixins’ will be a treat, even in Italy. Add a downloaded movie and we’re content as we could be!

The road to Pescia, Pistoia, Tuscany…Grocery finding expedition…How’s the budget?

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Our view of Boveglio from the winding road as we began our descent to Pescia.

Pescia, a larger village with a population of approximately 20,000, is located 35 minutes south of Boveglio, our destination today. Less on a mission to explore historic villages, we chose Pescia to find a larger grocery shopping that may have offer some of  the items we’d yet to find at the medium sized grocery store in Collodi or at Vivienne’s tiny store in Benabbio.

Dining out only twice in the 11 days since we arrived on June 16th, with few restaurants in the immediate area, we’ve cooked the remainder of our meals.Delighted with the quality of ingredients we’ve purchases, the use of our own herb garden on the patio, cooking has been relatively easy. It helps that I love to cook.  Its also helps that Tom is an enthusiastic stirrer, chopper and dicer.

Food is a big deal when traveling. As our dear friends Peggy and Lane mentioned in an email to us in the past few days, the food was a motivating factor in their visit to Tuscany some time ago…the pasta, the bread…and of course the wine, none of which we consume.

We took this photo when we found a spot to stop as we maneuvered the winding road.  This is the little village, Boveglio where we’ll live for the summer that we can see on the ascent back up the mountain after grocery shopping in Pescia.

Why would we choose such a place to visit in light of the fact that we exclude these wonderful items from our diets?  The areas we’ve chosen to visit provided an appeal for us in their rich history, their people, the overall beauty, its abundant wildlife and prolific vegetation.

Years ago, I gave up drinking alcohol for health reasons although on a rare occasion I may have a “taste.”  Sadly, the taste of a good red wine sends my taste buds on a holiday, often inspiring me to drink two or three glasses in a sitting. 

The end result? A horrifying hangover, starting in the middle of the night, keeping me awake, plaguing me during the day with thirst, general malaise and constant discomfort, only to dissipate after the second night’s sleep. 

 Zooming in Boveglio from the winding road.  Its interesting how many of the single homes in Tuscany actually share a common wall and yet they are considered single family homes.

It’s just not worth it to me to lose a day of my life feeling out of sorts from drinking a few glasses of wine.  For this reason, I said goodbye to wine years ago. Occasionally, I may consume a light beer when not the designated driver. There again, if I have two beers as opposed to one, I’m a mess the next day.

Tom doesn’t care for wine although he has the tough he-man constitution to handle it well. Instead, he prefers a good beer or cocktail on occasion, never suffering from a hangover. His preferred drink of choice is odd:  Courvoisier and Sprite on the rocks, lots of rocks. The questioning look from bartenders is amusing as he tries to explain this peculiar concoction.

Food, as opposed to wine, with its necessity of sustaining life, becomes a huge factor in most of our lives not only for sustenance but for pleasure, for interacting, for celebration and for many, for reward.

Driving around Pescia for a restaurant that served breakfast was fruitless. Italians drink espresso or a coffee concoctions with a small pastry for breakfast.  One won’t find bacon, eggs and pancakes at any Italian restaurant unless staying at an “Americanized” hotel.

Perhaps, our distance from the larger city restaurants may prove to have made my restrictive diet easier to maintain in our two and a half months in Tuscany. With our limited experience in dining out so far, we’ve realized the difficultly of my having an opportunity to partake of the foods indigenous to the area. 

Cooking our own meals adapting recipes to fit the array of special meats, cheeses, sauces, produce and spices one finds in Italy, provides us both with a sense of the true flavor of the region, although certainly not as rich and fulfilling as one may experience in local restaurants.

Giving up on the idea of breakfast, we decided to take advantage of our proximity to a grocery store in Pescia, the largest we’ve found so far stocked full of fabulous produce, meats, deli and general merchandise. 

This is the nature of our lives, our chosen path to travel the world with these limitations, adapting in the best ways we can and, above all, not complaining in the process. 

We’ve done this well, not making food our main area of focus. Any yet, we shop, chop, dice and stir with the same enthusiasm as a cook with less restrictions. Dinner time for us is as enjoyable as  for others dining in a local restaurant with the freedom of choice. 

Amid all the charming old buildings there are abandoned apartments and commercial buildings.

Last night, as the smell of our chicken with homemade pesto topped with the finest cheeses and fresh herbs filled our senses with anticipation, leaving us heady and anxious for the first (and last) bite.  r hearty plates of fresh organic vegetables and salad added perfectly to the mix. Do we miss pasta, bread and wine? Not at all.  It never enters our minds.

So today, off to the big grocery store in Pescia, we were content. The only items we couldn’t find… Tom’s preferred powdered non-dairy creamer for his coffee (I use real cream, here non-pasteurized, spoils quickly) and Crystal Lite Ice Tea.

Many of the villages, such as neighboring Colognora are imbedded into the hillside have a clock tower, many of which continue to chime centuries later. 

Tom also warned me about an article he’d read that clearly stated that grocery shoppers don’t mess with the produce:  no squeezing, no holding it in one’s hand spending time checking out it’s quality and viability.  

“Put on a plastic glove, place the item in a plastic bag provided, weigh the item(s) on the scale which prints a price sticker after selecting the item from a list and carefully place the sticker on the plastic bag ensuring it won’t fall off.” OK.  I did this!

Many simpler less decorous homes are adorned with flowers of the season.

Today, we purchased a small bottle to try of the Italian version of Crystal Lite, already prepared lemon flavored iced tea. We’ll see if we like it. We’re fast running out of the Crystal Lite packets we brought with us.

With a backup plan in place, we may end up ordering the Iced Tea online and having it shipped to us while we’re here, not the worst solution, albeit pricey.  But there again, it leaves us more to pack. Our rationale? We don’t have to give up everything we like! This life we’ve chosen is not punishment or banishment from all familiar products.  We feel we’ve adapted quite well without most of our “creature comforts.”

Apparently, a devastating storm had an effect on vegetation in the area. Piles of wood indicate it may have occurred in the past few years.

Shopping in a totally non-English speaking environment is challenging especially for the few packaged or bottled items we may use, although we’ve be able to decipher many of the verbiage on the labels. Buying meat, dairy and produce is a breeze. 

Tom recently read that there are strict etiquette rules in Italy. For some of these in regard to dining out click here.

The big challenge today was determining which coin we had to place in the lock of the grocery store cart to free it from the bunch in the parking lot for our use. The amount wasn’t posted. A kindly woman stopped by (no English), giving me the single Euro required when I handed her two Euro $.50 in its place. 

With the warmer weather and the long ride back, Tom drove fast on the long stretches making it difficult for me to take photos.  On the narrow winding stretches of road, there was no safe way to stop.

When bagging our plethora of groceries, for which they took a credit card (yeah!), the checker counted the plastic bags we used, charging us Euro $.35 for the seven plastic bags which translate to about US $.45. 

Yes, it cost about US $2 right out of the chute for the cart and the bags. A consolation is that the cost of food is about 20% less from the US which certainly makes up for the difference. 

Even the less appealing is appealing in its own way.

Our average food bill is running at approximately $200 per week including dining out twice.  We’re satisfied with that as it falls in line with the $2400 we’ve budgeting for food, eating in or out, for the 12 weeks we’ll be here.

I should mention that we only eat twice a day, a hearty breakfast and dinner. Neither of us are hungry again until dinner. Our way of eating has a propensity to kill the appetite for hours after eating with nary a thought about a “snack.” Plus, we no longer have any dessert after dinner, especially now that we dine around 7:00 PM most nights, preferring not to retire on a full belly.

One’s reactions must be quick when encountering a batch of road signs such as this.  The winding road often prevents turning around for another look.

With all the groceries put away in our tiny refrigerator and freezer, we’re content to spend what remains of the day, taking care of necessary business matters, prepping for tonight’s dinner, reading our books and catching up on US news. Tom found an English speaking news channel on the now working old fashioned TV! We’re so out of the loop these days!

A night on the town of Benabbio…A visit to an old church…This is why we travel…

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As we began the drive to Benabbio…

As thoughts run through our minds that echo “this is why we are traveling the world” we sat on the outdoor cafe of Il Cavallino Bianco Restaurant, (the small white horse, a memory of one of the two owners, Alessandro) in Benabbio, Lucca, Toscana, Italy, waiting for the church bells to ring at 7:30 pm, when the restaurant upstairs opens for dinner.

The café and entrance to the only restaurant within a 1/2 hour drive from Boveglio, Il Cavallino Bianco, quaint and charming, to say the least.

We’ve discovered that Europeans eat dinner later than most of us, stay up later than most of us, nap during the day during a break time enjoyed by many individuals and businesses and awaken later in the morning.

Houses we encountered on our walk.

Clocking the winding hairpin drive from Boveglio to Benabbio takes exactly 11 minutes.  Last night, for the first time making this drive, as Tom maneuvered the Fiat Clio six-speed,  I was actually playing with the settings in our camera (still learning) with no “eyes peeled on the road” and no “white knuckles” hanging onto the dashboard. 

Mustard painted house across from the restaurant.

Perhaps the two of us, like the residents here, are becoming more at ease with the treacherous drive, giving it nary a thought, by rote making their way through the maze of guardrail-free twists and turns.

Arriving in Benabbio too early to dine, we busied ourselves walking around the tiny village, avoiding a few of the steepest hills difficult to manage in our casual dress shoes. 

With Vivienne’s minuscule grocery store still open on Saturday evening, we were anxious to pay our bill from last Monday when we had yet to acquire any Euros (she doesn’t take credit cards). Plus, we were running low on Prosciutto, our new bacon substitute. 

Vivienne’s grocery store, across the street from the restaurant.

Should we buy it before eating dinner and run the risk of it spoiling? Alas, as we stood at the counter, feebly trying to explain how much Prosciutto we wanted, we noticed that the deli meats were in a barely chilled case.  The salty processing most likely preserves it for a period of time, I suppose.  When we arrived at the restaurant, we fumbled in Italian, asking Alessandro for a bowl of ice, keeping it cold as we dined.

A sign in the town square describing the village’s history.

Vivienne had forgotten that we owed her Euro $23.60 for our last order.  Explaining this in Italian was quite the challenge.  When we handed her the cash for the meat, including the extra Euros, she finally shook her head in acknowledgment, gratefully accepting the money.  

We had yet to pay our bill to Alessandro for last Sunday night’s dinner, which we planned to settle at dinner.

Perusing the historic church across from the restaurant, which we’ll now frequent,  occupied a good portion of our waiting time. Although, we’re trying to figure out times for mass which wasn’t posted anywhere, not in the bulletin, not on a sign inside the church and not posted outside the church.

The interior of the church was austere and dark. 

Back at the café to the restaurant we were easily entertained even with the earsplitting chimes of the church bells, again ringing, helter-skelter, the cheering farmers waving as they passed by while riding their noisy tractors, the teenagers hanging outside Vivienne’s store and the locals on a leisurely walk before dinner. 

Above the doorway was the balcony for the organ.

At 7:30, we meandered upstairs to the main dining room, empty at that point. There were little slips of neon pink papers on each table, indicating a reservation. During the week, we’d made a reservation request online which I’d translated into Italian, hoping it would be read. As we wandered to each of the dozen or so tables, we began to worry we wouldn’t have a table.  None contained our name.

The old stone staircase leading to the organ.

A moment later, Alessandro appeared, excitedly pointing us to a well-placed table for two that was specifically ours. The neon pink note didn’t have our name but instead had some type of code. Fine with us.

The baptismal.

Within 10 minutes the remaining tables filled with patrons, leaving walk-ins to be turned away as the decibel level rapidly escalated to the loud Italian chatter among the guests. Again, the three-course dinner was grand, Alessandro remembers my food restrictions bringing salad, meats and vegetables, the finest balsamic vinegar, and olive oil.

The confessional.

Tom enjoyed beef ravioli with Bolognese sauce, Parmesan cheese, fresh-baked bread, and later, unbeknownst to him a huge platter of the finest freshly cooked thin-sliced roast beef (which we shared) and a plate of homemade fries.

Engraved in stone on the historic church. A literal translation from Google Translate: “For Antonio Michelini upright pious priest of this church for years XLV (45) Cappellano,  first parish priest lived industrious and zealous, born in MDCCXCIII (1793) died on October XXVI MDCCCLXIV (1864), the grandson saint with sad desire.  Here is where sleeps the sleep of the righteous conquest memory.”

Toward the end of the meal, Alessandro brought what appeared to be a one-pound chunk of homemade ricotta cheese to the table, mumbling in Italian to take it home, as a gift from him.  Wrapping it in a napkin, we placed it in the bag with the “bacon” all the while smiling so much our faces hurt. 

The church bells rang loudly as we relaxed at the café.

After Tom finished his 23-ounce Italian beer knowing I wasn’t willing to be designated driver on the mountain road in the six-speed Fiat, we asked for the bill, “Il conto, per favore.” 

Moments later, Vivienne, who also doubles as a waitress at the restaurant, appeared with our bill for Euro $33. Where was the bill for last Sunday night?  She summoned Alessandro.

Waving his hands in the air, he said, “Lisa, Luca, Boveglio, no no no!”  He was “comping” last Sunday’s meal due to our connection with Lisa and Luca, the owners of our house. Trying to insist otherwise was pointless. His mind was set. We decided to leave extra each week over and above the tip to cover the cost. 

The last time we had a “comped” meal when we were in Las Vegas with resident son Richard, who seems to get “comped” wherever he goes. And, I don’t recall any restaurant anywhere, ever giving us “free food” to take home.

Hoping to drive back before it was fully dark, we headed out the door at 9:20 walking through the bar on the main floor. The moment Alessandro saw us, he excitedly stopped us instructing us to wait as he ran behind the bar to extract a bottle of Limoncello, a favorite among Italians. 

Tom was wise only to drink this one 23 oz. Italian beer with lots of water on the side.

Tom graciously shook his head while wiggling his hand to illustrate the winding road, all the while saying “Boveglio.” Alessandro and another couple both nodded in understanding, as we all laughed. 

 
The ride home was uneventful, the almost full moon lighting the way. Tucked in our comfy bed by 10:00 pm, our smartphones in hand to read our books, we languished until after midnight, full from a great meal, content, and on one more occasion, knowing why. 

The tender took us to Mykonos, Greece…Pure heaven…Lots of photos!

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Our MiFi is working again after the company Xcom Global gave it a hit from their San Diego, California location.

This is Mykonos! Oh, my!
Mykonos from the tender as we approached the dock.

Early this morning our ship maneuvered into the harbor of Mykonos, a virtual paradise of crisp white houses, similar in design, dotting the hillside of this historic and quaint Greek city. 

Our first steps into Mykonos after stepping off the tender.

Island houses scattered about the clear blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea follow suit in their pleasing design and mystery, making one long to enter any one of these to see what lies beyond the white facades.

Mykonos, as we walked along the shoreline.

Awakening at 5:45 this morning, we dashed to the window after hearing the roar of the thrusters and anchor as the ships locks it in position, a short distance from the shore, requiring us tourists to travel by tender to step foot on the land.

Gerry, Nicole and Tom outside this quaint little church.

At 9:00 am this morning, tender tickets in hand, we’ll meet our new friends from Canada, Nicole and Gerry, to share a day’s outing by bus and on foot, exploring the sites of this interesting area.

It was s crowded in this tiny church, I couldn’t straighten out my elbows in order to take a level shot.

Having seen photos of Mykonos over the years, our curiosity was peaked to visit this appealing area and, much to our delight, we will see more today.  Ironically, since we left the US on January 3, 2013 our bucket list continues to grow, not diminish, as we hear more and more from other passenger extolling the virtues of a new place to visit.

The vendors along the boardwalk offered a wide array of fresh flowers and produce.

My current ‘song and dance” is Petra in Aqaba, Jordan and Tom continues with his passion for the Panama Canal which, up until Petra, was my favorite. The next few days could hold some treasures that possibly may top Petra for me.  But Tom, I suspect, will stand firm on his #1 choice as we travel along.

Look at those “real tomatoes!” They invited squeezing, but I kept my hands to myself.

Last night we dined at the prearranged dinner in the Windows Dining Room, with the two other couples having the time of our lives.  We’d met at the muster station drill on the first day, chatting on endlessly until the leader of the group hushed us to shut up. 

Three of the four in their group are school teachers and for some reason they were determined to sit with us to pick our brains. Of course, we were flattered, almost embarrassed, to be so chosen for such “brain picking.”  In any case, they all were fun to spend time with, each with their own interesting and unique story and perspective of life.

We can’t wait to buy fresh produce in Tuscany in one week as we prepare to begin cooking for ourselves! Mykonos didn’t disappoint.
The water was crystal clear.

At the late end of our evening, four hours later, we commented how in essence, we all are very much alike, seeking fulfillment of our own hopes and expectations of how our latter years could and should be spent. 

Amid the white everywhere on the island, the flowers offered a majestic backdrop.
The narrow walkways through the shops and houses was enchanting at every turn.
Nicole and Gerry, our French speaking new friends from Montreal were delightful touring companions.
Here’s these crazy retirees traveling the world. My pockets were so full, I look fat! No longer do I carry a purse.  Tom calls himself the “pack mule” since he always carries my overflow.

The common message:  Feel free, doing what you love and fulfillment will come. 

Tom referred to this little shop as “the Greek Victoria’s Secret!”
Shops and cafes lined the narrow stone walkways.
One narrow stone street after another.  Narrow vehicles serviced the areas deliveries and  trash pickup. It was impeccable everywhere.
Trinkets and souvenirs, not allowable in our tightly packed luggage, were in abundance in Mykonos, many passengers eagerly grabbing mementos of their travels.

 At every turn a new view awaited us, as endless lines of passengers paraded past

From time to time we’ve seen artwork from Mykonos.  Seeing it in person explained the charm this island has to artists worldwide.


Restaurants and cafes lined the boardwalk.
The streets were comparable to a maze, leading us to one more enticing view after another.
Stopping for a moment to rest, we looked up to behold  this olive tree filled with bunches of ripe olives ready for brine.

Feeling unencumbered by “stuff” that binds one to a life that can by suffocating and restricting. Spreading one’s wings, however that may be: riding a Harley in your old age, sailing in a regatta, falling from the sky, living in a jungle far from civilization, learning to sculpt, or ballet dance may all offer the tranquility we all desire. 

 The windmills of Mykonos, close to the shore for ships to unload the grain.
 Although all the buildings were white, many of the properties had colorful doors, roofs and window trim.
Churches were in abundance on this small island.
 An occasional stop was relaxing after the steep walk up the hilly roads.
Is that a bread oven up on that roof?  Ah, the days of home baked bread!
Stopping at a popular café for a cold beverage with Nicole and Gerry.
 I wandered into the main part of the café to find a restroom, which required a walk through the busy kitchen.
In the kitchen I discovered shelves of prepared foods appealing to the palate.
 Octopus?  I’d eat that!  Tom, not so much!
Prawns and what appear to be stuffed Portabello mushrooms.
 Moving right along through the crowds didn’t diminish the quality of our experience.
 Hand made fluffy scarfs.
A dirty faced kitty, among many stray cats wandering the streets.
 It was difficult to resist some foot stomping as this musician played. “Oompah!”
A single home overlooking the sea.  It would have been fun to go inside!
Our walk back to the area above where our tenders awaited the returning passengers.
As our tender pulled away from the dock to return us to the ship.
One last shot of Mykonos, a fine day to be had.

For us, we chose this life, however encumbered it may be at times, with its own weights and restrictions, ultimately leaving all decisions in our own hands.  We know we’ve made the right decision.

Tomorrow morning we’ll arrive in Istanbul but we have yet to hear as to our safety in visiting this troubled city. 

Stay tuned, we’ll be back with news.

Part 1…Off to Abu Dhabi, then Dubai…Photos…

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As we sped along the freeway to Abu Dhabi, a 90 minute drive, we encountered numerous mosques.

Abu Dhabi, the capitol city of United Arab Emirates was hovering in my mind after arriving here more than a week ago. How could we possibly leave Dubai not having seen the world-renowned, most opulent city in the world?

Each mosque had its own unique architecture.

Dubai, in itself, is a wealthy city of perfection, cleanliness, low crime rate, strict laws and a gentle demeanor by its occupants. How could yet another city in this country be more in excess than Dubai? We were compelled to find out.

Umer our trusty tour guide and driver, was waiting outside the parking ramp for us when we arrived 10 minutes before our scheduled time of 8:00. Still feeling ill and hesitant about going, I was determined to make it through the day of sightseeing that we had arranged and rescheduled once already. 

As we entered Abu Dhabi, our mouths were agape at the world’s first round skyscraper, AIDer HQ.
As we neared the mosque.

Much to our delight, Umer arrived a brand spanking new Lexus, comfortable, smooth and well equipped for our day’s outing. As he explained he spent most of his days driving travelers about to see the various treasure of Abu Dhabi (and Dubai), a 90 minutes drive on a flawless, seemingly no-speed-limit freeway. His vast knowledge and experience were astounding, ensuring us we’d made the right choice in a driver.

As we approached Sheikh Zayed Mosque.  It was difficult, based on its size and location to get a full shot of the mosque’s enormous expanse.  This link will depict a full range.

With three hours of driving time to arrive in Abu Dhabi, we were left with five hours of actual sightseeing to include both cities.  Would I last that long?  My head still pounding, along with a feeling of exhaustion and weakness, I felt determined to do push myself as hard as I could. 

Real gold, everywhere!

The three hour drive was pleasant and uneventful, as we chatted on endlessly with Umer learning the many ways of Muslim life. Our preconceived notions and prejudices are often far removed from reality. 

The crispness of the white exterior was astounding!

This has been an eye opening experience that will remain in our hearts forever. A particular area of interest to me when speaking with Umer was the attention of one’s physical and emotional health, as well as spiritual well being. The work ethic is embedded in centuries of taught disciplines. Respect and care for one’s elders, arranged marriages and family life are the core of their existence. 

Almost to the entrance!

And, of most curiosity while here in Dubai and then yesterday in Abu Dhabi was the five times a day loud speaker chanting announcing prayer time, during which everything stops for those of the Muslim faith while they commit to prayer. Many times, we’ve heard the sounds, more so when we’ve been out to the pool at precisely 12:20 pm, less so when inside.

Umer insisted we stop for a photo op, taking this of us.

The first place we visited upon arrival in Abu Dhabi was the 8th largest mosque in the world and the largest in UAE, Sheikh Zayed Mosque. Before getting out of the car, Umer explained we’d be required to change into a black full coverage abaya for me and a white long thobe for Tom which would be provided for us upon entry into the mosque. As a result we wouldn’t need to wear the long pants we’d brought with us nor the long black scarf I had in our bag.

Definitely not my most flattering photo.  Tom looks great!  We’re standing in front of the architectural scale model. After we posed for this picture, a security guard rushed over telling us we are not allowed to touch one another in the mosque.  Of course, we complied.
The beauty continued at every step.
Hand cut granite floors.
This chandelier, one of three, was made entirely with gold and jewels.

The long walk from the parking lot to the mosque, in the heat with no breeze, was almost unbearable in my weakened condition. Tom and Umer’s patience with my slow and unsteady gait was appreciated but the longer I was in the heat, the worse I felt. 

Handmade carpeting.

By the time I reached the ladies open air changing room I was beside myself wondering if I could go on. The thought of donning the long dark garment in the heat was overwhelming. There was still quite a walk to reach the mosque.

More eloquent beauty…

The attendant looked about trying to find a garment tall enough for me with the requirement that the ankles are covered. She handed me a jumble black ball.. I struggled trying to figure out how to put on the silky one piece garment, finally requesting her help.

One of several areas for display of the Koran.

The sleeves to the abaya were inside out making it impossible to put on. I felt as if I had a tight turtleneck sweater caught on my head while trying to pull it off. Add, my bad shoulder and how I was feeling and I nearly panicked.

Standing among the gilded elegance left us in awe.

Alas, she helped untangle it and minutes later I walked out of the changing room to find Tom standing proudly in his white collarless one piece thobe looking at ease and quite dapper. In looking back at our photos I felt as if I looked more like the “grim reaper” than a respectful tourist.

Hand crafted prayer time clock…

With yet another stop outside in the heat to remove our shoes placing them in little bins, I couldn’t wait to get inside the air conditioned comfort of the mosque. Moments later, the blast of cold air filling us with relief, our eyes beheld a plethora of sights no word can describe. 

It was difficult to decide which way to look. The jewel encrusted accouterments were not only breathtaking but tastefully designed eliminated any sensation of gaudiness one might expect in such a lavish, opulent environment.

Umer suggested this traditional photo op in this designated prayer area.

For a period of time, I almost forgot how awful I was feeling becoming enraptured by this experience. All along, both Tom and I have said that we are more interested in people and culture throughout our travels than we are in visiting buildings. 

Every nook and cranny beheld another work of art.

The more buildings we see, we find that they bespeak their people and cultures, the finest workmanship, the creative minds and the often profound messages they are striving to convey in their work. The mosque was a fine example of this message and we felt honored to share in its glory and gift to the world.

Tom, as we’re nearing the turn toward the end of our tour through the mosque.

Let our photos depict the elegance and grace surrounding us as we slowly walked through this memorable spiritual place, Sheikh Zayed Mosque.

Our personal tour guide, Umer, couldn’t have been more helpful. Should you decide to come to Dubai or Abu Dhabi, whether vacationing or on business, you can feel comfortable having him provide not only your transportation needs but as a tour guide as well. At approximately US $250, AED $900 (plus tip) for the day, it was well spent. His personal email is listed here at this link.

Tomorrow we’ll post Part 2 of our day trip to Abu Dhabi and Dubai and also photos of Tom’s visit to the 124th floor observation deck of the famed tallest building in the world, Burj Khalifa. Unable to join him, I was thrilled with the excellent photos he was able to take while Umer and I waited in a café at the Mall of the Emirates in  Dubai, the largest mall in the world. 

They do “largest” here in UAE.  Interesting.

Only steps from the door to exit the mosque, Umer again grabbed the camera insisting we take one more shot of us, pressing me to smile. The experience, worthy of great smile. My headache, not so much.