When we were traveling in the Southwest, I discovered that my camera has various effects, so I did a little experimenting. The one I enjoyed the most is called “vivid.” I used it a lot at the Grand Canyon (of which I have not posted yet). It definitely feels like cheating, but is it? I’ll let you ponder the philosophical gravity of that question on your own.
Here’s one photo I took of the evening sky by our house recently, plain and unadorned by fancy camera effects.
Here it is in “vivid” mode.
It’s fakey looking, but quite striking, no? I took a few more before retiring the camera that night.
The next morning, I came out early and the grass was all dewy and alight with the sun. No special effects from my camera were needed.
Behold, how good and pleasant it is For brethren to dwell together in unity! …It is like the dew of Hermon, descending upon the mountains of Zion; For there the LORD commanded the blessing – Life forevermore.
But not blog forevermore; it’s gone as the dew dries up in the morning.
(To start at the beginning: Adventures in Italy Part 1) Also, hallelujah – what was lost has been found: our digital photos from this trip! So, no more pictures of photos in a book. Phew!
Church in Genova, then to Camogli – August 2016
We’re sitting on a train that will take us to Bordighera, so I have a chance to catch up my travel journal for yesterday. Make yourselves comfortable! I never make a long story short, as you know – it always goes the other way. Someday I will be boring all our grandchildren to death when they ask a simple question and I launch into a 30-minute answer that includes what time I got up, what I had for breakfast, and how my bones and joints feel that day.
We found an English-speaking Anglican church in Genova called “Church of the Holy Ghost.” We set out on foot for the 15-minute uphill walk and although we took one false turn still managed to get there on time. It was a beautiful old building, built in the late 1800’s.
The street on which we lived – time to walk to church!Church of the Holy Ghost
We were greeted by an older lady named Liz in the British accent that never fails to charm. She seemed so very pleased to see us and asked us if we were the type to join heartily and loudly in the singing. Looking around at the sparse attendance, I could understand why this might be important. She explained to us that they wouldn’t have a priest that day. She also told us not to be alarmed if the service didn’t start right at 10:30 – “we’re on African time!” It turns out that about half of their members are from Africa and tend to meander in at different times after the service starts.
We met a fellow named John who was visiting that day also, having been on a cruise ship that stopped in at the Genova port for the day. There were no hymnals, just words printed in the bulletin, so sitting by John ended up being a key part of being able to sing along. He knew the tunes and sang loudly and confidently in a wonderful baritone voice. I thanked him afterwards for “leading” the singing. The service itself was liturgical and in that sense was very familiar to us. The woman who led the liturgy got a little off course occasionally and the order of service went somewhat cattywampus, but we all managed to figure out where she was eventually. Instead of a pianist, they had a violinist who played beautifully. Halfway through the service a little boy (3 years old?) came running up the center aisle and went over to say hello to her. It was a sweet moment that made us all smile. The father followed closely behind to retrieve the little escapee.
We were invited to stay for wine and cake after the service, so we stayed briefly and chatted with a few people. We met a fellow named “Mondey” who was from Nigeria and had been in Italy for a year and 4 months and was still waiting for documents that would allow him to work. It’s hard to imagine how discouraging that would be!
We walked back to Il Borga di Genova (our B&B) and had some down time. It was already very hot outside so we turned on our room air conditioner and did some reading and writing. We didn’t have a firm plan for the day so we decided to go back out and walk over to the super marcato (super market) to see what it was like. It was smaller than most American ones but other than that, not very different.
The front door of our “home” in Genova
My only goal for the day was to do a lot less walking. Our host, Giovanni, had told us that we might enjoy a trip to Camogli (CAM-oh-lee) just up the coast to the east, which would involve a train trip. We really were longing for more than a glimpse of the sea (didn’t see much at the Genova port) so rather than spend more time walking aimlessly around Genova, we took the leap and went to go find a train to Camogli. We are getting better at reading the train schedules and navigating our way around the train stations by now, so it wasn’t long before we had found a train going that way and settled in for the 30-minute trip. Almost as soon as we were east of Genova we began to see the wide blue expanse of the Mediterranean. What is it about being by bodies of water that is so soul filling? The view was occasionally obscured by tunnels and trees, but was a thrill each time it broke through.
We got off in Camogli, made a quick phone call to Sam (3:30 our time, 8:30 a.m. at home) and then set off to get close to the water.
First glimpse of the beach at Camogli
Kris’s instincts did not fail us and within a few minutes we had walked down steep flights of stairs and were sitting at table beachside, ordering salads for lunch. We have steadfastly tried to use the Italian we learned on Duo Lingo, but most people answer us in broken English that is better than our broken Italian.
After lunch we strolled to the Cremaria next door so I could get my daily gelato fix. I’m still supposed to be avoiding dairy and eggs, but on this trip I have entered an alternate universe in which those things are allowed, my own deus ex machina.
Did we go down to the beach? Did we go swimming? Stay tuned for the next installment. Adventures in Italy Part 12
This daily blogato fix will melt away in the morning.
Hello, friends! You may recall that my husband and I have decided to visit one Minnesota attraction per month in 2024. We didn’t think of the plan until February, so January was a bust. In February we went to the Spam Museum and in March we went to the Bell Museum of Natural History. So far, so good!
We traveled to our nation’s Southwest in April and visited 6 national parks while we were there, which will have to take the place of our Minnesota Meanderings for April. I’ve been slowly posting our travel adventures at those parks under the title of “The Wanderers.”
And now we come to May. Or rather, May is behind us now, but we did, in fact, squeeze in a Minnesota Meandering at the end of May: Como Park Zoo and Conservatory in St. Paul.
Como Park has been around for over 100 years and countless parents have brought their children there over the years. Both Kris and I remember being brought there when we were young; I couldn’t find our family photo there, but do have this charming one of little Kris wandering in the conservatory.
However, neither of us remember going there since then, and to our shame, we never brought our children there when they were growing up in Minnesota. We should have our heads examined. For one thing, the park is FREE. Yes, you read that right. There’s a suggested donation of $4 for adults and $2 for children (that’s so cheap now that it’s hard to imagine what it was 50-60 years ago when we were young). This is how we remember the cages looking way back then:
These aren’t used anymore
Como Park Z&C is owned by the city of St. Paul and operated by its Parks and Rec department. It’s been around as a destination since around 1900, the 300-acre property having been purchased by the city in 1873. In addition to the zoo and conservatory, there’s an amusement park, carousel, Lake Como, a golf course and more.
The conservatory was renamed “Marjorie McNeely Conservatory” in 2002 after her husband, Donald, donated $7 million (she had died in 1998 and was apparently an avid gardener). As an aside, good old Donald McNeely was one of the original investors in the Minnesota Vikings!
Okay, that’s enough history. The day of our visit was absolutely perfect, weather wise. We went through the zoo first, skipping the show at the aquatic animals area. I happily engaged my camera in the excessive manner to which I am accustomed, so I will prune through my photos and share some of the better ones here, but there will be lots, even so. I got quite distracted at the gorilla exhibit and could have stayed there for hours. Anyway, buckle up!
The polar bear wasn’t feeling sociable
After we had sated ourselves with the animal viewings, we made our way to the conservatory. Oy, was it hot and humid in the first part (ferns and such). Don’t expect a lot of learned discussion about the plants, but do expect more photos.
Oh, I should share a story I read when doing research for this post. In 1963 a rare Agave American plant unexpectedly bloomed – this caused quite a stir at the time. One of the shoots from the plant grew up to 35 feet, requiring the removal of one of the roof panels! The stalk bloomed into over 300 flowers. I suppose it’s possible I got a photo of this plant – who knows? I’m fairly lazy about identifying things; I just take photos of the things that delight and interest me, including my husband.
I’ve come to the end of another busy day with not enough time to write a proper post (whatever that is). So I’ll reach into the File of Languishing Photos again and see what comes forth.
Fluffy puffy stuffy clouds. Cotton balls in a sea of blue. Cheerful denizens of the sky, unlike their nefarious cousins, the storm clouds.
The mustard and ketchup flower. The blushing sunshine flower. The tulip with outstretched arms and a welcoming nature.
And to finish off this random bit of writing, a haiku.
Puffy stuffy clouds, Blushing tulips glow below; Will they ever meet?
Tiptoeing through the tulips with feet that delete.
I’m still doing rough drafts of the poinciana tree and feel like I’m getting to know it better. Here’s the first and second rough drafts side by side, followed by the original photo. I drew the second one from a photograph of a different perspective, so the trunk is different.
My sense is that when I begin to do the watercolor painting, it will be loose, rather than super detailed. We shall see.
Looking through old files today, I ran across a series that I started through the gospel of Mark in 2015, another one of my grand ideas that sort of petered out. Is it too late to say that I only intended to go from Mark 9 through Mark 12?
Thou hast seen all that I have for today. A blessing on all your heads.
Can this blog be saved from deletion in the morning?
(To start at the beginning: Adventures in Italy Part 1) (crappy photo alert: still can’t find those original digital photos from our trip!)
Genoa, Italy – August 2016
It was by now getting to be close to 6:00, so we had to decide whether or not to pursue the 3rd attraction that we had a ticket for, which was a tour of some towers over by the Christopher Columbus house. Well, why not – in for a penny, in for a pound. By the time we got there (another 20 minute walk), it was almost 6:15 and we couldn’t find any open door around the whole area of the towers. Is it possible they only opened at 6:00 and if you weren’t there, closed up again? We could think of no explanation that made sense, but didn’t care enough about it to ask any of the nearby people about it. C’est la vie.
Time to start thinking about supper. Giovanni had recommended a couple places, one of which was very near where we were, so we walked down the narrow street to get to the entrance: Rosmarino Trattoria. We went in and found out that they didn’t open again for dinner (cena) until 7:30, which is typical in Italy, probably in much of Europe actually. Should we find a nice place to sit and wait or go back to the B&B (another 20 minute walk) to freshen up? In spite of the fact that we were both fairly tired, the allure of having a quick refreshing shower won us over and we hoofed it back to Il Borga Di Genova, home sweet home. This way, Kris posited, we could also put on some “glad rags” before going back to the restaurant. Gotta love a guy that uses the phrase “glad rags.”
Feeling amazingly refreshed and dressed in our aforementioned glad rags, we got back to Rosmarino Trattoria at exactly 7:30 and were the first customers there, so we got our pick of the tables. This time, the woman who seated us gave us an iPad with the menu in English (oh happy day!) to look over. Much of the food here in this port city is seafood based and although I’m not a big fan of seafood, I wanted to be open to trying something new. “I wonder what dolphin tastes like?” I mused out loud. Kris thought it was probably a lot like mahi mahi and that made me wary of it being served raw or sushimi style. The menu also had beef tartare, another type of raw meat that I wasn’t terribly eager to try. One of the selections, even in “English” was mysterious, something like vitetto tonnoto with crispy something. I asked the waiter what it was, and although he spoke English, his accent was such that I still couldn’t understand. “I’ll have that,” I said, throwing caution to the wind. Kris ordered the pork belly with figs and we both ordered another pasta pesto again for our first course. The pesto pasta was different than the one we’d had the night before, but still so very tasty. The main meals arrived, beautifully presented.
I tucked into mine and discovered that it was a cold tuna salad, stuffed with spinach leaves and topped with some sort of thin crispy bread. This was a surprise, but not an unpleasant one. Kris said his pork belly and figs was excellent. The reddish stuff on his plate appeared to be some sort of sautéed sweet onions – yummy (he gave me a taste). We both chose tiramisu for dessert. The restaurant had filled up rapidly after we got there and every seat was taken; the staff was quite busy running around filling wine bottles, bringing food in, etc. We thought they’d be eager to empty our table but after we finished eating, the check did not appear. We speculated that at Italian restaurants, you come at 7:30 and stay for a couple hours, after which the restaurant closes. After waiting 15 or so minutes, Kris finally asked for the check so we could get our weary bodies back home (remember, we still had a 20 minute walk ahead of us). It was around 9:00 by the time we left.
Piazza de Ferrari at night
It looks like we walked around 12 miles and really got to know the town well in the process, so it’s all good. We may take a train today to a nearby coastal town – not sure yet. My legs are still aching from yesterday so I don’t want to do as much walking! I’m feeling my age…
We have one tulip that comes up around our back fountain every year, for the almost twenty years that we’ve lived here. We’ve tried all sort of plants around that fountain over the years, mostly annuals that come and go. But that tulip, which we did not plant, is about as dependable as they come.
It is a herald of spring. It is a lone sentry calling out “who goes there?” to creatures great and small. It is a fashion model providing color culture after the long winter. It is a banner, proudly resisting the wind.
The voice of the LORD makes the tulip to bloom. And in the His temple, everything says, “Glory!”
Lynniebeemuseoday 