Day 6 in Cremona

Sleep came quickly that first night in Cremona. Since the room was warm, I had opened up the balcony doors allowing the cool night air to filter into the room while we slept. Sometime in the middle of the night, a pungent aroma began seeping into the room. It was a smell that reminded me of walking through tunnels or standing in a subway station in a big city. I thought to myself that there might be homeless people sleeping or living in open area between the buildings. The odor may also be coming from the manholes in the city itself. I got out of bed and shut the balcony doors and drifted off to sleep immediately. Luann had not even moved, which was a good thing. We woke up at 8:00 AM. and lazily took our time getting ready to go to breakfast. Today was considered a free day. After an optional morning walking tour of Cremona, we would have the the afternoon to do what we wanted.







It appeared the rest of the group had lounged around a bit this morning because the dining room was pretty full for 9:00 AM. The dining room was half the size of the dining room in the hotel at Stresa. There was a large table in the middle of the room, filled with cold cuts and cheese, breads, hard boiled eggs, yogurt, cereal, fruit, juices and pastry. There was a small table in the far corner where there were three decanters for coffee and hot water. In this restaurant there was no one to seat you and you helped yourself to the coffee. We sat at a table by ourselves because it looked like everyone was pretty well along with their breakfast. After filling our plates, I went to get coffee for the two of us. Doyle warned me that the coffee was strong and recommended a little hot water to tame it down. I should have noticed this because of the size of the cup. The cup was the size of a little kid's tea set and I wasn't sure that one cup would be enough for Luann. It looked like I was going to be up here a lot. Doyle understated the strength of the coffee. It tasted like someone had decided not to add water to it, but just melt the grounds. It didn't taste bad, it just made you wince with fear at the thought of the caffeine working through your system and making you feel like you had been given a blood transfusion with landscape light voltage. I could only drink one cup. Luann had two. We were now wide awake and ready to go. We were to meet outside the hotel at 10:00AM for the walking tour. A trip back up to the room to get a coat and sweatshirt was about all the time we had by the time we finished breakfast.







We all met outside the hotel at exactly 10:00AM as scheduled. The day was another beauty. It was sunny, a little breezy and the temperature at that hour was in the low to mid sixties. I could not believe the weather we had experienced on this trip. I had decided to wear shorts and my Notre Dame hooded sweatshirt over a short sleeve polo. I did not know how far this tour would go and I sure didn't want a repeat of the weather fiasco of the day before. Melissa prefaced the tour with an explanation that our scheduled tour guide had had a heart attack and that we would be having a substitute. There was no detail on the condition of the original guide, which made me drift off and imagine what her condition could possibly be. We all stood there, quiet, thinking about the tour guide. Our thoughts were quickly doused when the sub introduced herself. She was in her early to mid thirties, reddish hair, glasses and slender. As she talked to us in English, she would show us a pronounced accent that was very pleasant. She would pause on occasion to find the right English word to say and then pick up the tempo and continue her dialogue. She informed us that she did not have the knowledge that the original guide had, but that she did know Cremona, especially the violin connection and that we would still have a good tour. She led us away from the hotel and up the narrow street, where we came to a stop in the middle of the square, surrounded by the majesty of the tower and centurys old buildings. The group huddled around her as she talked about the history of the tower, the baptistry and the mostly the Cathedral. The breeze was more evident in the square and it would get a little chilly when the sun went behind an occasional cloud. However, it was a very nice morning, none the less. As she continued talking and giving us information on Pope Gregory, I found my self having problems understanding her. The openness of the square, the pedestrian traffic and the sound of motor vehicles made it hard to hear her. Her accent now made it difficult to understand her. I watched the group, especially Anne eagerly catching every word she was saying and laughing at the funny comments she would throw on occasion. As the lecture continued, some of us drifted a few steps back and talked. The guide informed us that the tower had five hundred steps leading to the top. When Luann heard this, she was quick to make plans that we would be walking to the top sometime today. She recruited Pat and Sharon and I knew was in by default.



The history lesson ended with more information than I could ever remember. We were now going to visit the violin manufacturing facility. However, it could not accomodate the whole group so we had to split up. Half of the group would go with the guide to the facility, while the other half would continue a walking tour of Cremona with Melissa. Luann and I, accompanied by Pat and Sharon, decided to do our own walking tour of Cremona and join Melissa and the others in the square at 11:00 AM to attend the violin demonstration. The four of us left the square and walked along a narrow street that intersected the square. There was a restaurant/ice cream shop on the corner. The rest of the street was lined with shops, bakeries and boutiques. There were no automobiles allowed on this street, but we did have to sidestep the occasional bicycle that would pedal by. The street was not real busy yet, but it was evident that it would be packed within an hour or so. We stepped into one of the chocolate shops and looked at the numerous articles they sold there. It was hard to imagine how all they could sell all of this inventory day after day, or if they didn't, what was the shelf life? The employees were helping another customer so our time here was short. We walked out of the store and window shopped at a nice jewelry store, where Pat and I separated from Luann and Sharon. We both saw the gleam in their eyes as they looked at diamond necklaces and bracelets and we knew we would be an easy kill in such a romantic setting. Fortunately for us, they were as frugal as we were and never asked us to buy them anything. I would make sure Luann got an ice cream before this day was over.





We came out of the narrow street into a boulevard that continued in both directions with more shops and restaurants. Across the boulevard was a park that was filling up fast with people. We walked across the street and noticed that the park served as a square. It was not a very big park but it had a uniqueness to it that got our attention. There were huge boulders stacked up along the far end of the park, where a person could walk around a tree-lined path. The boulders looked like large granite blocks that made for some careful stepping. We walked through this path and then headed back to where we came in. It was here that we found a small chained area that contained the grave of Stradevarious. It was under a magnificent oak tree and the inscription on the headstone depicted his contibution to the world of music. It was amazing to stand at this site and try to picture what the park or the neighborhood looked like in his day. It also made me realize how fast our lives fly by. A few short steps away from the grave was a playgound with swings. There were some younger people already enjoying the morning on the swing sets. Directly across the park on the opposite corner was a large indoor shopping center, with an open entrance that made it seem like it was outside. A person could walk through the open entrance and end up on another street not visible from the park. There were outdoor tables set up for the restaurant within the shopping center. We walked through the center and then started to make our way back to the square since our thirty minutes was almost up.





We walked back through the park and up the narrow street and saw Kenny and Shirley doing some window shopping along the way. Our group walked back into the cobblestone square and saw Melissa and the others waiting in the center. Melissa led us in the opposite direction, down another narrow street and we stopped in front of a small store. This was where we were going to learn about violin making. Inside we could see the other group clapping as the violin maker finished his presentation. The small door to the shop opened up and the other group started filing out. One of the Michigan tourists remarked that this presentation was worth the time and he was very impressed with what he had seen. Our group was welcomed into the small shop by the guide and we were encouraged to sit in one of the twelve small folding chairs set up in front of the violin maker. Pat chose to stand in the back by the small door as we were in pretty tight quarters.





The shop was the size of a good sized living room. Along one of the walls were the certificates certifying the violin maker as an approved maker of violins. Under the certificates was a small credenza that held a small hand saw, violin shells and various parts that went into making a violin. On the opposite wall was a small window, with a curtain in front of it. Along the wall, there was a small room that had a full length red curtain in front of it that I pictured to be the violin makers actual bench and work area. The back wall had a window and all sorts of wood working tools. There were small violins in various stages of production hanging from the ceiling. There was a young Italian, probably in his late thirties or early fortys standing in front of our seated group, with a small table separating him from us. He had a pretty violin in his hand and he constantly caressed it as if he was holding a precious kitten. He was short, slender with brown hair and he stood there waiting to be intorduced to the group. We quickly sat down and the guide introduced our host. He spoke very little English. He would say a few words in Italian, then the guide would interpret it to us and the process would repeat itself constantly. The young man had a sense of humor because he would say something to the guide, the guide would share it with the group and then people would laugh. I could not make anything out of the conversation. I was having trouble with the acoustics and her accent, so I would just sit there and nod like always. If people laughed, I laughed. It was uncomfortable, but it was interesting to see how a violin was made from scratch. He showed us how he took the wood and hand sanded it to the right dimension. He showed us the labor intensity involved in putting the strings on and the difficulty involved when trying to get the pegs set up in the instrument itself. He showed us the staining agent that he mixed himself, not something purchased at a local hardware store. I couldn't understand a lot of the conversation so I drifted off and imagined what kind of a career I would have had as a violin maker. I could picture a corner filled with scrap wood that was the result of me throwing one of these works of art at the wall because I couldn't get the thing together. I could envision the strings wrapped around like a ball of steel wool because I had accidently wound it the wrong way. I could see bows taped together with duct tape because I would accidently break them and be too cheap to buy more horse hair, which we learned was what they were made of. I don't think I would have made a good violin maker. Pat agreed with me on this because he said I didn't have the patience. Luann didn't even consider the possibility as I am not allowed to handle tools back home, let alone make anything. The presentation lasted thirty minutes and the violin maker ended it by playing a piece on the violin he had been holding since we got there. I don't know if he was good or great. I know he wasn't bad. We all clapped and made our way put of the small shop. We were all going to go through the cathedral and then be entertained with a violin recital at the violin museum.

We left the small shop and headed back to the center of the square where the rest of our group had gathered with Melissa. We stood in the sun while pedestrians on foot and on bikes went past us in all directions, not seeming to notice us at all. It was now almost noon and the day was warming up nicely. There was still a small breeze but it didn't have the chill that it had a couple of hours before. The square was busy with people, mostly locals going to and from work, but there were numerous tourists and students taking tours of the cathedral and the baptistry. Our guide continued her history lesson, focusing on the cathedral and the numerous statues and ornate objects that adorned it. She continued her discourse as we walked through a set of large wooden doors that were offset from the main entrance. The main entrance doors were locked. We walked into a very large open area, surrounded by wall to wall frescos depicting scenes of midevevial battles, with Christ's crucifixion being in the center of them. The ceiling was one huge fresco after another, similar to Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel masterpiece in the Vatican. There were images of divine intervention, saints and the whole story of creation leading up to the crucifixion beautifully displayed. It was impossible to comprehend the length of time it took to paint these, let alone the talent to make it look like the characeters were reaching down to us or talking to us. This was the world that we talked about in history classes that was now open to us as tourists in old Italy. The scene here was mind boggling. The cathedral also serves as a museum, but not in the sense of what we are accustomed to. There were various altars along the walls honoring various Saints and historical occurances that happened throughout the history of the Catholic Church. This Cathedral was predominantly honoring the death of Christ. Everywhere we looked there was some statue of Mary lamenting her Son's death, people staring at Christ on the cross. It was captivating. The guide continued her expalnation of the frescos and the statues, but it was now next to impossible for me to understand her. The cavernous cathedral echoed her voice to the point of being unrecognizable. I wandered away from the group and looked at the various altars and old world remnants that were neatly encased in glass. I saw crowns adorned with rubies and emeralds, swords bigger than me, there plaques with stories honoring fallen veterans of old wars and battles. It was too much to take in for the short time we were to be in there. In the far corner there was a tent set up with a scaffold inside and a geneleman in a white lab coat applying gold overlayment to one of the altars that was being restored. He had a couple of young assistants, one holding a palate for him to dip his brush into and the other, helping adjust the light. The look on his face was one of absolute peace as he meticulously touched up the old wall that was being refurbished. He smiled as he finished this piece of work and walked down the scaffold to shake hands with someone that had just walked into that part of the church. Our group was now beginning to move towards the exit, so I left mey personal tour and headed to meet them. The Cathedral of Santa Maria Assunto is a must see for anyone interested in art and history. I left the Cathedral shaking my head in disbelief at how history could fly by so fast and how the world could have such talented people. A goup of young students were coming in as I walked out looking for Luann and the group.

The guide had slowed her pace down but continued talking to the group as we crossed the square and headed towards the Palazzo Commnunale. This was where we were going to see the violin museum and hear a recital. As Melissa went in to get the tickets, the guide stood and talked about what we were going to do. We were now under a porch area so the temperature was much cooler than in the sun. While the guide talked, I walked over to the numerous memorial plaques that hung on the walls along the outside of this building. the plaques were all in Italian, just as they were in the Cathedral. However, these plaques were all about the modern wars. There were plaques honoring the brigades that had fought valiantly in both World War I and II. There were the Italian announcements that declared war, there were stories depicting numerouse battles that had been fought against the fascists after joing the Allies when Mussolini was toppled. I could have read for hours, but it was time to go in. Our guide informed us that we could only go in in groups of eight to view the violins. Also, we learned that the violins had to be played every day for twenty minutes. I was more excited with the plaques I had just read than in the museum, but I followed the others as we walked into the palace and up a long set of stairs that led us into what looked like a courtroom.

There was an aisle separating two identical seating areas. Each area had approximately twelve rows with six wooden seats in each row. There was a wooden front and back in front of each row to make it seem like you were in a box seat at a ball game. Only here, everything was a rich dark cherry colored wood. At the front, facing the audience, were tables neatly arranged in a semicircle whith chairs carefully tucked in. This was the government building and this is where the Cremona City government would meet. The Italian flag and the state flag were at the left of the meeting area. All around this room were oil paintings dating back to the fourteenth and fifteenth century. These paintings were in line with what we had seen at the cathedral. They were life size, which gave me the sensation that I was being watched the whole time I sat there. I could only think about what our city hall had on its walls and marveled at the historical significance in this country. Luann and I sat with Pat and Sharon in the front row and waited for our guide to make her announcement. We didn't wait long. Our guide walked to the front of the group and told us about the room and the museum we would be seeing in a few minutes. She talked a little about the recital we were going to here and then introduced the gentleman that was going to play for us.

He had been standing at the door that led into a small anteroom at the front of the meeting room. As he walked up to the front, he carried his violin gingerly in his left hand and his bow in the right. He was about 5'6" tall and slender. Thinning white hair and small brown eyes were a perfect complement to the tan gabardine suit he wore, touched off by his blue tie. He was impecabbly dressed and I wondered if he dressed like this all the time. He had class written all over him. He softly talked a little about the piece he was going to play and his voice was so soothing, it made a nice contrast to the guides heavily accented English. Everything he said was interpreted. He dipped his head in respect to us and took his violin and bow to the corner of the meeting area and began to play. He didn't just start, he took a two second pause that allowed him to close his eyes and set the tone. The music that came from the instrument must have been directly linked to his heart. His eyes never opened and his bow and fingers worked in unison across the strings of the violin like a master artist putting his images on a blank canvas. I had no idea what he was playing but it was beautiful. I couldn't take my eyes off of the elegance he displayed as the violin exhuded a perfect melody. I don't know how he compared to other violinists, but to my ears, he was great. He finished and we gave him a nice applause. He bowed and walked out the same door he had come in on. I found out that he was one of the people whose job it was to play the antique violins every day for twenty minutes.

We had decided to be one of the last groups to go into the violin museum. We were engrossed in the numerouse oil paintings hung around the room. The dates were so old and and these painting looked so good that it was hard to imagine people actually painting them. Some looked good enough to be photographs. It was finally time to enter the small room that held the oldest violins in history. They were all suspended in mid air by clear nylon wires and encased in glass. We saw instruments that looked like they had just been made, but were actually five hundred to eight hundred years old. The Stratevarious hung there like the prima donna it was and mocked the othet violins hanging alongside. None of them would ever reach the level of fameness that it had reached. Everything in here was priceless. We saw instruments that had been the property of famous kings of old, rich politicians and names that came out of history books. I am not a musical instrument person, but this was captivating. We spend fifteen minutes in here and walked out as the last group walked in. We were told that the tour for the day was over and that we were now on our own for the rest of the day. However, we needed a group picture first. The whole group filed out like an elementary school during a fire drill. Not much talking, just following the teachers. Outside the violin maker was standing in front of a tripod waiting for us. My first instinct was to think that he wanted a picture of everyone he had presented to. My second thought was that maybe it took so long to make a violin and get paid for it, that a second job was necessary to feed a family. Either way, he only took one picture and we were done. I looked around at the flags that were strung around the square protesting the square being available to undesirables after midnight as the picture was taken. It was not my best side. Tomorrow we would go to Milan. It was now twelve forty-five and it was time to explore Cremona and get something to eat at one of the small cafes.

We were dismissed and the group scattered like ants trying to escape from a hungry aardvark back to the hotel. This was not too dissimilar to being given the afternoon off from school. Luann and I walked back to the hotel and stopped at the produce stand that had somehow appeared out of nowhere at the entrance to the square. I purchased another two kilograms of grapes and headed into the lobby of our hotel. We quickly took the steps up to the fourth floor devouring grapes on the way. Luann and I got rid of sweater and sweatshirt and headed right back down to the lobby. I was informed on the way down the steps, much easier than going up, that we were now going to meet Pat and Sharon for a walk up to the top of the tower. I erronously thought that meant later in the afternoon. I led us out of the lobby and towards the street going away from the square when Luann informed me that she was going up to the top of the tower now. I stood on the corner weighing the option of letting Luann climb the tower by herself and me getting away from the square versus both of us climbing the tower and losing another hour seeing more of the square. The pretty blue eyes quickly solved that decision. I had seen the look on a few occasions and recognized it immediately. Her eyes, though pretty blue, were now flickering with the tint of a steel blades as they turn and catch the rays of the sun. The daggers hit me right in the head and I watched her turn slowly away. The next set of daggers came out from behind her head when she told me she would tell Pat and Sharon that we would not be going to climb the tower with them. I dropped my head and sheepishly followed her back to the entrance of the hotel. I quickly pulled all four daggers out and stood there watching Pat and Sharon trying to figure out if we were going or not. I dreaded the climb after having eaten most of my grapes, but I followed. We walked back into the square and saw Doyle and Cindy sitting outside at a pizzeria sipping on wine and enjoying the sunshine as we passed by. The tower called and I was praying that Doyle and Cindi would beckon us.

We reached the entrance to the ominous tower and imagined what it would have been like centuries ago. We were quickly brought back to the present when the Italian sign on the large wooden doors said it was closed until 1:30 PM. The ominous tower had a lunch break. I sighed a soft sigh of relief that could not be detected by human ears as I informed the rest of the our foursome that it was closed for lunch. We stood in the square trying to figure out what to do. Pat and Sharon decided to go eat lunch at the restaurant across from the tower, while Luann and I decided that we would eat later. Luann and I started out of the square in the same direction we had gone earlier that morning passing the same shops and looking in the same windows. We walked through the park and caught another street that led us into a pedestrian area where cars were not permitted. This part of Cremona was much more extravagant than where we had been. There were tailor shops, jewelry stores, restaurants and more higher end shopping than we had seen up until this point. We moved through this part quickly and ended up in a residential neighborhhod, with small shops and eateries. A quick survey of this area made us realize that we were walking away from the square and familiarity. We also noticed that there were not any outdoor restaurants here and that stores were starting to close. It was around 1:15 PM and the stores were literally getting locked up, with the gates being pulled down over the front doors. We walked through a road repair project and decided to get off this street and make our way back to the square. We had walked far enough away from the tower that we could now see the tower behind us. The closer you are to the tower, the harder it is to see the pinnacle. We walked back towards the square and came across a church that looked like it was boarded up. There was a historical plaque on the church telling us it was the oldest Church in Cremona, but I could not read the huge Roman numerals that depicted its built day. Truthfully, I was never very good with Roman numerals past the X's. A couple of dead ends later and we found the street we had been on. We made it back to the square following the same streets we had originally taken. As we walked down the narrow street towards the square, we passed Melissa and the driver enjoying a bottle of white wine at an outdoor cafe. I was ready to eat, but by now the tower would be open and I wanted no more wounds.

We arrived back at the restaurant that Pat and Sharon had chosen and they were still sitting there enjoying the sun and finishing their meal. It was just past 1:30 in the afternoon so we knew the tower should be open. Luann and I decided to get the walk up the tower out of the way and then enjoy a nice lunch in the sun. We left Pat and Sharon and walked into the entrance of the tower, which also served as the ticket office, imagine that. The little ticket office was painted gray, with a small green counter along the back wall. The prices were displayed in a small laminated card on the door and on top of the counter. The prices were for the tower and the baptistry or just the tower. We did not want to see the baptistry so we were told it would cost us eight euros for the two of us to walk up five hundred steps in the tower. That was approximately twelve dollars or six dollars each way. I looked at Luann and asked her if we really wanted to do this. A quick look told me that was a stupid question. I handed the young man ten euros and he told me that he didn't have change. How could a tourist trap like this not have change? He noticed immediately by the look I gave him that this was my way out. If I had to go get change to walk up the tower, I would not return. He also knew enough English to pick up the word "ripoff" when I was talking to Luann, that I was not going to pay ten euros for a walk up a bunch of steps only to come down a few minutes later. He asked me what I had lower than a ten, to which I replied, seven. He quickly agreed to the seven and Luann and I made our way out of the little office and headed towards the first set of stairs that went up. What a bargain!

Describing a trip up 500 steps can be rather mundane. We started by walking out of the little office, which was an offshoot of the tower. We looked for steps going up, but actually, we had to go down to get to the bottom. The tower was round so it was not difficult to find the starting point. The steps were grated steps with steel hand rails. As we made our ascent up the tower, the steps would change their composition constantly. They started with steel and wound around to different levels. At each level, there were grated windows that allowed us to look at the city at various heights. The day was perfectly clear, so we could see the countryside for miles. Our first landing was right above where Pat and Sharon were still sitting and we could stand on a small balcony and wave at them like the tourists we were. We took a picture there and we started our ascent. We wound up tight passageways where the steps turned from metal to stone. They had to have been redone numerous times because they were excellent. The steep walk put pressure on the thigh muscles and the landings were an opportunity to get a view of the land and also to relieve some of the pressure on the legs. It was not a difficult climb at all, but not something a person with a fear of closed in spaces would like to take. We must have gone through five or six landings before we reached the final leg. We were now one flight away from the top and were greeted to a metal spiral staircase that was wound so tight that it reminded me of the movie Vertigo, with James Stewart. Anyone who has problems with dizzy spells would be tested on this last flight. The steps were very narrow and short, which made us constantly rotate up. I felt like I was watching a toilet flush backwards and I was in the water. I didn't like this. We finally finished and ended up on a landing that allowed us to walk 360 degrees. We could see forever, it seemed. The red tile roofs of the buildings throuhout Cremona, the refinery that was miles away, the stadium and even the highway leading out of the city. Luann took pictures of everything she could, even the bell that had graffiti and people's signatures all over it. The walls up here even had graffiti on them. We were up here a total of six minutes and then decided there was no more to see up here. We headed down and made it back in no time at all. As we walked out into the sunlight, we ran into Pat, Sharon, Bob and Bonnie on their way up. Luann gave them the official step count, 502. It wasn't worth the seven euoros, but at least we had gotten a little more exercise.

Luann and I walked across the square and went to the same restaurant we had seen Doyle and Cindie at earlier. Their kitchen was closed until 4:00PM. We decided to go the place Pat and Sharon had gone to for lunch, right outside the entrance to the tower. We even sat at the same corner table they sat at. We could look down the narrow street that we had made numerous trips down and we could also look down the street leading away from the square that we had yet to walk down. We sat for a few minutes before the nice waitress came to our table to take our order. She told us that it was too late for lunch and all we could get were small margarita pizzas. We ordered two small margarita pizzas and a couple of glasses of cabarnet. Our food arrived a short time later with the wine and we knew that we would have to order again. The pizzas were the size of a small dessert dish. We sipped our wine and ate the pizza quickly as we watched the crowded sidewalk buzzing with activity. The restaurant was also an ice cream shop, which at this time of day was seeing the most business. The tables next to us were crowded with a variety of customers eating some of the most delicious looking desserts I had ever seen. The square was getting crowded with young students on field trips to the square. There was even a group from Canada. The kids were all lined up waiting for the chaperones or teachers to buy them some ice cream. As we sat there, the waiter from the night before rode past on his bicycle. I was able to stop him and shake hands with him. He informed that this was his day off. It was as if we were part of the local clientele. It wasn't long before the group finished their tour of the tower and hollered at us from the balcony a couple of stories above us. They wanted us to save some seats for them to relive the tower adventure with us. Luann quickly snapped a picture and we started pulling chairs to the table. Our group sat together in the sun for a few minutes as we talked about the tower and our plans for tonights dinner. We were all on our own for dinner so getting together seemed like a good idea. Bob and Bonnie left before the rest of us, but it wasn't long before we all got up from the table and headed back to the hotel or for some more shopping. It was now almost 4:00 PM and we had agreed to meet at 6:30.

Luann and I were not quite done exploring this area, so we wandered around some of the streets we had not seen yet. We were looking for a soccer or rugby shirt for Brenton. We went down numerous streets and into a variety of stores but we came up empty handed. After an hour, we decided to go back to the hotel and relax before dinner, which meant Luann wanted a short nap. As we walked around the back side of the square, we came upon a table full of candies for sale. There was more candy than a perosn could imagine on this table. I was dying to try some, but I knew that I could not make up my mind and that I would eat all of what I bought. We passed by a small restaurant and saw part of the Michigan group enjoying their beers and having a great time. There was a small ice cream store next to where they were sitting so we walked in there to buy Luann her ice cream. She licked her ice cream all the way back to the hotel and she looked so peaceful that I had to wonder how she kept those daggers so well hidden all the time. We got back to the hotel and went to the room. I watched CNN and Luann read until it was time to go and meet the others. Luann had informed me that we were going to surprise Sharon. Today was her birthday and Bonnie had bought a chocolate cake at the first chocolate store we had visited. We didn't want to be late. How many times had I heard that?

We took the steps down and outside the lobby we were met with the first signs of evening. The produce stand was gone and the square was not nearly as busy as it had been an hour before. The sun was starting to go low and I wondered if I was dressed warm enough. The group was already seated at the corner restaurant bar, which adjoined the hotel, making it look like it was attached. A round of drinks had already been ordered and it looked like Bob had a bottle of champagne and some plastic glasses. I could see the bag Bonnie had, which had the cake. The waiter came up and Doyle ordered some appetizers to go with the drinks that had been ordered. The plan was to have a drink here and then go to another restaurant for dinner. I determined that it was going to get chilly and I needed my sweatshirt or jacket. Luann needed her sweater, so I left the group and headed back to the room for our stuff. I was gone a few minutes and returned to find the group eating the brosciutto, ham and the chips that had been brought out. The champagne had already been poured, which to my shock, had not been poured for me. I love champagne as much as anyone. There were plenty of appetizers and it seemed that nobody wanted any. They tasted fine, other than the corn chips which were a little flat. The attention went to Sharon as she was given her cake and she acknowledged everyone for their thoughtfulness. She dropped her eyes and smiled, really at a loss for words. I think she was very surprised. We sang happy birthday to her and raised our glasses to her. I stole somebody's champagne for the occasion. It was a preety neat sight. It was at this time that Raggedy Anne and Andy walked by. He had been wanting to purchase a bottle of Limoncello, the Italian after dinner drink we had had on our first night in Stresa. He beamed a big smile as he headed back to the hotel with the yellow concoction in a bottle shaped like a violin. He showed us the bottle and I knew there was no way that bottle was going to make it back to Michigan. He had already made plans to buy another one. The Michigan group that Luann and I had seen outside the ice cream store was now beginning to break up and go their separate ways to dinner. It was hard to believe it had only been an hour or so since we had seen them. We paid the bill and the group from Iowa plus two was now going to look for a restaurant. Tourist season was over,so our choices were limited. Also, we had a big group and the dining rooms looked full. We decided on the pizza place that Doyle and Cindy had eaten at, but was closed when Luann and I tried to eat there. The place was packed, but the outside seating was completely deserted. I asked the young couple at the counter if we could eat outside and the older lady behind them nodded and smiled with pleasure that she could actually get a group this size to eat outside. I quickly walked out and informed the group that we could eat outside. The young waiter and waitress quickly started making one long table out of the numerous small tables that were sitting empty. We all took a seat (the chairs were the small plastic patio chairs with the rounded, latted back support) and sat down. The night was cool, but not cold. The company was perfect.

The waiter's name was Alex and he could have passed for an American. His English was not that good, but he looked like any young eighteen year old that would serve us back home. I sat at one end of the table, so he came to me to inquire as to what I wanted the group to have. I had to have him speak slowly so I could understand him. When he figured out we were all Americans, he quickly went inside to get the young lady back to help him. She started at one end of the table and he the other, until they had gotten everyone's order. Luann and I shared a margarita pizza because we couldn't decide how hungry we were or what else we wanted. The menu was not in English, so it took a little time for us to get the right food ordered. We ordered bottles of wine and beer and waited patiently for our dinner. Doyle received a phone call and had to take the call away from the table. He sat there patiently talking to someone, while the rest of us teased him and laughed at his plight. We laughed and talked until the first plates started to arrive at the table. Doyle finished his cell phone conversation and rejoined us. The only issue we faced was that of timing. For some reason, Bob had not received his dinner. He had ordered spaghetti, which seemed like it would be very simple. However, as the rest of us ate, he sat there waiting. The waiter would nod, poke his head inside the restaurant and then come back out. Bob still would not get his food. Also, Anne had ordered fish and received a plate of beef. She had graciously tasted it and said that she would take it so as not to cause the restaurant a problem. Anne knows the restauarnt business and knows what a hassle that is. Bob finally got his spaghetti as the rest of us finished our meals and all was well, until Anne was handed her original order. She had me inform the waiter that one entree was enough and that she really didn't want another plate full of food. We laughed about this as Sharon's cake was cut and passed around to the group. It was hard to get too mad at people here. We all finished our meal and the separate checks were distributed. Annes check was not right, so I went in preparing for battle. I talked to the young lady and she referred me to the jovial older lady, that was not too jovial by now. The numbers simply did not add up. She called the young lady and they both told me the numbers were right. I re-added them numerous times and found out that the girl's six's were actually four's. The jovial lady became jovial again when she saw me turn purple with embarassement and the young lady gave me a nice smile when she knew that her penmanship had caused an argument and she had won. Italians love to argue. I had to go back to the group and get their opinion on this. We sat at the table and said hi the Michigan people as they walked past us coming from various restaurants. We even found out that some had eaten inside our restaurant. It was getting close to 10:00 PM and we needed to head back.

We left the restaurant and headed for the hotel. A few of us stopped at the bar next to the hotel where we had started our evening festivities and had one glass of wine or beer before retiring to our rooms. We watched as the bartender made martinis for customers. It was their specialty here. Our night ended shortly thereafter with a walk up the steps to the fourth floor and bed. Tomorrow we were going to Milan.

Cinque Terre/Cremona--Day 5

Morning came very quickly on the fifth day of our journey across Northern Italy. Luann and I had finally gotten our first good nights sleep since arriving and we woke up refreshed and ready to go. It was still dark outside as I peered out the large balcony doors, trying to get an idea of what the weather was like. There were no people on the streets yet and whatever motor traffic that was visible, was no help. Today, we had been told to dress warmly, so we went through our traditional what shall we wear routine as we got ready to go down to breakfast. The time was 6:45 AM. Luann had been up since 6:00 AM, and I was just starting to move, which is pretty normal. I sleep longer, but I could win an Olympic competition for getting ready when I have to. I decided to wear blue jeans today and a long sleeve rugby shirt. Luann put on a white pull over, with matching sweater and jeans. A quick shower on my part, she was done and dressed, and we were ready to join the others in the dining room. I took the gigantic key off the dresser and we walked out of the room a little before 7:00 AM, with one last glimpse of our room.



























We walked down the short flight of steps to the lobby, handed the huge key to the gentleman at the front desk and headed for the dining room. We noticed that that many of our fellow passengers were done eating and either hanging around the lobby or on the bus. There were bags on the floor waiting to be loaded into the belly of the bus. I wondered how long these people had to have been up to be this ready. We walked into the dining room and to my surprise, we were allowed to sit where we wanted. We found out that our tour group was the last one of the season for this hotel and the hotel would be shutting down. I could sense the relaxed atmosphere of the help as they picked up dishes and brought out food and coffee. We were one of the last people down to breakfast, so we sat by ourselves and ate quickly, eager to start the next phase of our trip. We boarded the bus, after a quick trip back to the room to retrieve something (I wanted to handle the key one more time). The bus pulled out at 7:45 AM, made a big U-turn and headed up, the now busier highway along the lake. The sun was starting to rise and it looked like it was going to be a gorgeous day, just like the previous ones. I shook my head when I looked around the bus at all the people wearing winter coats, heavy sweaters and I even heard some had long underwear on. Our old people preschool bus was sure good at following directions.



























Today we were going to Cremona, where we would spend our last four nights in Italy. We would stop at a region called Cinque Terre, which is a protected marine area through UNESCO that is composed of five villages. When I hear the term village, visions of small huts and natives fishing or sitting around comes to my head. We were given today's instructions from Melissa. There were options on seeing the villages. There were train tickets available to allow a person to visit them at will, there was a walking tour of the villages (recommended by Melissa) or there was a boat tour that she had very little information about. She said the walking tour may be too much for some. The bus was quiet this morning as people settled down for the long four hour drive. Heads nodded off, that's what happens when people get up so early, newspapers were being read and some people were even knitting. I looked out the window at the autostrada as we made our way out of the lake region. I looked down the side of the mountain and said goodby to Stresa and Lago Maggorie. Luann had already pulled out her book and was talking to Sharon while she read. Sharon and Pat were still sitting in the premiere seats and we still had the same seats since the first day, even after the lecture on making sure we didn't hog the seats for the entire trip. I love challenging authority when it's ridiculous.



























We did not hear much from Melissa other than her ritual good morning exercise, with a rule or two thrown in or some comment about what we might see today. About an hour into the ride, the bus slowed down for construction and we went to one lane, just like back home. We observed a work crew pouring asphalt on the far lane. The intercom crackled as Melissa came on. She sounded excited. The bus driver had told her a bit of information that she did not know. He had told her that the asphalt they were putting down was an experimental asphalt that cost $1,000,000, not euros, per kilometer. I don't know the metric system that well, but having run 10K's in the past, I knew that a 10k was 6.2 miles. A quick math told me that they were paying $1M for .62 miles, or $10M for 6.2 miles. To occupy our time and start the ball rolling, I immediately told everyone around me that it had to be wrong. Conversations started, questioning Melissa's ability to understand the Italian word for thousand versus million, the bus drivers knowledge of asphalt, the Italian governments ability to manage money, and even our own opinion on what was actually said. This was the topic of conversation as we pulled into the large service center off the highway. It looked very much like our rest areas with a large gas station/convenience store in the middle of it. We had been on the road for an hour and a half. The time was a little after 9:15 in the morning, as we pulled into the area and parked next to a couple of other tour buses. The day was sunny and warming up nicely, as people with winter coats, heavy sweaters and long underwear got off the bus. I wondered how cold it was at Cinque Terre.



























The place was packed. We walked into the large convenience store through the large glass entrance doors and even had to go through turnstiles to get in. The restaurant was to our right, occupying a quarter of the facility, but was not open. The other three quarters of the store was comprised of shelves, coolers, cabinets and every other merchandising unit imaginable. They sold candy, meats, cheese, games, liquor, beer, gifts and anything you could think of. People were elbow to elbow and ten deep at the cash registers. Luann asked me if I wanted anything and I quickly declined. We only had twenty minutes and that's probably what it would take to get through all the people. I stood there looking at the empty restaurant and at the full store. We decided to make our way through the crowd and see what they had to offer. The prices were very reasonable, but we weren't in the shopping mood. I decided to use the bathroom, which had a lady sitting at a table between the men and the women's doors. On the table was a metal dish for money. It is common here to pay something when you use the facility, which Luann learned in the Milano Garibaldi train station. I had all the euros then and she had to sheepishly walk out without paying. I laughed at the thought of her stiffing someone. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a coin. The coin was so small that I couldn't read the denomination, but I put it in the dish. I didn't want to dwell on the fact that I may have paid the equivalent of three dollars to use the bathroom, but that was justice for Luann ripping them off in Milan. It all works out in the end.



























We saw the hand wave signaling us back to the bus. Our time was up. As we walked out the exit through the big glass doors, a Japanese tour group decided to come in through the exit. It was quite comical watching the poor Japanese getting yelled at by everyone that was stuck in the exit door. They couldn't read the Italian and couldn't understand the words people were saying because some of the people stuck in the exits were speaking English, some Italian and even some German. Their tour guide came to the rescue and they followed her to the right door, smiling and bowing as they headed towards the entrance, three feet away. I think the Japanese are one of the happiest people on earth. They always appear to be smiling. The time was 9:45 AM, as I walked past the driver to get on the bus. I wanted to ask him about the asphalt comment so I could report back to the group, but he was busy chatting with another driver. I tried to imagine how hard it would be to conduct a tour for a group of Japanese that could not speak English or Italian. The day was crystal clear and the mountains and valleys provided a beautiful view as we pulled out of the rest area at 9:55 AM.



























The intercom crackled and Melissa came on to tell us more about the tour today. She had additional information about the boat tour and wanted a show of hands for those interested. No hands went up. She then asked how many were doing the train and a few hands went up. She then asked for a show of hands for the walking tour and the majority of the bus raised their hand. I didn't raise my hand for any of the options. It's bad enough having to have one show of hands. Who knows what we looked like having hands go up three different times. People driving by must have thought we were doing some sort of old people exercise. The bus settled down and we were back to the fun part, looking out the window. Somewhere north of Genoa, I started noticing familiar scenes. There were old remnants of castles on hill tops, there were deep valleys and I noticed train tracks in the distance. We were on the highway route that ran parallel to the train route Luann and I had taken from Milan to Lake Geneva eight years ago. It was so familiar that I couldn't help but reminisce about that trip. I mentioned this to Luann, who raised her head out of her book, looked at the scenery with a smile, nodded and went back to reading. It was about this time that Nancy came up to us. Bruce had wanted to introduce us to her, but we never got the opportunity. I thought that was why she came to our seat, so I quickly stuck my hand out and introduced Luann and I. She was pleased to meet us, the normal salutation. I am still waiting for someone to say, "It is not a pleasure to meet you." She had heard that we had been to Northern Italy years ago and wanted us to talk about that experience or about our experience yesterday when we ditched the group. Our presentation was to accompany some guest speakers that were going to join our tour sometime this afternoon on the ride to Cremona from Cinque Terra. Luann looked at me with her pretty blues eyes that always remind me of Lee Remick, smiled and shook her head no. I have never seen Luann talk to a group, karaoke or make a spectacle of her self in any way. I, on the other hand, will do just about anything to get attention. I told her we would be glad to, fully knowing that there was no part of Luann in that we. She parted and Luann asked me what I was going to talk about. I told her I was going to talk about train travel. Luann replied that they really wanted me to talk about was how nice it was to take a tour like this one and to support the Collette vacation group as they worked on more tours to Northern Italy (this was only the second one). I decided to table the conversation, while I envisioned myself in front of the group making a great presentation and getting applause and a pat on the back from Pat. How exciting.



























The sights were now getting more familiar as we got closer to the Sea. I recognized the city immediately as we started coming into Genoa. We had passed through this city eight years ago on the Eurorail. This was the home of Christopher Columbus. Luann's tour book was quickly making its way around our part of the bus as people wanted to read a little bit about the history. Once Luann got it back, she started giving me some tidbits on Columbus and his history from the tour book. She started laughing hysterically when I questioned Christopher Columbus's father having the last name Weever. I had not heard her correctly when she had told me that Christopher Columbus's father was a weaver. She shared this with the fellow Iowans around us and they all laughed. Darn ears. Whatever history was in the book was quickly dispelled by Melissa as she came on the intercom. She told us that there was doubt now whether Christopher Columbus was from here. He was from somewhere in the mountains. There was even some doubt that he knew his father, which made the weaver conversation irrelevant. She also said that Genoa was so heavily industrialized that it was not a very good town to live in. It had a bad pollution record, was dirty and not a tourist area. I pondered this as we went up the hill, noticing a lot of factories sharing the sky line with dirty buildings. Most of these buildings were apartments with clothes drying on clothes lines or hung over balconies. Clothes dryers are very rare here. The ocean on the port side of the city looked beautiful. I wondered if all the history books, travel logs and the travel channel knew what Melissa knew about Genoa and Christopher Columbus.

























We continued to wind around road after road, sometimes bumper to bumper with cars and buses. We were approaching our destination and Melissa informed us that we would be arriving shortly. The walking tour would be led by her, which quickly sealed our fate to take the train. The boat tour was to be determined, if anyone was interested yet. However, we all had to take the train at the beginning to get us to the right starting point. We would be stopping in a town called Santa Margharita and spend an hour there as she went to the station to purchase train tickets. As we approached Santa Margharita, the scenery started changing dramatically. We were no longer exposed to large trees, rough terrain or anything similar to what we had seen along the highway. We were now on a highway lined with palm trees and tropical plants. We went through a town consisting of narrow streets and the buildings seemed to connect to each other as if they were one big structure. The various businesses identified only by a different color of paint and their signage. There were hundreds of scooters parked in a row on one of these streets and the people were everywhere. Our tour group would cringe as the driver managed his way through the streets in this large bus, nearly hitting signs and other buses with the outside mirror. I noticed that people were walking with their coats wrapped around their waists, while in the sun, but wearing coats when they fell into the shade provided by the buildings. I wondered how cold it was at Cinque Terre.

























The bus left the city and headed up the hillside, puffing and jerking as the driver kept following the flow of traffic. The sun was out in full splendor, with no clouds in its way to share the sky with. We made our descent down the other side of the hill, winding and downshifting all the way, giving us a great view of the resort town as we came to a stop in front of the Lido Palace Hotel. Santa Margharita was gorgeous. The highway we had come down ran right along the beach, which was now populated with tourists enjoying the sun. There was a dock hosting a variety of sail boats and water craft. We were told that we had an hour to spend here and that we had to be back here to walk to the train station as a group, as if we couldn't meet at the station. I didn't spend anytime listening because I was captivated by the beauty. We have been to many tropical, resort areas, but we had never been exposed to one where the ocean, beach, highway and old world structures came together like this. Palm trees swayed in the breeze as our tour group got off the bus. We were immediately greeted with a blast of warm air. The temperature here had to have been in the upper seventies and it was just past noon. Coats came off, sleeves got rolled up and I wish I would have had a pair of scissors to cut the legs off my blue jeans. We were in a tropical area and we were all dressed as if we were raking leaves on a cold fall day. Pat and Sharon joined Luann and I, as I grumbled about the instructions to dress warm, hoping none of the people laying on the beach would look up and notice the people from the outer limits that had just arrived. If it was warm now, it would be real uncomfortable at three o'clock.

























We didn't have much time, so we walked across the highway to the waterfront. We noticed a young oriental couple taking pictures of their little baby girl on the beach. She was dressed in a pretty pink outfit and the couple looked like professional photographers doing a photo shoot. They couldn't take enough pictures. We walked towards the boats and then retraced our steps back towards the main part of town. As we walked along the sidewalk overlooking the beach, we noticed that there was a historical fort with steps leading up to a church. The ticket office was closed, but it appeared that there was no need to have tickets to walk up to the church. We made our way up the twenty some steps and walked into a small church, that appeared to have been remodeled in the nineteenth century. The church itself dated back hundreds of years prior to that. The most interesting aspect of the church was the glass case with a life size statue of Jesus in his burial linen laying as if it was in his tomb. The Italian plaque on the wall had a prayer related to the display. It put everything in perspective as we looked at that realistic statue for a long time. We took pictures inside and outside the church and now it was time to head back to our old people's preschool class for our walk to the station. We split with Pat and Sharon because they wanted to purchase something. Luann and I ventured up one of the city streets that led to the main square, where I purchased two kilos of grapes. They were every bit as good as the ones in Cuomo. We met up with the group moments later and I readily shared my grapes with Jan and her husband Jerry from Michigan. Jan was sick with a cold, but it didn't bother me. I wasn't going to get sick.























The group, all thirty seven of us, made our way along the sidewalk to towards the train station. Our group was minus three couples who had decided to come here yesterday by train. They had told Luann and I that this area was beautiful and they would give up the tour of Bergamo, the last dinner and the bus ride to Cremona to enjoy an extra day here. They had made the right decision, as I marveled at how nice this place was. The train station was situated on top of a hill and to get there, a person had to walk up a five flights of step, with each flight having at least fifteen steps. The climb was steep and challenging for some. Frank, the Michigan guy who had been scolded by his wife, was having a tough time. I have no idea how old Frank was but he was big. Not big as in fat, but tall and big boned. He looked like he had played some big time sports in his younger days and may have incurred some leg or knee injury. He was being helped up the steps by his wife and two other ladies. As we followed behind him, I noticed people having to pass him up the steps. They would look for an opening around him and then quickly go by him without looking. His walk was made even slower because he would rest at the top of each flight. It took Frank forever to make it to the next flight. Luann was a little ahead of me as I passed Frank on the second flight and she hollered something to me that I didn't hear. I caught up with her and she told me to warn Frank about a small pile of dog crap that was on one of the steps. I yelled down at Frank, Luann doesn't yell because that's my job, and he looked up. I yelled and pointed to the crap and he told me he had already smelled it. I was in utter disbelief. What Frank lacked in mobility was quickly made up with his sense of smell. I had a new respect for anyone that could pick up a scent like that from that far away.























We arrived at the top of the hill , tickets for the train in hand. Melissa had handed them out on the sidewalk when we started our walk. We had all looked like children on trick or treat night stretching our little fingers to get our hands on the tickets. We had to go to Monterosse where the walking tour started and the boat tour would commence. The train would depart from track three. I had no clue as to the direction. I was just glad to arrive at the platform. The train arrived within minutes and the conversation quickly turned to Frank. Many of us thought that he could not have possibly made the train. Our group scattered like ants into the different rail cars and we settled in for the train ride to Monterrose al Mare. Our car was fairly empty, occupied by Luann and myself, Pat and Sharon, Bonnie, Bob, a Michigan couple and a couple of locals. After some seat switching, we had all been able to acquire a precious window seat. At this time, Sharon mentioned to the group that it was time to get rid of her long underwear. The train had bathrooms, but opening the car doors on this train was a hastle. All of us men, except Pat, were instructed to turn our heads while she took her top off and removed the top part of the underwear. She would take her bottoms off in a more lady like manner later. I didn't peek, but steadfastly concentrated on the passing scenery. I was laughing inside, thinking of what Pat must be thinking about this.























Taking the train through the villages has its drawbacks. The majority of the trip encompasses a a maze of tunnels and the train moves so fast that your eyes can't adjust fast enough to focus when you come out of the dark. It makes it very hard to enjoy the scenery. After a twenty five minute ride that seemed like an hour, we came to a stop in Monterosse. I still had my grapes, not many by now, in a plastic bag inside a paper bag. I offered the paper bag to Sharon so she could finish her disrobing duties in the privacy of a bathroom. The bag could serve as her luggage for the now useless long underwear. We got off the train, walked down the exit ramp and followed the crowd under the tracks to the open area that would treat us to a view I was not expecting. The passageway from the trains opened up to a promenade that was overlooking the beach. It was a concrete portico that seemed to jut out from the side of a mountain. The mountain was behind us. There were mountains to our left and to our right. The ocean was directly in front of us, separated only by a beautiful sandy beach that stretched for a couple of miles, before becoming part of the mountain again. The temperature was in the low eightys and I wondered how Shirley could be comfortable with her winter coat on. Poor Cindy had a black, wool turtle neck sweater and jeans on. Doyle, the smart one of the bunch, had worn a short sleeve shirt under his windbreaker and was looking comfortable. All he was missing were shorts. This was a major tourist location, as evidenced by the number of people getting off trains and coming out of the tunnel like waves lapping onto a beach. At this moment, I thought to myself that I would be comfortable ending the tour now and staying here for the rest of the time. I enviously looked down at the numerous sunbathers and swimmers. A young lady in swimsuit laying face down caught my attention immediately. She had removed her top and was enjoying the sun. I asked Bob if he would take a glass of water and pour it on her back for a quarter. He replied that I wouldn't have to pay him. We laughed and shared this bit of male bonding with the wives. I don't think they got the joke.























There we stood, all thirty seven of us. Frank had made it. Sharon had returned with her personals neatly packed in her newly acquired luggage and we gathered around Melissa as she gave instructions. I could not hear her, so I strayed away and watched the group as it eagerly listened for the latest news on the tour of the villages. Luann would take care of our agenda and I was confident that we would be with Pat and Sharon and possibly Doyle and Cindy. I continued to marvel at the scenery and couldn't help but be disappointed in our tour rep that she could possibly have missed the weather this bad. Most of the group was now carrying his or her coat. I love the sun and could have gotten a burn or tan today, but now I was getting hot, smothered by my jeans and long sleeve shirt. Instruction period was over. The group started going in different directions. Melissa took the McDaniels and two other couples and started their walking tour. Another group, all Michigan couples, went in the opposite direction. Luann waved me over to her as she stood there with Pat, Sharon, Doyle, Cindy, Bob, Bonnie Anne and Pat.Our small group was going to hang around here until the next train came to take us to the next village. We could walk around this village, get something to eat and enjoy the sun. I was glad I wore my running shoes and not the leather ones.























I don't know why they call these villages. It did not fit my idea of a village at all. Where were the huts or the natives? The buildings were made out of stone and painted in a colorful variety of pastels and there were people everyhwere. We started our walk along the concrete sidewalk overlooking the beach. The sun shining on top of the water, twinkling like Christmas lights. We constantly looked down at the beach, which was getting busier by the minute. The fact that there were some people in the water indicated that the water temperature must not be that cold. Our walk took a left turn as we walked through a tunnel that was used by both pedestrians and vehicles. The tunnel was extremely narrow and I wondered how many people got injured in here. My thoughts quickly went away as I started hearing the song Que Sera, Sera being played on a violin by a young Italian boy. He was dressed in black pants and wore a black and white striped shirt with long sleeves and no collar. The black hat he was wearing made him look like the gondalier on one of the Venetian gondolas. This was Italy at its best. He also had his violin case open to catch loose coins or bills falling from the pockets of all the tourist walking through the tunnel.























We came out the other end of the tunnel where the sidewalk expanded on both sides to form a large area for tourists to congregate at. There were facilities underneath the sidewalk for those that needed them. The sidewalk narrowed again as it followed the contour of the mountain and we could see a couple of restaurants in the distance. These restaurants were on a steep climb, with countless steps leading to them. We could see the guard rails outlining the meandering steps. Our group headed up that way and we noticed that the first restaurant we passed was closed. As the other restaurant was still a good hike, we turned back, not wanting to waste the passing minutes with another futile effort. We walked back down the sidewalk and found a restaurant at the bottom of our walk. The restaurant had no outside seating available so we walked in and the waiter quickly seated us at two different tables. He was in a hurry and appeared to be rushed to the point of frenzy. I went into the bar area to check on the beer choices because there was no beer listed in the menus we had been given. I found that there was only one choice in this restaurant, but there was plenty of wine. We sat there, with no service, for five minutes. Our train departed for Manorola at 2:45PM and we only had forty minutes. We agreed that our group was too big to be able to get served that quickly so we all stood up and walked out, as the rushed waiter started taking our order. He started collecting our scattered menus as we left and I couldn't help but feel sorry for his poor dog. He would probably kick it when he got home after the day he appeared to be having.





















We had now walked into the heart of the village. The streets were so narrow that you could almost jump from one sidewalk to the opposite one. The restaurants were packed with cutomers. Though we were pressed for time, we still looked at the menus in case we saw something that could be eaten quickly. The group had also gotten thirsty. We passed a small store, with a glass cooler outside the front door. The cooler contained sodas, water, juice and beer. The beer was a light lager beer in a container that was larger than twelve ounces, but not quite the size of a quart. For 2 euros, a person could buy one. I purchased mine, to share with Luann, while Doyle, Cindy and Pat each purchased theirs. We walked up the narrow streets drinking our beer and talking about how neat this place was. We cut across an open area to get to the street parallel to this one and started walking back down the street, lined with shops. Before leaving the area, Luann, Bonnie and Sharon had found a small restaurant that served paninis (sandwiches) nestled between the two streets. We had approximately twenty five minutes to catch our train. As we entered the restaurant, the table nearest the door was occupied with the group from Michigan. Raggedy Anne and Andy were there drinking beer and waiting for food. They had taken the boat tour, that no one had raised their hand for on the bus, and were loving it. It looked like Anne and Pat would join that group on the boat. The ladies ordered their sandwiches at the bar, sipping on the oversized containers of beer while they chatted. The restaurant had a unique openness to it and I noticed that the store we had bought the beer at was across the street from the opposite entrance we had walked in. As the sandwiches arrived, our group came together and we walked out the opposite entrance. We stopped at the store and another 2 euros later, we had another oversized bottle of beer. Our group, minus Anne and Pat, headed back up the large sidewalk, through the tunnel where the violinist was still playing the same song and up to the portico that housed the tunnel leading to the train platform. We stopped at the end of the tunnel for our group picture, with the ocean serving as the backdrop, while sipping beer and munching on sandwiches. Was this cool or what?





















We entered the tunnel, passing two monitors that showed the arrivals and departures. No one looked at the monitors because we had a copy of the train schedule that Melissa had given us on the bus. It wasn't the complete schedule, just a xerox copy of the page that pertained to the villages. No one in the group, including me, noticed the missing piece. We arrived at the top of the stairs and stood there waiting for the train. There were only two tracks in this station. This track and the track opposite of ours that had a train sitting on it. Our group had long since finished the beer and now the sandwiches were being disposed of when Bob mentioned that our train should be here any minute. I looked at the schedule Melissa had given us and asked the group if anyone knew what track we were leaving from. I suddenly had the feeling I had been here before. I ran down the steps to check the monitors, but they weren't working properly. The screens were jumping around like the TV sets we had when I was growing up. I couldn't make out the numbers. Bob came down and he couldn't make them out either. We walked back to the group and as I started telling Bob about Luann and my screw up yesterday, the train we were supposed to be on started to pull away. We had missed the train in the exact same way we had missed it yesterday. I could not believe what I had just witnessed. The experienced travelers ride again.



















It took another twenty minutes for the next train to arrive. We were going to the next village and it was pretty evident that we would not see all of them on this trip. We climbed on board and took the ten minute ride. The tunnels were becoming longer and more frequent as we made our way through the mountain, so we were relieved when we arrived and were able to get off the train. This stop was a lot different than the last one. We climbed off the train and noticed that there were not many people here. We could not tell if we were in a station or if we were in another building. A quick look around found two small bathrooms on the other side of where we had arrived, but there was nothing to indicate where we were or what direction to go. As we walked away from the tracks there was a man and woman in uniform sitting at a table. Next to them were steps pressed against the side of a mountain that looked like the way out of here. As some of us started to climb up, the couple stopped us and asked us for our tickets. We had no idea what tickets they were wanting. Out of nowhere Melissa appeared with the McDaniels and another couple from Michigan. They were the last people I expected to see here. Melissa went to the table, talked to the couple in her imitation Italian (some Italian, little Portugese and hand gestures) and purchased tickets. We were back to trick or treat night, our little fingers stretched out to grasp the valuable commodity. We climbed the steps that were pressed up against the side of the mountain and came out to warm sunshine and a view that was phenomenal.



















We were now in place that was surrounded by mountains and hundreds of feet above the ocean. As far as a person could see, the beautiful ocean was directly in front of us. To our left and right were mountains with protruding jagged inlets. Blue waves soon turned white as they beat the mountain and frothed up on the way back out, only to gather strength and try the ordeal again and again. We were lterally on a stone path. We walked along this path totally engrossed with the view. I don't think I have ever been anywhere that was so breathtaking. It was similar to the Cliffs of Moher in Ireland, only this scene stretched forever and we were right in the middle of it. Behind us was a mountain side and there was graffiti everywhere. Some of the graffiti was artistic, but most was not. It was on boulders, concrete retaining walls, electrical boxes, literally everywhere we looked. It saddened me to think that there were people who could mar such a beautiful setting. On the side of the mountain above us someone had planted a large vineyard. The grape vines were neatly lined up, with small containers and plastic tubing that was used for watering alongside. Nets covered the vines to protect them from the birds and small tools were visible. I could not comprehend how the grapes had been planted among the boulders or how they were harvested. Who took care of this was one of countless questions running through my mind as I stood there taking it all in.



















Melissa's group had reached this location by walking, while we had taken the train. I had a lot of respect for Kenny and Shirley for doing the walk, after seeing the terrain. Our small group had become intertwined with the walking tour group, but as we progressed along the path, we started getting back together. Our group walked much faster so we left the walking tour and headed down the path to take pictures and look for a nice outdoor bar or cafe so we could enjoy the view sitting down. We passed a young man selling his paintings of the view in a little stand he had set up. Luann and Bonnie paused to look at them, but nothing was purchased. We continued our walk and came up to a small outdoor bar that had a spectacular view of the mountains and ocean. I thought the place was perfect, but I was quickly outvoted with assurances that there would be another one farther up. I considered this a missed opportunity. We continued our walk down the path and noticed that we were coming down an incline towards a train station. That was going to be the end of our excursion into the villages. We stopped at a small cafe and we were able to have a glass of beer or wine before we had to end this part of the day. Our group sat in the sun overlooking the sea and the mountains, laughing and having a great conversation. I was asked if this place was better than the pervious stop we had passed up. I replied that it would do, still wishing we could spend another day here. The group laughed.



















We all met at the train station, not more than fifty yards from where we had our beer and wine. I inquired at the ticket counter if it would be possible to make the trip from here to Cremona, our final destination, in the event anyone besides me would like to stay here a little longer. It could be done, but it would be risky if we missed the train or if something happened. The whole tour group had united here to take the train to La Spezia, where our tour bus was waiting. The train showed up and we piled in. It was getting late so the train was pretty full. Pat, Sharon, Luann and I stood in the area between the cars and enjoyed the ride back, mostly through dark tunnels. The ride in the train was uneventful as we blasted through tunnel after tunnel. It took us forty five minutes to get to the bus and another twenty five minutes to get everyone loaded. We climbed on board and noticed that some of the passengers that had gotten back earlier had drawn the red curtains across the windows. The sun beating on the window panes was bright, not to mention hot. I pulled my curtain back to its original position so I could look out the window. In the process, I broke the plastic hook that kept the curtain bunched up. I quickly dropped it on the floor and hoped no one would notice. If someone told Melissa, I would probably get yelled at. The bus was loaded and we were off. I hated leaving this place and vowed to return, just like McArthur in the Pacific. As we rumbled out of the city into the broad stretches of the four lane autostrada, Luann asked me if I was still going to make my presentation. I had forgotten all about it. The fact was, I was mad at having to leave the neatest place on the trip. I told her no. My heart would not be in it. She quickly went up to Bonnie's seat and told Bonnie to pass the news on to Nancy that pouting Herm would not be presenting to the group because he couldn't stay and play longer in the Villages. There were a total of five villages and we had only seen two of them.

















What happened next would be a topic of conversation for the rest of the trip. One of the Michigan group leaders turned on the intercom and made the announcement that we would soon be hearing from our guest speakers. I looked around the bus and saw the same people that had gotten in the morning, pretty much in the same seats. I didn't see anyone that looked like a guest speaker. The intercom blared as the leader talked about the Michigan tour and the alumni association for some junior college. I looked at Luann and asked her what this was all about. I always look to her when something is out of whack and this didn't seem right. She shrugged her shoulders and I looked out the window sensing a battle coming up. The voice continued to mention something about the tour and about someone who had graduated from the junior college and now was big time because that person had graduated from a four year college in Chicago. I looked at our Iowa group and they were busy napping or reading. including Luann. I didn't want to read. I was chomping at the bit to lay into someone for disturbing my tour with commercials about an alumni association for a two year college.

















The voice finally stopped and introduced Nancy, who was in charge of the guest speakers. I continued to look around, thinking I may have missed them. She put that to rest quickly. She began by telling us that the guest speakers were our own tour members who had been here before and would talk to us about their past experiences in Northern Italy. So much for the term guest speaker, but I sat there like the others and took it in. She introduced Bill. Bill was a tall man that I had not paid much attention to, but that changed in a hearbeat. Bill started his talk by telling the group that he was an ex CEO of the European division of Whirlpool and that he had lived in Italy for a few years. He addressed the Iowa contingency by mentioning the respect he had for Maytag, which was purchased by Whirlpool and hoped that it had not had too bad of an impact on the Iowa economy. He proceeded to explain to us how he had brought Whirlpool to a new level in Europe and did this and did that. he loved the Italian people and that they weren't lazy but hard workers. I was in a frenzy. What the heck was this all about? Luann was now dozing, as was Sharon and Pat. I looked over at Doyle and his look told me that we were on the same page with this idiotic waste of our time. I tried to turn my hearing aids off, but that didn't help. I tried reading my Italian dictionary, but Bill on the mike was too loud. I did what I had to do. I muttered to Luann, "You've got to be kidding me." She did not give me a dirty look or scold me in any way, which was my signal to take it to another level. I looked at Doyle and gave Bill the thumbs down. I had been loud enough with my grumbles to have stirred Sharon. The Iowans were getting restless. We had not come to Italy to hear an appliance commercial. Bill ended his lecture on the Whirlpool saga in Europe and handed the mike back to Nancy for the next guest speaker, while almost everyone on the bus clapped and patted him on the back. Andy spoke next. He was also a Whirlpool employee and had been a lobbyist in Washington for the company. We had Whirlpool coming out of the woodwork. Sharon was surprised at this information. Andy proceeded to talk about Whirlpool and continued where Bill, who I later named Earl Pool, left off. If I had had a yellow penalty flag, I would have thrown it. This was a personal foul in the worst sense. Luann, by now had her her fill of it, as did the rest of the group.

















Luann is a very well prepared person and can make a bad situation right real quickly. In her oversized purse she had two of the wine boxes we had bought for our train ride yesterday. She even had enough plastic cups for the six of us (Pat, Sharon, Doyle, Cindy and us). As the Whirlpool part two presentation rambled on, we distributed the wine and started our own game of assigning nicknames to the individuals in our group so we could be better identified. We laughed hysterically as we joked around in the back of the bus, like the immature old people we were. Andy finished his presentation and got his applause, not as big as Earl's, but he wasn't a CEO and walked back to his seat. The presentations died down and there was mention that the Iowa group had chosen not to do one. I could have talked about being fluent in Spanish by the age of four, attended college and even had a job or two. I was so glad I had not gotten up there and made a fool of myself. I don't like that kind of attention. The wine lasted us until we started seeing Cremona in the distance.













The presentations ended and Melissa was back in control of the mike. She told us that we were now in the agricultural heart of Italy. A view of the surrounding area confirmed a lack of mountains and farmland stretching in all directions. The surrounding landscape was very similar to the Midwest. The stretch of highway we were now on was very similar to the drive on interstate 80 going through Iowa. The only major difference was the size of the vehicles here. Though the occasional SUV would pass us, mostly it was the small Fiats and cars I didn't know. We learned that Cremona was known for the violin and that this had been home to Stradaverious, the famous violin maker. The Stradaverious violin was extremely rare and that there were makers specially trained to make this violin. The waiting period for the violin was two years because of the demand/supply issue. The price ranged from a few thousand to hundreds of thousands. Sometimes being culturally inept has its advantages. I could buy a guitar at Walmart tomorrow and it would not cost me anywhere near that. I didn't share this thought because I didn't want to embarass Luann. Melissa continued to talk about the hotel we were staying at and our agenda for the next few days. I kind of paid attention, but Luann had found something in her travel book that was more interesting. She told me that Cremona was home to the tallest tower in Europe and taller than anything in the western hemisphere. It had been built as a defense and lookout tower in the fifth century and was the focal point of the city. As I looked out the window, I noticed the tower from a good five miles away. The afternoon was starting to fade away into early evening and as the sun set behind us, this magnificent structure started rising out of the earth. I could not make out any buildings, but I could see the bus heading towards it. A lost tarveler could have found Cremona just by heading towards the tower. I had never seen a structure stick out that majestically before.











The afternoon sun was now a thing of the past, as dusk welcomed us into the city of Cremona. We pulled off the autostrada and onto the main street heading towards the downtown area, which would have the tower situated in the main square. The tower was so tall that we couldn't see it from the bus. I marveled at how every town we drove through or stayed in had its own distinct look. Back home, you could visit any small town in a specific region and it would be very similar to another town in that region. Cremona had the normal narrow streets, but this town had to have been the bicycle capital of the world. As we passed by the private hospital on our left and businesses on our right, the driver manuevered the large bus to a stop two blocks away from the hotel. The bus was too large to make its way to through the square to the front of the hotel. We were instructed to leave the bus, our bags would be delivered to the rooms. We walked off the bus into a street busy with pedestrians, scooters and cars. The most noticable form of transportation was the bicycle. People flew by us on bikes, skirting around parked cars and scooters. There was no age limit on the bikes. There were kids with their back packs, shop keepers in uniforms and even professionals dressed in business attire. Old people handled the bikes in the same manner as the younger ones. No one looked at each other or nodded, they just concentrated on the traffic and pedaled. Most of the bikes had baskets on the front or back that held briefcases, bags, packages and books. It was quite impressive and I had to wonder if these people owned their bikes or rented. The bikes all looked identical. We walked the two blocks to the hotel and in the middle of the block heading towards the square was the hotel Impero, its neon sign a welcoming the newly arrived contingent. From the outside, the hotel had two small glass doors that entered into the lobby. The hotel was neatly tucked in between an apartment building and a restaurant/bar. Outdoor tables, with umbrellas put away for the evening lined the narrow sidewalk as our group, now dispersed walked in to the lobby. Like the hotel in Stresa, check in was a breeze since we didn't have to mess with bags or with reception. As Melissa took care of check in, we looked at the small lobby area. There were two frosted glass doors that led to the dining room and a small table inside the front doors with newspapers and magazines neatly arranged. Off the lobby were the stairs and the elevator. The lobby, though bigger than the previous hotel, was fairly small. It was, however, modern and extremely well maintained. We were handed our keys, not the big huge key anymore, but the small plastic cards. We were informed that dinner was at 8;00PM at a restaurant, a short walking distance from the hotel and we would meet in the lobby at 7:30. Luann and I joined Pat and Sharon on the elevator and headed up to the fourth floor to see what the rooms were like. Having deposited Pat and Sharon on the second floor, we arrived on the fourth floor and were greeted by darkness. Two steps off the elevator and the darkness turned to light as the motion detectors turned the hall lights on. How impressive.





Our room was a world away from the hotel in Stressa. The room was much brighter and definately more modern. The dark wood that was such a part of the previous hotel was replaced by metal and plastic. The wood that was in this room was stained a light color versus the dark, rich brown of the more traditional buildings of a past era. We had a large queen bed in the middle, with two night stands on each side. A telephone rested on the side nearest the door. On the far side of the bed, there were two tall doors leading out to a small balcony that overlooked an enclosed patio area, surrounded by the buildings. An apartment complex that looked like it belonged to this hotel was directly across from us. A television set sat on a dresser at the foot of the bed and it was a set that could have fit in most American hotels. I would not have given this away to Goodwill, but would have probably put it on EBay. Next to the dresser was the door to the bathroom. The bathroom took up the width of the room and had a large sink, bidet and large shower. Tile floors made the bathroom seem even bigger and much more modern. We quickly took an inventory of our room and left to meet Pat and Sharon in the lobby. We were going to do a quick walk around the square before dinner.



In the lobby, we found some concern among the fellow traveler related to the bags. As the four of us stood at the front door of the hotel, we saw four of our Michigan counterparts pushing a large hotel garment and bag cart through the doors It was filled with bags. Apparently, the hotel was not staffed currently to do this in a timely manner and people wanted to change for dinner. We only had a little over an hour. We decided to walk back to the bus and get our luggage. We quickly got the bags, walked back to the hotel and dropped them off in the room before meeting back down on the lobby. We heard some grumbling from people, but at least we had our bags.



Our hotel was situated on a side street that led to the city's infamous square. We walked out the front doors and saw that there were shops and restaurants on both sides of the narrow street. The restaurants all had tables set out for outdoor dining. We noticed that some of these restaurants were closed, apparently a sign that the tourist season was coming to an end here as well. We walked around the square quickly and came back to a restaurant that was at the end of the block directly opposite of our hotel. Doyle and Cindy were already there. Pat purchased a round of drinks and we toasted our arrival to Cremona Italy, as the darkness of a cool fall evening wrapped around us. It was a great way to start our first night here, laughing and reflecting on the bizarre bus trip home. What made this area so appealing was that it seemed all the store fronts had their own built in squares. They had a large patio area in front of their stores and the stores and restaurants blended together so nicely that it looked like one huge outdoor mall. The six of us returned to the hotel after our one drink, went to our rooms to freshen up for dinner and then met the rest of the tour group, including the group that had went to the villages on their own, in the lobby at 7:30. Forty three American tourists left the front of the hotel, as darkness settled, and started to walk to a restaurant that no one a clue to its location. We had been told that it was located in the square so we walked into the square.



To say the square was big is an understatement. As we walked up the narrow street from our hotel, the street emptied into a perfectly squared area. On our left was a large red brick building with arched, brick columns supporting the structure. This building housed the government offices even a violin museum. It took up the wole side of the square, with the visitors bureau being the last office on the corner. To the left of the building and up the side, there was a narrow street where motor vehicles were prohibited, but bicycles and pedestrians traffic passed the many shops, bakeries, ice cream shops and restaurants. Directly opposite us, at the top of the square stood the tower. It had a huge clock on its face and the entrance was guarded by two stone lions, their backs supporting the columns that supported the facade. Words in old Latin were inscribed along the building's face, that also include countless statues and engravings that dated back to centuries before the new world was discovered. The tower reached up into the darkness and it was intimidating, but awesome. To the right of the tower was the Cathedral. The baptistry was located on the street which closed up the square. Directly behind it were more stores and restaurants. A side street, used by cars and scooters, was directly to our right. Our group took all this in as we walked around looking for the restaurant, which was not to be found. Some of us went behind the tower, some peered through windows of other restaurants, while others chose to stay in the background and look like they were not part of the group. The large group found itself leaving the square and heading down a larger street away from the hotel and the square. Someone had found the restaurant, not in the square itself, but a block away. Graffiti greeted us as we walked down the sidewalk and were welcomed into the restaurant. There were only a few customers in the restaurant and the look on our greeters face told us that they were not expecting a group this large and this late in the tourist season. The Michigan people had already filled a small alcove above us, so our group of twelve was seated at a long table in the main part of the restaurant, just outside the small alcove. Our group picked up two ladies from Michigan that could not fit into the small adjacent room. They became part of our group from then on.



Once both rooms were seated, the waiters and waitress (she would not smile for anything) began bringing out wine, which was welcomed by all. We sat there toasting, laughing and talking about today's tours. Anne thought I could have made a presentation like Earl's easily enough. We all laughed. Our first course (piatto) was pumpkin ravioli, which was delicious. The waiter, wanting to impress us, kept saying halloween and we couldn't understand him, in reference to the dish. This was October and we all laughed when we figured it out. I was able to converse with him a little and it gave him an opportunity to speak English and me Italian. Our second course was a risotto rice dish that was very rich. The review from the group was mixed. The third dish was roasted potatoes which were delicious and plentiful. The large dishes containing them were taken away partially full. The main dish was veal, which everyone enjoyed. I gave mine away as I don't like meat very much. We finished off with a cake dessert, which was very good. We could tell by the meal that we were now in the agricultural region, as opposed to the sea and lake region we had been in the previous three days. I hoped that I would get some seafood or fish sometime during our stay here.



Dinner lasted a solid two hours. The staff could not keep up with the wine demand for such a large group and we were constantly asking for more. Three bottles of wine doesn't last long in a group of fourteen during a two hour dinner. There were a couple of tables across from us. At one table was a young man that had been there before we got there. He had finished eating, had a bottle of Heineken and a cup of coffee. He was studying a book and would put the book aside, drum his fingers on the table as if playing an instrument, write something on a piece of tablet paper, and then compare it to the book. His eyes closed as if he could hear the music. He did this the whole time we were eating. I was intrigued. Could he be a violinist or a protege of some kind? I have never really paid attention to anyone that studied music, but it reminded me of college. The table directly across from us had Melissa and the bus driver. They were on their second bottle of wine when I noticed them and wondered how they had gotten wine so easily. The driver had even gotten Melissa an after dinner drink and an extra piece of cake for them to share. Tomorrow was a non bus day, so the driver had the day off. Melissa had set up us with an optional tour of the cathedral and a violin manufacturer, but after that we were on our own. They were unwinding. As they got up from their table, we asked the driver if he was going to enjoy his day off. Through Melissa's interpretation, we were informed that he had to spend most of the day cleaning the bus because someone had spilled wine in it. The only wine on the bus had been ours and Luann had been meticulous about pouring it and disposing of the containers properly. The only whining that could be considered a problem was mine during the Whirlpool presentation. Needless to say, I quickly gave our bus driver a new name. He was now Massimoto, instead of Massimo. I was offended at the inference. The Michigan group was now closing up their festivities with their renditions of alma mater fight songs. The Michigan fight song was sung, the junior college fight song was sung and we think there was a Whirlpool fight song somewhere in the medly. We finsihed our meal and walked out of the restaurant. The evening had turned chilly as we walked through the square and back to our rooms. We said our good night to the group and headed to our new room. It did not take long to pull the covers back, switch on the TV and lay there watching CNN in English, while Luann read her book. We would see what Cremona had to offer on day six. Falling asleep, my mind went back to Massimoto and envisioned him cleaning the bus. I couldn't help but smile at the short, chubby Italian wearing sunglasses, whining the whole time.