Ladies Tea Party

High Tea at Bluffers Park!

Gidget invited us to put on flowered dresses and hats and hosted a high tea for some of the ladies at BPYC.

Fine china & gorgeous teacups were used to set a beautiful table.  I've never been to a High Tea before so this was a real treat:  pinwheel sandwiches, scones, meringues, lemon squares and petit fours.  Much of it prepared from scratch by the talented Gidget herself.  Yummy.

We also sampled different kinds of tea:

• Harmony flowering tea, with a delicate unfolding flower
• Princess Earl Grey (a combination of white tea with tiny rosebuds and the aroma of bergamot)
• Creamy Nut Oolong (apple pieces, caramel bits, almond pieces, sunflower and mallow flower)
• Coco Caramel (a dessert blend of Rooibos, cocoa bean shells & caramel flavours - the colour of toffee!)
• Sunset Honeybush (a wellness blend with mangoe pieces, strawberry leaves & pieces + orange peel)

The teas were poured into glass pots so we could taste with our eyes:  the flowers and herbs, the colour of the water deepen with the leaves.  After sampling them all, I felt a bit drugged and very relaxed.  As the festivities wore on, more than a few of the men wandered past with forlorn looks on their faces, asking why they hadn't been invited.  Poor things. Next time they will just have to wear flowered  dresses.

Thanks, Gidget!  What a great time! 

Venice

I took a series of photos when night was falling in Venice that turned out very blurry...  but they somehow manage to capture the mood and quality of light.  Dreamy, impressionistic.

What a city!

We hopped off the ship early in the morning and didn't return until almost midnight.

Over 400 churches, Marco Polo's apartments, Cassanova's apartments, the Doge's Palace, St. Mark's square, the markets, the gardens, the canals, the cafes, the gelato....

Gorgeous buildings. Layers on layers of paint, the different colours peeking through centuries.

I liked the bits and pieces I learned about the Venetians.  They were practical merchants, loved beauty and good government.  The noblemen had a very complicated system to elect the Doge - trying to avoid undo influence:

Thirty members of the Great Council, chosen by lot, were reduced by lot to nine; the nine chose forty and the forty were reduced by lot to twelve, who chose twenty-five. The twenty-five were reduced by lot to nine and the nine elected forty-five. Then the forty-five were once more reduced by lot to eleven, and the eleven finally chose the forty-one who actually elected the doge.^[1]

They loved to count and chronicle.  At one point the census showed more than 11,000 prostitutes and courtesans.  They had their special quarters, as did the Jews.  And the Germans.  And the merchants.  Very organized.  Extremely regimented.  The public archives are open and available to scholars who can access these ancient records, along with fragments left by Galileo and Leonardo da Vinci.

Napolean is not well liked by most Italians, but especially not by Venetians, because he destroyed the Republic of Venice, which had existed for over a millennium, from the late 7th century AD until the year 1797. It is often referred to as La Serenissima, in reference to its title in Venetian, the Most Serene Republic.

When we were leaving the Doge's Palace I saw a book called 'Secret Gardens of Venice' and would have bought it if I didn't have to lug it around.  Now that I am googling at home I see there are regular tours that can be arranged.

Every once in awhile I'd glimpse some green, like this little garden.  And the hanging baskets and window boxes and terrace gardens. With so much stone and water everwhere, the vegetation really pops.


A full day of walking around ended with a gondola ride, just as night was falling.  We waited until most of the gondolas has been put to bed and avoided the traffic jam.  As we toured in the magic hour we only crossed paths with one other boat.  A few Italian bats flew overhead to keep us company.

When it was dark we went to St. Mark's Square.  There were three different restaraunts with orchestras playing, and the crowd would run from one to the next as they played.  We decided to sit down.  A waiter dressed in a tux came and gave us the menu - $12 Euro for an ice cream seemed extravagant, but we wanted to treat Alex.  And of course, a glass of wine for me, and a Compari for Rob.  We were still surprised when the bill came.  It didn't add up.  And then we saw the charge for the 'music show'.  Another $17 Euro.  Yet, somehow it seemed a small price to pay.

When we woke the next morning, this was the view from our suite's window.  The boat had traveled to the base of St. Mark's, and we hopped off as quick as we could to see more.

Departure time was 1:30 so we were able to cram in more sights.  At 1:00 we returned to the boat and it looked like 2000 people were standing in line to board.  So we grabbed a table at a nearby cafe and sipped on lemoncello.  For as long as we possibly could.  I think we were among the last ten to board.

Next time I will rent an apartment and stay at least two weeks.

I recently spoke with someone who spent a year writing in Venice and improving their Italian.  Sounds like an excellent investment to me!

Cinque Terre

The five villages of Cinque Terre are built right into the cliffside... the buildings look as though they might slide into the sea.   But looks are deceiving;  they've weathered centuries.

The use of cars and bikes is restricted here, which helps preserve the cobblestone... and the overall feeling of tranquility. The train makes travel between villages very quick, but serious hikers opt to use the connecting trails between hamlets.

Many of the churches are well-preserved, others are falling into neglect., but all seem distinct and unique.  One was dark, cool, with candles flickering in the heat of the day.  Another was filled with marble and glowed in the sunlight.  Yet another had statues of macabre skeletons and skulls waving down at you from the ceiling, reminding you of your mortality. Another had a portal to the sea - I can imagine the priest blessing the villagers' fishing boats.

The views everywhere are stunning.  We found ourselves peering down the rockface into crashing waves and then staring up into the green terraced vineyards.

The art of  Silvio Benedetto appears throughout the villages on murals or mosaics.  Birds, fish, waves, sea, sky.  In one mural, he's captured the backbreaking work of people constructing the terraces.  It is no accident that the villagers  depicted here are older. Like many towns the younger generation is flocking to urban centres, looking for easier work.

These terraces were first built without the benefit of heavy machinery.  Rocks gathered and carried, lifted, and then buried in place by men and women working on their hands and knees.  

Now grapes are grown here.  The most famous wine of this DOC is its namesake - Cinque Terre - a dry white wine made of Bosco, Albarola and Vermentino grapes.  Absolutely delicious.  There was the taste of the cliffs and the Mediterranean sea in the glass I sampled.  Unfortunately Cinque Terre wine isn't easily found in Toronto...  I've looked for it since I've been back, but it is bottled in too small a quantity and apparently doesn't travel well. 

In Manarola we had the most amazing pizza.  Basil pesto, tomato sauce, and white cheese painted in swirls on a delicious crust.  Every bite a different flavour combination. We enjoyed the taste sitting in the warm sun, watching the water bobbing the boats.

We didn't get to see Cinque Terre at night, so I guess we will just have to go back some day.  Now there are direct flights from New York to Pisa.  A great itinerary would be a few days in New York City, followed by flying to Italy to spend a week at a Tuscan farmhouse, and then a few days by the sea in Cinque Terre.  Harvest time would be ideal!

Cannes

So this is the Côte d'Azur.  Sun glittering on the turquoise Mediterranean sea, the wind blowing my hair as we tender to shore.   Cool and sunny. 

It is unbelievably crowded in Cannes the day of our visit, because both the film festival and Monaco Grand Prix are taking place the same weekend.

Paparazzi are setting up ladders and staking territory, but it will be hours before an A-lister shows... In the meantime the tour bus is inching through the chaos to take us to Grasse and St. Paul de Vence.

After what feels like an hour but is more likely ten minutes, we've cleared traffic and are racing through the countryside and heading into Provence, passing  pale yellow stucco cottages with terracotta roofs.

This is not the Grasse of my fantasies.  I had hoped for acres of roses and jasmine, this being the perfume capital of the world.  But now most of the flowers are shipped from other countries in the form of essential oils.   A pretty French woman at Gallimard explains to us that it takes about one metric tonne of jasmine petals to make a single kilogram of Jasmine oil.  She says this with a charming accent that magically combines the sound of well borne British and lilting Parisian.

She shows us the room where 'the Nose' tries to come up with the perfume that will take the world by storm.  There are very few 'Noses' in the world and they live a cloistered life.  No alcohol, no spicy food.  On the upside, they only work three or four hours a day.  But I have to wonder what they do with all their free time?  On display are the tools that were used centuries ago to distill scents.  Copper pots and rose and jasmine petals caught in glycerine frames.

Somehow the tour ends in the showroom, with an explanation of what good value we'll get by spending our perfume dollars at the source.  The beautiful blonde does a great job of selling.  Alex picks out something special for Penny.  I buy a sampler of fragrances because I can't decide.  Even Rob buys some perfume that smells of "sea and forest".... Who can resist?  As I type this I am dabbing some Canaica on my pulse points - I've never really worn perfume in the past but now it seems like a great way to travel!

On to St. Paul de Vence.  Past the young men playing Boulles in the courtyard, and then wandering through the twisty, narrow streets.  If we had more time I would go to the Maeght Foundation  to see Chagall.  It is a surprise to see his grave, I didn't realize he died here.  The monument is simple and spare.  I didn't know Chagall was Jewish, but in honour of his tradition I leave a pebble.


No graffiti here. The doors and cisterns and bricks all seem to be works of art.

I wonder about the people who walked these streets 1000 years ago and what they might think if they saw the crowds wandering in their streets now.

Every so often through the fortified walls I catch a glimpse of the rolling hills beyond and think of the sea.  It must have been much closer to the foothills of this fortress than it is today.  How boundaries shift.

The avenues are filled with galleries,  artists new and established hoping to make a sale. Shops with something for every price point.  I consider buying a Provence-inspired tablecloth, but no, it is round and my table is square.  Handmade paper.  Olive oil.  Wine.  Absinthe.  As tempting as everything is I don't want to stop and purchase.  I don't want to carry heavy bags, they'll just weigh me down.

Barcelona

Going through some of the Barcelona photos.   This great city was the port of our departure.

After we stowed our bags at the hotel, Rob talked Alex and I into heading underground.   The subway was a tangled maze... Here in Toronto we really only have two lines to contend with, but Barcelonians seem to have at least eight spiderly legs to navigate.  We traveled a few stops along one line and then transferred to another to get to La Segrada Familia.

Exhausted after the long flight, and in a bit of a daze. Cameras in hand. Snap-happy, we were.  It is just so easy to point and shoot.  I made a genuine effort to turn off the camera every now and then to remind myself the view was much bigger than the digital fragments caught by my camera.  Of course, no sooner did I turn it off than another shot  presented itself.

In 'Girls Like Us', Carly Simon said she would often come across her mother standing and staring off into space, and when asked what she was doing, she would say, "Taking a picture with my mind."  There were many times on this trip when I tried to absorb myself in the scenery,  putting all my senses to work, even using my skin to register what it felt like to be in that place, at that moment.

Which brings me to standing in La Segrada Familia, and feeling as though I'd been turned into some kind of ephemeral underwater plant.  The vaulted ceiling arching so high above.  Such a vibrant space, light spilling against curves.  I've never been in an interior - let alone a church - that seemed to capture so much contradiction within its walls.  Sacred, profane, dark, light, fleeting, eternal.  Could have spent days there.  The sound in the background was loud, shrill construction:  electric drills, welding tools, heavy objects scraping against the floor.  Construction started here in 1883 and they are working frantically because the Pope will be coming to consecrate the building November 7, 2010.  Masses are supposed to start being held again in September 2010.  But the building will be far from finished - I think construction is scheduled for the next 100 years.

From there we ventured to La Rambla.  This street is made for walking, and goes on for miles.  We kept veering off the straight path to explore the narrow streets.  And then suddenly, right ahead of us, we came across St. Josep, the market we wanted to see.  Alive with colour, a tumble of smells and delicious sounds. We grabbed a fistful of macadamia nuts - the biggest I've ever seen - and continued to munch on them as we wandered.

Some of the graffiti we came across was quite artful, others, not so much.  Seeing 500 year-old doors defaced by inarticulate blotches was sometimes distressing.  In other places the swatches of colour brought dark corners to life.

We had a light supper and fell into our beds.

The next morning, we took one of those tour buses for a whirlwind two hour tour.  The buildings and balconies rushed past, we climbed up the mountain and back down again, snaking our way past the port.  The city seems so livable, with lush green parks,  wide boulevards.  Sexy-curvy Gaudi buildings, sleek steel, glittering glass, gothic cathedrals - everywhere a picture. I raised my camera like a periscope in the air, snap happy again, not even bothering to use the viewfinder.

Then time to grab the luggage and head for the boat.