For whom the bell, and the drum tolls – Varenna Italy
Our new best friend Mirko is smiling and talking about our next destination. “Ahh – Varenna. It is lovely si? I wisha to go there myself some a day.”
Our new best friend Mirko is smiling and talking about our next destination. “Ahh – Varenna. It is lovely si? I wisha to go there myself some a day.”
Two things you don’t do in Venice – take a gondola ride, and poke someone in the eye. The first is way too expensive and the second, well, if you make a Venetian blind, they hang you (boom boom).
We don’t usually go to art auctions, but we did today. It’s one of those “sea days” when the ship is sailing along and there is nothing to look at but the horizon and the occasional piece of wave tossed styrofoam.
As the great philosopher Pythagorosticus once said, “it’s all a matter of perspective.”
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert….
There’s a story about a small boy, sitting amongst mountains of sweets, and starving to death. His problem? So much to choose from he couldn’t choose any. So, why did this story come to mind here in the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul?
If you get asked the old trivia question “what’s the capital of Greece?” the correct answer used to be “about five dollars”. Good news! We’ve changed that!
Death and organized tours are two of the great levellers of life. They are also both a means to an end, so to speak.
They reckon you should never talk about politics or religion. Oops.
It’s another early morning and we’re on our way from the port of Civitavecchia to Rome.
I reckon Italy is wasted on the Italians. It’s stop two of our cruise and already I’m feeling like a hummingbird that darts in, enjoys the flower, and then darts off again. Overnight, France has magically morphed into Italy.