Basilica de San Miniato al Monte sits on a hill high above and overlooking Florence. The sight from its plaza is glorious. All the great buildings of the city are within one awe-inspiring look. Within that look is more than the sight, it is the knowledge of the grand sweep of history that is within view–centuries of rulership and art ooze from the buildings. We are at the Basilica for the evening vespers of the monks who reside there and to which the public is allowed to witness. They are singing the ancient Gregorian chant in the crypt below the main altar in which the brothers who have died over the years are buried. The tombstones of the deceased monks form the floor upon which the pews sit. Because the Basilica is stone and marble with no heating and the weather outside cool, the interior is dark and cold. The voices singing the liturgy echo throughout the Basilica. All is quiet except the voices, and it is a touching experience. WEG

Beautiful Italy–A Fond Farewell

How do you say in a few sentences what a trip of a lifetime means? This trip exceeded all of our dreams. We have laughed and teased each other all the way through ITALY.

I can easily say that we have learned more about history and the hard working people who came before us with a passion for the beauty of the art that they would only be a small part of completing…beautiful masterpieces that would take hundreds of years to finish and yet , they would see their part to fruition. I thought of how our own lives are much the same…part of a beautiful masterpiece in God’s tapestry.

We have been to the Arno River, the Mediterranean Sea, the Adriatic Sea and even Lake Garda….what a treat to see so much of God’s beauty.

Randy and I both said that this was in the top three vacations of our life….we are so grateful to have had this time to be with the Graumann’s and share in their encore life. Melisa Standly

Turn north of Verona and somehow you enter an Italy you had not imagined. The narrow allies of the hill towns disappear, the historic central cities are not an attraction, art is not the reason for existence, and agricultural pursuits are not evident. What you find are towering snow-covered mountains and beautiful lakes. A chic atmosphere dominates. The eyes of Italy in this part of the world turn north towards Switzerland and Austria, and the architecture and food begin to incorporate northern elements: like pasta with beef sauce rather than tomato sauce, and fat dumplings instead of spaghetti, and steeples rather than towers on churches, and roof designs like chalets rather than villas. Lake Garda is crystal clear and big. We drove one hour on the eastern shore and did not go the length. We stopped at Malcesine to ride the gondola to the top of Mt. Baldo. As we drove the shoreline drive, the mountains began to rise sharply on both sides of the lake, and at Malcesine, the cozy and tony village with pastel-colored buildings and boat harbor and towering castle jutting into the lake, Mt. Baldo reigns supreme. Snow skiers joined us on the gondola ride since the mountain is still snow covered. The Standly’s mused to us that we had been on the ocean shore that morning in Venice and now we were on the mountain top. I mused that we had left one Italy and entered another. WEG

Lake Garda is peppered with castles. Old and foreboding with thick walls and turreted towers, they now sit proudly above or within the coastal communities that dot the lake. They are attention grabbers. Sirmione sits on a peninsula that juts into the lake. It is a “wow” community and it is obvious that it is a favorite among the “with it” set of folks who happen to have means. The lake is very clear and the ducks, sea gulls and swans that wait for crumbs to be tossed are picturesque as they weave and bob on the blue water. As the sun pushed the fog away, Lake Garda cast its magic spell and begged for us to stay longer, but after two days, it was time to go.

While at Garda, I would take wonderful pictures of the Standly’s. I would beg Randy to take a picture of Kathy and me. When he finally would consent, acting somewhat peeved that I was interrupting his shopping for a shirt or tie, the results were not the best. He would complain that the sun was in his eyes or that we were standing in the dark or whatever. I would say that I had no problem taking his picture and he would say that I knew how to use the camera and he didn’t. So, with the pictures posted here, you have the evidence right in front of your eyes. For those of you who know him, when you see him back in Tomball, don’t let him fool you with sweet talk about how he sacrificed to make the Graumann’s “encore life” tour easier:-) WEG

Kathy and I and the Standly’s, who are traveling with us right now, share a common experience–we both tried to make homemade ravioli from scratch with terrible results. To remedy that situation, we went to Italian cooking school today on the Lido (a small island close to Venice). We boarded the vaporetto–the large water taxi that plies the big canals in Venice on a scheduled route–for the trip out to the island. We walked its quaint streets to the residential neighborhood where our class was to take place. It was a beautiful neighborhood where each house was a villa–large, stately and old. Marika, our instructor, is a culinary chef by training, but settled on the Lido to teach cooking. Her villa was remodeled for this purpose. The kitchen was a dream, every appliance imaginable. If you watch any of the food network cooking shows, this was her kitchen–built in flash freezer, built in sparkling water spout, commercial ice cream maker, commercial pasta dough maker, built in coffee machine that makes every coffee thing imaginable, etc. There were 12 students (England, Belgium, France, and Texas) and Marika and her three assistants and room for all to work. What a day!

We made Venetian vegetables tempura; ravioli with spinach and ricotta in a butter and sage sauce; potato and spinach gnocchi with gorgonzola sauce; black Ligurian olive gnocchi with caramelized tomatoes and scampi; sgroppino veneziano (lemon sorbet ice cream mixture with prosecco wine). All of this was made from scratch and we all decided that we can come home and make ravioli with confidence. Yes, we did get to eat the labor of our hands and everyone agreed that what I made tasted the best 🙂 In fact, you could actually pick out which gnoccchi I made by hand from the serving bowl–they tasted so good–my secret–I didn’t wash my hands for three days beforehand 🙂

Below is the recipe for the sgroppino veneziano–serves 12. This is really good!

For the sorbet/ice cream (sorbet is not made with milk, but sgroppino is made like sorbet but with milk, thus making it ice cream like)

1 cup of heavy cream
3/4 cup sugar
1 cup whole milk
Juice of 3 organic lemons
Vanilla extract–whole vanilla bean in the hot milk, scraped and pod discarded

Melt the sugar in the milk that is warming on the stove. Add the vanilla bean and then add the cold heavy cream and then the fresh squeezed lemon juice. Stirring constantly, heat the mixture, but DO NOT BOIL. Scrape the inner vanilla bean and discard the pod–it is ok, in fact, preferred, to get the black vanilla beans in the mixture. (P.S. It will curdle a little and that is ok as it will dissolve as it mixes to freeze.) Place in an ice cream machine for at least 25 minutes or until softly frozen and then pour into a CHILLED container and place into a freezer.

For the liquid:

1 Tablespoon Absolute Lemon Vodka
1/4 Cup Prosecco Wine
1/3 Cup Sprite

Add the Prosecco, Vodka and Sprite to the frozen sorbet/ice cream and whisk with an electric blender to reach a smooth creamy consistency. It has to be creamy enough to drink. If too thick, add more Prosecco. Serve in a fluted glass.

Kathy and I decided to just walk Venice–no map–just see where each turn would take us. It was a fog-laden day, just the right kind of day for exploring narrow alleys and small plazas. Randy and Melisa were off to the Doges Palace. Kathy and I have been there and will likely go again later this year, so we opted for the walk. We had seen Murano earlier in the day and had watched a master glass blower make a vase. We also visited Burano where we had watched a skilled woman knit lace. (OK–we had to ride the vaporetto to get to those two small islands.) On our walk, we saw open courtyards and open churches–one had a magnificent painted ceiling and lit candles. We saw the great St. Mark’s Cathedral with its gold mosaics lining multiple domes. We saw little bridges, either stone or iron, and had to traipse over many of them. Everywhere were archways and towers. We often walked into a dead end at a canal or plaza and just turned around and tried a new route. I told Kathy that eventually we would end up somewhere, and we did–the Rialto Bridge and the fish market that we had seen earlier in the day. From the Rialto, we knew our bearings. It was an adventure–one I like–just launch out and see where the current takes you and enjoy the trip.

We effortlessly glided along the rails comfortably situated in our train coach. It was raining all across Italy. We rode past green pastures and large vineyards. Then suddenly, the Adriatic was on both sides of the track, signaling our arrival in the Venice St. Lucia Station. Venice does not change. The canals and bridges that cross them are ever-present. Old buildings with archways and shops of every description line very narrow streets. The good news is that there are no cars, bicycles or scooters to vie for the limited space. There are gondolas, water taxis, and vaporettos to ferry you if you do not wish to walk. It is so very easy to get lost. Streets do not always go through, ending abruptly at a wall or building or canal, and dark alleyways seem somewhat foreboding, especially on an overcast day. We spent our afternoon walking around and to see the great San Marco Square, large and formal and beautiful. Tomorrow holds much in store. WEG

Ravenna converted to Christianity in the 100s and many martyrs were made here before the Edict of Milan in 313 officially ended Christian persecution. The martyrdom of Vitalis led to the building of an early Christian church over the spot of his live burial for the faith. Today, St. Vitalis Church contains the most resplendent mosaics in Western art. Ravenna is noted for the ancient Christian mosaics that are scattered around the city. I have seen churches far more vast and filled with spectacular treasures of art, but it was here at St. Vitalis that I felt as if I were standing on holy ground, in one of the earliest Christian churches with early Christian art on a place where those who came before us actually paid the price with their lives.

San Gimignano turned out to be a pleasure way beyond expectations. The drive to the medieval village was along narrow, and at times, one lane roads and bridges and through vineyards, occasionally happening upon churches or deserted stone outbuildings. Nestled in the high hills of the Chianti Region of Tuscany, San Gimignano is the quintessential “hill town” of Italy. Its thirteen towers stand proudly above intimate plazas and narrow streets filled with interesting shops and restaurants. A street curves along the medieval walls which surround the small town offering breathtaking views of the grape arbors and olive groves in the deep valley below, while snow clad mountains loom in the distance. Once pilgrims on their way to Rome bolstered the local economy; whereas, tourists gladly take their place in modern times. Taking lunch in the church plaza in the warm sun of an outdoor seating area beside the ancient city well, the Standly’s and Graumann’s decided it was an enchanting day. WEG

I discovered a new pizza today–Nutella. It is thin pizza dough made into a pocket and filled with Nutellla, heated and covered with chocolate paste and powdered sugar. I ate two, and refused to share.

Today was Tuscany! Wonderful Tuscany! The hills are high and vine covered. Twisting roads snake up the hills and quaint Italian towns with towers stand in the distance, beckoning. We stopped in one–Greve in Chianti. The town square was lined with small shops selling local crafts and flowers. We stopped in one and I asked the woman butcher if some sausage was raw. She promptly cut some off for me to eat and while eating she cut off more from a different kind and before I could stop her, cut off more from an entirely different kind and poured her in-house made olive oil into a cup for me to drink. I walked out with a bag full of stuff, but she gave Randy (the Standly’s are traveling with us) and me kisses and a hearty, “buon giorno.” I love Tuscany.

Siena, the jewel of Tuscany, is a city enclosed with massive medieval walls and gently curved streets where the buildings are in almost perfect harmony lined in completely seamless array, leading to the Piazza del Campo, considered the prettiest plaza in Italy. The duomo is intricate and detailed–the exterior marble and wonderfully covered with a menagerie of statuary and the interior exquisite with gold starred ceiling, frescoed walls and marble floors inlaid to depict important historical events. I love Tuscany. WEG

On an amble through Florence today, the Standly’s, Kathy and I ran into some unexpected pleasures, like the Boboli Gardens, the huge park/gardens of the Medici Family, the ruler/banker family who funded much of the Renaissance. Their glorious Pitti Palace had the gardens as its front yard. Filled with fountains, hidden trails and statuary, it also included many museums. It was here that the electricity went off while I was using the restroom and sitting in a completely enclosed “stall” had to fumble around in the dark for all the necessities. It was not humorous at that moment.

We also stumbled upon a fully costumed enactment of the Renaissance flag throwing ceremony in the Piazza Della Signoria, the large gathering space for ancient town meetings filled with marble and bronze statues. With trumpets blaring and drums pounding, the flag bearers worked with precision. It was a happy discovery.

I was personally moved by the two famous crosses housed in the Santa Croce church–one by Donatello and the other by Cimabue. Santa Croce is the church of Italian national glory, housing the tombs of Michelangelo, Dante, Machiavelli and Galileo among others. It is filled with artistic treasures, but the crosses along with Gaddi’s fresco of the Last Supper and the Tree of Life caught my attention and gave me inner peace.

The laugh moment of the day came with Melisa’s suggestion that Randy and I copy the pose of statues in the Boboli gardens for some fun pictures. I pointed to one for Randy to copy in our game of “double dog dare you.” What he and Melisa did not know was that I was filming rather than picture taking. The big discovery was Randy’s acting ability. The resulting video provided so much amusement that other tourists commented to me later in the day that they enjoyed watching us having so much fun. WEG