Europe By The Numbers

The number of days spent in Europe: 56

The number of countries visited: 3

The number of kilometres we put on our car: 7,119

The number of photographs we took: 5,698

The number of trips to a doctor: 4

The number of bottles of wine we drank: I can't remember......

The number of pizzas devoured in Italy: 17

The number of sprained knees in Spain: 1

The number of migraines suffered in Naples: 2

The number of calories consumed: 4,859,034,150,873,354,286,912,119,386

The number of pairs of shoes thrown out: 4

The number of pairs of shoes purchased: 7

The number of times someone had their bum grabbed in Rome: 3

The number of times someone's iPod went swimming in the Mediterranean Sea: 1

The number of days we spent on a beach: 4

The number of times someone ironed: 1

The number of times I drove the car:  0

The number of times someone accidentally broke a window pane in an antique door: 1

The number of times someone broke a door knob and locked everyone out of the house for the evening: 1

The number of blog posts:  85

The number of comments on my blog: 141

The number of books read: 17

The number of times someone ate an octopus: 1

The number of new European friends: Many

The cost of this vacation: PRICELESS!

LOVE

Graffiti in Rome.

This is how I feel about travelling in Europe.

Ciao Roma!

Graffiti on the banks of the Tiber River

We are leaving Rome this morning. Not only are we leaving Rome, we are leaving Europe.

Thank you Rome for your art, history, food, wine and people.

We can never thank you enough, Europe, for the fabulous trip we have had with our children. It has been an experience none of us will ever forget.

We have been blessed to spend 2 months in Spain, France and Italy.

See you again.

Italian Food

Tomatoes, olive oil, bread, cheese and olives. And wine. That's all one needs to survive. Period.

Will's Adventurous Eating

Who knew Will would become an adventurous eater? One our last night in Naples he ordered spaghetti with octopus.

I could barely look at it.

Pizza

Joe is BFFs with the guys at our local pizzeria.

Loading the pizza on the paddle.

Into the fire......

Fat and happy.

The best pizza IN THE WORLD!

Naples is the birth place of pizza. We have vowed to eat it every day we are here. So far we are six for six.

The other night when we went to our little pizzeria 5 alleys over, Will decided to order spaghetti instead.

I said, "What? No pizza?"

Our waiter said, "No pizza. No party."

Will ordered pizza.

Good-Bye Florence!

Boticelli's 'The Birth of Venus'

Florence's Duomo

Ponte Vecchio

Good-bye Tuscany and Florence! Thank you for a wonderful week. The Renaissance art in your city is without peer. I loved your medieval buildings, your sculptures, the never-ending paintings, your rolling hills of grape vines, your acres of olive groves, your sunsets, your food and your wine.

I have rubbed Porcellini's snout, so I know I will be back.

Best Dessert EVER!

This has got to be, hands down, the best dessert in the world. Dunking biscotti into a glass of vin santo. The best.

Siena

After being in Siena, I understand where the Crayola crayon colour 'Burnt Sienna' comes from.

Siena's Duomo

The crazy colour scheme inside the duomo.

Saint Catherine's head is a relic at San Domenico Church.

(Photo taken from a postcard.)

One day this week, we took a day trip down to Siena. We wandered the medieval city, we took photos, and we ate. And we went to see Molly's patron saint at San Domenico Church. Well, her head at least.

A Day In My Life

On Sunday morning, Joe and I took Molly into Florence to attend mass. Paige opted to stay in bed, sleep late and go to the pool instead.

Florence is such a beautiful city and I was delighted to see it again!

We went to the 11:00am mass at Santa Croce. The priest rocked right through the mass and it was over in 50 minutes. Yahoo! Let's get outta here and go explore the city!

Since I love to take photos of every blessed thing I see, Joe kindly offered to carry my bag for me so that it wouldn't get in the way of my superior photography techniques.

We stopped at a 'tabacchi' (tobacco store) to buy some Italian stamps, a few post cards, and a couple of phone cards. The woman behind the counter was so sweet and patient with us. She knew no English, we knew no Italian. But that didn't matter. With the help of our Italian phrase book we all muddled through.

It was at that point that Molly said, "Mom! Where's your bag?"

We looked around. It wasn't in the shop.

I said, "Joe! You had it!" Joe said, "Molly! I gave it to you!"

Molly ran out into the street to the spot she had left it. It was gone.

The lady from the tabacchi was so upset. I told everyone it was okay.

There was no money in the bag. No passports. The only thing of any importance was my journal. And I can hold all those memories in my heart. I didn't need a book to do that.

A young man on the street asked us, "Have you been robbed?"

We said, "No, not really. We accidentally left a bag on the street."

The man said, "It's gone. The gypsies will steal the socks off your feet without you noticing."

Joe said, "Nanc, I'm sorry about your bag. Let's just put this behind us and not let it wreck our day." I agreed. Molly felt terrible, but I insisted that it was a cheap lesson.

As we walked away from the street, I said, "You know? That street was very quiet. There were no gypsies around. What if another tourist found my bag and handed it in to one of those stores?" Joe didn't think that was very likely, but Molly said, "Dad, it's worth a try."

So we returned to the scene of the crime and stood awkwardly on the sidewalk. How in the world do we ask in a foreign language "Has a pink bag been turned in?" Even our phrase book wouldn't help us in this situation.

As we were standing there, a woman from a pizza shop came out and began to speak to us in Italian. We had no idea what she was saying but as soon as she said Canada we knew we were on to something. Our faces perked up as she led us into her restaurant. Out from behind her counter she produced my pink bag!

She told us that the police had handed my bag in.

We were overjoyed! Our smiles were huge! We hugged and kissed the pizza woman.

We quickly ran next door to show the tabacchi lady that my bag had been found. She couldn't believe her eyes! As you can see from her bunched up hand in the photo, she was ready to slap both Molly and I upside the head. She wagged her finger at us probably saying, "Don't you EVER let that happen again! Do you hear me?"

We laughed, thanked her for her concern and went on our way with many 'Ciaos' being exchanged. We continued to explore Florence. With me holding my bag. And taking pictures at the same time.

As we wandered the city, I saw a large group of Japanese tourists looking at this building and taking photos. After they left, I went to see what all the fuss was about. I looked up at the coat of arms above the door and snapped this photo intending to do some research on it afterward.

Just then a man came out of the doorway. He looked a little bit surly, so I smiled at him.

He then motioned for me to follow him.

He said, "I want to show you something."

I quickly called for Joe and Molly to join me.

We followed the man into his beautiful courtyard garden.

He said, "This is my home. My oasis. Do you like it?"

Do we like it? We LOVED it!

The building was from the 1300s and Catherine Medici even lived in it at one point in her life.

He offered to take our photo. My only regret is that we didn't get one of him.

We thanked him for his invitation and generosity.

We were on our way.

We couldn't stop talking about the friendly Italians. We had only been in Florence a scant few hours and had met the most amazing people.

By this time we were feeling tired and thirsty, so we stopped at a bar. We asked the man if we could just have a drink and not eat.

(We asked this question because one evening in rural France we stopped in at a half-empty restaurant to have dessert. But the waiter told us, "Ce n'est pas possible."

We looked at all the empty tables. We looked at all the other diners having dessert.

"It's not possible?" we asked. We left before we heard the answer.)

The Florentine waiter laughed when he heard our ridiculous question.

With a sweeping motion of his hands he said,"No! No! Get out of here! You must leave!"

Then he showed us to a table and took our order......

......and then our picture.

I LOVE ITALIANS!!!!!!

Good-Bye France!

A French postcard.

Good-bye France. Thank you for having us. We absolutely loved the month we spent with you.

Thank you for the wine, the food, the friendly locals, the markets, the beautiful countryside, the bustling cities, the art, and the culture.

We will be back.

We're off to Italy in the morning!

Pont St. Julien

Pont St. Julien

Saint Julien's bridge is the only surviving bridge on what was the main road from northern Italy to Provence. It was built 2,000 years ago, from 27 B.C. to A.D. 14.

Mortar had not been invented yet, so the stones were carefully set into place.

Amazingly, St. Julien's bridge still survives today. It has outlived Roman marches, hundreds of floods, and decades of car traffic. This bridge was used until just recently. In 2005, a new bridge was built to re-route traffic from this beautiful structure.

I love stumbling onto stuff like this while going on country drives.

Fort de Buoux

The ruins high up in the hills.

The 13th century church with art students in the courtyard. Services were held in this church until the late 1800s.

Paige at the top of a very long staircase cut into the side of the mountain.

Miss Molly in the castle doorway.

Molly has a penchant for ruined castles, fortresses, and strongholds. Especially if they are precariously perched on the top of a high hill.

We found ourselves in such a situation this morning as we were driving around the Luberon visiting the little villages that are nestled in its hills and valleys.

This rocky outcrop has been inhabited since prehistoric times.

In the Middle Ages it was home to hundreds of residents and a powerful castle. Fort de Buoux (pronounced Boox) was destroyed in the 1500s and again in the 1600s.

It has remained a ruin ever since. Much to Molly's glee.

Safety Last #2

A hole in the wall shares a water downspout and an extension cord.

The last time I checked water and electricity didn't mix so well. Hmmmm.....

Yellow And Blue Number Three

Even the weeds have the sense to be in the provencal colours of yellow and blue.

Tunisian Lunch

La Goulette.

Couscous Tunisian style.

On Thursday we made a return trip into Marseille. The girls wanted to shop more, and Joe and I wanted to wander around that interesting city.

After two hours, we met back up and went for lunch. We were intrigued by the food people were eating at a Tunisian restaurant as we looked for a place to eat. We sat down and ordered. Out came heaping pottery bowls filled to the rim with couscous, vegetables, and meat. Lots of meat. It was delicious and we ate every mouthful.

I don't even think we had dinner that night.

Avignon

The Pont d'Avingnon of nursery rhyme fame.

Inside the Pope's Palace.

The Pope's Palace.

A square in Avignon.

On Wednesday we drove into Avignon for the day. We toured the Popes' Palace, ventured out onto the famous bridge, strolled through a park, ate a kebob on the street, and went in search of an English language book store.

Learned some history, got sore feet, were hot in the sun.

I could do this every day of my life.

Cassis

Driving into Cassis.

The pretty harbour of Cassis.

Molly rocking the 'Cote d'Azur' look.

The beach.

Wandering the beach boardwalk looking for a place to have a drink.

We were feeling pretty tired on Tuesday, so we decided it was time to relax. We drove to the pretty beach resort town of Cassis. We laid on the pebbly beach, we swam in the Mediterranean. Over and over again. All afternoon.

Cassis has been called "a poor man's St. Tropez". Pretty much sums it up for me.

Marseille

Marseille and the Mediterranean.

The port of Marseille. We hiked up the hill to the basilica.

The statue of Mary and Jesus on top of Notre-Dame de la Garde. To give you an idea of how big the statue is, Jesus' wrist is 42 inches around.

Inside the colourful basilica.

The Arab markets.

The busy side-streets of Marseille.

On Monday we drove into Marseille. This city was described to us as "an untouristy, semi-seedy-but-vibrant port city with 2,600 years of history." Sounds good to me!

I learned that Marseille is France's oldest city (600 B.C.) and is its second largest.

Marseille seems a world apart from France's other leading cities such as Paris and Lyon.

The influence of immigrants is huge here. More than a quarter of Marseille's population comes from countries in North Africa. We heard more Arabic spoken than French.

Our first order of business was to get some exercise, so we hiked up the long, steep hill to Notre-Dame de la Garde. This basilica is Marseille's landmark sight and looks out over the Mediterranean. Holy Hannah! Did we ever sweat getting ourselves up that road! But the views from up there were gorgeous and it was well worth the effort.

Molly and Paige wanted to shop for clothes (what else?) so as soon as we got got back down to the city we split up. The girls headed for Galeries Lafayette, and Joe and I to the Arab market. Joe quickly immersed himself in buying foods from Moroccan, Algerian and Tunisian sellers. We bought some delicious Egyptian wraps full of apples and ground round; and chicken and scrambled egg. We grabbed some Tunisian sweets and a couple bottles of fresh pressed juice.

When we met back up the girls, we headed for the port for a picnic. We just plunked ourselves down on wharf and devoured our North African lunch.

This is why I love travelling.....