Images: In the Tuscan Countryside; The Abbey; Ancient Winecart

Today we drove to Montalcino. The map says that it is 40 km away. Tuscan maps should measure distance in the number of switchbacks you must navigate.
I love driving, and I love the hills and scenery, but the strada between Santa Fiora and Montalcino has more twists and turns than a Dan Brown novel.
When we arrived in Montalcino, I was struck by an overwhelming dizzyness and nausea, and literally could not walk. I lay down on a bench in a park with a breathtaking view of the country below. After about ten minutes, we moved on to explore Montalcino, and I got progressively better.
Montalcino is a beautiful town, but it definitely knows where its bread gets buttered. Enotecas abounded, with slick souvenir shoppes and fancy restaurants.
We sat down to have a piccollo pranza - a light lunch, one shared appetizer and one glass of wine for SL – and came away 40 Euros lighter. This may not seem expensive by North American standards, but we have become used to having a whole dinner for 35 Euros.
We broke down, visited the enotecas, and ended up buying a 2004 Brunello di Montalcino, which we are saving for our fast-approaching last night. How I wished I had my music partner - J. B. Harrison, with us to advise on the purchase. I am not sure I know anyone more knowledgeable about wine than JB. We would have liked to buy a case or two to send back...
On the way back we stopped at a tenth century abbey which had afforded comfort and protection to pilgrims, and earned the gratitude and respect of generations. It is a humbling experience to stand in an edifice that has survived for over a thousand years. The acoustics were incredible. My accapella rendition Billy Idol's “White Wedding” was a huge hit with the monks, and probably still has them talking.
Driving the road to Santa Fiora, we passed an ancient discarded wine cart, laden with flagons once filled with Montalcino wines. History, scenery, vintages – Montalcino!

Images: Our Butcher; Our BBQ

We discover that our casa does not have a BBQ – that's Italian for BBQ. It's funny, because SL and I spent an hour or so in the Piazza today, just eating a gelato and watching people, and we began feeling Italianized. I wonder if I am going to start writing in Italics....... (sorry)
Undaunted, we forged ahead and visited our macelleria, where SL would NOT relent until I had a picture of our friendly local butcher, a caricature of what she thought he should look like. Guiseppe carved me off two Bistecca Fiorentina and was most disappointed when I explained that it was not Team Canada I needed to feed, just SL and me. I left with a beautiful steak that tipped the Toledos at almost two pounds.
We then went to the local salumeria and discovered that we could buy local Tuscan wine in bulk. After tasting a couple, we bought a two litre jug of a mellow Tuscan red that was poured from a huge barrel into a bottle with a 1$ deposit. Cost? $4 or $2 a litre.
Back at our casa, I jerry-rigged a BBQ from an old broken wheel barrow and a grille from il forno in the house.
SL made a salad, I grilled steak, we had proscuitto and melone for antipasto, drank local Tuscan wine, and watched the sun set on Monte Amiata.

Santa Fiora

Images: The Everything Store; SL and JL at the Abbey; The Abbey; The Tower at Radicofani; The View from thge Tower
First we reconnoiter. We head to the Piazza Garibaldi and start out to ask for a map and advice on visiting Abbadia San Salvatore. We have yet to meet anyone in Santa Fiori who speaks any English, so I put on my best Italiano accent and dive in...
“Buonjourno, oggi vorreimo andare a Abbadia San Salvatore. Avete una carta geographica, per favore?” The lady in the tourist office looks at me, allows me to stumble on a bit more, then says, “Righto, then, what you'll be after is a spot of advice on which towns to see, and which are not worth the bother...” in the thickest Yorkshire accent imaginable.
She procedes to tell us that Radicofani is a must see if we are going to Abbadia San Salvatore, and that it has the highest tower in Tuscany, with views for miles around.
We get to Abbadia San Salvatore, worried that the enoteca and curio shoppe that was so highly recommended would be closed, to find that it is the only store open. Entering it is a bit like entering Willie Wonka's I imagine. It is absolutely crammed with wines, beers, liqueurs, cheeses, salamis, crafts, antiques, dolls, clocks, ceramics, oils, jams and vinegars. The woman who runs it is absolutely charming, looks like a Mennonite, talks like Ted Baxter's wife on the Lou Grant show, and sells like Lee Iococca.
She entertains us with the provenance of everything that we are about to taste, proudly pointing out that all the sausages and cheeses are made on her farm, that her father personally pressed the olive oil, and that the chestnut beer is only made on Monte Amiata. At least three times I said, “Basta cosi”, which I thought meant, “That's enough”, but apparently means, “I want to sample some more wine, cheese, grappa, jam and bread, talk awhile and visit your farm.”
Leaving Abbadia San Salvatore with our Fiat full of wines, beers, liqueurs, cheeses, salamis, ceramics, oils, jams and vinegars, we headed to Radicofani.
Radicofani is another medieval town with narrow streets adorned with potted plants, and beautiful balconies teeming with flowers. The high point (literally) was the tower of the old castello. SL and I climbed the 129 narrow steps to the top to see spectacular views of the Tuscan hillsides.
We then headed home for our Bistecca Fiorentina and Vino Toscana.

Tuscany Day 1

Images: Our pet - "Scorpio"; Our Tuscan House; The Patio; View from the Back of the Patio
Here in Tuscany, dogs do not get laryngitis, birds do not need alarm clocks, and scorpions are not just in your daily horoscope.
The first thing that we did right was to plan our travel, our stops and our shopping so that we arrived in Santa Fiora with a load of groceries but with plenty of daylight left to search for the key to #8 Chiassi del Borgo, which was hidden “under a rock in the flowerbed to the right of the door.” Problem being that there was no flower bed, no flowers, no garden to the right of the door. The whole patio was made of rocks. SL finally looked under a rock and found the key, then proceeded to enter the house to find.... a scorpion.
Emerging from the bathroom she requested that I confirm that there in the bathtub was a real live scorpion. With my vastly superior experience of dealing with scorpions in Burlington Ontario, I confirmed that it looked exactly like every picture of a scorpion I had ever seen. After I had dispatched Scorpio back to its constellation, we decided to wear slippers everywhere in the house.
Marcello, our neighbour, runs a kennel next door, but lives in town. His 23 dogs bark, taking turns rather like a relay race if one of them loses heart. At the moment, there is at least a quintet in full voice. They bark in the day. They bark at night. They bark in the morning. They bark at 3:47 in the morning. They bark.... you get the picture.
Funny thing is, scorpions, dogs, spiders, snakes (there are poisonous vipers in the fields) – we love it here.
You get used to the dogs, and kind of miss them when they take a union break. The blend in with the sound of the songbirds, the gurgle of the water that flows from the fountain in our back yard, the rush of the river below. The smell of the air is unbelievable.
The scenery is storybook pretty; we are near Monte Amiata, the highest mountain in Tuscany, and the villages, towns, stone cottages are centuries old.
Tomorrow we explore Abbadia San Salvatore and Radicofani. I plan to BBQ a Bistecca Fiorentina tomorrow night!

Athens - Last Day in Greece

Images: Lady of the Night in Athens; Pickpockets; Sign on the Metro; Poseidon in the Musuem.

Talk about culture shock. When one has become accustomed to the idyll of Cycladic life on the islands, it is akin to splashing cold water in one's face to arrive in Athens.

First, there was the ferry ride where it rained. The sun was shining in Sifnos.

Then upon arrival in Pireas, we had to somehow run the guantlet of taxi drivers and "facilitators" who were to help us to our Hotel Moka near Omonia. We were determined to do this ourselves, however, and take the Metro, then walk. We had been warned that our hotel was not in the nicest part of Athens.
The Metro was packed, and as people continued to evince their aspirations as sardines, jamming themselves into smaller and smaller cranies in the tin, I moved two of our bags to allow people to get by, thus getting separated from the sardine I love most, SL. In a new corner of the tin can, with entirely new sardines for company, my antennae began to go off. (I am aware sardines do not have antennae - perhaps there was a bug in the canning process.)
I felt a couple of bumps against "the pouch" - no not THAT pouch for those of you with minds lower than my good friends - the pouch that I carry my wallet in. I turned to look and the sardinette next to me looked away, but then her male counterpart had become crammed up next to me. I pulled my pouch to the front and put my hand over it. Then I felt a feathery touch upon my hand. I looked down and thought I had imagined it. I clutched the pouch tighter, and then felt it again, and when I looked down, there were fingertips lightly exploring the zippers of the pouch.

Just then, we arrived in the station, and I pulled away as quickly as possible. I wish I could say that I crushed a fin or two of the transgressors, but I did not. In fact, I was at a bit of a loss, not knowing what to say or how to say it, or whether I would be opening up a can of ... wait for it.... sardines.

As we exited, we ran a another gauntlet - this one of prostitutes and drug addicts. We saw two addicts shooting up in the street. We spent 90 minutes looking for somewhere to get a sandwich or pita.

We were not impressed with Athens.

To cleanse ourselves and give the burg a second chance, we spent most of the day today in the National Archealogical Museum of Athens, to be featured in the next post. It was truly deserving of its claim to be one of the best museums in the world.

Sifnos Nearing the End

Images: Water's Edge in Kamares;Our 250 CC KIMCO; Perfect Place for a Wedding; My Two-Legged Friend up Close

Below: I have tried to include a short film clip that captures our surroundings at our seaside Taverna (Our "Local")

With less than a week till we leave for Tuscany, our Greek island odyssey is almost over; we have been to Santorini, Paros, Folegandros, Sifnos, and we can now add Serifos to the list.
We managed to get another great deal on a bike, a beautiful 250CC “KIMCO” scooter with storage and a windshield. We have been putting it to good use by journeying all over the island, discovering beautiful little bays and beaches. I suppose that “discovering” might be a tad grandiose a word, inviting reproach from the likes of Christopher Columbus and his ilk, but these finds are new and wondrous to us.
On Thursday we took the KIMCO over to Serifos and spent the day there. One of the beaches that we visited is called Psili Ammos, (pronounced Silly Amos – almost EXACTLY what J.B. calls me when annoyed). It has been ranked #1 in the list of the world's most beautiful beaches.
Yesterday we drove to Platis Gialis, where we found the most picturesque taverna preparing for a wedding. They kindly allowed us to wander around and explore the decorations. If any of you want a suggestion for a world-class destination for a reception – this is it!
On our way back to the KIMCO, I was commenting to SL on the fact that we really hadn't seen much native fauna, when we looked around and saw two ostriches. They were evidently as curious about me as I was about them, for I barely had time to get the camera out before they unceremoniously charged at me and I beat a hasty retreat. (SL will argue that their motion should be likened more to “sauntering” than “charging”, but it should be noted that it was not she bravely brandishing the Brownie.)
We have learned how to eat. S L O W L Y. Order one dish – share it. Order another. Share it. We remember that our host will always give us something after we ask for the bill – dessert, another carafe of wine, a liqueur. In one restaurant we requested a small mixed appetizer plate. We emphasized small to our waitress. She brought us a platter with twenty-eight pieces of fried cheeses, fried zucchini , fried eggplant, fried spinach, - each about the size of an eggroll. To apologize, she brought us another litre of wine.....
We have had terrific Italian food (Da Claudio's, The Cameron), and almost tried everything on the Greek menus. But our time is running short and we have not tried... – OUZO AND OCTOPUS. This is apparently a classic Greek pairing, and we are determined not to leave Sifnos without being able to relate the tale of its partaking.

Sifnos!

Images: View from my Mountain Hike; Fish Taverna in Heronissos; SL at Lunch; Taverna in Vathi; Vathi Beach

Of all the Greek islands we visited last year, Sifnos is the only one we chose to return to, and that speaks volumes about the experience we had. We are here for 15 days this time, but Sifnos will always now be remembered as where we were when Cadence was born.
A cadence in football is what the quarterback yells out before the play begins: “Blue 52, Blue 52, Ready, Down, Set, Hut, Hut!”, and you all know what a musical cadence is.
Cadence will be the first female Canadian professional football player to sing the national anthem before she plays in the game – and she WON'T be playing for the Montreal Allouettes.
The port town of Kamares, where we stay in Sifnos, is in a small bay cut in to the mountains. From our hotel balconies, (yes, we have two!), we can see the water on one side, and the mountains everywhere else we look. Where Folegandros was rugged and you were always perched on top of a jagged cliff looking down to the sea, on Sifnos you always seem to be in a valley looking up, or on a mountain looking down to the valleys.
The mountains in Sifnos are older, gentler, more rounded. Yes, yes, yes, it DOES sound like the direction my body is taking....
Old, round body notwithstanding, (and sometimes not even standing) I hiked up a mountain yesterday, at least as far as my good sense would allow, as it got very slippery with loose rock on a steep path on the edge of a precipice. Still and all, it was a good hour of climbing, and more than justified another Greek lunch!
We had that lunch after a bike ride to Heronissos, a tiny fishing village about 10 km away. All the fish served at the one taverna there are caught every day on the family boat. It was idyllic and seemed to underscore the theme of the whole trip.
Today we drove the bike to Vathi, about 15 km away. Vathi allows no cars and is simply a series of tavernas and pensions on a beach. We walked the beach back and forth, walked in the sea, and had a lunch of salad and kalamares (squid).
Our biggest decision right now is whether or not to take a nap before walking into town for the sunset, homemade Greek wine (delicious!) and a spaghetti dinner. I am so stressed out by the pressure of this, that I simply must have a cold Mythos (Greek beer) before putting my mind to it.

As I finish writing this, I turn around and SL is fast asleep. I go out to one of our balconies, Travelcaster guitar in hand......

Images: Our Hike's Destination - Mountain Monastery; We Made It! - Atop the Monastery Wall; JL Dune Buggy; Sunset from the Odysseus, Our Hotel

Folegandros continues its campaign for “Best Island of the Trip 2011”
We have met and enjoyed the company of more people here than on any other stop to date: Kim, Mair, Gianni, Dmitri, Andreas, Rod, Christie, llan, Karen – all the sort you would be happy to introduce to your best friend.
We have been treated to a Christening Feast by Gianni, sampled the wares at an ouzerie with Dmitri, swapped travel stories with Rod and Christie from San Francisco, sung “Hotel California” with Kim and Mair, shared an ouzo at sunset with Allen and Karen from Australia and had our dinner bill picked up by Andreas.
Every day we have a different adventure, whether climbing a mountain to a small church at its peak, or renting a dune buggy to tackle some off-roading. Technically speaking it might still be called a road in Folegandros, but the 401 it ain't. At night we try a different taverna, or revisit a favourite where we were invited to play guitar.
Our hotel has dramatic views of plunging cliffs and terraced hillsides splashed with colour from the anhydrous flowering shrubs that cling to the volcanic soil. The cliffs stage some of the most spectacular sunsets we have seen on this trip.
We will be sad to leave Folegandros, but we know that Sifnos awaits.

Parenting in Eva's Garden

Images: Taveerna in Chora: Cats Going to Dinner

We dined at Eva's Garden the other night, and the food was very creative, beautifully presented, and delicious. We started with a chickpea dip with anchovies, tomatoes, garlic, and onion served with home-baked bread. Then on to goat in tomato sauce and lamb in lemon sauce, all served up with a nice dry Santorini wine.
The real show, however, was the object lesson in parenting that the patrons were treated to by the young married couple – Eva and some young chap who didn't rate a mention on the marquee - who ran the restaurant. Perhaps not quite parenting, but you will follow my drift anon.
Those of you who followed this blog last year will remember that cats (in the language of which SL is quite fluent) have a coveted spot in the hierarchy of restaurant guests, just slightly below that of Michelin reviewers.
Our hosts, however, had decided that their's was to be a restaurant to attract a different class of clientèle who might choose dining companions of the non-feline sort. To this end, they had filled a spray bottle with water to squirt at the cats, to encourage them to solicit their dinner elsewhere. This was the rubber-bullet variety of spray, just H2O, but when the war heated, they would add vinegar, which cats do not even enjoy on a crisp green salad.
Eva would march into the fray, armed and firing from said bottle and the cats would scatter like chaff on the wind at her approach. As soon as she pivoted to re-enter the patio, the cats would immediately follow her back in, tails proudly held high as if clutching a reservation for the best table in the house. The reason for this became obvious as the next time she appeared, it was with a few tasty treats for her four-legged friends. They mewed and rubbed up against her legs, as she scratched behind their ears and fed them choice bits of fish.
Then they followed her back in, and she would re-arm herself with her water gun.
We saw this sequence repeated at least three times. Eva just could not understand what on earth she might be doing wrong.
My teacher friends will immediately recognize this parenting behaviour.

Cadence Ellery Lubert

Images: Cadence Belting Out "Welcome to the Jungle!"; Cadence Tired after the Gig.

What can we say? We were about to write another post about Folegandros and our move to Sifnos, when - stop the presses!

Cadence Ellery Lubert arrived at 1:30 AM this morning!

We are, of course over the moon with delight for Jocelyn, Geoffrey, Mia and Kingston, and fellow GPs Gerald and Judy.

We were able to talk to Geoff today, at the generosity of our host here, Kostas. The reports are that everyone is hale and healthy, and we send our positive thoughts that this will continue.

To be selfish, the moment is very bittersweet. We are as happy as can be to have another Little Lubert. We are relieved and grateful that everyone is healthy. We are very misty-eyed to not be there. We miss everyone at this moment more than we can say.

We will just have to make up for it upon our return - so Judy and Gerald, get your fill now! We get her for 4 solid weeks when we get back. We might let Joce have a day or two.....

Folegandros!

Images: SL in Folegandros, Frankie Surveying his Realm; Folegandros Cliffs; Kim and Mair; Dmitri Pa\laying the Travelcaster; Outdside the Melissa Taverna
Folegandros
Anyone trying to improve their writing should have to tour the Greek islands as we are doing. Your credibility begins to unravel as you use the words “beautiful”, “spectacular”, “gorgeous” again and again.
Folegandros, named for Prince Folegandros, the son of King Midas, is a tiny island in the Cyclades, not far from Santorini. Thirty two square miles and 667 inhabitants. The town we are in, Chora, allows no motor vehicles other than the occasional delivery mini-truck or scooter laden with roosters or live sheep tied to the carrier on the back – (seriously!).
You look down the cliffs, dotted with yellow, orange, purple and red to the pastels painting the sea, and watch the waves crashing endlessly against the steep rock. You realize there is a uniqueness to Folegandros, and start to understand that it is the multi-hued mountainsides rising in each direction, then plunging into the beautiful Aegean Sea. (Damn! I wasn't going to use that word again - “beautiful” - not “Aegean”).
Our adventures here started even before we left Santorini. As we waited for the ferry, we sat in a cafe next to two young Americans who were enjoying a beer before leaving for Folegandros. When I questioned why they got a free bowl of peanuts with their beer and we didn't, Kim said, “It's because Mair has such great breasts.” Then, looking at SL, she said, “No, that can't be it, because you've got a great rack, too!”
Then Mair started to talk about guitars, and the rest was pre-ordained – we made plans to hook up in Folegandros for a night of guitar, song, ouzo, wine and possibly even some food.
We checked into our hotel and I assembled the “Travelcaster” - my guitar. I sat outside and played a bit. Music is the universal magnet. We soon had Dimitri, an employee of the hotel and a student of the guitar, and several young guests of the hotel singing along. Mair, Kim, Dimitri, SL and I did several renditions of old favourites, and Dimitri demanded an encore of “Oh Etna”, my new song, which has become a NEW favourite for him.
The next night we went to another baptism, where Gianni, the restaurant owner, invited us in as his guests and kept us well supplied with wine as we listened to the violin, bouzouki, and singers. We are invited back tonight on the provision that I bring Travelcaster, and that accept ouzo and fresh fish in return!

Santorini Hike

Images: The Sides of the Cauldron; The Cliff Face We Came Down; JL on the Goat Path; SL on the Path; SL With the Church Below her Left Shoulder

Santorini is a volcanic caldera.
Imagine a mass of very thick, very hot porridge bubbling away in a huge cauldron on your stove, with bits of steam punching through boils on the top. Then imagine that the whole thing blows up in the middle, layering hot porridge everywhere around the sides. Then, your sprinkler system goes off and fills everything with water, instantly cooling it all down to a hardened mass, filled with water in the middle. Santorini. Caldera – cauldron.
Approximately 3600 years ago – not exactly sure of the month – this all took place, but not in your kitchen or mine. It occurred in the Aegean Sea and was one of the biggest volcanic eruptions in earth's history, called the Minoan Eruption because it was said to wipe out the Minoan civilization, one of the most advanced of its time. It is also one of the reasons that Santorini is said to actually be the lost island of Atlantis.
Our hotel is in the village of Akrotiri, where excavations in 1967 have discovered a level of civilization that has astonished the world, including hot and cold plumbing systems using geothermic heating from the volcano.
Today, we hiked down the side of the porridge pot, the caldera.
There are no warning signs, no barriers. We descended a goat path that ran from Akrotiri to the sea, a distance of over 1000 vertical feet. To be honest, there were times when we wondered when we would consider ourselves too old for this kind of challenge, and there were times when we wondered what we would do if I got hurt. SL might love me, but I am not sure if she could carry me. (She swears she has been carrying me for 38 years.)
The pictures tell the story of the incredible beauty of the scenery, but the sharpness of the descent gets lost unless you are actually there slipping on loose volcanic rice krispies, 18 inches away from a drop of 1000 feet.
As we neared the end of the descent, a tiny white church appeared out of the rock, beautiful against the frozen black magma.
When we finally reached the beach, we discovered that what our map casually referred to “rocks that you go over along the beach”, were actually hills of huge piles of rubble that we had to climb up and back down. At the end of the hike along the beach, we reached another path. Remember the 1000 foot descent? It's 1000 feet back up, too.
We were exhausted, happy and feeling quite proud of ourselves as we sat later that evening and surveyed the daunting but beautiful landscape that we had successfully challenged.

Santorini Start

Images: Santorini From the Ferry: Dancers!; Santorini Sunset; SL as the Sun Goes Down

I did not want to come to Santorini – let me clarify, I did not want to come back to Santorini.
SL and I came here in Oct 2008, on a cruise for our 35th anniversary. We were here one day, as we and 2000 other passengers waited for the cable car to lift us to Fira, the capital, to jostle along cheek to jowl, through the packed streets to see yet another tourist souvenir shop offering a Spongebob T-Shirt with a picture of Santorini on the back.
This time we did not land at Fira, we landed at Athinios, but even before we got off the ferry the magic had set in.
If Sicily is beautiful, and Paros charming, Santorini is enchanting. As we sailed into the port we looked up to the slices of layer-cake cliffs with multi-coloured striations from magma cooling at different times and temperatures. They were coated with a confectionery topping of tiny white houses hanging on precariously by the stickiness of their icing sugar bases. At night, these houses become Christmas icicle lights twinkling on the sofitt and fascia of the cliff.
Santorini honours “Saint Irene”, but before it was Santorini, it was Kalliste; “The most beautiful one.
We rented a little convertible and drove from Athinios to the ancient city of Akrotiri. After settling in to our hotel, the Kalimera ("Good day" in Greek), we walked into the local town, hearing loud music and what sounded like gunshots all the way in.
Turns out that there was a christening happening that night, and the whole town was invited. There was live music – a bousouki player and a violinist, and the loudest firecrackers you have ever heard. These were not the milquetoast bubble gum pops we have now in Canada; but REAL ordnance – remember Cherry Bombs and Garbage Cans? (and it was 6 and 7 year olds lighting them...)
SL and I watched respectfully from a distance as the party wore on. We were entranced. Anyone was allowed to get up and sing. The musicians did their best to accompany them and to keep straight faces. (I thought of the Beautiful Klaude and me, or "John and JB", playing along with someone who loves to sing, but...) SL and stayed for about 40 minutes, and finally tore ourselves away for our first sunset in Santorini, enchanted.