Lake Maggiore? More Like Lake Magic, Amirite?

 After viewing The Last Supper, we were able to get out of Milan without make illegal turns, driving on the wrong side of the road, driving on tram-only routes, or any other such nonsense.

We head north to Stresa, which is on the west side of Lake Maggiore, approximately half way up.  

(Editor: I feel a disturbance in the Force.  Oh, I get it, there are puns in our future, aren’t there?  Blogger: Hmm. . .I hadn’t thought of it till you just mentioned it!  Editor: Liar, you’ve been planning this!)

It was pretty easy to get to the hotel. . .you might say it was a low Stresa drive! (Editor: There's one!) 

We got to our hotel, the Villa & Palazzo Aminta, around six o’clock, and we were pretty wiped out (me especially).  Checking in, we were able to shift dinner from a restaurant downtown to the hotel’s restaurant.  The last thing we wanted to do was to rush to get ready.  

The suite we had booked (using our club, Inspirato – otherwise a five night stay would have required a loan, and at these interest rates, who can afford that?) has a small balcony with stunning views of the lake.  There is also a small sitting room upstairs (we are on the 4th floor – there is no 5th floor).

The lake is famous for the three Borromeo islands, and they are all right out on the lake in front of us.  The lake is 41 miles long, and we are lucky enough to have the islands right out our balcony.  There are also mountains visible all around the lake, including some further off Italian and Swiss Alps.  Pretty incredible setting. 

Isole Bella -- the most important

 of the three islands.

Isole dei Pescatori -- the only inhabited

of the islands.  A fishing village, we

never made it to this one.

Despite the haze, we had good views

of the jagged Alps from our balcony.

Clock tower on Pescatori,

shot from our balcony.

Some of the town of Bavena,

to the north of our hotel.  

I’m writing this while waiting at Milan’s Malpensa Airport to fly to Amsterdam.  The Italian portion of our trip is over (which tells you how far behind I am on the blog!), so I can put the Villa/Lake Maggiore in perspective.  We didn’t sit out on the balcony every night, but we did go out most early evenings/nights to have a drink and be amazed by the timeless views.

It’s like no place we have ever stayed.  We’ve stayed in some very nice places, but the hotel and area is timeless elegence.  I kept expecting to see Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall at the table next to us, or Cary Grant and Sophia Loren drive by in a convertible.  

Oh, don’t worry about me.  There were no sudden displays of luxury and taste from me.  But, more than I expected, I enjoyed the no Stresa there (Editor: there's two!).  I suppose aging does that to a person.

Carol's Bucket List, Saved

The second biggest downside of my nearly passing out/weakened state is that we didn't get to tour Milan. 

The biggest downside was that we were going to have to give up our small tour of The Last Supper painting.  It was the one thing we were doing on the trip Carol was most looking forward to.  

Seeing The Last Supper painting has been on Carol's bucket list since she was a teenager, and I was on the verge of ruining our opportunity (not to mention wasting the money I had spent buying the tour tickets).

Well, Carol had already decided that we shouldn't do the tour.  I, of course, counter-planned that I would drop her off and she would see it without me.  However, by the time we got back to the car at 2:30 pm, I felt much better and decided we both should go.

The church that contains the painting is only a 10-15 minute drive from the garage we were parked in.  It took us a half hour to get to our 3pm tour, cutting it as close as can be. 

Waze was always a beat late telling us where to turn, so we drove around the center of Milan, occasionally legally, but mostly illegal.  At one point we were following a tram on tram-only tracks/street.  We were supposed to be on the other side of the divide.  

And, the number of illegal turns, U-turns and driving partly in the wrong direction on one way streets may have set a new record.  The whole thing had a very "Chevy Chase/National Lampoon's European Vacation" vibe to it.  And yes, I know my role -- Clark Griswold.

Anyhoo, we eventually got out of the mess we were in and headed to the church, Santa Maria delle Grazie.   I dropped Carol off so she could find the group and tell them I would be there shortly. . .gratefully there is a parking garage less than a half block from the church and there were spaces.  Incredibly tight spaces, but I was able to back into a space without scraping the posts.

I was in such a rush that I forgot to grab the camera, which is a bummer.  The photos in the picture post were taken by iPhone, mostly by Carol with a few by me.

I joined the group just as our guide (name forgotten. . .it was a pretty crazy time) started his spiel.  As it turns out, we had plenty of time before our time to enter the refectory (dining hall) where the painting is.  First he talked about the church, the painting, and then we went into the church (the painting is not in the church itself) and visited the church cloister.  

The church is relatively understated for a Catholic church of those times.  Built in the 1490s, it is a UNESCO World Heritage Site, because of the painting.  

(Editor: Yeah, yeah, yeah, we all know -- "UNESCO means you must go!"  Blogger: I should trademark that and sell it to UNESCO.  Editor: Oh I'm sure they will be rushing to pay you!)

Santa Marie della Grazie

Another view

The frog fountain in the otherwise

uninteresting cloisters.  Portuguese

cloisters laugh at these cloisters.

Loudly.  "Ha, ha, ha, you call those

cloisters? Where I come from,

cloisters are stunning!

We finally got to go inside the museum.  The fact that the painting survived World War II is a story of luck and providence.  In August 1943 the refectory was bombed by the Allies (hey Fascists, play stupid games, win stupid prizes).  Sandbags protected the painting from bomb fragments, and only the roof and one wall was destroyed.

The less famous painting at the other end of the refectory, that of the crucifixion, also survived.  Because of the materials used in the painting, that picture is in much better shape.  And far less famous.  

(Editor: Did you even know the other painting existed.  Blogger: Um, no.)

Anyhow, without too much detail, da Vinci painted it over the course of four years, from 1495-1498.  Wikipedia tells it well:

The painting represents the scene of the Last Supper of Jesus with the Twelve Apostles, as it is told in the Gospel of John – specifically the moment after Jesus announces that one of his apostles will betray him.^[1] Its handling of space, mastery of perspective, treatment of motion and complex display of human emotion has made it one of the Western world's most recognizable paintings and among Leonardo's most celebrated works.^[2] Some commentators consider it pivotal in inaugurating the transition into what is now termed the High Renaissance.

Carol was so happy to see it she nearly cried.  I got goosebumps.  I was also relieved beyond measure that I had rallied enough that we could go see it.

I have no idea why we are both looking

away from the camera in these

two photos.  But they are proof we

were there!

Pizza and Frizzante Save The Day

In order to recover from my weakened state, I needed water, and I needed food.  Posthaste.

In hopes of finding life-sustaining gelato, we crossed (slowly) the amazing Duomo Piazza.  We went into the stunning Victor Emmanuel Gallerie. 

Right off the Piazza next to the Duomo, it is the most impressive shopping mall I've ever seen.  By a factor of hundreds.  

The Gallerie.

Built between 1865 and 1877, it is named after the first king of the Kingdom of Italy.  It is a four story double arcade, and they don't build them like this anymore.  It has an amazing glass dome at the intersection of the four wings, and the whole thing is a sight to be seen.

Had I been feeling better, I

would have taken more pictures.

But this will have to do!

The line for the gelato store was quite lengthy, so we continued on, making a right turn.  Carol, who took great care of me that day, was looking for a restaurant with air conditioning.  Not much luck, until we found a small pizza place.  There were no seats, but there was pizza by the slice. 

It wasn't particularly good pizza, but between getting some food and having more water, I started feeling much better.  I couldn't eat the whole slice of pizza (not because it wasn't very good, although that was a factor), but I felt much better.  

We walked back across the Piazza where I felt good enough to take some selfies.

The Duomo.  The people

wouldn't get out of my

way for a clean picture.

Mussolini gave speeches

from this balcony.  

What a loser.

Sculpture by our parking garage.

I'm smiling here, which is 

better than passing out.

In Which Your Beloved Blogger Tries to Pass Out

The rental car process in Milan was relatively easy, with the exception that the agent told me definitively the car is in parking stall 164.  The keys didn't work on that car, but Carol did hear the doors unlock on the car in 165. . .close as you'll get in Italy, so we took it.

(Side note: I always feel like Europeans disapprove of Americans hiring rental cars in Europe, as though we can't handle the narrow roads, the confusing street signs, the incredibly tight parking spaces, and general hubbub of the cities.  Of course, most of the disapproval seems to come from car rental agents.)

It was 98 degrees, which is quite a shock to the system coming from 70 degree weather in Amsterdam.

Our Tours by Locals guide, Veronica, sent me a What's App suggesting we park in Piazza Diaz, as it was near the Duomo.  We got there easily, parked, and were pleasantly surprised how close we were to the Duomo.  Just about one block away.

We were early, so we broke our cardinal food rule and went into a packed McDonalds on the Piazza Duomo to get hydrated and have a quick bite before the tour.  We met up with Veronica (another fabulous guide we highly recommend).

(Yes, I understand someone is laughing because, after being away from Italy for 15 years, my first meal after returning was from McDonald's, a place I refuse to eat in the States.  As John Madden once said during a football game, "irony can be so ironic.")

The big mistake I made was looking up at the Duomo into the hot sun.  Craning my neck made me light-headed as the blinding sun dazed and confused me.  I drank some water, but my supplies were starting to run low.

After getting the tickets, Veronica took us up the elevator to the roof.  We love walking on top of cathedrals, and with all the sculptures and ornamentation up top, the Milan Duomo is one of the best rooftops we have been on. 

But I wasn't feeling good.  At all.  I was pretty out of it, and frankly worried I would pass out.  A huge church roof on an incredibly hot day was not a good mix with how I was already feeling.  

Veronica was doing a great job guiding, but I was at the point where I let Carol do all the listening, while I took random photos and hoped not to crash.  The heat, the lack of sleep, the bad food all were a stew of problems. 

(Editor: It's been pretty hot in Virginia this summer.  Blogger: Yeah, but I've either been inside my air conditioned office working, or in the cooler Blue Ridge mountains most of the time.  When I go kayaking, I'm on the water early, and done before the heat of the day.)

Let me tell you, I was all but knocked out by the heat.  

The roof of the Duomo is amazing, but Carol and Veronica decided we needed to cut the tour short.  Thanks to Veronica's intervention with security, we took the  elevator back down, and went into the Cathedral.  

We sat in the pews as I drank lots of water.  Veronica knew where a fountain is nearby, so she kindly refilled my water bottle multiple times while talking Carol through the inside of the third-largest cathedral in Europe (after the Vatican and Seville).

After a while, I felt good enough to tour the Cathedral.  The most amazing thing we saw was the sculptured statue of Saint Bartholomew Flayed, by Marco d'Agrate in 1562.  

It depicts Bartholomew after he'd been flayed alive.  It is a ghastly yet endearing sculpture, All of his muscles, veins, and tendons are exposed, and he is holding flayed skin like a stole.  It is one of the most impressive early works on human anatomy.  Many tourists blew past it, not knowing what it depicted. But we lingered. 

We covered the rest of the inside of the Cathedral.  I was feeling marginally better, albeit not wonderful.  We released Veronica from the rest of her guiding duties, as I was in no shape to wander the streets of Milan.  

To be fair to me (Editor: that's a hard task), I was dehydrated, running on a lack of sleep, and hadn't eaten properly that day.  And, it was godawful hot.  I'm just glad I didn't pass out.

Not A Red Herring

I would be remiss if I didn't recount this short story.  On our way back to the hotel in Amsterdam, Bart brought up trying herring from a street food cart.  

Carol immediately declined, as bad tasting memories of eating herring as a youth at a German folk festival in Queens, New York came back to her.  

Based on her negative reaction, I declined too.  Bart didn't just lay down and take the loss.  He started giving me grief, challenging my manhood.

At the same time, I thought about the vow I had made to be more adventurous when (I am pretty adventurous as it is, but could be even better).

I changed my mind and agreed to try it.  Carol agreed as well, thinking that her tastes may have changed after 40+ years.  (Editor: Careful, you might be giving away your wife's age.  Writer: Ah, there is a enough fuzziness in that number.  It's not like I point out she graduated high school in 1981 for interested people to do the math!)

Anyhow, the herring was delicious.  Much better than it sounds.  So, if you are on the streets of Amsterdam, definitely have a Stroopwaffle and some herring.  In fact, we're going to get some more of both when we are back in a few days.

I'm Hoping to Leave, On A Jet Plane

After dinner in Amsterdam, we got back to the hotel room and Carol finished packing.  (Yes, Carol does all the packing because if I packed, I could only take about half the clothes she's able to fit in).  As Clint Eastwood would say, "A man's got to know his limitations."  Not only do I know my limitations, Carol certainly know them!

The terrible confusion and horrible understaffing plaguing Heathrow Airport is also impacting Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport.  While our flight wasn't until 8:25 am, we had been advised to get there at 5:30 am -- three hours in advance.  That meant a 5:00 am taxi pick-up, which meant a 4:15 am alarm, which meant we were not getting much sleep that night, on the heels of our transatlantic flight the night before.  

The airport was a zoo.  Long lines, terrible signage.  We spent about ten minutes in the first line we found before Carol overheard someone saying that the line we were in was for international flights outside of Europe.  Thank goodness there were no signs to that effect, or we might have known where to go.

We wandered down the huge airport lobby teeming with people before someone directed us where to go.  Again, the concept of signs seems to have eluded the Dutch authorities in charge of the airport.  Carol finally got to a machine to print our boarding passes.  Since we weren't checking luggage (very smart decision by Carol -- doing laundry several times during the trip is a small price to pay to actually NOT lose our luggage).

The chaos depicted at some European airports is real.  Plan accordingly.

The good news (well, besides that we easily made the flight) is that the security line, although quite long, moved rapidly.  The length of the line made us appreciate TSA pre-check and Clear, but the speed of the line made up for it.

They made us gate check our luggage, but that was a relatively simple process.

However, the combination of a lack of sleep (when already sleep-deprived) and lack of food options pre-flight turned problematic in the heat of Milan.  Yes, dear readers, this is called foreshadowing. 

A Major Duomo

Well, this is getting annoying.  Once again the blog program has flipped the order of my photos.  Oh well -- I could spend a bunch of time I don't have trying to put them in order, or I can just deal with it.  Just gonna deal with it. 

All stained glass windows were

taken down and stored during

World War II.  Some of the glass

in the Duomo is six hundred

years old, and some is forty 

years old.

Saint Bartholomew.  Skinned alive.

Created in 1562, the "robe" flowing

around him actually represents his 

skin.  You can see his muscles

in his legs, chest, and arms.

A most remarkable sculpture.

Mary, at the highest point

of the Duomo.

A nest of birds.

A whimsical frog.

Known as the vertical forest,

this apartment building features

90 different species of trees

and over 15,000 plants.

The building absorbs 30 tons

of carbon dioxide each year.

The picture is a bit faint,

thanks to the heat and the haze.

It's approximately

three kilometers away.

Cool columns topped by sculptures on the roof.

It only looks like the gargoyle is

eating people, aka soylent green.

You can really see the difference

between cleaning and the cleaning

yet to be done.

He sure is surprised.

It's amazing how clean some of this is,

and how dirty other parts are.

Any day you are taking pictures down

at a gargoyle is a good day, even if

you are on the verge of passing out

from the heat.

I took this, and the photo below,

from the ground.  As it turns out,

looking up at a steep angle

in the hot sun was a big mistake.

Mary is 354 feet above me

when I took this photo.

A Six Canal Walk to Dinner, And More

A highlight of the walking tour came when we stopped for a Stroopwaffle.  We’ve had them before, but this was freshly made and quite tasty.  Another highlight was going into the courtyard of what had been the Dutch East India company, the company in which stock was sold.  There will be pictures. . .the courtyard itself has a very interesting design.

The fact that the Dutch surrendered in the early days of World War II keep the city from being bombed to smithereens by the Nazis, so there are many interesting old buildings.  The canal ring zone of Amsterdam is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

(Blogger: Remember readers, UNESCO rhymes with “you must go.”  Editor: I knew this was coming!)

The only two negatives I would point out about Amsterdam is that there is often pungent aroma of marijuana in the air.  I understand that the Dutch legalized it to fight off harder drugs, and it appears that policy is working, but the smell of dope is gross, just like the smell of tobacco.  

The other observation isn’t so much a negative as a personal preference.  Amsterdam is a cool city, especially with all the canals, but to Carol and I it doesn’t have the jaw-dropping sights of southern Europe cities like Barcelona, Seville, Florence, or Rome.  

Now, part of that it because it is a much younger city, doesn’t have Roman ruins, and doesn’t have the grand cathedrals of southern Europe.  There are no defensive walls like in some German cities, or York.  No castles like in Edinburgh or chateaus in the Loire Valley.  I think we’ll enjoy our three upcoming days in Amsterdam, but we’re not blown away by the city.  

Don’t over read what I’m saying – we like Amsterdam, just that our jaws aren’t dropping open.

After six hours into our four hour tour, Bart kindly walked us back to our hotel.  I tipped him well, in appreciation for both the great tour he gave and that he added two hours on top of the scheduled four.  

We were starving, given that we’d skipped lunch and had a modest breakfast hours ago on the flight.  So we walked along a canal to an Italian restaurant for lunch at 4:30 pm.  We went simple, since we still had dinner reservations.  The food was great.  While much of Europe is sweltering in the heat wave (even northern Italy – more about that later), Amsterdam was a cool 71 degrees.

Carol napped while I caught up on work.  We had been able to get into our hotel room as soon as we got to the hotel from the airport, so that had been nice.  I had set a late dinner at Venus & Adonis, a restaurant about 0.7 of a mile from the hotel.  The food was good, the atmosphere casual, and we had to cross six canals to get to the restaurant (and then the same six to get back).  

Second Batch of Amsterdam Photos

Every so often the blog loads the photos backwards, so the last photo is shown first.  No idea why this happens, but here it went again!

Church clock tower near

Anne Frank's house.

House built by a Copper

Mill owner in 1746.

A new statue with no information

on the pedestal.  But the houses

in the back look cool, so I

added this photo.

The other wooden house still

surviving in Amsterdam.

Begijnhof.  I will let Wikipedia give the background:

The Begijnhof (" Beguinage ") is a complex of 164 dwellings ^[1] , built between the 15th and 18th centuries , located in the western part of central Amsterdam .

The place - as the name suggests - is a former beguinage , founded in 1346 by a brotherhood of beguines (women who had not taken vows, but dedicated their lives to assisting the sick and the elderly ^[2] ) from the surrounding area of the Dutch capital ^[3] , and is the oldest of the hofjes ("small courtyards") of the city ^[4] . Today, however, it is mostly inhabited by elderly ladies with little financial resources and by students, attracted by the favorable conditions of the rents ^[2] ; the last beguine lived there until 1976 ^[5] .

This musical contraption brought a lump to

Bart's throat as it reminded him of his youth. 

Equestrian statue of Queen Wilhelmina.

She is held in high regard, but so high

that she can't wear a traffic cone.

A secluded entrance to a bank, so neighbors

wouldn't see who is getting a loan.

Also above the bank entrance.

Cafes line the canals.

Carol and Bart.

The cool Dutch East India Company courtyard.

Narrowest house in Amsterdam.

The old city walls/a main gate.

The city quickly spread

beyond the walls.

"You People Are Crazy"

Our Amsterdam walking tour guide, Bart, exclaimed, “You people are crazy,” probably some point more than five hours into our four hour walking tour of the city.  

Honestly, thanks to jet lag, I don’t remember the specific circumstances of his uttering it, but I think it had something to do with our willingness to press on and see more of Amsterdam than most people would be willing to on less than two hours of fitful sleep.

Bart was a fabulous tour guide, taking all through the Old City and out to other parts of Amsterdam.

The trip itself was a late, impromptu addition to our travel schedule.  We had gotten an amazing deal on a hotel suite alongside Lake Maggiore in Italy.  We could only do it for five nights, so we needed somewhere else to visit.  

Well, our flight to Milan went through Amsterdam, so we added one day on the front to this gem of a city we had never been before, and still have three nights on the back end, before returning to the U.S.  So we’ll be back to Amsterdam at the end of the week to see more of it.

After the Machu Picchu/Galapagos trip ended in April, I was mourning the idea that we would not be traveling overseas for a long time when it hit me!  (Ow!).  Carol and I could travel to Europe, sightsee in the morning, and then I could work in the afternoon while she lounges by the hotel pool.  We were able to get the hotel suite for a song, and then the Amsterdam add-on.

So, here we are in Europe for the first time ever after April, trying to squeeze in a trip whilst working around work.  So, how’s it going?  Well, we are on day four of the trip, it’s early Monday morning, and so far we have walked 7.5 miles through Amsterdam, gone to the Duomo and been thrilled by the Last Supper in Milan, and escaped the heat wave in Northern Italy by driving up a mountain and traipsing around the top of it.  So far so good.  I was squeezing in work in Amsterdam, but today marks the real test, as work was relatively quiet over the weekend.

Anyhow, back to Amsterdam.  Bart, a very genial fellow, and quite tall, is formerly in finance, but switched careers a few years ago to do something different. . .guiding.  We have become big fans of Tours by Locals, a website that allows you to connect with local guides (hence it is  “Tours by Locals” and not “Tours by Outsiders”).  Bart had lived and worked in Charlotte, NC about twenty years ago, so his English was excellent and he has some feel for Americans.

He gave a great tour, as we looped around Amsterdam, explaining the history of various parts of the city as well as a history lesson about the factors that drove the Netherlands to be the first modern, capitalistic country in the world, starting in the 1500s.  Bart is quite proud of all the things the Dutch either invented or gave rise to.  

It’s impressive just how much the Netherlands punched, and still punches, above its weight in terms of small size to impact.  Even today, Amsterdam is only 900,000 people.  When the rise started, Amsterdam was only 3,000 people, but it quickly, thanks to both capitalism and religious tolerance.

We walked all over the city, covering Dam Square, crossing countless canals (I wish I had the presence of mind to have counted the number of canals), walking (relatively quickly) through the red light district, and past countless cafes, bars, and coffee shops.  I’m looking forward to going back to Amsterdam in a few days and spending time on the canals.