The slow sound of sanctity escaped the room. It had been built with Mathematical purity in mind. Symmetrical arches suggesting the infinite. That war had been lost. The space was now cluttered with relics and grotesques.

Among the clutter were elaborate displays of gold. With cinematic glory they promised a claustrophobic Heaven with shining cherubs twisting around your feet. Within the gold…snakes were well hidden.

She arrived daily to sing the songs of her youth. The words were long gone. It was mostly “la-la-las” and tuneless humming. Her smile was bright. Her eyes sought your own. They were the the eyes of a child left too long at the dinner table waiting for dessert.

Father Antonio gestured towards her and spoke softly.

“She’s mostly harmless. A nuisance sometimes. Her hearing isn’t as good as it used to be. Neither is her singing.”

“She’s here everyday?”

“Yes, twice a day. She is the first one here in the morning, and the last one to leave at night. The rest of the time she weaves baskets under the tree in the center of the square.”

“You said she’s mostly harmless?”

“Yes. Sometimes she brings snakes into the sanctuary in her baskets. Once in awhile one escapes.”

“Snakes?”

“She talks to them out in the square. In here I think she sings to them. It’s quite a commotion when one escapes.”

As the evening light brought a soft darkness into the sanctuary the old woman stopped singing. She bent over and shuffled the basket at her feet around. Her swollen fingers lifted the lid.

She resumed her singing. It was a sing song chant full of sibilants. Snakes slithered out of the basket, across the floor, and joined the twisting cherubs.

We’ve spent two months in Spain wearing the  clothes we stuffed into our carry ons and a small backpack. As usual we are coming home with more than we left with. Our packing lists have been honed by five years of trial and error.

The lessons??? Leave your hats at home and pick up cheap throwaways at your destination. Europe has become less formal. Dress clothes can be more multi-purpose. Black jeans are more versatile than slacks. Shawls and scarves do a lot to dress up a little black dress. You can never have enough underwear and socks. Bring a basic wardrobe and purchase clothes to suit the weather as you go. Every purchase you make requires that you leave something behind.

Donna’s Basic Black List

Leggings, gaucho pants, pencil skirt, midi dress with low back, long sleeve jersey shirt, two black tank tops, black sleeveless dress with white trim, stylish sweatshirt, cardigan, cashmere pashmina, one fancy dress..,

Donna’s Color Wardrobe 

Turquoise print tank, black and white tunic, classic white shirt, two shimmery tunic length beige tanks, beige print pencil shirt, cotton blend loose fitting dress for relaxing…

Scarves etc.

White, black and white, colorful…

Bathing suit, black sandals (flats), black sandals (wedge), one pair of sport shoes, one Bagalini purse…

Travel Outfit

Linen drawstring pants, black tunic, pashmina…

Mark’s List

One pair black jeans, two light weight convertible pants, one medium weight convertible pant, two long-sleeve black t-shirts, two easy wash black t-shirts, two black cotton short-sleeve t-shirts, two white short-sleeve t-shirts, three long-sleeve travel shirts, a black hoodie, a wrinkle free sports coat, swim trunks, exercise shorts, seven pairs of underwear, five pairs of sport socks, four pairs of dress socks, walking shoes, beach shoes…

 

 

On every street corner approaching a Spanish tourist zone their is a couple who has no idea where they are. One has their cell phone out. It’s opened to Google Maps. The other one is holding a tourist map. That couple isn’t always Mark and Donna!

Tourist maps are terrible instruments. They aren’t drawn to scale. The top of the map isn’t always North. These maps are handed out by tour companies. If the maps got you comfortably from point A to point B, you wouldn’t take their tours.

It is possible to drag out an actual city map. By the time you lay it out you might as well be playing Twister. I don’t know about anyone else’s relationship, but playing a variation of Twister anywhere in the vicinity of “Where the Hell are we now???” never sounds like a viable option.

So, Donna and I opt for the crappy map and Google system. We get to feel smug when we encounter lost couples. The person with the phone says, “I think I’ve got it!” The person with the map runs up. Notes are compared. Then they set off following Ms. Google’s guidance. We give each other a knowing smile.

Narrow streets lined with buildings are not conducive to cell phone connections. They aren’t any good for helping you find landmarks either. We were two blocks from the Cathedral in Seville. It wasn’t looming on any horizon. We saw buildings and blue sky.

One night after seeing Fado singer, Gisela Joao, we had an amazing conversation with Ms. Google. I left our part of the conversation out. I’m quite sure you can fill in the blanks!

“Turn left on Calle Palos de la Frontera in 680 feet!”

“Turn left on Calle Palos de la Frontera in 750 feet!”

“Turn left on Calle Palos de la Frontera in 10 feet…250 feet…300 feet!”

“Turn left on Calle Palos de la Frontera! Turn left on Calle Palos de la Frontera in 75 feet!”

All of this while we were making sure the little blue dot was on the blue line and we were walking in the right direction.

We wound up at La Mar Canalla, in Seville’s El Porvenir neighborhood. It was nowhere near where we thought we were headed. A long walk in the wrong direction at 11:00 at night would be the accurate description!

La Mar Canalla is one of those perfect Seville fish bars. We were treated to an impromptu flamenco show. A neighborhood girl having dinner with her family got up and performed with a grizzled street musician. The service was delightful. The wine was excellent. The fish was perfectly prepared!

The restaurant is also next to a taxi circuit. Less than a minute after paying “la cuenta” we were in the back of a cab and heading home. It would have been a very long walk!

 

“If you don’t write it on a piece of paper, it won’t happen!” Every few years Donna insists that we go into our separate corners and make our wish lists. It’s a serious undertaking that involves magazines, glue, poster paper, and colored markers. At first I thought this was overkill. Looking back at our wish lists it’s amazing how many items we have checked off.

Travel was on both of our lists. Donna’s daughter, Rachel, helped kick start our adventures. “Mom, instead of buying houses and knocking down walls…why don’t you put your energy into traveling!”  That was music to my ears!

I took a look at Donna’s travel notes. Here’s what I found!

You Can Afford It…

Staying in one place for a longer period of time is cheaper. Hotels are more expensive than Airbnb’s. You can negotiate if you are helping the owner eliminate blank spots on their calendar. Even at $1,600 a month you are only paying $53.33 a night for accommodations. For us that’s the high end, but it’s only one of the cost factors. I look at food and transportation too.

You are going to eat no matter where you are. We factor in eating at great restaurants, but having a place with a kitchen eliminates some of that expense. We find places that are close to local markets. The food is cheaper and better than we can get in the states.

Airfares vary throughout the year. Make a habit of checking them regularly. Flying out on a Tuesday or Wednesday is cheaper. Always get travel insurance. We use AAA’s. It eliminates worrying about cancellations.

Ground transportation adds up too. We try to choose locations that minimize those costs. Staying close to train and bus stations is not something I’d advise. Areas that are close to stations can be dicey.

Once you decide you’re going to travel it’s a matter of getting your budget to align with that priority. Just making your morning coffee at home for a year buys you the plane ticket.

Location, Location, Location…

We decide where we want to stay for a month, or longer. We make lists of things we want to experience. The where and the what figure prominently in our initial discussions. That’s where negotiations occur. Then there are the basics traveling together have made clear.

• Don’t try to see it all.
• Stay in one place for longer periods of time, and use that as a base. It’s less expensive, and less exhausting.
• Stay away from tourist traps! They don’t refect the tastes of the locals. They tend to offer a substandard experience.
• Stay within walking distance of the major sights you plan on seeing. Buses can be sketchy, and taxis are going to cost you. Always ask the taxi driver for an estimate before getting into a taxi.
• Check out your access to other destinations. What modes of transportation are available? What are the travel times, and costs? We do this before we leave. What we find online and on the ground don’t  always match.
• Don’t plan on driving in city centers. They are challenging, and you’ll spend a lot of your time looking for parking.
• Once you’ve decided on your destination it’s usually cheaper to make reservations for restaurants, special tours, car rentals, and concerts from home. (So far we’ve missed seeing Sinead O’Connor in Rome, Manu Chao in Grenada, and The Stones in Barcelona!)

Keep It Light Enough To Travel…

• Travel light! We only take one carry on and a small backpack even if it’s a two month trip.
• We buy a cheap suitcase on the way home and fill it with our vacation purchases. (Wine & olive oil!)
• On the way to our destination we don’t check any bags.
• On the way home we check everything except our backpacks. Those are stuffed with meds, snacks, chargers, and anything else we might need if we get stranded.
• Coordinate your wardrobe using hand washable items. Check the temperature extremes during the time you plan to visit.
• If your travel is going to overlap seasons, take some clothes you don’t mind leaving behind. (Mark brings cheap black t-shirts.) Buy clothes that suit the weather locally.
• Mark usually travels with a hat. He has come to the realization that buying a tourist hat and leaving it behind makes more sense.
• I use a Kindle for travel guides and other reading materials.

The Essentials…

• Make sure your passport is up to date! Each country has different standards. Check!!!
• Pre-order your meds and get your medical appointments out of the way before you travel.
• Arrange an international plan with your cell phone carrier. Call them the day before you leave to make sure they’ve actually followed through.
• Get international contact numbers for your cell phone carrier. Something will go wrong!
• Contact your bank and credit card carrier and let them know when and where you will be traveling. Expect them to block you several times anyway.
• Keep an emergency stash of cash. Your card won’t work in the ATM in some out of the way town. Your bank just blocked you again. You won’t be able to contact them for another 24 hours!
• Women should carry an across the body purse. I like the Baggallini. Mark uses a pacsafe across the body mini-pack instead of a wallet. Pickpockets are real and highly skilled! (Ask Mark!)
• Keep a hard copy of all the reservations, contacts, phone numbers, and addresses you are going to make use of on your trip.
• Keep a file for paying bills. I use my phone, but keep a paper trail. It has come in handy! (Verizon!!!)
• Make a chronological itinerary of your trip.

Misc. …

• When asked if you want to make a transaction in euros, or dollars say, “Euros!” If you choose dollars it will cost you more, and the store takes a cut!
• Tipping isn’t mandatory. Servers in Europe are typically paid an actual salary.
• Tipping is appreciated. Tourists make everything more expensive for locals. Tipping takes the edge off!
• Expect to make adjustments and course corrections as you go along. With slower travel you have more options. You control the itinerary. It doesn’t control you!

Part Two: Packing Tips! Coming soonish!!!

 

The location of our Girona apartment made it difficult to ignore the Catalonian independence movement. It came along just like the Cathedral bells and the tourist train. The steps of the Cathedral of Saint Mary of Girona are a perfect place to gather. The largest independence rally was held on those steps on the National Day of Catalan. Other demonstrations passed by right below our windows.

What became clear in our discussions with locals was that all of the issues had been boiled down to one. “The Spanish government won’t let us vote!” By declaring the vote illegal and promising to stop it by any means necessary the government had effectively inflamed passions. It had also handed the leaders of the independence movement a powerful organizing tool.

“Never organize the opposition!” is one of the cardinal rules of political activism. Not following that rule is a recipe for a very hard fought win, or defeat. When you tell a proud people their hopes, dreams, and aspirations are illegal expect fierce resistance!

It doesn’t matter if the boot on your neck belongs to a communist, or a capitalist. When authoritarians demand strict compliance to their decrees people will eventually resist. There has never been a better rallying cry than the one Mel Gibson bellowed in Braveheart. “Freedom!” has staying power.

In Girona the rallying cry was, “Votarem! Votarem!” “We will vote! We will vote!”  Every rally ended with that vow of determination. Before the rallying cry there were brief speeches, and lots of sing-alongs. It was difficult not to get caught up in the emotions. I stood at the edge of the crowd singing a chorus and clapping rhythmically. Unbidden my eyes welled up with tears. I looked over to Donna and her eyes were brimming too.

What were the specifics of the cause? “We just want to vote! That is all! To vote!!!” Under that desire there were other sentiments. “We are not Spain!” “We have always been more French!” “The government takes more than it returns!” “There are too many scandals and corrupt governors! We are tired of subsidizing corruption!!!”

What would a new Catalonian State look like? Would the European Union recognize that new state? On the street and in the cafes these questions didn’t have clear answers. The discussion always came back to, “We vote to be free!”

On October 1st the national police stormed voting stations to confiscate voting materials. They were met with fierce resistance. At last count 800 Catalans were injured in the frays that broke out across the region. Despite efforts to shut down the vote people voted when and where they could.

By early Monday Catalan President, Carles Puigdemont, was declaring victory. There are 5.3 million registered voters in the region. 2.26 million votes had been counted. 90% of those favored independence. Other ballots had been confiscated by the police. Catalan officials promised to use these results to unilaterally declare independence. The Spanish government is suggesting negotiations.

We watched the news from Valencia and recalled the chants that filled the air beneath our balcony in Girona. “Votarem! Votarem!” We were heading for Seville, but wished there was time for one more Gin & Tonic at Nykteri’s. The owner of Girona’s acclaimed bar mixes drinks with passion. She discusses politics in the same manner! “We vote to be free!!!”

 

 

 

 

Our Girona apartment stands within the edges of Girona’s historic Call, the Jewish Quarter. At the entrance there is the scar where a mezuzah was once affixed. Next door is the Jewish Center where services are still held. Down the block is the Catalan Museum of Jewish History. The history within the museum stands as a testimony to human strength in the face of prejudice and adversity.

Apologists will tell you there was a time when the Jewish, Muslim, and Christian communities were integrated and peacefully coexisted in Girona. In truth a wall was built around the Jewish Quarter to enforce segregation. As the Christian Church gained influence the Jewish population was increasingly reviled. In 1391 violent mobs attacked the Jews. They took refuge in the Gironella Tower for 17 miserable weeks. In 1492 the Spanish Government issued an expulsion order. The Jewish population either endured forced conversions, or were expelled from Spain.

The loss was of course Spain’s. A thriving economic and intellectual community was driven out because of ignorance, prejudice, and fear. A people had been demonized and expelled from the only home they had known. It occurred with governmental support.

We like to believe the lessons of Spain, and certainly WWII, have been learned. Civilized countries and their citizens would never demonize a group of people because of their religion, race, or country of origin. We say, “We will never forget!”, but we have forgotten.

While waiting for the bus to Lloret De Mar I witnessed an ugly scene involving a young Muslim woman, and a tourist. It was clear that two-thirds of the waiting passengers were not going to be able to board the bus. Tourists from across the globe were jockeying for position to ensure they weren’t left behind. This mostly involved pushing their way to the front, and pretending they had always been there.

Among the crowd of passengers was the Muslim woman. She was traditionally attired. In the crowd of white faces an African woman wearing a hijab stuck out. When the ebb and flow of the crowd put her near the front a large man singled her out. With a loud voice and threatening body language he demanded that she go to the back of the crowd. He continued to harangue her. The woman’s eyes and quivering lips revealed closely held anger and fear. Yet, she didn’t back down.

We were a crowd of tourists heading for a holiday in Tossa De Mar. It was obvious this woman was heading there to work. That’s what Africans do in Tossa. When the man started shaking his finger in the woman’s face she became one of my Muslim students. She was Nuralain, Fatuma, and Hibibo. I thought about Ahmed, Wallis, and Muhammad. I wasn’t going to make a scene, but she was going to get on that bus. She was going to get to work on time!

Recognizing her fear, and that she would prefer no contact with a strange non-Muslim male, I greeted her quietly saying, “As-salamu alaykum!”  She returned the greeting with a whisper. I then gestured for her to place herself behind Donna. Together we all got on to the bus. Six passengers later the bus was full. The door was closed.

I don’t know who the other passengers saw when they looked at this woman. I do know the “Merci!” she gave me with a soft smile and twinkling eyes was heartfelt and genuine. A helping hand when you least expect is always welcomed!

This happened in Spain. It could have happened at home. My gesture wasn’t heroic. It was a simple recognition that prejudice was blocking an earnest young woman from going to work.

In 1391 a mob came to drive the Jews out of Girona. In 1492 the government issued a decree to do just that. In 2017 there are calls to exclude Muslims and deport Dreamers from the United States.

At the entrance of our apartment in Girona there is a deep scar in the stone. A mezuzah once hung there. That scar doesn’t call upon us to, “Not forget!” It calls upon us to, “Remember!” It’s the last word that counts!

 

 I have to admit the first meal we ate after dining at El Celler De Can Roca was at Restaurante Chino Pagoda in Tossa Del Mar. It was #99 on TripAdvisor’s list of places to eat in Tossa.

It wasn’t a budgetary decision. Sure, eating at the third best restaurant in the world set us back a bit, but we were craving the comforts of ordinary Chinese food. Street pizza, and first-rate Taco Truck Mexican were next on our list. Mission accomplished!!!

How does a restaurant become the third best restaurant in the world? 50 Best Lists recruits a collection of 1,500 food professionals that includes chefs, critics, and food fetishists. They are each given ten votes. The votes are then tallied by the global consulting firm Deloitte. 

This process put El Celler De Can Roca in first place in 2015. That spot is currently held by Eleven Madison Park in New York City. All of this is prologue. The real question is, “How was the food?”

Here I will use my own criteria.

1. Does the restaurant produce food I can’t easily duplicate at home?

2. Does the food inspire culinary experiments?

3. Is the service seamless?

By these measures El Celler De Can Roca hits it out of the park. That being said, I would need an army of cooks and prep cooks to attempt even a sliver of their menu. To deliver the meal to the table I’d need a squad of top flight servers.

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How was the food? The concept is to pack perfectly balanced and lively flavors into compact dishes. In a tapa the size of the average gherkin there were all the flavors and textures of perfect patatas bravas. In a round opaque sphere the size of the shooter in a game of marbles there was a refreshing splash of Campari.

There were other surprises as well. If you fiddled with the globe the first course of appetizers came out on, it popped open to reveal a sea water and caviar filled sphere. The langoustine with sagebrush, vanilla oil and toasted butter was supernaturally paired with a Reynard Grand Cru Les Preuses 01 A.O.C. Chablis. That sounds pretentious, but it was damn good!

What the Can Roca experience created was an intense awareness of every component in each dish. In the dessert The plant, from roots to flowers there was a sprinkling of tiny seeds. They imparted the flavor of strawberries. “Strawberry seeds???” Then the intellectual exercises began. “Is that even possible? How would you isolate strawberry seeds? They are gone! How can I test my perceptions?” 

Were there misses? It depends upon your tastes. The four levels of aged and fermented mackerel paired with equally aged and fermented sherries was a challenge. It produced an obvious conclusion. Aging and fermentation does wonderful things to grapes. The effect on fish? It’s like eating tideflats!

The Old Book dessert was very clever. At the last moment a server dribbled the distilled essence of old books on the concoction. My brother’s research back in the states revealed the aging process of books creates a byproduct called lignin. It is closely related to vanillin.

Who knew? I always thought old books smelled like mildew. What my brain produced in my mouth was closer to my own notions about old books. Clever, but sort of like trying to determine whose socks smell like truffles.

The overall impression is that eating at El Celler De Can Roca was a once in a lifetime experience. It will forever change how I eat, and how I think about food. At l’lamber in Barcelona, and Compartir in Cadaques the influence was deeply felt. El Celler De Can Roca will always be the yardstick I use to measure other restaurants.

At home I am more likely to try making l’lamber’s Bloody Mary Jell-O shots, or Compartir’s gazpacho ice cream. I’ll try to make a Negroni as smooth as the one I had at Nykteri’s in Girona. The quest for “The Best Restaurant in the World” is one I’ll gladly leave to the professionals!

“Be safe!” People used to send each other off with those words after every gathering. I recall them in a more innocent time. Today the words take on a more ominous meaning.

Safety has always been a relative thing. I once felt safe walking through San Francisco’s Tenderloin. Donna had serious doubts. We were about a half mile in when a denizen of the district decided it was a good time to urinate. He was standing next to Donna at a crosswalk. Donna gave me a piercing glare and stomped on ahead. Street hardened men caught the look in her eye, and then looked at me with heartfelt pity. They wouldn’t have traded places with me for anything.

After the terrorist attack in Barcelona there was never a hint that we should reconsider our trip. If anything our thinking was that heightened vigilance was going to be a given. Barcelona would be one of the safest places in the world to visit.

When we arrived at the Barcelona airport we didn’t notice anything different. It was the same security protocol we experienced last year. We did notice subtle differences during our brief stay in the Born District. Uniformed officers were more visible. Moveable metal barriers were casually placed. Spaniards were not letting any of this interfere with the living of their lives though.

When we returned to Barcelona in mid-September to get Donna’s tooth fixed we joined the Sunday crowds on the Rambla. The Rambla was where the terrorist attack occurred.  Tourists were the only ones who seemed to be noting this. They were taking photos of key locations, and discussing the event in French, German, English, and Dutch. Then they joined everyone else in shopping, eating at sidewalk cafes, and heading down to the beach.

A new level of security was visible though. Police cars were strategically parked to make it difficult for a vehicle to enter the pedestrian promenade. There were officers visible at key intersections. There was heightened vigilance, but fear wasn’t being injected into daily life.

There wasn’t a marker to commemorate the event. In Barcelona the sentiment seems to be, “If terrorism makes us change the way we live, the terrorists have won.” After the train attack in England security at the train station was tightened up. Quite simply, business as usual meant adjusting to changing circumstances.

What is our overall feeling? We love Barcelona just as much as we did the first time around. The Born still feels like our stomping ground. Donna got clothes from David Valls’ again. We had a fine dining experience at l’lamber. Little Italy is still a cozy little bistro, and they’ve added live jazz. We finally ate at Barestaurant L’Univers in Mercato Santa Caterina. You choose market fresh fish, and they cook it right in front of you. What’s not to love?

Donna’s tooth? Dr. Victor Cambra performed miracles in his sleek modern office. I sat at his large polished wooden desk and observed the procedures. An assistant made an espresso for me. Donna expected to leave dentist’s office wearing the dreaded “flipper”. She left with her implant expertly repaired. The bill was only 180 euros! The espresso was on the house!!!

Normal is relative. I could get used Barcelona!

Nothing beats edible Art! Visual artists will tell you about the enduring value of their medium. I always want to ask them, “How does it taste? How does it smell? How does it feel in your mouth?” 

One could presume a Dali tastes better than a Pollock. Certainly a Botticelli must taste better than that thing you picked up at a garage sale. The beauty here is that edible Art/art is democratic, and mostly forgiving. Everyone can try to create it.  Since it isn’t enduring…no evidence remains. The triumphs move into the realm of oral history. The worst experiments reside there too. The rest of our efforts are just average meatloaf.

In Spain the quality of the food follows you. I stood in the produce section of an above average grocery store in the U.S. and wondered, “Why the Hell are they selling this stuff?” It was cellulose in a pretty package. The flavor got lost in a science lab somewhere.

Part of the Schwendeman/Hale travel design is to stay somewhere long enough to cook. This means finding a long-term let with an adequate kitchen. For short stays cooking-in isn’t practical. When in Rome for less than five days it makes more sense to take advantage of the masters working in the kitchens. The same is true in Barcelona, Venice, Paris, San Francisco, or any other city known for its cuisine. Staying longer is a different proposition. It means diving into not only the restaurants, but into the markets.

Donna’s rule of thumb for restaurants hasn’t changed. Mine hasn’t either. To be included on Donna’s list there have to be at least three good reviews. Rick Steves’ recommendations only count if you want to find wifi, or fellow U.S. tourists. My rule of thumb has two parts. Don’t quibble over restaurants when you are tired and hungry, and trust your eyes and nose. Donna’s wisdom guides us to incredible places. She will tell you mine barely manages to save my life.

Our homemade art??? The octopus, olive oil, chanterelles, tomatoes, pears, figs, and pickled vegetables were the kind of ingredients you have to really work to find at home. The deeply smoked pimiento should really get included in a communion service. The wines are that good too. The Devil needs to feel represented here. The local aperitif, Ratafia, is terribly wonderful. Sweetness should always have a kick that strong!

The beautiful tuna in escabeche? It’s memory has been erased by the salad Donna got at the Bau-Bar across the street from our flat in Girona. 

SALUD!!!

 

Girona Cathedral is even closer than it seems in photos. It’s unapologetically in our faces. So, the question we get asked is, “Are the bells going to make you crazzzy!” 

First, you have to know a little more about these bells. At quarter past a small bell clangs once, at half-past twice, and at quarter to there are three clangs. Once the minute hand hits twelve there are four clangs followed by the sonorous voices of the big bells counting the hour. The bells have no curfew.

On Saturday at 5:30 PM there was a joyous, but tuneless, demonstration of the entire arsenal of bells. It lasted ten minutes. On Sunday morning at 10 AM and again at 10:30 there were similar displays. They were designed to wake the dead and get them to church on time. If not the dead, then surely the seriously hungover. Moderation in all things…except bells!

This is not to mention the hordes of people who gather to take photos of themselves on the steps of the church, or the tourist train that loads and unloads beneath our front window. The mind is an amazing thing though. Donna slept through Saturday’s ten minute display and two circuits of the train without stirring.

The 5:30 bells roused me from my siesta…bolt upright. This was a role reversal. Once I decide to go to sleep I am a committed sleeper. Donna??? Even dreams wake her up. She was the only one of us who was awake for Friday’s midnight, two, and four o’clock ringing of the bells. Which might explain the depth of her slumber on Saturday afternoon.

All of this might sound like a long complaint, but we love it here. The people watching is endlessly amusing. We are steps away from world class restaurants, and surrounded by history and beauty. There is also the promised thinning of the mid-week crowds once school starts. Neither one of us is betting on that.

As for the bells? There’s a lesson from my 40 years in education that applies. “Rigorous consistency puts people to sleep. Give them predictability, but leave things wonderously open if you expect them to learn anything.”  

We are learning. We are happy. We are getting the required amount of sleep! I only wish that ridiculous tourist train didn’t stop here!