Chianti Region in Tuscany

I had the pleasure of joining a multi-cultural group today to head toward the hills in Tuscany in the Chianti region where we road a bus along winding roads with breath taking views of vineyards, olive groves, monasteries, fortresses and castellos.

We had a wonderful guide from Florence named Sabra, with no roots or ties to Israel, other than the fact that her parents were travelling along the mediterranean Sea and met a woman named Sabra. They were smitten with the name and the rest is history.

While travelling on the bus, she exlained about the Chianti wines. For one, Chianti wines have an old tradition, dating back to 1404. The Duke of Tuscany, Cosimo III de Medici, protected the Chianti label and vineyards by establishing borders. Toscany is not known for the production of white wines. Their Chianti Classico red wines are a blend of three types of grapes, the main one (90% worth) being Sangiovese grapes.

We visited the Castello Il Palagio which dates back to 1252. As of the 15th Century, the castle became the ownership of the Republica Fiorentina who transformed it into a fortress. The castle does not have an authentic medieval feel, as sections have been rebuilt in the 1900s. It has a small chapel, a tower, a dungeon which now holds oak barrels of Chianti classico. This cellar is one of the main attractions of Il Palagio. They have also included modern steel containers which allow the wine to age accordingly.

We had an opportunity to sample three of their wines and a sweet desert wine, along with delicious tapas ( Pecorino cheese with a spicy jelly, garlic bread al olio, cured meats, and biscotti to dip in the sweet desert wine).
I sat at a table with two charming, American women who were travelling around Europe for five weeks, as well as this Dutch family from Holland who were on their own driving through Toscana. A delightful way to spend the afternoon, chatting, sipping, laughing, tasting....being!

Can we talk circumcision here?

David
1504
Marble, height 434 cm
Galleria dell'Accademia, Florence

Michelangelo was the creator behind this masterpiece. For close to 400 years, it was seen at the entrance of Palazzo Vecchio, also known as the city hall. It's at that point in time, the locals noticed David's shoulders eroding, and so they moved the statue to the Accademia Gallery.

To the Fiorentini, The David was a symbol of liberty, somewhat like the Statue of Liberty for the Americans.

Now let's get down to business.
Reiner, the guide at the museum, explained the story behind David.
This was taken from the Biblical intertpretation of David and Goliath.
So, was David not a JEW? Was he not from the Old Testament?
If so, at birth, was he not circumcised?

I have always been biblically challenged about my roots. That being said, having raised two Jewish boys and been married to a Jewish man, I could argue I have some semblance of expertise in that realm. Here's my conundrum...Was David not a Jewish man? If so, his penis sure wasn't pointing in that direction.

Perhaps Michelangelo found sculpting veins and musculature to be an easier task than shaving off a foreskin.
And to think, tourists were complaining about one hand being larger than the next...please!!!

Murano, Burano and Torcello....

Murano, Burano and Torcello...a mini cruise!

Heat stroke and all, I went aboard this mini cruise line that took visitors to the island of Murano, known for its glass blowing technique. We were invited into a glass blowing factory where we see an artist at play, in agonizing heat from fire pits (never mind the actual overwhelming heat outside). He grabs a ball of glass and begins twisting and rolling, pulling and snapping it into shapes we are all too familiar. Horses, vases, bowls, in gorgeous colours adorn this factory.

The cruise then heads over to Burano, a fishing village with a distinct architecture all on its own. Clear lines, use of bright colours on the outside and white roof tops, clothing lines with a multitude of colourful garments decorate this island. The ladies in the village are known for their needle work. If you are looking for lace tablecloths, runners and napkins, this is the place to be. An old woman sits by the door, as you enter the shop and shows her tedious craft. A time consuming work of art!

Our last stop, was Torcello. Once off the boat ride, it was a ten minute walk to a wooded area with the canal running through. Tourism has minimally hit this part of the island. As expected, there is the local bell tower, the clock tower, the church and nearby shops. You are drawn to the ever present sound of crickets nearby. A serene location in which to have a nice cool meal, assuming the weather was less hot and humid.

The ride back to Venice was peaceful and breezy. I sat back and watched the folks nearby. It dawned on me what an interesting sample of tourists were sailing on the Mar Adriatico along with me. We had Sicilians on board, making fun of the Venetian tour guide. We had an American family travelling with grandparents too. It was nice to see the grandchildren dote over their grandparents, who were clearly having issues with the heat. We had an Australian Edward Cullen who clearly had vampish tendencies...his bold and beautiful girlfriend had plenty bites on display! We had the middle aged European woman, who in this dreadful heat, insisted on spraying herself with a dreadful cologne, yet most likely could have stopped torturing the rest of the crew ten sprays ago. My all time favourite group to observe and this tends to be more visible within European families....the grandparents and their grandchild on a journey together. What fascinates me most is how well behaved these children are!

Tonight is my last night in Venezia...one last walk into the labyrinth where, whether I like it or not, I will have to ask numerous directions to get back to my hotel. Once I am near The Cartier store, it’s a left then head straight to The Timberland shop and then Splendid, my hotel! No...this isn’t just a woman using landmarks to find her way, but rather this is the only way to make sense of these winding paths.

Arrivederci!

Finally afforded a Gondola ride....Bellissima!

Yesterday afternoon, around 3:45, I chatted with a man from Ocho Rios. Of course, true to form, I asked him if he was lost. Jamaica is that way, I pointed in some strange direction. He laughed.

He now works in Venice and lives on the Main land to reduce cost of living. He works in the tourism industry and like everyone else on this planet he has his story. It starts with "I fell in love with an Italian woman" and continues with "we had a son, whom I love dearly" and ends with "we are no longer together". To remain close to his son, he flew to Itlay, Venice namely, and began learning street Venetian and hustled for work....and now it works for a Gondola touring company.

I think he liked me green eyes....for I ONLY PAID 29 Euros to set sail on this Gondola. Four other people joined me and we had the cock-eyed Gondolier sail us away through the maze of canals. What a treat!!!
Indeed, it is a ride to remember. Most Gondoliers LOVE to flirt with the tourists. Most of them are in amazing shape. You do have a series of them who are Richard Simmons doubles, with pink bandanas and matching pink sneekers...they amuse me most, as they are the ones to sing the loudest to attract better tips.

Some interesting facts now. Gondoliers go to Gondola School...for two years!!
Gondoliers are unionised!!!
Some Gondoliers leave their true profession (doctors, lawyers...OY it's a Jewish Mother's nightmare) to earn more money. How much you ask? They earn 100 euros an hour.

It will be a ride to remember...along with my heat stroke kicking in a notch!!!!
Arrivederci for now!

More Venezia with a dash of Heat Stroke! Molto bene!

I was a little fatigued yesterday but by day’s end, my head was spinning and my leg muscles began to slow me down. I thought it had something to do with the Venetian testosterone that free flows through this labyrinth. Was it their thick black hair in contrast with their gorgeous green/blue/grey eyes, their olive skin that seem to glisten in the sun, their self-confidence, their bold ways of looking right at you and saying what’s on their mind....Casanovas in their true form! They speak to you and for all you know they could be swearing at you; yet in your mind, it is a romantic musical piece to my ears, with huge sex appeal. Unlike our gardeners back home who seem to have been swallowed by the Western world. My hairdresser remains an exception to that rule...the man brought a piece of Italy to Evita! I have a colleague who would concur.

Alas, it turned out my dizziness had little to do with the Venetian MEN, and more to do with this unbearable high heat mixed with humidity. I thought I was hydrating plenty. Apparently not.

Munich had the same temperatures, but every corner of every block was a fruit stand to sell whole fruits at a nominal fee. Munich had oodles of land on which to farm. Venice, on the other hand, has WATER! Looks like fruits are imported to this lovely abode, which translates to...not as easily accessible and let’s not even talk about variety. Apples, oranges, pineapple and the odd watermelon are the common staples here.

I joined a walking tour yesterday morning with a sexy Venetian tour guide, who spoke eloquently. She was FULL of knowledge. This was mainly an American group from Alabama and Michigan. An interesting mix to say the least. While the guide gave detailed historical facts on the visited sites, they were more concerned about what to bring back home, when is the next pee stop, what should they have for lunch. The tour was less than an hour and a half long...we are NOT talking about an all day commitment here. I digress.
She began the tour with the royal garden and walked along the main port of San Marco. You are accosted by a number of vendors selling all sorts of tourist items made in China. I had the pleasure of sitting with a middle aged Venetian artist, Bartolomeo, who told me about his hobby, the local way of life for the 60 000 inhabitants in Venice. Almost all vendors sell these magnificent theatre masks (made in China of course) that date back to the Venetian way of life, the actors’ corner, and the theatrical world.

The guide brings us close to the main entrance of the San Marco Piazzetta. Two big columns with two sculptures are meant to welcome visitors: one of a winged lion (a symbol used by Venetians to refer to San Marco) and the other is a statue of San Todaro, the first patron of Venice. In 1125, when the columns were given as gifts by the East, the Venetians would use the space in between to carry out death sentences. Today, the Venetians refuse to walk through the columns to avoid being struck by back luck. So the only FOOLS to walk though (and u can include me into that mix) are the tourists. I will know who to blame when bad luck strikes me.

She showed us the Clock Tower, built in 1496 to 1599, by Mauro Cordussi. It’s an unusual clock. It is crowned wih a terrace which houses a big bell, sounded by two moors. Under the terrace, we see St-Mark’s Lion and a semi-circular platform of Madonna with a child. The clock indicates the flow of the seasons, the passage of the sun in the constellations, the time and the lunar cycles. I find myself compelled to give the details of this beautiful and unusual clock to let you in on a final note. In 1599, the Venetians were so pleased with Cordussi’s handcrafted work that they refused to renumerate him for his hard work; instead, they chose to poke out BOTH his eyes as guarantee that he will NEVER duplicate this clock again.

The Bell Tower also has a fascinating tale. It is the oldest bell tower in Venice. It was built over Roman foundations and was erected under the Doge (aka President) Pietro Tribuno’s will. It survived many fires and earthquakes. That being said, in 1902, it collapsed without any damage to the half a million recorded visitors back then nor nearby buildings. The tower is about 100 meters in height and holds a rotating statue of an angel. Today, the Venetians refer to this Bell Tower as the Gentleman for the way in which it collapsed without harming a soul, other than a cat. When the Venetians want to know the weather, they observe the rotating angel. If she is facing the water, it’s a sunny day. If she is facing the clock tower, the rain...she’s a coming.

Our next stop was The Basilica of St. Mark. There are line ups from here to eternity to see this church. The tour companies have swung a deal with the Church to allow by-passing the endless lanes. Consider it a Disney’s Fast Pass version!

In 832, this church was used as the first Doges’ private religious quarters. It took over four hundred years, many artists, craftsmen, carpenters, brick layers, mosaic layers to finish this magnificent work of art. In some areas of the Basilica, it has a Gothic style, while in other areas it has a Romanic and Byzantine architecture. The guide explained that when they had to transfer the body of the Evangelist Mark from Egypt to Venice, to avoid the Turks from capturing and the body, they covered it with ham, knowing that their Muslim faith would not allow them to reach for the body. His body now resides in The Basilica. Once inside, you are struck by the amount of gold mosaics used to decorate the place. During the middle ages, walls were decorated with frescos; back then they realized that the humidity in Venice would rot the paintings. The use of gold was rust proof.

She guided us through many other smaller campos or squares to show us how each and every one has a church, a bell tower, a palace for the Doge, a water well and homes. The first campo to be built was St-Mark’s. As more settled in to Venice, new campos were created. Hence the labyrinth of a set up in Venezia!

Venezia....oh my!!!!

Bien Venutti!
This place is magical, regardless of how long it took me to get here from the airport to Saint-Marco Square. For a lovely 13 Euros, a vaporetto (fancy word meaning public transportation on water....but their word sounds sooo much more sexy, NO?)will sail you across. Upon arrival to this busy, delightful, sensory over-load filled location, you grab your luggage and begin meandering the labyrinth called Venice.

I quickly dropped off my luggage at the hotel and made my way to the piazetta, where I found a small table which faced the Basilica, while being serenaded by a four piece band playing Italian melodies. Life is GOOD!!!
I must have sat there for an hour, allowing the sounds, the sights, the scents and the mob catch up with my senses.

I will use a later blog to describe THE MEN in Venezia...They deserve a blog all on their own. I will only say, one is better looking than the next. Meantime, the Canon is on over drive...what to do with all these pics, once am home?

When I say mob, I mean all walks of life, from all over the world have decided to fly or sail into Venice to catch a quick glimpse of this surreal zone.
Gondolas and their Gondoliers await you to take you anywhere and everywhere, at a nominal fee of course of 100 Euros. You can negotiate a slightly better rate a few bridges away and maybe pay 80 Euros. I ask the chief, why the price variation between the two stalls. He answers "because they are BASTARDS...Ciao Bella!"

I walked into a local shop, and began chatting with the employee.
I asked her where would a local grab a Gondola, without having to feel raped in the process. She smiles and directs me to quieter canals and says "when you see a gondolier sailing along in a solo Gondola, smile sexily and grab his attention...and then offer him 50 Euros for that same ride". "Grazie Mille, Bella" is what I responded for this delightful insider tip. Perhaps a mini-skirt is in order tomorrow, with a lovely shade of hot red on the lips? Si?

The Euros do not go very far here. Meals, drinks, and goods are pricy. While I sat at that Piazzetta for a late lunch, I ordered a grilled veggy panini, diet coke, and gelato for desert while basking in the surroundings...and a paid a wee fortune. 40 Euros to be exact!!!
It is not every day, one is in Venezia!

Ciao Ciao for now!

Let's talk Burkas, shall we?

It's my last day in Munich...and I have kept it somewhat together about the omnipresent BURKAS in Munich. Alas, I can no longer keep my mouth shut.

I am puzzled.
I don't get them.
I don't understand them.
I remain confused.

Here is why...
The young generation parade around in their black burkas, wearing their veils in a sensual way, with THICK make-up that make the eyes tantalizing and sexual. Their feet are slipped into a beautiful pair of Miu Miu high heeled-sandals and gorgeous hennah designs entice and invite us to wonder what hides beneath the dark cloak.
In the past four days, I see them walk in and out of expensive department stores buying designer clothing as if the clothing were being given away.

So here is my question...
Isn't the purpose in the Muslim religion to wear burkas to maintain modesty?
Does it not say in the Qur’an (Allah’s word, stated by Mohammed)that women should cover their beauties? (perhaps meaning their legs, arms, hair and chests).
If so, where is THIS modest behaviour when you are raising other's curiosity by exuding sexual mystique, eyes adorned with thick lashes and black lined mascara and hues of eye shadow to draw in even a "mildly blind man"??

Glad I got that out of the way.

Here is my next observation...
My room faces an indoor courtyard and I can see a parallel hallway where patrons enter the room. To some extent when am typing away at my desk which faces the window and courtyard, I become the fish in the bowl.

That being said, I cannot tell you the number of unusual behaviours I have witnessed in the last little while. The Saudi men walk around in their white gowns in mid-afternoon, barefoot, pacing the hallway and staring at ME!

A few hours later, you can see two young men carrying huge baskets filled with walnuts, still walking in barefoot along the corridor until they knock on a room door.

At the breakfast table, where waiters are everywhere, these families sit at their table and have their Filipina housekeepers fetch their meals for the entire crew.

I won't tell you how many times, I have seen trails of sunflower seed shells all over the corridors.

The restaurant in the Sofitel, turned one of their dining halls into a Hallal friendly zone. One area of the cafe/bar, no longer serves liquor to accommodate these families.

Let's talk pool and spa...there are special times at which women can bathe freely and men can bathe freely and when men and women can ogle eachother.
So tonight, between 10pm and midnight, the pool was open to women only.
The Saudi women enter in their burkas, and disrobe in the shower stalls. When they enter the pool area, they have swim suits on, and thick cover ups. Layer after layer of clothing float in the pool.(Nothing like the stolen image above, from Google).
The lights at this spa pool are dimmed; the colour palette in the spa are chocolate, silver and light blue. It has a grotto feel to it...

Not far from the pool, there are groups of women who sit fully draped in their black burkas and chat away while checking on their daughters swimming. Younger than ten, they are seen wearing Western bathing suits. I am assuming that having reached puberty, they are clothed in layers like their mothers.
Hennah-like tattoos adorn their feet.

I entered the pool, and funny how I became the odd person out. I FELT as if I was naked. I swam around and wondered into a darker section of the pool, dim lit for ambiance sake. Upon my return, the Saudi lady asks me, what's on the other side?
I told her the pool continues in an S-design. "Don't you want to go?", I ask. She answers "I'm afraid".

I tell her to follow me and her kids jump for joy, all excited about their upcoming "adventure on the dark side of the pool"!!! This amused me. What would this same lady have said if she were walking down the streets of Amsterdam and two men asked her to join them for a threesome with endless pot...now THAT is scary in my world.
Mind you, other's might find that exhilarating!!!!

I also noticed, when I was in the sauna or steam room, they wouldn't enter. They would come in and step out shortly. Was it me or all their layers of clothing?
I was ready to call it a night. I grabbed my white spa robe and began making my way to the elevators. The women ALL leaned to the right to see me walk away and head to the lift. As I press the elevator button to head to my floor, I smile.
I guess roaming in a bathrobe, at some hotel, in Munich makes ME the ODD MAN OUT!

Gute nacht or should I be saying tossbiheena 'ala khayr?