Bratislava

From our base in Budapest, we took an overnight trip to Bratislava, capital city of Slovakia. It’s surrounding  geography has been added to or carved up by empires since Austro-Hungarian times; after WW I the Slovak and the Czech republics’ were combined into the victorious Allies muddled construction of Czechoslovakia. 

After the collapse of the Soviet Union, and mostly through the efforts of Václav Klaus, in January 1993 these two culturally autonomous regions were formally split into the Czech Republic and Slovakia. This “Velvet Revolution” should stand as a model for currently contentious independence and separatist movements in both Europe and Africa; it was a peaceful and collaborative endeavor.

Slovak National Uprising Bridge

We entered the city from the south, over the 1970’s iconic Slovak National Uprising Bridge, with its asymmetric cable-stayed construction and strangely perched UFO restaurant, shaped as a Soviet inspired flying saucer, at the pinnacle.

Our hotel, Radisson Blu, was well located on Hviezdoslavovo Námestie (“square” in Slovak), although the hotel itself was a bit tired and dated.  We were quickly out to the old town.

Old Town Hall

First stop was the Hlavné Námestie, centered on the 1572 Maximilian Fountain. Unfortunately, the Christmas Market cluttered things, the haphazard wooden huts huddled together with their seasonal trinkets, sausages and other not so culinary delights. Surrounding the square was the 17th century Jesuit Church and the 15th century Old Town Hall, with its tall Baroque tower – a long climb of stairs is rewarded with an excellent view of the city. Klostolná Street leads off this square to Primaciálne Námestie and to the Primatial Palace; one of the city’s finest Neo-classical buildings, its pink and gold façade is crowned with the bishop’s coat of arms and topped with a giant-sized cardinal’s hat.

St. Martin's Cathedral

Moving further north we took in the Franciscan Church and the 14th century Michael’s Gate, the only surviving gateway to the medieval city. Turning south again, we walked through the Františkánske Námestie with its Marian Column and then west toward St. Martin’s Cathedral. It is an imposing Gothic edifice, completed in 1452 and host to coronations of eleven Hungarian kings and eight queens.

We returned to the hotel looking for the Esterházy Palace; unfortunately some misguided architect had grafted on a hideously contemporary dark stone boil of a structure, totally annihilating the esthetic of this classical building – thankfully it was closed for renovation (hopefully demolition).

The hotel’s restaurant was inexplicably completely closed for a private function (to hell with its guests, comrade!).Trip Advisor gave La Monde Restaurant a good review, so I booked there. It was close to the hotel, the décor a bit odd, but the food and wine didn’t disappoint. A short walk after dinner, we crashed to bed.

Up early the next morning, we visited the Bratislava Castle, first foundations dating to 907. History

Bratislava Castle

took it though the competing architectural styles, but in 1811 it burnt down, reconstruction not beginning until the 1950s and still ongoing. Eventually its Baroque splendor will be restored; there is a pleasant new picture gallery on the second floor. Afterward, we returned to the Old Town Hall to visit the City Museum, well worth the time. By noon we had checked out and were on our way back to Budapest.

Bratislava is still finding its way from a provincial administrative center of Czechoslovakia to the capital city of Slovakia within the European Union. Its geography pins it to the western boarder of this new country of 5.4 million and awkwardly, it is more closely in tune with Vienna than its eastern citizens. An old civilization trying on a new skin and political reality – I will be curious as to the future.

Eger in December

Since November of last year, we have been spending more time in Hungary and Budapest. While here, we decided to stay in a spacious flat in the V District, close to Vörösmarty tér, instead of our longtime haunt of the Four Seasons Gresham Palace.

I have been remiss in my writing from here; this blog will start to correct this.

Dan & Judith - Castle Wall

Travelling by car, Eger is two hours east of Budapest. I found it an optimistic and young town compared to the more traditional Magyar state of melancholy; fresh student faces and an upbeat mood pervaded. The town is bursting with history; the Eger Castle was the country’s defender in the six week 1522 siege by the Turks; Hungarians outnumbered five to one. The ten foot outer walls would be menacing to even the most fearsome foe and the Turks retreated, but were back 44 years later to eventually claim this prize. In 1702 the Habsburgs completed the destruction – the castle now mostly ruins – slowly being restored.

Still, the Bishop’s Palace has been redone and houses a very nice historical museum. Also, there is a very nice café, the “Teto Centrum” where we warmed up over cappuccinos.

Cathedral Fresco

Walking down from the castle’s plateau, we crossed the Eger and travelled along Kossuth Lajos utca, a wide boulevard studded with 18th century Rococo mansions. The nicest is #4, the Vice-Provost’s Palace dated from 1758. Further along, the Eger Cathedral, second largest in Hungary, anchors two other buildings in a pleasant square.  Unique, its cupola is shorter than its two western towers, the east displaying an impressive colonnaded façade with figures representing Faith, Hope and Charity.  The interior is a bit somber, with the exception of the ceiling fresco adorning the central cupola. The remaining two buildings are the Lyceum, demoted from university status only because of its connection to the church, and the grand Bishop’s Palace, unfortunately closed for renovation.

17th C. Minaret

Moving north, there is the second main square of Eger, Dobó István ter. Pleasant in spite of the Christmas Market chaos, the Minorite Church of Saint Anthony dominates. The rounded, tiered façade with its twin towers is much richer and ornate than that of the Eger Cathedral. After visiting, we stopped for a so-so lunch at Főtér Kávézó.

We finished our tour seeing a 17th century minaret, the northernmost Ottoman relic in Europe. The mosque next door was demolished in 1841, but the minaret stubbornly stands, its sleek 131 foot, fourteen sided symmetry withstanding the storms of this town’s history.

All in all, a good day trip; we were back to Budapest for dinner. 

Bully in Chief

In conversations lately, many friends and acquaintances have voiced “disappointment” in President Obama. Most voted for him twice, so these thoughts aren't from some Tea Party fringe. A recurring theme is that Obama doesn't exhibit enough “strong will” and “single-minded purpose.” This crops up in some discussions of domestic policy, but much more often the topic is foreign policy. My friends, and many international ones, point to “red lines” crossed and ignored, disrespect from other heads-of-state and a general dissipation of American power.

I can’t agree with most of this. America and the world should not push Obama to take “macho lessons” from Putin or Abu Bakr al-Baghdadi. For that matter, also not from McCain or other of our own government types that present things in oh so clear “black and white.”

Two points form the basis of my thoughts on this matter.

First, we shouldn't be surprised (nor should Obama) that we have bad actors and awful conflicts being inflicted on our world. In 3,400 years of documented history, most of the time humans have been at war, not peace – its how we have settled things since we started walking upright. It is hard to pin down with any accuracy, but some historians write that of those 3,400 years, perhaps 200 – 300 could be considered globally peaceful – ten percent.

Second, at present the United States military is without equal. We seem to forget that in the spring of 2003 we demonstrated this to the world. In six weeks America, with little real help, defeated the 375,000 troops of Saddam Hussein with a loss of 138 American lives. I am in no way defending this disastrous foreign policy or diminishing the sacrifices made, but merely pointing out how easily the third most highly regarded military machine at that time was crushed by ours. The United States spends over $600 billion on defense, 36% of the world’s total, and more than the next 15 top spenders combined.

I think Obama’s slow, non-confrontational and stoic approach will prove to be less dangerous, less deadly and more effective than if we had a Putin-like pugilist in the White House. The world doesn’t need a yet another trigger happy demagogic bully. But we cannot look like we have no policy or a policy of weakness. We must communicate and telegraph to the world and to the bullies what we plan to do and how we will react. This Obama has done poorly.

His communication must become simple, direct, unambiguous and totally lacking “footnotes.”

President Obama should tell America and the world:

·         Humans are a warring bunch, so we shouldn't be surprised and should prepare to have conflicts that destroy life and infrastructure. Innocent people will be hurt the world over, even in America. Saying otherwise is a cruel fiction.

·         America remains the most dominant military the world has ever experienced, stronger than any other by a large measure.

·         The pure military threat is the least of our concern. We can be late to the game, very late, and still have an assured victory if the political world stage is properly set and nations agree to the course of action.

·         America has a responsibility to the rest of the world because of our wealth and strength. This includes when we are directly threatened, but also if others are threatened. We have a big stake in not letting any part of the world sink into chaos because left unchecked it will destabilize and spread. At its heart this is a moral position that Americans can respect and the world can admire. Isolation is a naive mirage in the world we now live in.

·         America will support an economic or military response to aggression only in coordination with and the approval of the United Nations, not unilaterally. Two exceptions will apply: first, to an attack on America or Americans; second, in response to a lawful invitation from an allied country for help that is urgent to their survival.

·         America will demand little, but will be firm that our approval and participation requires directly affected nation neighbors to the conflict to have “skin in the game” in proportion to the threat against them. We will never again be seen as a solitary mercenary force fighting someone else’s battles.

·         If America responds, we will be all in. This means that our decision will not be limited, sequential, stepped or measured; we will specifically announce that our response will be what is appropriate and proportional to the size and capability of our forces, agreed among the UN nations participating. It is self defeating to limit our action to air support or other limited tactics; we must, up front, fully commit to the endeavor – or not commit at all. Mixed messages are always taken as a sign of weakness by a bully

·         America will make solving the Israeli and Palestinian crisis within three years a top priority and no longer allow either party’s brinkmanship of the process. Until this is believed by the Arab world, America realizes that our standing and influence in this region of high conflict is diminished.

Even our military says the “military” part is easy if the mission is clearly stated and the commitment is “all in.” Obama, and many presidents before him, have not taken this message fully to heart. It will take some time for the world to know that we have “put money where our mouth is.” This will be tough for awhile; America will be tested and pulled into some conflicts where a bully has over played his hand. But at some point, future bullies will understand consequences and therefore be smart enough not to overplay.

And America will wake up to a new found respect and stature in the world; and American’s will feel better about themselves, their leadership and their military.

Case in point to my argument about going slow is the current campaign in Syria and Iraq against IS. The effort underway is now supported by Jordan, Kuwait, Lebanon, Qatar, Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates. This would not have been the case if we acted more unilaterally nine months ago against Assad.

We and the world do not need more bluster; we need a calm and steely strong reserve and clearly communicated, simple foreign policy principles. And if the UN and EU finally realize that they cannot just wait for America to run out of patience; then they too will perhaps face their responsibilities more forthrightly.

The military dimension is not the critical item here; it is the hearts and minds aspects of the world community. Luckily, our military might allows the international organizations to muddle along a bit as they create a consensus for appropriate action.

I like that Obama isn't a hot headed, testosterone fueled leader. We have enough of those, and our country is powerful enough not to need one.  We need more Gary Cooper, less James Cagney.

Plitvice Lakes, Croatia | July 2014

July 6, 2014; Sunday

We left Budapest for Zagreb after lunch; a three and a half hour, 210 mile trip. Checking into Hotel Esplanade Zagreb, it was out to their terrace for a relaxing late afternoon, followed by dinner at the hotel’s restaurant, “Zinfandels.” We had stayed here overnight on our May trip to Istra; it’s a bit dated but comfortable and well located.

July 7, 2014; Monday

Awoken by our 6:00 am call we had a quick breakfast and were off to Plitvice Lakes National Park on a beautiful sunny morning. Although it’s only 85 miles south of Zagreb, it’s still a two hour drive. After a short stretch on the E65 to Karlovac, the balance of the trip is on the twisting single lane D1.

Galovac Jezero

Plitvice Lakes is the largest and oldest of Croatia’s eight national parks, opened in 1949 and placed on UNESCO’s heritage listing in 1979. The 115 square mile park consists of 16 lakes; cascading waterfalls and breath taking scenery at every turn. Trails and wooden footbridges connect everything, as well as an electric boat to move visitors along the largest lake, Jezero Kozjak. The pools of water are exquisite hues of azure, blue and turquoise; impossible to describe in word. The local geology over the millennia has created a world of beauty and a unique biodiversity. This place should not be missed, in spite of the sometimes crowded pathways and mostly unhelpful staff.

Judith and Dan

We spend four hours on the trails, lastly taking the difficult “K” route to the panoramic view of the big waterfall - the Veliki Slap. On this trail we met a lone woman who looked a bit lost. We asked her if she needed some help, and subsequently she tagged along with us as we attempted to discern the very poorly marked route. But our fortitude paid off as we stumbled upon the vista looking out to the Veliki Slap and the whole of the lake system – wow, one of the most beautiful views of my life!

We climbed down the steep and winding steps to the base of the waterfall, and then back up the other side of the ravine to the parking lot

Plitvice Panorama

and our car. Our trail companion, Angie, who turned out to be a botanist from Munich, hitched a ride with us to Zagreb; so we had some pleasant conversation to pass the time on our journey back.

We arrived at the Esplanade by 5:30 exhausted. After a cleanup we had some drinks on the terrace, and afterward a pleasant dinner in the relaxed café amid a threatening thunderstorm. Obviously sleep came quickly and easily.

July 8, 2014; Tuesday

We slept soundly. The morning was unlike yesterday; dark, dreary and drizzling. After breakfast we started our return to Budapest, but with a stop in Varaždin. This city is first documented in the late 10th century, but came into prominence in the 16th as a border fortress defending the Habsburg territories from the Ottomans.

Dodging the rain, we visited the Varaždin Castle and Civic Museum, a most down in the mouth monument and exhibit. That finished, we hopped back in the car and finished the drive, arriving in Budapest early afternoon. It was a wonderful trip, but we are glad to be back.

Puglia | August 19 - 26, 2013

We had an early flight from Gatwick to Bari, and picked up our rental from Europcar without any difficulty. A brush fire along SS16/E55 snarled traffic and made the normally one hour trip to the hotel into two. The Masseria San Domenico, located on Strada Provinciale 90, was a bit difficult to find; it had no real address to punch into the navigation – still we got there without much fuss.

On the Puglia coast, washed by the Adriatic, the Masseria is very grand, located on a 150 acre estate of olive groves, vines; ripe pomegranate trees and beautifully cascading bougainvillea. Dating from the 14th Century, its original use was that of a watchtower for the Knights of Malta. It was lovingly restored and expanded in 1996, 53 rooms and suites, a massive free form pool 180 feet in length, a nice spa, tennis, golf; as well as a secluded private beach.

The food in a word or two: fresh and simple. The morning buffet breakfast was a bounty: lovely cakes and pastries, the best yogurt I’ve ever had, made locally; fruit, including the most fabulous figs; wonderful juices and cappuccino. The staff was friendly, professional and helpful.

It was ditto to the lunch buffet. Fresh fish, daily pastas, burrata, focaccia, vegetables sautéed and also slow cooked; an out-of-this-world smoked tuna with capers; cakes, more fresh fruit – I must stop before my saliva ruins my keyboard. One of our lunches was had at another pleasant buffet, at beachside, a more modern trendy spot; whitewashed, minimalist expansions of shade, splashed here and there with blue-themed dabs of color.  

Dinner was also simple but elegant, served outside; the menu changing daily – a delight. The local wines were reasonably priced; two reds were standouts: 2006 Cantine Due Palme Selvarossa Riserva, a blend of negroamaro and malvasia, local to the region; and Rivera Puer Apuliae Nero Troie, nero di troia. These were big and rich, Rhone-like, but with very soft tannin finish. A white of note: 2012 Polvanera Fiano Minutolo. And I cannot adequately describe the scrumptious white peach Bellini aperitifs.

We took a few day trips, pulling ourselves away from the hedonistic grip of the pool. We visited Lecce, about 90 miles south of us. This ancient Roman town of Lupiae reached its zenith in the 16^th to 18^th centuries with splendid Renaissance, Rococo and most especially Baroque monuments. The Baroque façade of Santa Croce was the highlight; its central rose window looking like it was fashioned of lace. We had a good lunch at Osteria Degli Spiriti, near the Public Gardens.

Another outing had us to Alberobello to see the unique trulli; curious square houses with conical roofs covered with small slabs of chiancarelle, a local grey limestone, all held together without mortar. 

From there we travelled to Poglignano a Mare; a picturesque seaside town. This ancient junction for Arab, Byzantine, Spanish and Norman cultures is reflected in its varied architecture. The near vertical shoreline cliffs are studded with caves, the beach inlets dramatically tucked between; speared generously with the multicolored parasols of throngs of summertime bathers. An easy lunch was at Osteria del Mulini.

There was also a lunch visit to a nearby and much larger sister property, Borgo Egnazia, adjacent to their golf course. The San Domenico has a “no children under twelve” policy, so Engnazia is much more focused on family. The lunch was raucous and loud; adult couples looking for a peaceful break should keep this place off their shortlist. The location is a bit contrived; too large to fit its surroundings; fake is too harsh a word, but not by as much as I would like to admit.

Puglia was a very nice surprise. The spur and heal of the Italian boot is mostly a flat plain; the region is relatively poor and not splattered with the luxury resorts like the Amalfi. So the San Domenico stands out, but subtly; lavish, nevertheless respectful of its place. It was a good fit for us, authentic, simpatico; I’m sure we will return next year.  I can recommend it without reserve.

Sicily - June 2013

Most know of Sicily; fewer know about Sicily – it is the Mediterranean’s largest island, and Italy’s largest region.  From 1000 BCE and for a thousand years thereafter, it was at “the center of the western world,” the Heathrow of present day. Everyone who was anyone passed through or by.

It’s been on our travel list for quite awhile, but for some reason we haven’t gotten around to it until now. The island is a treasure of physical beauty and human achievement. The indigenous Sicani and the Siculi soon had company: Phoenicians, Greeks, Romans, Arabs, Normans, Hohenstaufen, and the Catalan Spaniards all liked what they saw and decided to stay. And all thought the place was worth fighting about; and fought they did, quite a lot actually.

The latest invaders are British, French, German and a smattering American holidaymakers – it seems everyone always outstays their welcome.

I worry that a reader will sense the writer to be a bitter older man, not happy with his lot, and a bit spoiled for time and money. I might be spoiled for time and money, but am not at all bitter or unhappy – quite the reverse. You must accept that this post is merely my very personal “note to self.” It’s just a reminder for me and my wife of what transpired, what we saw, how we felt. So read it with this personal caveat in mind.

If you have been reading my past entries, you will have probably noticed that my travel posts are getting crankier; and for this current one I apologize in advance. I have always had a romantic ideal of luxury travel, which I can now finally afford and for which I happily pay.

But true luxury involves a delicate recipe of professionalism, charm, warmth, aesthetic and beauty. The off touted “attention to detail” is a wrong-headed approach; luxury is something holistic; not to be deconstructed into process maps or otherwise “manufactured.” Luxury, by its very nature, cannot be “scaled up,” a “luxury chain” is an oxymoron.  A purveyor of luxury must carefully calibrate change over time; have an equal respect for the past and the promise of the future. Further, there is not just one concept of professionalism, charm, warmth, aesthetics and beauty; the true answer rests on a knife’s edge – this is not a business pursuit for the fainthearted. If his primary goal is to become richer than his guests, an hotelier’s establishment will never become one of the great and enduring destinations.

On the whole, Sicily was a disappointment – maybe my expectations were too high. Maybe I want too much as I age? Should I just have calmed down and appreciated these exquisite accomplishments of antiquity, in spite of the island's current disorganization and disrepair; accepted less if you will?

Palermo was the paradigm of this problem. Here is a city founded by the Phoenicians in the 7^th century BCE, conquered by the Romans, dominated by Arabs, re-conquered for Christianity by the Normans –the Swabians, Spaniards, and the Sicilian Vespers all made their mark. The history and grandeur should shroud Palermo with majesty. But this is not the case; Palermo is tired and dirty, backward, chaotic; sad – its peoples’ faces tell the story. Other than the wonderful patrimony of the ancients and the glorious and rich landscapes; a certain soul was lacking. I hope this wasn't just a reflection back to my own.

The wines were simple; a surprise and delight; the food, be it mostly hotel fare, was disappointing. But this is our travel strategy; sight see at a hard pace and for the full day, then unwind with dinner at the hotel property we have chosen. We don't chase the food scene on these types of trips.
Anyway, taste and freshness and spice were missing; perhaps this is what I missed throughout the entire stay.

Below are the trials and tribulations of our 16 day trip.

THE EAST COAST: June 2 – 7, 2013

Sunday, June 2, 2013

We had a good late afternoon flight from Gatwick and landed in Catania about 6:30 p.m. Hertz had our rental ready, and with the help of our navigation, arrived at Villa Sant’Andrea about eight. The hotel is part of the Orient-Express Group, and located in Taormina Mare, right on the sea. We checked into room #222, a nice junior suite with a beautiful view to the tranquil Baia di Mazzarò. The room is spacious and nicely appointed.

We unpacked quickly and had a late supper on the terrace. The food was uninspired, and was made more so by the live music in the adjacent bar; a group of partying Texans were enjoying their last night to the fullest, dancing to disco tunes from the Seventies.

It was then off to bed.

Monday, June 03, 2013

We awoke to a beautiful morning and had breakfast on the hotel’s terrace. We were waiting to feast on some wonderful breads, pastry and fruit; but the fare didn’t hold up to our fantasies.

The hotel’s shuttle took us up the winding hillside to Taormina, dropping us at their sister property, Grand Hotel Timeo. This hotel is adjacent to an ancient Greek theatre, adapted by the Romans in the 2^nd Century CE. The ruins are somewhat poisoned by the modern lighting and seating for the current arts venue; but the backdrop of Mount Etna on this perfectly clear day made up for it.

We continued our tour of Taormina down Corso Umberto I, which forms the spine of this town, from Porta Messina, gently climbing to Porta Catania. The thoroughfare is lined with a mix of architecture, much Norman, with an Arab touch here and there. Many of the piazzas and palazzos are well kept; there is a quirky remnant “Naumachie”, used by the Romans to simulate naval battles.  We stopped for drinks at Café Wunderbar; in their day, a haunt of Greta Garbo and Tennessee Williams. All the shops seemed nice and upscale, not too much of tatty tee-shirt places.

We rewarded ourselves with lunch on the terrace of the Grand Hotel Timeo, overlooking the sea, Etna and the beautiful Communal Gardens. The food and service didn't match up to the exquisite scenery. Still, we checked some rooms here for a possible future visit – the property itself was that appealing.

Dinner was at Villa Sant’Andrea again; and disappointing, again.

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

The day was another lovely one, especially compared to dreary London. After breakfast, we travelled 75 miles south to Siracusa, about an hour and a quarter’s drive.

Our first stop was to the northern part of the city to visit the archeological sites. The Greek theatre dates to the 3^rd century BCE, cut out of bedrock to take full dramatic advantage of the slope. Like in Taormina, this beautiful piece of antiquity has been marred by the modernity of its current use. Nearby was the massive

Orechhhio di Dionisio (the “ear of Dionysius”), a cave formed within the limestone quarries. The cavity resembles the inside of the ear, and the acoustics are remarkable. Finally, we toured the Roman amphitheatre, technologically far superior to its Greek neighbor. It’s sad to recall that the cultural performances had deteriorated into gladiatorial contests and the barbaric fighting of wild animals; far from Euripides and Aristophanes. Are there lessons to be learned in this?

We then headed south to the city’s island of Ortygia, rich in Greek history from the 8^th century BCE; quoted in Virgil’s Aeneid. Crossing the bridge to the Temple of Apollo, we arrived at the Plaza Domo. The site of the current cathedral has been a place of worship from the 6^th century BCE, first dedicated to Athena. Over its tumultuous history it has seen Christian, Arab, and then Norman Christian devotions. The façade was destroyed in the 1693 earthquake and rebuilt in its current Baroque style – quite fantastic. We stopped for a quick pizza in the square – not so fantastic.

It was then a walk back to the car and a quick relocation north again to see the Catacombs of San Giovanni, which are buried beneath the Basilica di San Giovanni Evangelista. These tombs, unlike Rome’s soft tufa, are carved out of hard limestone. Because of this, the burial site is very large; with some crypts accommodating over 20 bodies; the largest catacomb outside of Rome. After the tour we were back to the car for the drive back to Taormina; we arrived to the hotel about six exhausted.

Dinner was on the terrace; out of boredom we starting naming the staff. The rather puffed up maître d’hôtel was dubbed “peacock,” his burly assistant, “Brutus.” Food and service remained mediocre; afterward we were quickly off to sleep.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

After breakfast on another fine day we were off to Noto, further south than Siracusa. Ancient Noto was completely destroyed by the 1693 earthquake; rebuilt in the early 18^th century on a site six miles away, and in the Baroque style. The city’s axis is the wide Corso Vittorio Emanuele, which runs through three piazzas, each with its own church. The highlight was clearly the mellow golden hued Cathedral di San Nicolo. We

returned to our parking place on Via Cavor, with a lunch stop at a nondescript tratoria for bowl of pasta topped with a mush of eggplant and tomato sauce; soggy, and yet at the same time inexplicably too al dente – impossible you say?

Next stop before our return to Taormina was the town of Acirale to see its finely proportioned Piazza Domo and its Basilica dei Santi Pietro e Paolo. Unfortunately the church was closed by the time we arrived.

We got back to Sant’Andrea about five, and settled onto the terrace with a bottle of wonderful Italian sparkling wine, a 2005 Ca’del Bosco Franciacorta, Dosage Zero (60% chardonnay, 23% pinot bianco and 17% pinot nero) – highly recommended.

We went to dinner at Grand Hotel Timeo. The food was nothing special, but the view remained breathtaking. We met a couple on the shuttle back to the hotel; a French man and his Italian wife, now living in Surrey, in the UK. We discussed the food, they were happy to find someone who also thought the culinary scene was definitely lacking.

Not yet ready to go to sleep, we encamped at the terrace bar for a nightcap. There we met the piano player and all around entertainment provider, Carmelo. Carmelo was doing his best to impersonate Elton John in both dress and demeanor; but not succeeding very well. Friendly enough, he inquired about us. Not getting Judith’s name at all after a few tries; he referred to her as Juliet; Carmelo also discovered I was from the Big Apple.

Thus our musical embarrassment was sealed; a chorus of “Hey Jude” and a medley of “New York-New York” dedicated to us quickly followed.   Shortly thereafter, we skulked quietly off to bed.

Thursday, June 06, 2013

We opened the curtains to an overcast day. We were off early to Ragusa, the third city, after Siracusa and Noto, making up the Baroque triangle of southeast Sicily. Ragusa is further inland, so about a two hour drive. This city also suffered major damage in the 1693 quake, but the old town, Ragusa Ibla, was largely rebuilt in place.

Parking in Plaza Republica, we climbed the narrow stairs to Chiesa Purggatorio and made our way to Palazzo Domo and Domo San Giorgio, with its blue lantern neo-Classical dome; imposing set of stairs and wonderful pink-hued façade. We covered the balance of the old area, ending in the small but pretty Giardino Ibleo and its San Giacomo church. Before leaving, we backtracked to the Palazzo Nicastro. On our return journey we stopped for fuel and also for a surprisingly okay Panini at a highway Autogrille; arriving back to the hotel about five.

Dinner was on the terrace again; the food a bit better. I had beef Carpaccio, a tuna steak cooked rare, and some fresh fruit for dessert; bed followed quickly. 

PALERMO & WEST COAST: June 7 – 12, 2013

Friday, June 07, 2013

We left mid morning for our next stop; Palermo, on the north central coast, about a 2 ¾ hour’s drive. The last ten miles of road to the hotel were a shock; we could have been cruising through Damascus during a recent skirmish between Assad and the insurgency – complete chaos.

We pulled into Grand Hotel Villa Igiea and processed our check-in. The clerk escorted us to our suite, #115. It was a disaster; old, dark and festering, with a large bath so unacceptable it wouldn’t pass muster even in a youth hostel. We eventually moved to #309; a renovated suite but nothing very special, and unpacked. The hotel is in the port area, housed in an aging villa estate; everything upon inspection was in a various state of dilapidated decay. We made a dinner reservation for eight. Its five- star status is a stretch!

A bit after four we took a taxi into town, asking the driver to take us to the intersection of Palermo’s two main downtown thoroughfares: Via Vittorio Emanuele and Via Maqueda. At one time this central octagonal corner was adorned with four elegant 18^th Century Baroque façades; now it is a dirty, noisy and claustrophobic junction. Close by was Piazza Bellinia, which is home to La Martorana, a 12^th century chapel that is a marvel of glorious gold leafed Byzantine mosaics; a wedding was just finishing and it provided a certain sense of peace and elegance. Next door, San Cataldo Church paid homage to the Norman period, but with distinctive Moorish qualities. We walked back to Plaza Settimo, kicking through litter, and met the hotel’s shuttle.

Although we had booked, the terrace restaurant had no record of our reservation. Reluctantly we were seated at an inferior, cramped table. Unremarkable food and a lazy service followed; the 2010 Planeta Cometa the only highlight. I never got the port I had ordered. Walking back to our room, there was a room service tray blocking the hall – the last straw for me. I called the front desk and asked for the general manager – I was promised a call at 9:00 tomorrow morning; we’ll see. We were then off to a restless sleep.

Saturday, June 08, 2013

We were up to a nice day; had breakfast and were disappointed to not receive a call from the hotel’s general manager. Intent not to spend the day sulking, I sent a terse and stinging email; only to have the phone ring as we were walking out the door.

Alessio, the duty manager, was on the other end; he had misunderstood the telephone message and was waiting downstairs for me. Not to waste the day on this, I said I’d catch up with him in the late afternoon about our problems. We were out to tackle a full itinerary of urban sightseeing.

A taxi took us to the old harbor district and its nearby Baroque oratory masterpieces. Oratories were technically structures other than a parish churches, set aside by ecclesiastical authority for prayer and the celebration of Mass. In Oratorio del Rosario di Santa Cita and again in del Rosario di San Domenico, both dated to the 17th century, Giacomo Serpotta had executed exquisite stuccoes. The San Domenico church stands nearby.

We then headed west up Via Vittorio Emanuele, stopping at Palermo’s Cathedral, a late 12^th century edifice in the Sicilian-Norman style, with notable additions of a 15^th century Catalan Gothic south porch and a neo-classical dome dating from the 18^th century. This smörgåsbord of design somehow works into an esthetically pleasing whole. Further up was the expansive Palazzo Dei Normanni Cappella Palatina, the

highlight the chapel, built in 1130. The Arabo-Norman blazing gold mosaics are offset by marble inlays of exception workmanship.

There was just so much to see; we took in the 12^th century Church of St. John the Hermit and the Chiesa del Gesù before stopping for lunch on the relatively quiet (for Palermo) Via Principe di Belmonte and the Antico Caffé Spinnato, one of the city’s oldest cafés.

After lunch we saw one more of Serpotta’s late stucco masterpieces, Oratorio di San Lorenzo, described as a “cave of white coral.” Finally, we visited Gallaeria d’Arte Moderna, housing a major collection of 19^th and 20^th century Italian and Sicilian works. Michele Catti and Michele Cortegiani were standouts.

Returning to the hotel, we met with the manager, Alessio, who offered apologies and an upgrade to a very large suite. We graciously declined; all we needed at this point was to pack and unpack an extra time. Still, we were treated well at dinner; and had a good meal with courses of cod carpaccio, spaghetti with lobster, and a main course of fillet of local fish, dentice. Dessert was crème brûlée with wild strawberries; and yes, I got also my port. We were quickly to sleep.

Sunday, June 09, 2013

After breakfast, we were off on another trip on another sunny morning. Our first stop was Segesta, about an hour west along the coast. The road was pleasant; winding its way through lush agricultural land, in spite of such a dry island; acres of yellow rapeseed fields rolled along side us.

Segesta was first founded around 1200 BCE by the Elimi, sponsored by the Greeks. Internal and external conflicts followed continuously with Selinute in the south, Syracuse, Carthage and finally Rome. There is also evidence of the Norman activity. The temple we visited, now silently towering over the hilltop it occupies, is dated to 430 BCE, and the adjoining theatre above it from the 3^rd century BCE and Hellenistic times.

We were then back to the car and off to Erice, on the northwestern coast, just above Trapani. The navigation computed the shortest route, so the last 10 miles or so we travelled up a treacherously narrow road; should have actually taken SP 3, which we did on the way down. The town occupies a triangular plateau at more than 2,400 feet elevation. The mysteries and myths here are truly ancient; it is spoken of by Virgil; Hercules has been said to have visited. The Elimo-Punic Walls date to 8^th century BCE. Unfortunately, the Norman church of Matrice that we had come to view was closed for renovation, but we still got to walk the atmospheric streets.

Our lunch was at Monte San Giuliano, no English spoken, and no English menu. We decided on ravioli con aglio, seppie con il nero, pomodoro, peperoncino and ricotta. The unknown was the “aglio,” which upon our dish’s arrival we discovered to be cuttlefish, or squid; with a black ink sauce. It wasn’t bad, but very heavy. It was and hour and a half back to Palermo.

We declined Alessio’s invitation to a tasting menu, paired with a special wine selection and served in a private dining room. So dinner was again on the terrace and we just chose something light off the menu – saying it was “okay” is being too kind to the meal. Still the staff seemed to be on eggshells, not that it much improved service – I still spent the night pouring my wine. However, by this time I had given up all hope. I mellowed out to the reality and dropped into the comforting stupor of lowered expectations.

Monday, June 10, 2013

The weather is one thing you can count on; another sunny day of 80˚F. It was to Selinunte today, 75 miles south mostly on Autostrada 29. The old town of Selinus was founded in mid 7^th century BCE, and destroyed twice by the Cathaginians, in 409 and the 250 BCE.

The large site stretches across the broad confines of the town’s borders in antiquity. On the eastern side, two temples sit in sullen piles of columns and capitals, but one, re-erected in 1957 and dated to 5^th century BCE, is a fine Doric example. We joined a series of dirty and ill-maintained golf cart trains, captained by semi-serious drivers, and moved with other visitors along a bumpy dust clouded trail to the western Acropoli and fortifications.

We thus got back to the car looking like chalk powdered ghosts, and brushed ourselves off as best we could. We got back to Villa Igiea mid-afternoon; had lunch near the pool, and later, dinner on the terrace. No miracle presented itself regarding food or service.

Tuesday, June 11, 2013

There was a brief shower overnight, the morning was overcast and we had another brief rain at breakfast. Close to noon, the sky was bright once more, but cooler.

We took a short 16 mile trip south to the hill town of Monreale, with its spectacular views down the Conca d’Oro Valley. The domo of Santa Maria La Nuova, quintessentially Norman, was built in 1172 under the

patronage of William II. The real treat was the interior, a massive nave and central apse covered with gold mosaics depicting biblical scenes. The eye could hardly focus, flitting from one beautifully glowing panel to the next. We also visited the adjacent large Benedictine cloister, with its splendid paired columns decorated in polychrome mosaics.

After, we had a quick cappuccino at Baby O’Bar in Piazza Gugliemo II, overlooking the church.

We were back to the hotel by late afternoon, had some wine and gelato near the pool; dinner on the terrace. Nothing improved; a German couple sitting next to us finally moved their long finished dinner plates to a side table and helped themselves to their wine.

We’re glad to be leaving the not-so-Grand Hotel Villa Igiea, and Palermo, domani.

AGRIGENTO & SOUTH COAST: June 12 – 17, 2013

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

We were up, checked out and had an easy two hour drive to Agrigento, through more beautiful countryside, wide expanses of yellow rapeseed fields. Along the route, locals were busy harvesting and baling hay on the sloping hillsides.

Hotel Villa Athena is a small property of 27 rooms, contained within the Valle Dei Templi Archeological Park. The hotel is set within almond, orange and olive trees, palms, flowering cactus and rows of lavender

swarmed with white butterflies. Our room wasn’t quite ready, so we had lunch at the outdoor restaurant.

We checked into a nice suite on the top floor in the old villa, #205. The two rooms are nice, although there is an odd and out of place Jacuzzi in the living room. Still, it is airy and bright and south facing, with windows on three sides. The large private terrace is fantastic, with unobstructed views south to the massive Tempio della Concordia. There is a large circular sun bed, with an adjustable canopy and soft mattress – the best hotel terrace we’ve encountered.

After unpacking, we took a swim, dried off and went back to our private terrace and had a delightful few hours of sun and reading. Dinner was outside, not wonderful, but a good improvement over Palermo. 

Thursday, June 13, 2013

We were up early to a delightful day, and set out walking to the Valle Dei Templi, poorly named since the vast site sits not in a valley, but high on a plateau looking down to the south and the Mediterranean.

It was just a short walk from the hotel; it took some time to get our bearings. We strolled up the slight hill of Via Sacra to the majestic Tempio della Concordia, visible from our terrace. Scholars date the structure to 430 BCE, and it is well preserved only because it was transformed into a Christian church in the 6^th century CE, and not razed to the ground. It is not known to which god the temple was dedicated, the name comes from a Latin inscription found nearby.

Next along was the Tempio di Hera Lacinia, dedicated to Juno, protectress of matrimony and childbirth. Backtracking, we re-crossed the entrance and visited Tempio di Zeus, Tempio di Castore e Polluce (Castor and Pollux) and Tempio di Eracle. This whole area was sacked by the Carthaginians in 406 BCE and much restored by the Romans the 1^st century BCE.

We had a late lunch on the hotel’s terrace, and enjoyed the balance of the afternoon’s sun on our terrace – very tranquil. Dinner was outside; nothing special, but the local wine, a 2009 Bianca di Valguarnera was fantastic.

We had a restful sleep.

Friday, June 14, 2013

We thought we might have to move rooms, but things worked out so we can stay put. After some sun, we set off to Villa Romana del Casale, about 1 ½ hours east and into central Sicily.

Villa Romana del Casale was a country villa, built toward the end of the 3^rd century BCE, perhaps by Maximian. It represents the McMansion of its day, 37,000 square feet and surrounded by other like size

dwellings. It was occupied until the 12 century CE; then destroyed by fire and landslides in 1161. It was only partially rediscovered in the 1800s.

The site is remarkable because of its well preserved mosaic floors; featuring mythological scenes, hunts, circus games, and incidents from daily life. The most famous room is Sala delle Dieci Ragazze in Bikini; ten young ladies pictured in underwear, commonly worn at the time for gymnastics.

I found the whole place unrewarding. It was dirty, poorly signed; with a grumpy and sullen staff. The elevated walkways are too narrow, and tours clog them, creating cues with people pushing their way through. The mosaics themselves aren’t well cared for; dust and even some litter spoiling your view of these intricate masterpieces.

We were back to Villa Athena for a late lunch, a nice plate of spaghetti, with a fresh local white wine from Maria Costanza. For dinner, our steaks were overcooked and too tough, but the view remained spectacular.

Saturday & Sunday, June 15 - 16, 2013

Our final two days were set aside for doing nothing. The weather was completely cooperative, delivering

cloudless sky and plus 80˚F temperatures; a soft breeze was added for good measure. On Sunday we thought about one more trip to the Planeta vineyard in Menfi, but decided to be lazy instead.

It was breakfast, sun on our private terrace’s oval sun bed, swimming, more sun, lunch with a wonderfully fresh 2012 Regaleali Bianco; more sun, reading, some writing; and dinner of swordfish and grilled vegetables.

The final dinner was some pasta, lamb, the mandatory cannoli consumption; a hearty 2008 Planeta Santa Cecila to wash things smoothly down.

Perhaps we have finally discovered Sicily’s purpose on earth – just doing nothing, but doing it well.

Monday, June 17, 2013

It was one more lovely morning. We had breakfast, passed on some touring advice about Palermo to fellow travelers seated next to us, and then up for some final basking under the Sicilian sun; Judith had a quick swim.

We had lunch and then left for Catania Airport by 2:00 pm; arriving at Hertz’s return after a two hour drive. The airport continued in the Sicilian tradition of service we had come to expect; bad signage, no seating; a business lounge with only a dozen seats, all full; no snacks, just water, no wine or alcoholic beverages. People arriving were so shocked; they just started to laugh uncontrollably.

The British Airways flight left about an hour late, arriving into Gatwick at eleven. Masood was waiting for us and had us to our flat at 12:30 am; more weary than when travelling back from the States. We crashed to bed, finally our own bed.

Oxford Overnight

On March 7th we met New Hampshire friends Pat and Paul in Oxford for an overnight visit. Our train arrived after an hour’s travel from London at a bit before eleven, to a wet and gray morning. We caught a taxi to our accommodations, the Old Parsonage Hotel on Banbury Road.

Pat and Paul were visiting with their pretty and energetic 25 year old daughter Emma. She is in post graduate studies in anthropology, housed in Keble College, one of the 38 colleges comprising Oxford University. Emma earned a coveted “Rhodes Scholarship” and as been here since last summer.

Shortly after noon, the four of us braved the awful weather and walked the city’s medieval streets. We stopped into the Pitt Rivers Museum, a wonderfully eclectic anthropological and archaeological collection originally constructed by Augustus Pitt Rivers in 1884. His artifacts (over 22,000 items) were the basis of the compilation, arranged “thematically” over three floors. After this visit, we stopped at the Rhodes House; Paul charmed the warden and we were allowed a fast peek into the vestibule and grand foyer; a building for the exclusive use of its namesake scholars.

All our efforts were rewarded with lunch at the Turl Street Kitchen. Afterward we strolled some more, trying to avoid the biggest puddles; then stopped for a look into Merton College and its 13th century Chapel Choir. A bit more walking took us to The Eagle & Child Pub, a 17th century establishment frequented by C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien who met here as students in the 1930s to discuss their unfinished manuscripts; we had some drinks and pleasant conversation – then back to the hotel.

The quartet reconvened in the hotel’s lobby at five and walked to Magdalen College for their evening song; a lovely boys’ choir. There was one little probationer among the singers, a blond cherub who could hardly stay awake; I must say the music was heavenly. After meeting up with Emma and her boyfriend Phillip, we were all off by taxi to dinner at Trout at Wolvercote. This 17th century public house sits north of Oxford at the edge of the Thames and the Godstow Bridge. The early evening was atmospheric; a spray induced fog hung over the long terrace creating an obscure and ghostly outlook as the swollen river roared by, at what seemed almost eye level.

Another friend of Paul met us there; Nicholas is an Oxford man, retired, the embodiment and full essence of an English gentleman. Our conversation spanned the lighthearted to geopolitical sadness; marvelous stories of international adventures and more. I was most struck by Emma and Phillip's passion for things, their depth of experience and their sense of potential – wonderful young people. After returning to the hotel we had a last nightcap with Pat and Paul; and shuffled off to bed after midnight.  

We awoke Friday morning to a grey day with low cloud threatening more rain.  After breakfast, we walked to the Ashmolean Museum on Beaumont Street; Nicholas is a trustee there as well as at the British Museum in London. The Ashmolean focuses on art and archaeology and was the world’s first university museum, started in the 1670s. The present building dates to 1841. We had an hour’s stroll around the airy and well lit displays.

We then met up with Emma; she had arranged with a friend to provide all of us with a tour of New College; a rather misleading name since it was founded by the Bishop of Winchester in 1379. Josh was a marvelous tour guide, brimming with tidbits of the institution’s history and folklore. The grounds were breathtaking; its gardens protected by lovingly preserved Norman walls. I can’t imagine how it all must look in the bloom of spring.

After a quick run through Oxford’s covered market we were back to the Old Parsonage for lunch; also meeting up with Phillip. Service was lacking and our meal stretched over two hours, but the saving grace was the still lively conversation. A goodbye to our friends and a short taxi back to the station; we arrived to Paddington at four.  It was a very enjoyable and engaging overnight jaunt.

25th Wedding Anniversary - Nassau

I first experienced the Bahamas with my uncle almost 50 years ago; a half century has somehow slipped under my feet! He had a wonderful ketch of forty-five feet, the “Tamatoa,” berthed at the Nassau Harbor Club.

Some history; in 1959 Huntington Hartford, the A&P supermarket heir purchased what was then known as Hog Island. It is just north of New Providence Island and the city of Nassau; the water separating these two islands formed Nassau Harbor. Hartford changed the name from Hog to Paradise Island; building the Ocean Club, Cafe Martinique, Hurricane Hole, the Golf Course, among other island landmarks. He also acquired and installed the Cloisters, a 14th-century French Augustinian monastery originally purchased in Montréjeau and dismantled by William Randolph Hearst in the 1920s; it forms a majestic backdrop to the Ocean Club’s Versailles Pool. A bridge was constructed to connect the two islands.

 The opening of Paradise Island in 1962 was covered in Newsweek and Time magazines; Hartford hired the staff from Eden Roc at Hotel Du Cap to work off season at the Ocean Club. This was an exotic destination at the time; I didn’t realize I was rubbing elbows with such glamour.

But summers here for me were mostly about the relaxed yacht culture, out-island exploring and the ocean. I have fond and lasting memories of this time.

I was next back in December 1987 to marry my wonderful wife Judith on Christmas Eve. We stayed on Paradise Island and at the Ocean Club. Some of the shine was already off the place, but it was still elegant. By this time the island had been sold to Donald Trump (well known for his exquisite taste), and then to Merv Griffin; plans were hatching to more fully exploit the island’s resources. Still, we had a happy and pleasant few days here.

Fast forward yet another twenty-five years to 2012 and Judith and I were back to celebrate our 25th Anniversary. By this time the Atlantis Resort on the western end of Paradise Island had been fully developed. The Ocean Club was expanded from a cozy and relaxed fifty rooms to over one hundred; three villas, a themed “star-chef” restaurant. The aspect of the original building had architecturally spun 180 degrees; the old entrance transformed into a very tony spa. The hotel was now managed under the upscale moniker of the “One & Only.”

After his purchase of the island from Griffin in 1994, South African hotel magnate Sol Kerzner bulldozed most everything and in addition to expanding the Ocean Club, built a series of monstrous hotels, water rides and other attractions; fully obliterating the former natural landscape of the western stretch of the island with his new “Atlantis.” The result is a gigantic land-based cruise ship for all intents and purposes.

Until this time, there was a small canal that ran from the western end of the island through to the harbor. I well remember passing along its banks in our Boston Whaler, the tender of the Tamatoa. In the 1965 James Bond movie “Thunderball,” the home of Largo, the arch villain of “SPECTRE,” was along this canal, filming took place at the villa of the wealthy Sullivan family. Who can’t recall the shark pool scenes? Near the outlet to the harbor, the famous Café Martinique’s restaurant and patio serenely blended with the water and the landscape.

 Sadly, the Atlantis development obliterated all of this. There is nothing left of the canal; in its place is “Atlantis Marina” village, a smallish dock area with yachts totally out of proportion to the scale of the place and a soulless replica of Caribbean life re-imagined in a Disney-esque bad dream. The embodiment of this bleak metamorphosis is the reincarnated Café Martinique, placed in the fake and perfectly cobbled walkways. The former was a “one-of-a- kind” venue with an inimitable vibe; now a disguised Outback Steakhouse or other some such franchise.  Jean-Georges Vongerichten has lent his good name for a pound of silver; I never liked his fusion cooking style that much; now I like it even less. The wine list used to be boundless; now the vintages aren’t even listed for most bottles. The captain told me it was too much trouble to keep changing the list. Our food was terrible, service amateurish with a certain air of misplaced superiority. Clientele were matched well with this; our dinner was set among flip-flop melodies from passing persons in their flip-flops; shorts, even one sleeveless undershirt. The only things that remained at a high standard were the prices.

It’s curious that the 2006 Bond flick “Casino Royal” was shot in and around the Ocean Club – Daniel Craig was good, but to paraphrase Lloyd Bentsen: “Daniel, your no Sean Connery.” Like the movie, the Ocean Club and Paradise Island had become a ghost of something past; something that was more real, more natural, and more of the moment.

Luxury is “a state of great comfort or elegance, especially when involving great expense,” “an inessential, desirable item or service which is expensive or difficult to obtain;” “a pleasure obtained only rarely.” True luxury had been replaced by mass luxury; which deprived me of the sumptuousness I desired.

Even to myself as I write, I sound like a crotchety old fart. I am a fossil complaining about the modern world, longing for the past of my younger days; of memories made more enchanting by the sentimental mist of time.

There was, of course, one saving grace: Judith. With her I enjoyed the sun, reading, swimming, walking, making fun of the atrocious food and service, discreetly mocking other guests, lamenting the sprawl and soullessness and, yes, other miscellaneous whining. We had a good time with each other, we always do. It was a pretty good seven days; the weather sure beat London’s or New York’s.

   Actually it’s hard to complain, but as you can see I still manage quite effortlessly.