We apologize for the long delay between texts. The Noodles were not overcome by vanity and the need to show off their tans by posting two blogs in a row of only photos. We were in two very expensive countries and we thought it might be nice to eat a meal once in a while (by meal we mean slice of pizza) rather than spend the Euros in a sweaty internet cafe. Where did we leave off...
Verona, Italy. On a warm July evening under the clear Italian sky, we braved the masses of 75 year olds and fought our way into the cheap seats of Verona's 1,900 year old outdoor arena to watch a performance of La Boheme. We were lucky to plop down right behind a rowdy Italian man whose pre-show antics included farting with his armpits, throwing food into the crowd, and making rabbit ears behind concert-goers posing for pictures. But once the show began, his passion for opera took over and he was totally consumed, intently conducting along with the maestro and even hushing another guy in our section who dared to hum along with the first aria. By the end, he was crying. These people love their opera. So did we. It was amazing.
We took a day trip into Venice. We'd both been there before and when the dust settles amid the perpetual battle for preeminence among white tennis shoe wearing tourists, pigeons and the omnipresent bane of Europe, restoration scaffolding, it's still a stunning city. But why does "Let's Go" Italy recommend a visit to the Canadian bath and body chain retailer "Lush" in its Venice shopping section? Strange.
The Noodles spent the next few days bouncing between overpriced "budget" hotels in and around the Italian Riviera (As a sidenote - although the Euro has made Italy a much more expensive country to visit, the Italians have used little if any of their extra tourist dollars to fix up their hotels and trains. One hotel we stayed at didn't even have a lock on the shared bathroom that was down the hall from our room.) We tripped the shores fantastic of Santa Margherita Ligure, Portofino, Cinque Terre, and Alassio. We spent one day hiking the beautiful, cliffside trail between two Cinque Terre towns, Vernazza and Corniglia. Interestingly, the path has become overrun by troops of European and Aussie fitness buffs whose sole purpose seemed to be to walk right through us, practically stepping on our faces and caring little about the famed views as they plowed along the narrow paths,leaving two trembling Noodles clinging to the olive-treed cliffsides to avoid tumbling down the mountain in their wake. In Portofino we delighted in watching rich people do rich things like toss their Louis Vuitton water skis to their Gucci clad butler when boarding the yacht they borrowed from Valentino for the weekend. And in Alassio, home of the famous Bacci kiss, a fudge filled treat in the shape of two kissing fish (surely, this was invested by the Japanese?), we bravely toured all the city's bakeries, sampling each establishment's version of the kiss, before deciding which one was the best. Because someone had to do it.
Finally, the highlight of our last few days in Europe was spent with friends at their summer house in Lezignan, France an adorable little town just outside the Provence region in the South of France. We ate cheese and drank French wine and delighted in having real conversations with smart, funny people. We spent an afternoon touring the cheese caves of Roquefort where 70% of all the Roquefort cheese in the world comes from. We were surprised to learn that the stinky blue cheese was discovered when a man left his cheese sandwich in the cave one day while he went to chase a girl. When he returned, the cheese had molded to the delight of the recently laid Frenchman who proclaimed, "Que magnific!" at his delicious moldy cheese.
On our final day in France, we bid our friends farewell and were deposited at the Montpellier train station to begin making our way back to Italy via Nice. After having been reassured that French trains are only late on the rare occasions when there is a fire, an electrical problem or a suicide on the tracks, our train ended up taking off nearly 5 hours late after the Montpellier station was paralyzed by a fire, electrical problems and a suicide on the tracks. No matter, we simply missed our connecting overnight Nice-Rome train and, along with the other affected passengers, were herded, refugee-style, around the Nice train station for several hours in the middle of the night until it was decided that instead of the train company paying for us to stay in a hotel until we could catch connecting trains in the morning, they would board us all in empty couchette carriages on unused trains at the station. With a restful 2 hours of sleep under our belts, we finally made it onto a 5am train to Rome on which every conductor that came by to examine our tickets during the 12 hour trip chuckled at the 2 American dummies who paid 3 times as much for an overnight, direct train with a sleeper car when they in fact were riding a slow, regionale day train. Thanks for pointing that out.
Rome was vibrant and exciting as ever, although we'd both been before and missed getting to tour around the city with newbies Beck & Yancy, our intended travel partners on this leg of the tour. Next time! And next time we'll know to go straight to the Del Palma gelateria near the Parthenon for some of the best gelato in Italy. When skinny Oprah recently exclaimed, "Nothing tastes as good as being thin," it was clear that she has never enjoyed a double scoop of Del Palma's dark chocolate apricot ice cream. Twice in a day.
Now we're in Israel. El Al did their typical and reassuringly thorough interrogation of us before allowing us to board the plane from Rome to Tel Aviv. But what can you say when someone asks you whether any item in your luggage may resemble a bomb? What does a bomb even look like? We picture a black, cannon ball looking thing with a sizzling fuse and ACME printed on the side, maybe with Bugs Bunny tied to some railway tracks nearby. So depressing that we even have to consider such things. But we're enjoying being with Ande's family and staying with the fabulous hostess, Ilana, who teaches us Hebrew and takes us shopping at local grocery stores where we get to pick out our future baby-daddies among the endless throngs of hot Israeli shoppers. The hot shoppers are everywhere. So much so that Ilana doesn't even see them anymore. Where she sees 'just a guy', we see Israel's Next Top Model. Shalom for now.
