2013: APRIL 11-30 CROATIA, ISTHIAN PENINSULA, MONTENEGRO, SLOVENIA, VENICE, NEW YORK

TRIP 4/11-4/30, 2013. CROATIA, ISTHIAN PENINSULA, MONTENEGRO, SLOVENIA, VENICE, NEW YORK

THURSDAY APRIL 11

Depart the USA to Italy. Your flight includes meals, drinks, and in-flight entertainment for your journey

Complications already. Every good story needs its complications. Not one but two cabs show up for us at the not godly 3:45 AM hour. (Rather too early this time for us to task Don the Good to drive us). One cabbie takes us, the other sulks. Some dispatcher  apparently discerned that 2 Reuels live in our house. Well yes. But they won't show up until the trip gets going, jubilant/frustrated Reuel; mellow/angry Reuel; dynamic travel dualities await.

"Go Business Pros." We usually forget to strip off some article or another but apparently our intestines are found to be non-controversial by the boogy boogy X-ray machine though we'll never have normal children again. Wouldn't have anyway I suppose. Bob loves lounges and our own San Diego (through the blandishments of the Platinum Priority Pass) has one which dispenses liquids hot and cold, a bagel for Reuel and a needed air of civility.
Bob seems unwilling to leave. But board our non-stop Delta flight to JFK we must or else no starting this Journey Back In Time. For me all I know of these new places, Croatia and Slovenia, was that I was more or less there as a young grad student (as opposed to old grad student which I also was) 48 years ago visiting Yugoslavia, drawing pictures as I sat on the pebbly beaches, walking the walls of gorgeous pre-bombing Dubrovnik, seeing a Serbio-croatian production of Hamlet in a walled castle overlooking the Adriatic, meeting a French stranger in a small Yugo town and being thrown out of my B&B because he visited - though nothing happened (to my regret) I swear to this day  and being helped by another kind stranger who spoke the language to find another B@B. He wouldn't . . . (uptight time). It was all yesterday but today's Today.

Moving back in time too for Bob because his mother's people came from Slovenia, emerged from those rough pebbled beaches to claim their grudging place in America. (Insert schmaltzy song here. Unbearably crescendo.)

Over Ohio I discover that I think 30 Rock is crap. Very liberating.
Way to go, a 5 hour nonstop to NYC. Ok the earlyness is iffy but for intercontinental that's the key and JFK is The Man. Neither of us had travelled JFK for years--always arriving at Newark. That’s sooo last year. We do a riff on Take the A Train. "Take the Air Train to Terminal 7/where a groovy airplane awaits us past the gate."

Expelled or rather Not Admitted. We don't want your kind. Priority Pass is not a magic pass to the Brit Air or United Air lounges. So we'll wait with the rabble at our gate. Oh the humility. But we get two seats window/aisle together which is ideal for the long haul from New York to Madrid.

Dinner service is a beef goulash (will that be all we eat on our tour?) with a nice salad and for dessert tiramisu and a "vacuum packed" cheddar cheese accompanied by red wine, a not bad Tempranillo, Val de los Frailes, Very Spanish I’d guess. And we get an extra roll because just because. However, note - next time flying Iberia (which try not to), ask for 2 red wines in advance – this airline is a trifle stingy with their booze.

Losing track of time. Bump bump. Landing in Madrid it's Friday and it's dark out. My watch says midnight but that's NYC time.


FRIDAY. APRIL 12.
Arrive in Venice and transfer to your hotel in Opatija, a popular summer and winter resort in the beautiful Gulf of Kvarner. With the afternoon at leisure, perhaps take a stroll along the "Lungo Mare" seafront, and in the evening, enjoy a welcome dinner and orientation at your hotel
Overnight: Opatija
Meals: Dinner

What's with the Madrid airport? It's beautiful, futuristic but with straw type cascading roofing, and it's large -- too large. A man of a certain age needs to go, there is no room in sight; he races along the empty echoing corridors, no conveniences in this arid wasteland at which he curses, and he loses his heroic battle with nature before finding respite. Also the Madridians keep the gate numbers a dark secret until the ultimate moment of boarding. So, satisfied that we are somewhere in the vicinity of a possible gate, we find a VIP lounge to accept our priority pass, no alcohol but other things, not that we're hungry, and settle into comfortable chairs in this quiet setting.

Our Madrid pilot is troubled as are we that the additional one hour of techies reacting to troubles and testing the plane would impact our itinerary. But finally we get the ok-- we make good time -- and ultimately there's no hassle with customs as the Euro countries observe reciprocity.

We are now on our big tour bus with 18 others. No gay couples so far as I can see. 3 1/2 hours to Opatije provinces (o-pat-i-je, or as the natives prefer o-pat-eee-je.) Such a long journey into day that my iPhone batteries are dead but, ever resourceful I have a backup camera (which I will later lose. Me. Big shot) and a pen and find an ad in Vanity Fair with lots of white space (which I later forget about and toss-- Mr. Smarty pants - what deathless prose has died?)

We meet Myra, our guide. We note how much more comfortable the bus, sorry, “Motor Coach”, is than the plane, a good thing since it will be carting our carcasses everywhere.  First and necessary stop is an Autostrade to get 2 Capri sandwiches, fruit parfait (clerk added that hmm) and water. Clean bathroom thank god. (Note: good thing Bob packs Imodium.) It's cloudy today so we can't see the supposedly extant Alps.

In the Italian Venito region. Many vineyards, prosecco, Pinot grigio. We see lots of poplar trees in rows - good for match sticks.

Heading toward Trieste. Our group at 1st blush mostly older straight couples, some single ladies -- the usual. More to be discovered on that score.

Trieste (3 syllables) was Italy's main port. Yugoslavia fell apart in 1991. Trieste can be very windy. Sign saying Slovenia. That's it, the whole crossing big deal. But at the border with Croatia the authorities will check our passports.

Incredible opening buffet dinner of dishes. We sit by ourselves overlooking the sea, lovely though we don’t want to appear standoffish. The local Cabernet Sauvignon wine is quite nice though poured with a light hand. I go for the exotic. A fish soup consomméish, a cod pâté. Quite nice, as are other nibbles of creatures from the sea. Bob likes the artichoke in the non-fish salad he assembles.

Then I go for a bowl of steamed mussels in broth. Heavenly. So little time, so much food. Brave still, I try the fried fish, its staring eyes telling no secrets, wow, wonderful flavor. 
We decide that the cuisine here is not without exception top notch though since I tried the local fish I got the far better of the deal. Dessert, nice cheeses and the nut cake with the same ground walnut filling that Bob remembers of his grandmother's nut rolls. This is, he says, "a fashionably deconstructed nut roll."

A stroll into the adjacent park fronting the sea and housing the Villa named after the founding guy's wife. Beautiful classic villas abound in this charming place. Bob says that this is “the poor man's Monte Carlo” but I think it has its own quiet uniqueness. Certainly Opatije is a holiday and season magnet for the wealthy in the region.

Time for our group meeting with Maya; the bread and butter pronouncements, such as where and when we meet. There exists the underlying question of what will befall us all in these unfamiliar places: Will we be congenial, will something extraordinary in this time of our lives occur? "Be sure to pick up your Gate 1 lanyard with your name tag; if you want a wine it costs extra." It turns out there are 42 of us on the tour assembled in that hall, gasp. The bus does accommodate 49. So we're lucky? At least we won't be confined to traveling with evil people--we can ignore them for less evil people. Two other clearly gay male couples, no telling the lesbians. This represents a good opportunity for us to see if an en masse assault of beautiful cultures and exotic places can work or if their beauty and exoticism is thusly diminished.

SAT APRIL 13

Istrian Peninsula (AM) Begin with an orientation tour of Pula, a strategic port since the times of the ancient Romans. Visit a Roman Amphitheater, the sixth largest of its kind to be preserved in the world today. Afterward, enjoy an orientation tour of Porec before continuing to see the Basilica of Euphrasius, a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Finally, proceed to the beautiful resort town of Rovinj, where you will enjoy free time exploring the old town and its narrow lanes at your leisure before returning to Opatija.
Overnight: Opatija

Big breakfast buffet . I throw a tantrum because I'm having trouble with the wi-fi. Maya is pointing out the gorgeous town of Opatije. A monument of a lady with a seagull is special to this city. (These guides are like salesmen selling their wares. Buy my Croatia. No buy my Peru.) A Long tunnel (3 miles) leads us into Istria for the day excursion we opted for.

“Istria is the longest peninsula in Croatia, Pula it's main town. Also extant during ancient Roman times. "Istria" comes from the name "history". Romans defeated Illyrians to take over the peninsula. Good wines. Malvazia is Istrian wine. Istria has its own flag - blue and green, sky and land. Symbol goat- can survive in all conditions, like the people. Now Istria is doing the best financially in Croatia. Not touched by recent war. Goat has red hooves. From red soil. Parts of Istria named after the color of the soil. Many brandies - for which they have all sorts of excuses, this will cure throat problems, stomach, etc.”

We pass Pazin which is the real capital of Istria. Has a nice old tower, that's about it. “Mountains here were once under the sea and formed by little sea creatures - now limestone. Istria's mountains have the same structure as the newer and higher Alps”.

What fun. We get our audio devices which we get to keep thru the days of the tour. (Encumbered tourism.)
“We approach the Briune islands of Pula. There's a 1600 year old olive tree here still bearing fruit. Truffles are here. The natives train dogs to find them.” Yup, it's not a big tourist town.

Andre is our guide to Pula. The Roman amphitheater is Fab, a baby Collosseum. “Amphitheater=grand theatre. 200-300 amphitheaters are still standing. This is 6th largest. The only Coloseum is in Rome. It’s oval, better for sound. Largest arches are in the line of axis. Gladiator school was a company for the whole of the Roman Empire. The outer wall is from 1st c ad. Limestone. Seats were replaced in 1933. They had been removed by the Venetians to build forts. The amphitheater had a 23,000 capacity in order to promote tourism (still at it) since Pula had only 5000 inhabitants. The Games lasted 10 days. Free entrance and food and drink.” Come one, come all.

We see the Animal cages. “The Bears, boars, and lions were brought up by lifts. Sand (henna) was on the floors to cover the blood. They could cover the stadium with colored sails. Iron pins were connecting stones encased in lead to prevent rusting.”

We see the Map of the Roman Empire which depicts segments showing the time it took to deliver a package. Walking from amphitheater to the city wall is the cemetery. New emperors' heads were put on the body of the old emperor's. Another factoid: 10% of Istrians are Italians.

At the Town center there is some pandemonium (teenage girls). “The Arch was funded by a woman. . . . James Joyce taught here.”

Bob complains about not being able to hear the guide thru the contraption. So on our own we plunge thru the pandemonium; there's a parade of characters on stilts.

I'm invited to go thru the legs of one which I do to the amusement of the local crowd. We find Pizzeria Pompeii and Restaurant Angelus, an outdoor cafe where there are seats and not everyone is smoking -- Mayor Bloomberg would not approve of these people. Dobree dyen = good day. (So Croatian is similar to Russian.) We taste the decent local red. Good marguerita pizza. This is not a tourist town so the menus are in Croatian. Makes us feel less like the tourists we are even though we wear Gate 1 necklaces and hearing devices around our necks.

After napping on the bus we stop at this charming, indeed most charming town, Rovinj. We see the church at the tip of the hill gloriously on our own and then on one of the winding streets find an etching of the St. Damian's arch for Don.
Soooo I'm thinking everything is expensive in Croatia, that our wines last night were $10 a glass. Turns out I had my converter keyed to Slovenia not Croatia and our nice pizza and 4 wines lunch was only $9+, the hotel wine was $3.50. Duh. So Croatia is cheap and for this alone deserves revisiting.

Next a town Porec (the littlle upside down roof over the "c" makes the pronunciation Porridge) with a basilica and some late miedieval gothic buildings (part of the Venetian empire) dating from the 12th c.
Bob, truly impressed, says it was well worth the trip - seeing the basilica, "especially the 3rd and 4th century mosaics and the carvings, they're extraordinary". We note that many of the women in our group choose shopping instead of this stop. Before heading back to our bus cocoon, I pose, necessarily, underneath a sign that says LUSH Cosmetics (at least one of those is on target).

“Yugoslavia consisted of 6 republics: Macedonia, Croatia, Slovenia, Herzogovenia, Bosnia, Montenegro. Mt. Ucka tunnel. 3 miles long.” And thus we leave the Istrian peninsula.

After ten hours of touring, much of it on a bus we both need to unwind with a $5 split of very nice red wine in our big hotel room with balcony overlooking the sea (pretty fab). He to enjoy on the tv a musical program devoted to polkas, cutaways to the audience swaying and mouthing the words, and Reuel to swim laps in the lovely indoor/ outdoor pool, fun submerging under the door between the indoor and the outdoor parts of the pool also overlooking that same blue sea.

And now to forage for dinner at 8 - a civilized hour to do so for a change.






We walk along the harbor to find what Myra calls the "expensive" Rouge Marin (I have my converter app straightened out now and by American standards the place is not really expensive but it's really lovely). Tastefully decorated -- off peach walls, good lighting. Pretty people. Lovely young blonde in the table perpendicular to ours who has a pony tail, a Sandra Dee look, bursts into Croatian of course. Seems strange having these conventional linguistic expectations like hearing the nice Chinese man on our tour with his flat Vera Wang Brooklyn accent. A parochial response but real. Our server speaks English, has a sense of humor and knows to bring out the bottle Radovan (quite fine) merlot quickly. We insist on regional dishes. Bob orders essentially a mixed grill, Reuel a baked salmon (very thin cut - ok). Bob says "high mediocre". Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head in the background. We decide we'll recommend this restaurant to anyone we know who visits Opatije nevertheless.

Conversational theme, when I look up from my iPhone, that so far no one on the tour has behaved badly. The gay guys with their mother seem aloof. Blah. Blah. Our waiter seems delighted (hvala, hvala, thank you, thank you) with his $6 ten per cent tip. At the hotel the wedding party is amazingly noisy into the wee hours. They know how to have fun, these Croats.


SUNDAY APRIL 14 2

This morning, travel via coach to Split. Along the way, stop in Zadar, one of the oldest cities on the Adriatic Sea. Enjoy an orientation tour of the city that includes the ruins of the Roman Forum, the cathedral, and St. Donat Church. Continue to Split with the remainder of the day at leisure
Overnight: Split

Moving day. Bob and I announce we are going to Split. After all these years. The ups, the downs. Don't cry for us. Tomorrow we are going to . . . Dubrovnik. (Leetle Croation joke.)

Another beautiful day. So far the weather has been kind, and we know April can be chancy. On bus a motor-mouthy woman is making it clear she has money. Oh who doesn't? Put a lid on it babe. Bob announces that the Croatians seem to be obsessed with Pizza. (You see we indulge in cultural analysis.)
Leaving this beautiful 19th c Austro Hungarian town of Opatije, we pass charming old towns, red clay roofs, the steepled church, that are not touristic because they abut shipyards or refineries.

Maya's riff on people bitten by sharks or whales delights Bob. Nice this passage along the Adriatic. We are not noticing poverty anywhere. She enjoys telling stories about "good looking" men and their Affairs. "And soon she'll be reading from the bible," says Bob. People watching is important in Croatia. At the bars, business is done too. You can sit all day with one coffee. Town of Sanj. Beautiful, waves splashing against stone piers, clear blue Adriatic water abutting a semicircle of charming shops, hotels, and cafes. Seems to be endlessly repeatable along this coastal journey. Here there lived farmers who had trouble with the resisting land so turned to piracy until they could go back to the farming they loved.

Pretty precarious winding road. Advised not to stand or we might topple over as we climb up the mountain. Comforting to know that "the bears keep away from people." Also lynx, deer, hawks, boar. Hence goulash with boar meat. A delicacy is bear salami. And where we are going to stop today there are “some stuffed animals." Huh? Maya passes out maps and I wonder if it marks "Danger stuffed animals in the vicinity".
“4.5 million is the population of Croatia. Low morality rate. 1st baby born of women over 28 years. In-common have same rights as married. 1/3 get divorced. 1/3 born out of wedlock. School for ages 7-15 is obligatory. There are very few private or specialty schools. Universities are public. Literacy 100%. Tourism is highest revenue. Kras chocolate makes nice souvenirs. Mountains ahead are topped with snow. Highest in Croatia is 6000 ft.”

"Eating ethnic on the Freeway", says Bob. A self-service stop. Maya explains as we have a chicken paprikash, soup, wine (I break a glass on the cashier line - always the star -- Bob says it's a good thing this is not a Unesco site. (In-joke. See our Peru trip diary where I disengaged a sacrosanct rock in a Machu Pichu temple). Bread, salad and a veggie soup. 130knh ($22). Atmosphere is rustic pleasant peasant hall.
Maya passes out Slovenian /Croatian vocabularies. I note the similarities to Russian.
“Zadar - devestated on way to crusades. Many ancient remains. Can see the old Roman walls as we arrive.”

So we walk down to the sea - very deep blue -- and hear the "sea organ" the sound of the waves funneled through holes along the sea walk - reminiscent of an organ or a whale singing. Amazing. Then a big solar system representing the sun with little sparkling planets.


We enter remarkable St. Donat basilica built on top of the Roman forum. And then the cathedral with the 4 evangelists at the entrance. Roman ruins scattered about. Actually the city was bombed in WW2, so a lot is new.

From Zadar we take the old scenic road along the Adriatic. "Average wages in Croatia about $1000 a month. 88% of flats are owned, 100% of houses. A flat in Zagreb is expensive.” Along the Dalmatian. The Dalmatians caught rats on the ships. Myra plays Dalmatian music – a cappella male.

We sleep most of the time on the bus but when awake see the mountains on one side of the road, the sea with green islands on the other. We stop for " convenience" but it offers a great view of the river, the city of Sibenik in the distance and the unique bridge over the river. Next we pass the picturesque town of Primoste. We stop to take photos of the town in the distance but directly into the sun. “Vineyards in this area - babic Wine. Blavac wine is good. Bosic is good wine too. Watch out for pickpockets in Split. 270,000 inhabitants. Biggest port.”

Ah the spanking new Radisdon Blu. Our balcony has both mountain and sea views. Our room is not spacious but very trendy, stylish mod, tricked out. Light grey with violet accents. Smoked glass.

As  always we have trouble figuring out how to get hotel wifi connections and I regret not being able to take real time photos of the incredible bar deck overlooking the sea and mountains. Truly spectacular. We forgive the cute, charmingly apologetic and sincere bar waiter who doesn't understand our order for belvedere martinis. Several tries, Bob needing to go back for ice for example, and with great club sandwiches and with accompanying quite acceptable Croatian merlot we are terrifically happy.

MONDAY, APRIL 15 2
Enjoy a morning sightseeing tour of Split. View the Roman remains of Diocletian's Palace, the Cathedral of St. Domnius, and the Temple of Jupiter.
Later, relax in a waterfront café and shop in the local market before continuing along the coast to Dubrovnik
Overnight: Dubrovnik

I get up after a grand paucity of sleep (was it all those zzz's stolen on yesterday's bus) to hear Bob plugging in the kettle for coffee - now that's luxury.
"Whoever thought I'd love a Radisson," he says. "There are so many things I'd like to steal. Especially this lamp," (It's very sleek.) I note that we can take the packaged slippers.

Fantastic pool for a brief swim. Shower is co-ed. When in Croatia. Thank goodness large woman also lapping chooses not to avail herself of that facility. Great breakfast buffet in The Fig Leaf. ( I've gotta stop "kveling".)

Adjusting our "whisperers", the audio devices which yesterday did not work well because they were the same frequency as the other group's and our city guide was flummoxed by the technology. Myra advises Suparnic or Vishna-something since this is Dalmatia which specializes in "slow food" - sometimes many hours of sit-down. Nah.

We start our Split tour at the Riva (waterfront). Yelena is our guide. One of the best in our experience.

"Split is the 2nd largest city of Croatia. Perfect timing to be here in Croatia. Salona was the start with Dalmonti people. In 243 Dioclis was born of liberated slaves. By 30 he was a general. He killed the current Roman emperor and retired to a palace here which took 10 years to build. (He was in a hurry.) Used 20,000 slaves. 2000 died. 16 towers to defend his palace which was designed like a Roman city. Today 3000 people are living inside. "


Smart guy this Diocletian. He even had a retirement plan.

"8 mile aqueduct. Still being used. Reception room. He'd kill you if you looked at him after prostrating yourself before him. Used egg whites to cement the ceiling. The structure was earthquake proof because of the shape of the building stones.
Used wooden scaffolding. Used this subterranean level as toilet from holes on ceiling. (yech.)1000 years to fill. (yech yech.) Diocletian moved here at 63. Retired to the palace.” (Yelena. "Thats like 2nd puberty today. You people know. But it was ancient then.") “Contest to create his bust. He cut off 200 hands of failed contestants. Steep steps to slow down the enemy.”

Wow. His mauselium. “He thought he was the son of the supreme god. Christians, new religion, disagreed. Killed as many Christians as he could. Killed them in public amphitheater. But his only wife and daughter turned to Christianity. So killed them. He was 74 and died 6 months later. Christians exacted revenge. Made the mausilium their church. Baptistery was Jupiter temple. On the ceiling mortals are looking down in fear.”

Then we hear Dalmation a cappella singing group. 8 men dressed in black. Very affecting. But we don't buy their cd because we've yet to unwrap the Gregorian chanters whose cd we bought in St. Petersburg Russia

(although I’ve attached my video of these guys here).

“The palace is called a living museum because locals live here in palace, hang their laundry.” We pass the Jewish ghetto. “After Diocletian. One of 3 oldest preserved synogogogues. One floor spared during WW2. The locals are "lazy". Work a few hours a day. Sit at coffee bars.”

Tour over and free we find a truly charming little Italian restaurant within the palace walls, (old stone walls, handsome waiter, stone arches. ) We find a bank nearby so we can pay with local currency. Ay yai. Splits (at $4) of the local red wine Babic. (That's an inverted roof over the c, pronounced ch). Forgot to say the weather's perfect. Pizza fabulous--real mushrooms. Croatians seem to be obsessed with pizza and . . . that works for us. Bob insists our restaurant is called the Golden Gate (named after the entrance to Diocletian's place).

We walk along the Rova promenade which, because it is so spacious, offers endless outdoor cafes, benches, reminds us of the Sydney promenade below the opera house but here it is under Diocletian's walls. Meanwhile we devise ways to let our fellow tourists know that we found The most charming restaurant, better than they found. This is a difficult task without revealing our essential, acknowledged, pridefulness.

Chatting with tour neighbors. Lovely couple who will be going on to Westminster kennel show - they've had show dogs. (Rich people.) As usual our fellow travelers are very well traveled so we share stories.

“Passing by Mt. Biacava above rain forests (or is that a typo) above the sea, the big islands in the distance, particularly Hvar. In summer, Germans (2 million) , then Italians, then Austrians are the tourists. We are heading toward Magaska (pop 20,000)” where I stayed so many years ago (first bus stop from Dubrovnik, that French lad, etc.). I don't really recognize it; it was then a very sleepy town when I visited a 1/2 century ago.

Apparently there are many nudist beaches in Croatia, where nudity is approved of. (A likeable people.)

“Corruption endemic in Croatia - many ministers in jail. In order to get into European Union, (July 1) need to make the system work normally. Also evading taxes is "a national sport".

Bosnia Hertzagovina sort of creeps up on us. “Just an international transit zone. Travel along the Neva river. In season trips are organized, people boat up the river and pick manderines. This is a popular activity.”

“Boznia-Herzogovinia was part of Yugaslavia. Herzogovinia is the west/southwest part of it. Defeated by Turks. Annexed to Austria, then Serbia, then separated from Yugo, then bloody war. 10,000 people died in Sarajevo. Treaty between, Bosnia, Hertz, Serbia, and Croats. After 1995 it was more ethnically Serbian. 8000 Bosnians were killed by Serbians.” (Maya’s lecture is pretty confusing here.) “War broke out for economic reasons rather than religious. Hatred accumulated. Neighbor against formerly friendly neighbor. Dubronics sold 10 mile (now HB) land to Turks because didn't want Turks as neighbors.”

We pass by the new border control buildings the HB's are building as a requirement of the European union. Neum is the next HB town we stop at. Incredibly scenic (but what isn't on this tour). A shopping spree ensues. Chiefly 2 bottles of that local red wine, a snow globe of Dubrovnik for Gary and our collection, an embroidered napkin for Beth. Oh happiness is a souvenir shop.

Maya passes out a sweet gummy Bosnian chewy and goes on about favorite Bosnian foods, making us hungry. Then Valerie asks Maya what they have for Thanksgiving! Classic.

“They eat a big lunch, a smaller dinner. Breakfast, bread, honey, coffee. Not cooked. Lunch. Soup, clear beef with noodles, (central more meat eaten than coastal mediteranian) potatoes, seasonal vegetables, dessert. Coastal more fish, evening, soup or some salami and bread and cheese. In Yugoslavia there was a shorter work day than now. This effects their meals. They drink a lot of wine and enjoy a shot of brandy pre and post meal. No alcohol is served before 10 am. 18 is legal drinking age. Plavac wine nice. Posic is good white. In Dubrovnik (she accents first syllable and so will we) they ask for wine from Kunavia. Dubrovnik is expensive. Only 1000 live in old town. Tourists are limited to 10,000 a day. # 6 bus from Dubrovnik. 15 kuna if buy on bus. Babibkuk is where we'll be staying. Dubrovnik stayed independent for centuries by using diplomacy and bribery (kept Turks and Venetians away). A republic; the governor was from noble families and governed for 1 month only. He was isolated to prevent corruption. Palaces were simple. They didn’t allow themselves to show off in order to ward off envious enemies. In 1991 40% of Dubrovnik’s roofs were shelled. Repaired. Dominican monastery has nice collection of old masters. Kamanitza good for small fish lunch. Proto good restaurant. Mea Culpa for pizza. Dinner Puniza Dubrova, near our hotel. Turn left. 7 for bkfst. 9: for city tour. Valamar is wi fi password. 7:30 AM is the start of the Montenegro tour - bring passports and euros.”

Unhappy with our room at the perfectly up to date, even very ok hotel, in that it had neither balcony nor view if the sea, I refuse to have a glass of wine to inaugurate our evening in our room. Instead we repair to the hotel's deck overlooking the sea for a gin martini (why confuse them since that's what they regard as the only proper martini) for me and glass of wine for Bob as we watch the sun set over that extraordinary view. We discover that it's possible to upgrade to a higher floor room with balcony overlooking the sea for under $35 a night which of course we (as the only ones in our group) do – aha; I'm a happy guy knowing that this is possible on a tour and then we set out after 8:30 to find food - and after some missteps settle for a kind of NYC Times Square-style beer hall restaurant where many of our cohorts have wound up. Hey we're hungry so we greet our colleagues and partake of a dumpling (which isn't) dish for Bob and a sausage and fries plate for me. The half carafe of red helps because the cuisine, ahem, seeks improving.
Home to discover that I've probably lost my Canon backup camera on which a number of day 2 photos reside. Drat. Oh well, roll with it. 

TUESDAY APRIL 16

This morning's walking tour of "Old Dubrovnik" includes a visit to the city walls and a stroll along the main street of Stridden. Continue to view the old
harbor, St. Laurence Fortress, the Franciscan Monastery, and the Palaces of Sponza and Rector. Enjoy the balance of the day at leisure
Overnight: Dubrovnik

A late morning since our tour of Dubrovnik doesn't begin until 9. Sufficient time to take a swim in the huge indoor pool. Pre boarding we chat with our compatriots; we are all in chatting mode now, gleaning little insights into one another's lives

Exciting arriving at the old fortress of Dubrovnik. Branko is our guide."whisperers" are turned on. Funny guy. Pile is the gate. Ft of St Lawrence outside is where I saw Hamlet a half century ago above the walled city. Started 6c BC Greek colonizing here. Dubrova means old forest. Slavs absorbed Roman settlements. Branko calls their politics "mixed salad". 1206-1358 Venetian period. Dubrovnik flourished. Pushed out Venetians. Until beginning of 19th c. Dubrovnik was a state. Then it was incorporated into Yugoslavia, communist until 1990. 91-95 war. Only 2 gates. St. Blaze protects throat. (He of the kid choking on the fish bone.) Who knew this fact was a big deal to Bob, who at lunch at our table overlooking the sea by the Walls, sipping our Plavac wine, remembers his throat being blessed by the priest on St. Blaze's day. I on the other hand, remember very little of Dubrovnik after 48 years. I thought I’d be overcome by emotion seeing this site that for years I'd regarded as the most beautiful place on earth. It is undeniably beautiful, but many years of traveling the world have intervened.

Anyway, there is respite from traversing the great scenic walls (look inward at the inhabitants out at the cerulean blue sea) and my grilled squid (!) is brilliant and we chat with ladies from our group, world travelers, "Dubai is too crowded dear" who seem to have all retired in senior style, thank you very much, to Florida.

On bus outside the Dubrovnic walls Bob notes that whenever we leave, tragedy happens stateside. In December, it was the Newtown shooting, now it's the Boston race massacre. We wonder if Rudy (of Rudy and Suzanne, our Harvard friends from our Thailand tour), a marathoner, was running in that fateful marathon.

A note about the weather on this trip this far: wow. Perfect!

So we return with the awaiting bus although there are many options involving remaining there - the local bus leaves every 15 minutes and there are other museums to explore on one's own, shopping etc. but we are sated with the gloriousness of it all and chiefly our view balcony awaits. But first Reuel to swim in that insanely large pool, (I notice Bob walking by outside - later he shows photos of me swimming, except it's of someone else in goggles swimming outside whereas I was . . . inside - big laugh at that one) plus "Finnish sauna" as opposed to "soft sauna", being no softy, didn't try the "ice fountain", sounds a little too Croat Spartan even for moi. Now lying by the outdoor pool, too sweet, the usual mountains and islands arising out of the sea just yards (um meters) away.

Now it's almost cocktail hour. What's a tourist to do? Such soporificness. Good travelers always have 2 bottles of wine on hand. One gone and much enjoying the open sliding windows on our balcony looking at at gorgeousness.

Then what to do for provisions. Bob outlines the alternatives. I whittle it down to again being unable to find a decent restaurant ("3 minutes away" as recommended by our guide), room service and a sunset celebration or service at the lobby bar listening to the "arcorina band". Aware that Bob was traumatically frightened by a hostile arcorina when he was a young boy, we opt for . . . room service which arrives in 10 minutes, (decidedly a record) and under those silver domes . . . Club sandwiches, this version (our mission is to taste hotel club sandwiches around the world) has a fried egg ingredient. Yummy but I can't finish it. What's wrong with me??

Read kind responses to our emailed photo on the ramparts of Dubrovnic old city and now taking too many photos of the glorious subsiding sunset view (Bob insisting he's seen others of like character).

And so g'night.

WEDNESDY. APRIL 17
Full Day Montenegro Tour Drive toward the beautiful Bay of Kotor, the longest and deepest fjord in Southern Europe. Pass the towns of Risan and Kotor before arriving in Cetinje, the one-time seat of Montenegrin rulers. After a sightseeing tour in Cetinje, return to the coast to view Sveti Stefan, enjoying a short stop in Budva before returning to Dubrovnik

We win today's Rotation and sit in the catbird seat.
Another country, passports in hand, waits for us. Montenegro is a poorer country. Managed to be independent. Pronounced Monte Negro. EU had problems with Romania so the EU is being careful. Pluses and minuses. Kanaple wine. Zzz.

We are forewarned that Montenegrans are lazy and sure enough we are turned back at the first rest stop. "Not working."

“Montenegrans call theirs an “ecological state" because they have only one working factory. They steal cars. An ad declares "Come to Montenegro. Your car is already here." 2nd stop - same story "not the season yet"; Bosniands: stupid; Croats: Sneaky; Serbians: Bossy. In 47 Olympic Games. Mayor read “o o o o”. “Go on. Those are Olympic circles.” (Maya's joke.)
Montenegro is  6000 square miles. Borders, Croatia, Hertzagovina, Serbia, Albania (on south). Podgorica is the capital. Many mountains. Highest 8,500'. Name used First in 15th c. “Dark Trees On Mountains”. We drive around the Bay of Kota. It’s actually a Fjord. Unemployment 25%. Montenegrin language similar to Serbian. Earthquake of 1667 destroyed Croatia and much of Montenegro.”

Town of Risa. Town of Kota. 1 hour doesn't do it justice. We could have climbed up the mountain overlooking the city and seen the fortress as some of our number did. Or stopped for a glass of wine at an outdoor cafe in this utterly charming place. Instead we stop in a few churches, inspect the relics, take photos of our heads on the shoulders of the priestly chasables.

Heading to Podgorica, (pop 250,000) capital of Montenegro (population 650,000). On a plain surrounded by mountains. Protected against Turks 350 years. 1917 Montenegro recognized as a kingdom but didn't last because sided against Austria in WWI. Montenegrans are quite tall with dark hair. Now Montenegro is a republic.” 

In front we hear Maya and the driver chatting in Croatian - lulls us to sleep between her long dissertations on Montenegran history and food. As we climb the winding mountain, we note amazing views below. Can see St. Stevens island connected to the mainland by a bridge. We learn that people are very friendly and good hearted here, more so than in Croatia.

At what appears to be a mountain top, we stop at a pleasant restaurant; it's a little "fresh" to sit outside, so we sit inside, with our glasses of red wine and prepared to order the special “veal under the bell”. (Barbecued in a smoke house adjacent to the restaurant). We need Maya's help to explain that you order by the kilo but we will have one portion each which is 8 rather than 24 euros. White table cloths; seems like a family operation. Share a nice fresh mixed salad. The veal and potatoes are wonderful. We love watching the matriarch ordering the siblings around and they get us out in time.

Cetinje is next. Montenegrans are proud of their history especially defying the Turks. Just 6 years ago they had their independence. Cetinje is a museum town and was the capital until 1946. King Nicholas's Museum. Medals, stamps, coins. 44 captured flags. Nicholas was called the "European father in law" because he cleverly married his daughters to other royal families. We see the rooms. The large dining room. Peter 2, king, philosopher, died young. Most important in Montenegro. 7' tall. Much Victorian and Louis 14^th stuff. We think kind of middle class dowdy for a palace, but they had a lot of connections. I like the spinster daughter’s bedroom adjacent to her mother's the queen, with its miniature typewriter -- she was also the king's secretary and first woman to drive in Montenegro. Some nice chinoiserie. Many portraits.

A glimpse of the Montenegran character. We encounter a traffic controller with a flag. Asked whether we should go, he says, “I don't know. Why not give it a try."

Circling back. Budva is popular with Russian tourists. Preternaturally beautiful. And we walk into the old town, a walled village, miniature Dubrovnik. Beautiful, quaint, yet there are the high end stores, outfitted with gaudy high fashion which Maya clearly thinks is very Russian déclassé.

“Montenegro. Political corruption. Mafia. Drug trafficking. Few planning permits. Smoking everywhere. No seat belts. No vehicle registration.”

At Lehane our bus gets on a ferry boat. They cram vehicles into every inch of onboard space. Beautiful scenery of course. I volunteer to take the gay guys’ photos. Doesn't matter. They still don't like us. Huh! (Later I say over our room service meal, that gays have not always been the best traveling companions when we were on those expensive gay-exclusive tours nor for that matter did premium trips yield perfect results -- best is to simply go with the flow [You don't need to pay a premium to do that.])

We are very weary. Supposed to arrive back at 7:30 pm but because of traffic slow-downs and interminable border security getting back into Croatia (Montenegro was a breeze). We disastrously arrive at the changing of the border police guard -- they spend interminable minutes saying goodbyes and hellos to one another and what Maya calls "the guard turning our passport pages slowly so she won't chip her nails" after she tours our bus to identify each photo with a face.

So, okay, lights on the facades of the walls of Dubrovnik are incredible now that it's dark and at last I remember more clearly that evening Hamlet performance so aptly within those castle walls nearly a half century ago (gasp) , but we arrive 9ish at our hotel. I get ready to swim since Maya says the pool closes at 10 ( we've provisioned chips and another bottle of red wine, only 8 euros and damn good, at out last convenience stops so that Bob will be able to whole away the time until I return) but I wander in the subterranean darkness to find the fateful sign: closes at 21:00 (9 pm) so up to order steak sandwiches (only so-so) and chips which takes another room service record of less than 15 minutes. That's something at least. G'night. Tomorrow will be another (long) day.


THURSDAY APRIL 18

Today, travel inland through wooded mountains and lush vegetation to Croatian Capital, Zagreb
Overnight: Zagreb

Pandemonium on the bus. Who sits where? Bob is hall monitor. We sat w Valerie and hubby who missed yesterday's day tour. I initiate discussion that Senate pooped on gun control with proviso that political discussions are dangerous but (gotta stir the pot) of course they are rabid Republicans; I carry on about the need to be open minded. Ha ha. We emerge unscathed and well-fed. Again the weather is glorious
We fall behind a truck with a guy picking up cones one by one - we're all fascinated, not much to do on the bus. Desultory conversations, balalaika music, and Myra interjecting info. She's talking about islands eg Korcula that are beautiful and worth visiting. You can buy some but can't build on em. Set up a tent. We see an island entirely walled.
Buoys in the water for fish farmng - shellfish.
Toga tin. Superstitious. We pass by picture of Generale. Hung as war criminal. EU requires justice but people here support him as a hero. "Rigatoni Supports You".
An old guy by the side of the road stops us to give road advice, and asks for 5 kunas, a beer or a woman on the bus. Valerie says, to much laughter, “It’s a good thing my husband didn't understand that. I would be gone." (Understandable.) Then discussion ensues about rights of women in Croatia. “Not much feminism yet. Longest prison sentence is 20 years. Montenegro shelled Dubrovnik so still some hard feelings.” (May account for our wait in at border.)
Jugo (south) wind considered responsible for bad moods.
Snoozing. After this break Maya will continue with the history of Croatia.
"So the rise of the Ottoman Empire . . .” Zzzz.
“After 1st WW established kingdom of Serbs, Slavs, Slovakians - known as SSS. Parliamentary. But disbanded under pretense of civil war as modern Yugoslavia.
Pavalich joined with Axis and sent Serbs to concentration camps”.

At the lunch stop, a view of Bay of Sibenik is promised. (And wow what a view, toward this make believe style village.) In the Self Service we have strongonoffs (hearty and good - and we can say it's authentic) and splits of our now familiar Babic red.
We look a little longingly at the chocolate but settle on another split of wine. Bread? “No” says Bob “Babic.” Ahh. My own cunning linguist.

Very impressive modern roads with glimpses of sea and mountains at every turn as we speed along toward Zagreb and engineering feats with huge tunnels through the mountains.
Once through the longest tunnel we leave the coast behind. Some topographical change is evidenced, higher, snow streaked mountains, giant rock protrusions.

After the last pit stop we urge Vlado to go faster, But he says "They put a blockage in the engine" meaning that there's a regulator limiting speed at 60 mph. We should arrive in Zageb at 5:30 pm. Maya says that’s beyond the rush hour because workers go home by 3:30.

An example of tour director stuff: “San Maritza (named after Hansel and Gretel). Team up to upper town podichkem , Balthazar, club of the Croatian writers in walking distance though you can take Trams 12,13 14. Fitness open until 10 pm. Tomorrow breakfastis 6:30; 7:30 luggage. 8:30 city tour w Martina. Departure 1 pm. Eat at restaurants next to the cathedral. 45 miles to border. Need passports. Then 2 hours to Lubijana. To Bled 45 miles. Arrive Bled 5:30. Optional excursion/restaurant 7:30 pm. (which we sign up for). It’s in an old tavern.”

Zagreb is the capital of Croatia . Old Zagreb was built on 2 hills. Upper town is newer. We are in lower – older, as are most of the museums, galleries. Mimeta museum next door. Museum of Broken Relationships is in upper town.

Maya tries out some jokes. She needs to work on them. "When a Croatian works and studies it's called science fiction." “An American, a Bosnian and a Russian spent year in space. American has whiskey. The Russian vodka, the Bosnian a cigarette. A year later the Bosnian emerges, ‘Does anyone have any matches?’”

Too much damn time on the bus today. As we approach Zagreb we note a lot of graffiti on the walls. Not political or gang related.

The Westin in the center of old town is clearly one of the top Zagreb hotels though not brand new. Our room offers a lovely view of the venerable buildings of old town. We scout the confusing wellness area, clearly also a fitness club for Zagrebians. I venture forth to swim with the scantily swim clad and pasty skinned Zagrebs though I think I've lost my goggles (Bob finds them) and when I return we seek the evening sights in the old town. Mostly university students out and about. And thousands of them. Balmy out. Ornately decorated old buildings, lighted for evening viewing. Bustling crowds. Hundreds sitting woth coffee in the cafes of the main square or buying ice creams and gelatos; electrified cable cars, blue modern affairs unlike those I remember in Jersey City, rickety running under electric grids that were eliminated in the '50's. Bicyclists dart along sometimes in the bicycle lanes on the peripheries of the sidewalks.

Not when it's this late do I order my meal before the drinks have been delivered. They sure know how to pour with a light hand at The Westin and the martinis have a bit more vermouth than they should. Bob. Levant bread roll with spicy ragu (really a wrap). Reuel. Hey a cheeseburger. Actually, it works though the chef wouldn't know "rare" if it mooed at him. We're calmed down however (actually it's me who needs calming considering we don't dine until 8:45).


FRIDAY, APRIL 19
This morning, enjoy a walking tour of Zagreb, Croatia's charming capital. Here, view Roosevelt and Ban Josip Jelacic Squares as well as the Presidential
Palace, Stone Gate, and Pope's Tower. Enjoy time to explore the city independently before departing for Bled, located in the heart of the Julian Alps
Optional: Dinner at a Country Inn (PM) This evening, visit the little medieval town of Radovljica and take a short walk through its old section. Later, stop at a popular and traditional country inn. Your dinner will include a selection of traditional Slovenian dishes and wine.
Overnight: Bled

Beautiful sunrise over the city as we awake at 5:30 AM (Reuel with little sleep - bus dozing, late to bed, and no Ambien.) Bob is stiff getting up and needs to stretch in the manner of our morning low impact YMCA classes but can he, will he? Will I? Britain's Skynews reporting on America, photos of the unaprehended Boston bombers, lost firefighters in west Texas explosions, Ricin mailings, MIT shooting, "a sense of loss, fear, and anxiety", The Times proclaiming the disgrace that is our bought congress, evident in lack of gun legislation. But . . . we are tourists today, comforted in our hotel suite in the seat of a strange country's government a third of the world away.
One of the better buffets (they're all brilliant). I have some items I ordinarily don't indulge in for breakfast, dried figs, sushi, much lox, mixed veggies (excellent), multigrained bread we cut off the loaf, pot of rose hips tea (I'll try the traveler's tea infuser Dorothy gave me tomorrow when we have more than one night at the hotel). Bob decides to emphasize the pastries, chocolate coissants, apricot squares, nut rolls, ooh la la.

Much pandemonium on the bus regarding seats, really funny, (we're on a rotation basis), "This is where I sit; you should be sitting here; no yesterday you were . . . You wanna sit here?"

Martina is our Zagreb city guide. Excellent English.

“Zagreb 1 million; 1/4 of population of Croation . Everybody spends all the time in bars, does business in bars.
Mimira (named for the collector) museum - next to Westin- largest collection. 19 theaters in Zagreb. National theatre presents theatre, ballet, and opera. Tunnel underneath to transport scenery and costumes. 1894. University 1669 across from the Theatre. Most buildings have yellow color. 8 parks run thru the center of the city. Change flowers 2-3 weeks. 2 Main Streets are Green Wave. Architecture influenced by Austro-Hungary - very Central European. Zagreb is the 24th largest city in Austo-Hungarian empire. Safe city. Buildings tagged unfortunately. Being renovated slowly.
Trams, 15 lines.”

Hear that the 2 gay guys are a tour guide and a dancer – ha!
Bear mountain looming above the city is for walks or skiing.
We are ready for the walking tour whisperers in tow.

“Old wells everywhere. Provided household. Water used for everything. Big wheels.
Streets arranged for certain crafts.
St. Marks square. Government buildings.
They call country not Croatia but Hrvartska.
Of entering Euro Union, the joke is, Get Bosnia and Slovenia in also and whole thing dissolves. War started because of money not religious or nationalistic reasons (easiest buttons to push). St. Marks church has a gorgeous roof. Because roof burned . New roof idea from Vienna. Symbol of animal on the roof is the kuna = stone mountain. Little animal’s fur exchanged for goods. Hence money is kuna. This square was where it all began. Opera house and the so-called old center was actually corn fields.
Nikolai Tesla - invented ac electricity, radio, magnetic induction, built 1st electric plant in Niagra. Zagreb has gas lamps- have lamplighters.
Museum of Naive art. Painted on glass.
Museum of Broken Relationships. Junk but it's the story.
On the upper city we see the funicular.”
Kids are excited by us.

Croatians are very white. Don't see other cultures in person. So children inured to TV, are excited by “real” other people.
The Square. The happening square. This week’s festival is called "Lets buy Croatian stuff" (homemade goods).

Cathedral. Beautiful. Only church we're allowed in because of church politics.

At the Made in Croatia festival we are looking for "Croat crap" (Bob). Now on our own, we buy for $8 a pretty picture (with church steeples and red roofs and a suggestion of people in outdoor cafes it screams Croatia) painted allegedly by the seller's husband.

We are enjoying this morning, the energy of the people, their look, their sanguinity at this remarkably lovely weather.

$12 for lunch at the only cafe serving food – a large pictogram on the wall of the selections so that we can point at them to the impatient waiter -- along the street of cafes and the usual hundreds of Croats drinking coffee and smoking. We have a mediocre cheeseburger and a chicken burger (a kabop - thin slices if chicken(?) in a bun) and glasses of fairly insipid white wine. We didn't want to wait for the old man waiter to take our order at the charming little restaurant up the street and the one cook to make it since we didn't have all the worldly time the locals seem to have.

Seemingly interminable border crossing Croatia into Slovenia. (Note to self, buy scrabble app. To amuse self during such times.) We talk with lovely San Francisco Asian couple - seems they spend their time managing their foundation. Hmmm. They have only one "stamper" at the crossing. Why not? There are only 2 lamplighters and one bell ringer after all. Apparently the police are on strike and they have a "new system" that can't read the older passports.

“We are traveling southeast to northwest Slovenia. 2 million residents live in Slovenia. Already lovelier terrain. Very green. Meadows. Forests. Redroofed towns with steepled churches.
Of wine. (C'est Bon). Red. Switchek. Not sweet. Teran. (Heavy but tannic). 8% tax. Panina=sparkling wine. 68% of Slovenia is woods. Tourism in Slovenia not as important as it is in Croatia. They don't promote it much. Recession. 10% unemployment, 25% under 28. The major cause: management buyout of industries. Couldn't repay loans.”

Maya plays authentic oompa oompa "beer" music which is an appropriate accompaniment to her lecture. “On Sunday the people have soup followed by beef or chicken and play this music. Maria Theresa made it mandatory in the 18th c to plant potatoes.

Housekeeping: Need wifi code. Swimming pool opens at 7 am on the 5th floor. Get towel card. Walk around lake. (1 1/2 hrs.) Meet 8:30 am tomorrow.”

Of course now that we are encountering arguably the most beautiful scenery with the Julian Alps (snow capped 9,000 ft.) and reputedly also tomorrow on the way to Ljubljana, it starts raining.

Our hotel was the first hotel built in Bled and then torn down in the 70's. We again are the only ones in the group to buy an upgrade for a lake view, (10 euros per night per person, 40 euros total) hooray. There looking haughtily out over Bled Lake is Bled Castle (resembling an ancient vampire's optimal lair). The light mist is a perfect complement to the wooded surrounding mountains. So peaceful but a strange contrast to the CNN news of the one Boston bomb suspect yet to be apprehended and a community in fear.
Now the bells are pealing from the church directly across the lake as we wait to go off to the special dinner.

In the hotel lobby a pianist is playing the anniversary waltz with an oompa emphasis.
Since the rain has stopped since we arrived, we go for a walk around the little town, Radoljica. Gorenka-- lady from Gorinska-- is the town's chocolate factory. Here are some 17th c houses with frescoes exteriors. They extend to the edge of the town to the lake.

In the wine cellar of the tavern, there is much merriment. I ask if Bob if he is sentimental for the old country. “For eastern Pennslvania?" Our accordionist is master of ceremonies--he's excellent, describes the instrument and the costumes of his couple compatriots who dance as we drink - a lot - of the local wine.

Upstairs we are joined by a lovely Mineesotah lady. With a bottle of white wine. Good having her enthusiastic perspective on our trip.
The wine helps to reveal that beyond this every-lady facade, (she's an accountant) no fool she. In conversation, Bob talks of South Bethlehem and the Slovenian and Slovak communities he remembers. Talk of her sons. I find her "normalcy" refreshing.

Then there are the dances. Paola, the "professional" who has rebuffed us for some unknown reason, dances with the folk dance lady. Then, I dance with her. Bob gets to take pictures and seems to be enjoying the spectacle. I'm winded but I get kind comments. In particular the nice (other) Minnesota woman, says she liked me best, etc. (how sensitive of her to perceive the dynamics between us and the other gay couple). Another woman at the hotel says she's been noticing me moving and that I'm a dancer Blah blah. Kind of her. I tell Bob that I live for this attention but do not expect it of him. We agree.

In bed Bob says such fun to be staying at a Soviet era hotel. I look out at our balcony and see with pleasure Bled castle lighted now that it is night. I read in the Times of an agreement between Serbia and Kosovo to cease enmity, easing the way for entry into the European Union. Wonder.


SAT APRIL 20

This morning drive to Ljubljana for a panoramic city tour that includes views of the open-air market, City Hall, Parliament, Robba's Fountain, and the Three Bridges. In the afternoon, enjoy a sightseeing tour of Bled including a visit to Bled Castle, the city's most famous landmark. This evening,celebrate your last night in Slovenia at a farewell dinner
Overnight: Bled
Meals: Breakfast, Dinner

Got 6 hrs of sleep so ready this day for all comers. The ritual here is you need to get a towel card at reception downstairs, go to pool on 5th floor, exchange your card for a towel and redeem the card when you return towel; no hiding it in your swim suit - though I do have a Villa robe (dozens of them at home actually) for more proper concealment of potential contraband. Big pool for lapping with lake/castle view.

Bob advises me to put jelly in the palacinta (thin pancake), yummy at breakfast. I ask how his "people" eat it. Fork and knife works.

Typical confusion about seating on the bus. We're moving back on the rotation. Overcast but no rain . . . Yet. Take me to Lyubiyana! No the castle is first. Complaints about casino noise from their rooms on the land (other) side. Tsk. Tsk. Plump mama, of Paola her bad seed, says in her broken English “they up till five”. No doubt at which time she brought out the paint pots for her elaborate applications, (she lets it be known to some of the women on the bus that she’s had 7 husbands and is considered the Zsa Zsa of her native land – wherever that may be) then recruiting her son and his beefy tour guide lover (?) to prepare her French roll hairdo. Harsh.

Eleventh century castle. Some of it seems to be 16th c. I like the view of Grimsle Manor on a little island in the lake.

We climb the levels. They've done it up nicely, a museum which seems to want a catalogue. The history of man in the region - in 14,000 BC, Thor . . . etc. Take some nice panorama photos through casements (love castles); faux friar selling wine and making jokes in his "cellar". Gets the jolly ladies in our group to buy.

“1000 BC the celts in Ljubljiana. Attila sacked it. Slavs settled there in the Middle Ages. Hapsburgs took over all over Europe. Most of city center baroque (Italian) or art nouveau. A mixture of mediterranean and Central Europe culture. Architects from Austria. Georgia Bleznik designed most of the important buildings and walks. Difficult to be a celebrity in Slovenia because everybody knows everybody. Nepotism. Prime minister buys lettuce in the market. Visiting movie stars feel strange”. I like Maya's understated style. "Perhaps not the most beautiful building." (This said of a monstrosity.)

The walk. “Mahler started his career at the concert hall. Dragon is the symbol of Lubiyana. The national anthem is a drinking song, mostly about wine and women. However, they just kept the part about good neighbors living in peace.”

We finally figure out how to wear the whisperer. No longer a pain in the ass. Green market fresh every day. Cathedral. Jesuit architect. Doors 1996 but beautiful. History of Slovenia represented on it. Made in memory of Pope John Paul 2. He's on top. Very ornate baroque inside.

Trompe l’oeil. Connected to bishops palace. Great painting near the altar made as a penance by a forgery artist.

Town Hall . Courtyard shows map of Ljubljiana, that it’s a Medieval town built on the ancient wall of Imona. Citizens originally met at 5:30 am because they invariably got drunk later. Shamed by being dunked in River L. Wonderful aroma from the food.
[Little train up to castle. Don't go outside of ped zone. 2:15 at end of square. She'll be in. front of the statue in front of 3 bridges at 2:00].
Authentic "charming" restaurant Sokel. The waiter steers us to the more expensive cab and it is complex, lovely. Life's too damned short and all that. Mushroom soup in a carved out bread container. Softly playing Slovenian music - sans oom pah pah. Men singing sort of dirge-like melodies, the ornate accordion polkas. Bob says as he was growing up it was "inescapable".

We note that all tour managers have in common that they talk endlessly on the busses. Bob says he napped today during the Ljubljana history. I say I tuned out somewhere in the late Middle Ages. Nevertheless, we'd probably get B's on the Final.
We talk of the different kinds of travelers, whose infinite variety is lovely to behold. There's Valerie, who can be shrill and looks dissatisfied as we tour the byways and alleys of old towns, and then there are the lovely sunny ladies, who rush up to us everywhere to extol the glories of complications in traveling. "Isn't it fascinating how they misinterpret what we're saying?"

Bob notes its heaven on earth in Croatia and Slovenia now but his “pipple” (let my people come . . . to Amerika) left in the 19th c because Europe was crumbling around them.

Our waiter's cute. (And knows how to upsell wine.)
Shall we remain here or walk around? I say there are still many graven images to be broken.

Then discussion of my fans among the women (for the dancing exhibition-- probably the faces I was making) the newest who greeted us on the elevator in the morning. Perhaps my soul mate is among them. Oops. That's Bob. Sorry ladies.

Walking. Bob "If you want to go to a clean Italy go to Slovenia and Croatia.” Discover the pedestrian zone really is amazingly charming.

Again those hundreds drinking coffee, especially along the river.

We wait for Arlene and Gus on the bus (she of no hair- cancer). Maya finds Gus, her husband, but not Arlene so we abandon them after 20 minutes to find their way back to Bled. Valerie is most displeased, insisting that she will expect servile apologies because she in Arlene's shoes would be so embarrassed (Not). Later at the farewell dinner Arlene will offer abject apologies to each table (they caught a bus back to Bled) saying she got the time wrong and is so embarrassed, but Valerie is not there to hear her.

After refreshing in our room, we decide to stroll around the lake and take in the magnificent scenery. This will take about an hour and a half. We see the scull racers starting in the lake area under our balcony and find them at the finish line being cheered on by fans in bleachers at the other end of the lake.

Other than avoiding the occasional bicyclist, the walk is very amiable indeed.

We are ready for the farewell dinner, actually a buffet (which Bob declares he detests) in the hotel dining room. We share our travel war stories (hiking Machu Pichu in the rarified air, being caught in protest rallies in strange cities, flights disastrously delayed, etc.) with the two couples (Portland, San Francisco) at our table and then a walk in the neighborhood in the pleasant night air, and then up to sit on our balcony (lets squeeze all we can from that upgrade).

(Meet 9 am. 7 luggage) we go with Maya.


SUNDAY APRIL 21
This morning, transfer to Venice. Balance of the day is at leisure to independently explore Venice, a splendid city of palaces, canals, romance, and culture
Overnight: Venice

We are up early enough to see the still lighted castle and the rock (how did the early settlers find this perfect promontory for their castle) on which it sits, set against the dawning sky. Reuel opens the pool at 7, joined later by a few Germans, the middle aged men clad in their Continental skimpies - that's how you can tell even before the achtungs erupt. I take a few minutes (very few--Bob will be anxiously awaiting my return so he can have coffee, this being one of the few hotels that doesn't provide it in-room) to lie in a chaise by the enormous windows looking out at the lake, the castle, and the mountains.
On the BBC fascinating piece on elocution and modifications on accents by major figures to fit their ambitions and changing image requirements, eg Margaret Thatcher, working class to plummy upper class, David Beckham from cockney to polished, middle class (Bob says he was) Mick Jagger from deliberately rocker unintelligible (my perspective) to man of the world - which he assuredly is. And I add Obama (and his ilk) who manage to drop their final consonants to please us great unwashed.

On the coach, we meet the Seidmans from the other group (Fred's a jokester) . We're all the privileged 2-nighters in Venice staying at the Continental on Canal Grande in the Carnerregio train (Ferravagio) district, which we like and where we first stayed in Venice.
Across from us, one of my favorites from our group is the feisty lady, Joan, who walks with a folding tripod. Knew I liked her when she was at our mutual cafe in Dubrovnik and I overheard her say to her companion that she told a disagreeable hotel receptionist, "Why don't you go fuck yourself. . . . She probably didn't understand me."
Of course ever-hyper Valerie is on our bus. She tells Bob that Vlad, our driver, made inappropriate advances to her; wanted Bob's confirmation that this is wrong and that it's good she told her husband Miles. (?) Valerie asks Maya, our guide, about her family life. She lives in a (of course) charming (shows us pictures) 9th c. town. Her lover lives nearby. Common-law relationships are apparently the norm in Slovenia.

Note to self: always turn Airplane mode on when leaving the wi-fi protection of our hotels.

Maya translates documents a woman (later we learn she is Barbara, Joan’s touring companion) has brought with her about her Slovenian ancestors. Fascinating. I ask Bob about what he knows of his ancestors. It was a big Windish community in Bethlehem; life insurance, social hall. Bob got $50 from his grandmother's insurance. His grandmother grew veggies in the backyard. Rented. Never prosperous. His grandfather died when Bob was a baby. They laid him out in the living room. Bob’s mother, Mary, was taught by nuns. She said all she learned was how to sweep floors. Dropped out when old enough to work. Grandmother’s house was on Verona St. Mrs. Kolisher lived up the street on the corner. She didn't like children. That whole neighborhood was later leveled by Lehigh.
Speaking of which we now pass by what we think is a lake. I see trees growing in it. Frank tells me that actually the whole area was flooded.

Maja. “Slovenia has many caves and lakes, some disappearing lakes, fisherman have to pick up the fish to save them. Karst area now.”

The San Diego woman we met last night from other group told me their guide works 200 days a year. I calculate at $6 a person a day at up to 40 in a group = $48,000 a year in tips alone. Few personal expenses for touring days. Considering the average salary in Slovenia - the most prosperous of the Slav countries - is $18,000 a year, he's a rich man. Guides can do well.

Of Venice, “It's not Roman. Settled later because safe since an island.
To get to the airport, A water taxi is 60 euros, but it's included so that's something. In morning on way to work, Italians have cappuccino and a brioche. Her favorite is Canal Giudica for restaurants. Some nice restaurants in Canareggio. Cupertino = cover charge. Travasin is sandwich for a quick snack.”

An interim Prosciutto crudo sandwich to share is just right at the stop (you buy a ticket first) and we find a video machine that allows us to take photos of ourselves being videoed. Ellen -- NYC docent -- is fascinated. I suggest to Bob maybe a gelato when we get to Venice . He says, "maybe a large glass of wine; screw the gelato." Agreed!
Across the aisle, portly cane lady, of a dress designer. "I liked her. She always had a nice size waist. Then she overextended."

On this tour we did 2100 miles - Venice to Venice. We'll meet Miriam to take us to the water taxis. Tomorrow Breakfast starts at 7. 7:55 meet out in lobby (turn left to train station). By 11:30 free,

Myriam is our guide in Venice. Sprightly and efficient. She guides us to our boat; the dock is at the airport. We bond with Joan - she's the plump old blonde broad with mobility problemsVenice independently. And we can see an old lady puttering around her house a few yards away when we sit in the john. (We’re talking unintentional upgrade here.)

and Barbara - who, like Bob, has Slovenian ancestry. The ride is exhilarating, spray, ah Venezia. Nothing like it.

Unfortunately no upgrade available for a canal view room so we are inside in pretty spare accommodations. Bob cadges an extra plastic glass from the maid for our wine which has yet to be delivered with our luggage. At least we don't have to tote luggage around the cobbled streets as we do when we stay in

Some of our compatriots, including Barbara from Chicago and Joan, DC, are taking their gondola tour now that the weather is, despite all predictions, fabulous, sunny and warm. We, needing to seek the outdoors in contrast to our room, attempt the winding byways, follow and then try to avoid the crowds until we reach the Realto and find a table facing Santa Maria Dela Salute and a bottle of red wine on the grand canal, blood sugar and irritability alert at last rescinded (it's after 3 pm). Note: after 3:15 canal front tables available; we're a bit back - fine. Mellowing, we reminisce about our last visit when we rented the Countess Papafava's extra residence overlooking a fascinating piazza.
Streams of tourists flow behind us but the sea flows in front.

Enough of people watching at the cafe. It’s time to wend our way back to the hotel, easier said. We get lost and Note to self: After consuming a 1/2 bottle of liquid seek the restaurant's "toilette".Instead painful adventure before finding relief at our new home in the Continental (a block away from The Amadeus, our first Venice Hotel).

Not feeling awfully hungry, we again tread out beyond the Canarregio district - not too far this time - and by 9 we are slicing (with difficulty) a delicious pizza Marguerita and enjoying a not at all bad Cab Frank that Bob remembered we first tried in a little restaurant somewhere in Northern California before our creating a wine bar was a (sensible ?) idea. Fun hearing the different languages around us, French, German, American as we watch the passing scene. And we are disapproving that at this hour children are bumping around a soccer ball in this street of passing strangers and touristic diners.
I read a telling last night's dream of loss and attempted redemption to Bob. He says "Why don't you suck it up (of my wine not my anxiety I'd guess). Lets go. It's raining."

The after rain getaway- the cobblestones and tiles are slippery – is tough but in any configuration and temper Venice is funny and a miracle. Anyone who reads this, we are open to providing tours of our beloved third country (ok. 1. Amerika, 2. Britain, 3. Italie!) at a discount emolument. Guaranteed to get you lost . . . which is all the fun. Give it a try.

MON APRIL 22

Today begins with a boat tour to the Island of Murano, known throughout the world for its glass manufacturing industry. Continue to St. Mark's Square
to begin a walking tour of romantic Venice. Visit the Golden Basilica of San Marco, the Bridge of Sighs, and the Doge's Palace. The balance of the day is at leisure
Overnight: Venice

Overcast (yesterday turned out to be beautiful) this AM. Oops rain. Our vivacious guide, Myriam, leads us to our boat across from the Ferario Stazione which is “the bus station where 20,000 workers every day arrive to take the boats in Venice. Exceptional high tide aqua alta once a year (sirens- means put on boots and do it now!) occurs in November - but tides everyday. One reason Venice prices are higher is the double transportation costs (add a boat). We pass a Costa Magica cruise ship with 3600 passengers pouring into Venice. We pass Judeca, an island for rich Venetians. (Of Bridge of Sighs. Prisoners sighed at their last sight of Venice.) Burano island is lnown for expensive lace. Doges moved glassblowing to Murano because of the risk of fire and to keep the techniques secret. You can catch a 6 hour boat between Venice and Dubrovnik during summer. Croatia 3X more expensive than usual then.” Glad we were there in the Spring.

We're in the glass blowing factory (300 year old building - a 17th c monastery). Glass is made from sodium, potassium and sand. The master blower has a cigarette in his mouth or hand as he blows. Wonder if that's part of the secret technique.

We see him create a beautiful piece from beginning to end when he places it in the 600 degree oven. 
Upstairs we discover that selenium and gold makes red, use 24 carat gold.
I like a piece but its 6300 euro. I have to restrain Bob from puling out his wallet. (Joke!)

In the rooms a little man follows Bob and me around I suspect mainly to see we don't steal anything. One modern piece on a stand is only $17,000. A martini glass is $410. "Bargain basement" cheapest piece here is 50euro.
I pretend that when we return we're showing a slide of us on the bridge in Murano and I say "Bob bought me a 400 euro martini glass on the island and home I smashed it into the fireplace in a fury at his excess". Oh well.

I decide Valerie needs to take more meds. We both agree I'm being unkind. We do agree we'd like to spend more time on Murano next time we’re in Venice. I'm thinking Fall 2015 for the next Biennale.

On the boat back indefatigable Frank entertains Bob and me with riffs on glass blowing; of the woman in our group who does it as a hobby, "her husband's name was glass." His wife says he does this on boats because there's no escape. I say “This is mixed company and I have mixed feelings.” Later she tells him "take a breather".

I discovered earlier that Frank and frau got an upgrade for this hotel thru Gate 1, the only one that was available. Now I know to at least ask in advance. Otherwise we lucked out.
Miriam notes that on the other side of Lido island is the Adriatic and reminds us that our wake up call is 3:20 and we leave the hotel at 4:20 AM!

At Doge's palace with a local male guide. “This is the palace of the government. Last year Italy celebrated its unification. The lagoon of Venice central trading to world. Exterior facing the water since 14th c. Fires occurred because so much timber. For example the beautiful floor is terrazzo, crushed stones, supported by beams – thus flexible. Paintings all late 16thc.”

No more photos alas starting at the waiting room (hall of 4 doors) with the only Titian in the palace. “Political power in hands of richest families. Doge = leader elected for life. Life expectancy 37 for men. Doge in the painting is Antonio who financed a naval fleet defeated twice. But he insisted on being depicted wearing a suit of armor. In palace paintings by Paolo Feroneze from Verona and Tinteretto, a Venetian.
Carnivale in Venice in Feb most crowded.

All paintings canvas to impress visitors with the wealth of Venice. In every canvas Doge being presented by Maryand  Joseph and behind him St. Marc (patron st of Venus). We’re in the senate hall now (120 senators) concerned with foreign affairs. Venice is portrayed as a crowned queen of the Adriatic Sea. (One Doge looks a little like our Danny). St. Marks is depicted in the background . . . without tourists.

The council of 10 judges watched over the security of Venice. There was conflict between them and the senate. The Council's audience hall is magnificent.
1797 ended Venice’s independence by Napoleon. Many paintings removed during his 10 years of occupation. (I like the panting of Juno dropping gold on Venice- wealth from the heavens.) There are 72 mailboxes in the walls for Secret Accusations.

Then we see the largest hall in Italy. Incredible. Oven 700 in great council elected senators  (hence this large room) which houses Tintoreto's fabulous Parradiso depicting the coronation of the Virgin Mary - Jesus is crowning her - and portraits of the 120 Doges. (The Doges served through 1000 years of Venetian history.) One black veiled Doge tried to become absolute master of Venice but was decapitated for his crimes. Tintoreto’s self portrait is as Moses, his deceased painter daughter is depicted as Faith.
No support for the enormous ceiling. Above it are trusses like the keel of a ship upside down.”

Now we walk through the Bridge of Sighs as the just-condemned prisoners did, seeing as they did their last view of Venice (hence their sighs) through the ornate small windows.  (Because it Was!) After the French, the Austrians ruled Venice for 50 years. Peter sent Mark from Rome to Venice. St. Mark died in Egypt. Buried in 68. In 828 Mark's relics were stolen from Egypt. For the Catholic Church this is his tomb.” 

“Completed in 1604, it was first called Bridge of the Prison.

At the top of the giant staircase stand Mars and Neptune statues, army and navy symbols. 

St Marks Square Bell tower is a replica completed in 1912. Above Florios Café level, is the library. St. Marks was completed in 1094. It’s a Catholic cathedral but looks like a Greek orthordox church - Byzantine.

Largest mozaic ceiling in Italy. All gold leaf between 2 layers of glass. It took 30 years to build St. Mark's, which was planned like a Greek cross with five domes.
Apr 25^th is St. Mark’s Day (also the liberation of Europe).

Tour over. Miriam leads us to the Rialto to fend for ourselves. Which we do.

We buy an obligatory campy snow globe featuring of course St. Marks square and soon to appear on our bar at home which is festooned with . . . Snow globes. The restaurant we discover, Dora al Bondi, offers a 13.50 euro special. Bob has spaghetti carbonara which he “likes” plus grilled chicken breast and potatoes.
For Reuel it's a lasagna for his first piati. Very nice, freshly prepared. Main course is veal scalopinne plus salad. Plus a decent cab frank at 17 euro. We actually spend quite a bit of time dining like the real Italians we are at heart and at soul and at . . . stomach.

Meandering back - we'll not arrive at our hotel until close to 4 --_ we encounter enough rain to give the umbrellas we tote some use. But that's the Venice we know, much weather and the lovely moodiness that settles over the city when the weather is inclement, not to mention the advantage of sharper, more atmospheric photo images.
Some rest and that pre-farewell prep prep and by 6:30 we deciding to pass up a 9:30 Vivaldi concert in a St. Marks church (if only it were closer), we head out to find Inspector Brunetti and family (even if they are fresh from favorite mystery novelist Donna Leone’s fancy). In the lobby we say our goodbyes to even-keeled Barbara and her companion firebrand Joan. And while walking once again note how accepted we are as gay men in these groups, some even going out if their way to befriend us.

We wander into a neighborhood "where people actually live" (Bob) with many somewhat newer houses - 4 stories and in blocks. Pleasant

On alleyways, people returning home from work or grocery shopping. And at the small canalways that wonderful salt sea smell.

The hotel's restaurant is a surprise. Last night it was empty and the keyboardist played to noone . . . sad. This evening it is full. (Later we learn mostly with a tour group. Though it is late, 8:45, we get the last table, one for 4 and it is candlelighted - actually it takes itself seriously as a fine dining restaurant, damask walls, tuxedoed waiters, although ours really can’t speak English. We have a half bottle of Pinot. I order a spaghetti with cuttlefish ink, Bob the tagliatelle asparagus and scampi.

And we wait. After 45 minutes, our waiter comes out to say in broken, well mostly Italian "The plate, my friend (with appropriate gesture), he dropped." I am in hysterics. Bob is . . . Pissed. We are, needless to say, the last to leave. Even getting the check is an experience. And we are told we can't get it charged to our room because we get our tour discount. Huh? As we leave, Bob wants to know how to say Fawlty Towers in Italian. Arriverderci?

TUES APRIL 23

Transfer to the Venice airport for your departure flight

Myriam distributes food bags to our little group of early risers. Several talk of being pick- pocketed here in Venice, as our little boat speeds toward the airport stop and then we make our longish trek from boat to the departure gates following Miriam who facilitates (and gets $20 tip from us for her chipper, efficient help in Venice) and provides us each a small shopping bag of breakfast provisions, a welcome mother hen she. Fairly painless security and then we are welcomed into The Marco Polo Lounge with my Priority Pass. Baked goods go well with cappuccinos (yes Reuel jumps off the wagon here - no tea in evidence). Another capuchino, oops, addicted and so young. My Marco Polo wi-fi card doesn't work but it's probably me. There's a big wine cooler full of prosecco and cabs just for the taking. (And it's lunchtime in NYC after all but... this is better than being with the unwashed poor. Though truth be told the unwashed rich are equally smelly.)

Very painless jaunt to Madrid (front of plane -- we've got the row to ourselves) and then that neat train transporting us to the international terminal (about 20 minutes estimated for the whole enchilada including passport control and getting up to our VIP Lounge where we position ourselves in front of the nice variety of food though we'll be fed lunch on our transatlantic flight (but there's always the need for provisions for our NYC stay, wink, wink). We have juice and discern that this one is a nicer VIP lounge than the last one we stopped at in Madrid 2 weeks ago (no paucity of lounges in this futuristic airport with the enormous wavy wooden ceilings held up by great yellow trusses and chromium columns, likely the pride of Madrid).

As we continue to gossip I say in defense "The only way to know one's own virtue is to disparage that of others". (This is hardly within the parameters of the Golden Rule, I suspect.) Some Bob bon mots. "We are euro trash! Without the euros. " About my monk blessed string bracelet, I say, "You could cut it off while I'm sleeping, but that could bring misfortune on our house. " Bob. "More?" And we hadn't yet ordered our 2 bottles of wine each. Bob a white Verdejo. Reuel a Tempranillo of course. Bob's tortalini ricotta is very good, Reuel's meatballs rather so-so but the accompaniments are fine. Everything's so nicely wrapped in plastic and cellophane. And business class think they have it good. 

I get to watch a Hobbit movie: Unexpected Journey, which I would never get or want to see on terra firma, but I’m curious about this blockbuster franchise. Visually stunning, rooting interest if you like a mix between myth, fairy tale, cutesiness, braindediness and boring inevitability, that is if you are a 15 year old boy with bad grades. Impenetrable sound served up by Iberia, which airline from all evidence really doesn't do Spain any justice.

Landed. Free at last but not really. We few US citizens sail through passport control while all of the foreigners from our plane form a huge snail line. Then awaiting our luggage to slowly arrive, our first adventure back in the new world unfolds; a little drug sniffing dog comes to me and starts barking furiously until her avuncular handler tells her to "give it a rest" and gives her a treat. Ai yai, I have the food bags that Myriam gave us 13 hours earlier to which I added some wrapped sandwiches from that Priority Lounge in Madrid. (I'm such a "Greenie" [greenhorn] as my father would have said, usually of my mother when she embarrassed him. I’m directed to the special customs counter for spies and smugglers. The nice lady inspects my bag as Bob nervously watches (no doubt ready to confess that he doesn’t know me), confiscates 2 sandwiches and 2 apples - I think we get to keep the fig sandwich which is what I really wanted -- tells me not to lie on my declaration form ever again although she says it more diplomatically than that. Chastened and burdened with fewer foodstuffs, I call Irina our new New York landlord who, unsurprisingly, has a marked Russian accent and our cab joins the drive time traffic to 330 W 58. Nice to be in a car, Bob notes, after all that bus transport we endured the past fortnight.

We meet young Daniella whose accent indicates that she could be the daughter of the owner, Irina. Busy 1970 building. They've got commercial on the first 6 floors, 300 apartments above. The apartment is as photos suggest spacious and up to date. View is of the Mandarin Oriental across the street and CNN’s Moneyline offices from this the 11th floor. Can't see Central Park (that woulda cost another couple thou) which is around the corner.

7 PM. VANYA & SONIA & MASHA & SPIKE

Christopher Durang’s zany spoof of Checkovian theatre has its moments. Some moments fall flat, buoyed by some terrific performances, especially Kristine Nielsen as Masha, the self-doubting, pessimistic sister of Masha and Vanya, Sigourney Weaver, (a movie star playing a movie star about to pull the plug on her siblings’ support) energetically but alas woodenly, and Billy Magnussen hilarious as the narcissistic actor (his only credit is auditioning for TV’s Entourage) muscle-boy lover of Masha, not to mention David Hyde Pierce as Vanya the brother (a gay man playing a gay man) who, especially in his tour de force soliloquoy – each of the characters has one – shows his considerable acting chops.

WED APRIL 24.
Some good needed sleep in our first night in NYC this year despite noisy -- conversation - party above until 3 AM. And no heat yet. I leave a message with Irina to complain.
I do not accept Irina's contention that all buildings in NY work the same. She calls back to say yes the building has an issue - ya think? - and she'll call with updates. If not on by 5 she'll supply a radiator. Is The Cold War with this Russky thawing? News at 5.

So after our lovely walk through Lincoln Center  

missing some good dance that will appear at the New York Theatre there in May and Central Park - hey we're right there - it being a crisp but sunny day (and we've our leather jackets and scarves),

we are the very first at Thalia our old favorite at 50thh and 8th. Belvedere for moi, cab Bob, oysters for me (a Major treat wow) polenta Bob for starters and then NY Sirloin burgers. (16.95 2 course special). At unisex bathroom, see myself in mirror. Virtue of being old is that you are invisible and can scope things out. Glass half full.

Back to apt. – “peet stop” as one of our Italian guides called it -- Irina calls to ask when I'm leaving because “we're moving to Trump Towers" huh? I explained that this was all settled and we'd leave our luggage on our last day and have lunch. I had to remind her about the important issue - the heat. This pisses me off. We make reservations at Porterhouse in the Time Warner building.

2: PETER AND THE STARCATCHER. (Reserved through Theatre Development Fund in advance) Big student group in attendance. Tall kids in front of us. At intermission we decide this is disappointing vis a vis TV hype and all those Tony's. Slick. Yes brilliantly staged, energetic, tale of the pre-Peter Pan lost boys on Victorian high seas. But so far doesn't repay intense attention. Bob notes that it needed the director to come back and refresh it. True, missed cues, general sloppiness; I could see it in a more confined space (even though it has moved from a Broadway theatre to “Off Broadway” New World Stages).  

Between plays we do some provisioning at Balducci's, resting, dealing with Irina who calls, as we rush along Broadway to our next play, insisting the building says there is heat. I say they do not speak truth. I feel I need to talk in primitive sentences with her because of her thick accent. We might as well be in Moscow renting from a local.

WED APR 24 THE ASSEMBLED PARTY

Again Richard Greenberg proved he's one of the best contemporary playwrights. Intense family dynamics occurring in a 13 room NYC apartment (theater goers here love plays that seem to reflect their lives). Stands in stark relief to the first 2 plays we've seen -- sort of vindicates our yearly theatregoing sprees here. Writing these notes during intermission. We'll see what eventuates. Continues on 20 years later with twists and turns, surprising denouement. Great acting turns; Judith Light wonderful. Plot turns on a ruby necklace. Play over, down the stairs I hear one woman say to another “What ever happened to our necklace?”. The stuff of good plays seeps into lives, and in New York on every street corner there's a scene of one sprawling, ongoing play. A woman is haranguing a man in front of a cab who is shouting and displaying his badge, this is my name. How long have you been waiting he beseches a couple also awaiting the cab. Ten minutes. See? The woman argues some more and rushes off. What happened? Who was lying? Were they all in a way? The Assembled Party’s tone is so different from Greenberg's other hit, (this one is so Jewish), "Take Me Out", but in this too he's a master.

THURSDAY APRIL 25
Bob up with what he thinks is the flu. Telltale last night when he had no appetite - now there's a sign of something new happening. He was shaking with cold during the night apparently not only due to the lack of heat ( !). Speaking of which, email from Irina to say her assistant would see if there's no heat and then supply a heater. Hmm. And that there'd be future prospects to see the apt. at noon when Hugh's expected. For this latter (not former) expectation I go out to our local for our traditional bottle of sparkling (prosecco this time) for our guests in New York. Waiting we watch the ceremonies of the dedication of the George W. Bush library.

 And there's lovely old friend Hugh at the door, dressed with idiosyncrasy and regaling us with tales, picking up where we left off pretty much last year at this time in New York. Since then his two bothers died, his nephews visited and he and Nelly, his Puerto Rican lover's (Louey's) wife, are no longer on speaking terms. We toast with the prosecco and are off to Porterhouse in the Time Warner Center, excellent soup and filet mignon for all, cheesecake for Reuel and parfait for the boys, a view over the park and more filling in. Hugh to Bob: "Always reproach Reuel for ruining your life" (comic line).

Bob back to the apartment to nap (and greet Irina, who he claims is a babe, bringing heat - yes the building maintenance had not fixed it yet) and Reuel and Hugh to march down the avenue for Tkts. Afterward Hugh introduces Reuel to The fabulous M & M store.
Now it's my turn for an under-the-weather ride, emphasis here is a sore throat, and necessary nap until it's theatre time.

THURS @ 8. THE NANCE.
This is a bit of a nostalgia trip for me. First, the play is staged in the Lyceum Theatre, which (upstairs) housed the Shubert Archives where I toiled as a Shubert Fellow 36 years ago. Second, it co-stars (if anyone can co-star with Nathan Lane) Lewis Standlen with whom I played in The Last Sweet Days of Isaac in Chicago in 1970. Lewis incidentally is wonderful as the burlesque theatre owner and foil to Nathan Lane's Nance, but how can he look so old when I'm still sooo much younger (ok . . . he’s younger than I am).
Our $75 each tickets (and that's at 1/2 price) land us in the first row - which requires neck straining but provides a rather close-up view of the proceedings.

A tale of a burlesque Nance who parodies a gay man for laughs and in a repressive war-time era, is in real life gay, tailor-made for Nathan Lane who milks it. The Nance’s young love-interest whom he’s incapable of loving is played by an excellent newcomer Jonny Orsini – look for him in future name-over-the-title. I loved the burlesque bits Douglas Carter Beane incorporates into his play and Jack O'Brian's brilliant direction on yet another revolving stage, but finally the play is sentimental and somewhat heavy-handed.

FRIDAY APRIL 26
We both wake up with various ailments continuing. Travelers are decidedly not impervious to these things. Reuel has sore throat and sniffles. Bob muscle soreness and bad stomach. We just have buttered toast for breakfast, that delicious muti-grain from Whole Foods. As Reuel is about to go off to see if rush tickets are available at 8:45, in another insult to this tenancy, a rental manager arrives with client in tow (what happened to the 12 pm appointment yesterday?). I experience the rush of being a New Yorker, confronting the head-on hordes with brio and crossing against the light. When I arrive at the Booth Theatre at 9 there are just 3 ahead of me, and thus occurs an hour wait for $37 rush tickets for the Bette Midler hit just opened to rave reviews. I feel very victorious, having saved a few hundred bucks, that is if seats would have been available. 

After R's attempts to nap, we note that all the furnishings are Ikea, except for two Venetian masks in the bedroom which Bob notes is a fitting coda to our journey. And then, Bob thinking he could get some nourishment down, to Bouchon at the Time Warner across the street. Note to self: look for more central location next year unless it's Special as was the (no longer available) Essex House apartment two years ago.

Oo la la. Wonderful Chardonnay. And Bob's tomato soup and my onion (creamy) excellent. Napa. And we're sitting next to genuine French people; that says something, huh. Bob has kindly offered me the view chair looking out over Columbus Circle. As I sip the last of the Chardonnay, I envision a para-Reuel jumping up and shouting at the fresh faced server, "I resent your youth!" What is that about?? He could be, as I take pleasure in reminding Bob, his grandchild. There's fairly vigorous turnover. I say that he makes good tips, allowing him to finish high school in style.

We are in the hands of a master, Thomas Keller, remembering our lunch at his Bouchon in

We mope about and nap nursing our worsening wounds. Bob directs me to email our apologies to Ellen (from the tour) letting her know we won't be taking her library tour. I gild the tales of our infirmities but I increasingly feel they're true. It's very rheumy in here.

FRI APRIL 26 I'LL EAT YOU FIRST.
We're center top row but the Booth is a small theatre and this is an advantageous perch. The safety curtain says "Warning. This play contains profanity, smoking, alcohol consumption, drug use, and gossip." Perfect. There's an air of anticipation and merriment in the audience. It's not Strindberg after all.

And then when Midler is unveiled caftaned on her couch, the applause is tumultuous -- the audience loves her -- as it will be at the curtain call, most deservedly. As Bob says when we make the long trek down the stairs, "an incandescent performance". This was a perfect merging of director, Joe Mantello, writer, John Logan (whose fine Red we saw twice, once Broadway, once Taper, last year) and star Bette. Midler is arresting as the funny, ferocious, feline agent telling the story of her life as escapee from the holocaust to Hollywood's super agent. It doesn't matter where Midler gives way to Mengers, it's all entertaining. Premise: she's giving a party later and waiting for a call from Streisand whose agents just fired her. Great pacing between profane Bon mots and ruminations -- gossip, as we were warned -- about her clients and advice on how to be a great agent. E.g., "Never tell them the truth . . . and Never lie to them." I find amusing that the two very young gay guys waiting in line with me this morning sit stone faced and at one point shrug in incomprehension to one another. They are too young to recognize the references. Ha ha! This time age trumps youth. The only misfortune is that I runny-nosed sniffle throughout.  


SAURDAY APRIL 27
Another sunny but cool (leather jacket and scarf) day. Emboldened by success yesterday at cadging rush tickets, I leave Bob at home and trounce down 8th. Arrive at the Hirshfield Theatre where Kinky Boots is playing to find a long line. Bob gave me $80 (he holds the cash on our travels. Hmm.) " Don’t spend it all on the way." "I might, on Disney products." There is much speculation among us line-Enders as to whether we'll achieve the prize. But at least the sun is on our side of the street and by no means having shredded the ills of yesterday (Bob was stiff; not sure some stretching we did as antodote this AM helped much), I'm grateful for that. A dozen behind me at 10 am. Then 17. Maybe 3 dozen in front of me. No evening rush is still available. “Partial view” matinee it is then.

Back to find Bob still feeling queezy, we have toast, the first solids we've had since lunch yesterday. Maybe I won't return to San Diego a baby elephant after all.
Nap. All I do is sleep. Probably good. Nourishment. Soup.

SAT. MATINEE. Kinky Boots. We've got great seats. Side row 8. No obstruction. Yea. Much mishagos about seating with funny usher. "Jesus. I love you. Let them find their seats." 

Bravo. Brilliant. Should win all the Tony's and run forever. Billy Porter perfect as the drag queen whose need for drag boots saves a sinking shoe company. In line this morning the nice Jersey lady (aren't they all) said she really prefers musicals to plays when I suggest I'll Eat You Last. "Plays don't stand a chance,” I say to Bob at the end of Act 1. There's the glitter, sparkle, rhythmic music, comedy, pathos, quickly sketched rooting interest. (A master class for me as a hobbyist musical playwright.) And boy it's here in spades. Place a recession driven plot in England and therefore the audience needn't be uneasy. It's them. (See The Full Monty and Billy Elliot.) So it's sentimental. Who cares. Makes us feel good in our empathy. Winning triumvirate, Cindy Lauper, composer, Harvey Fierstein, script, Jerry Mitchell, direction. Fabulous. (And that it was a great bargain puts it over the top.)

Getting tickets (2 for $97) for Old Jews Telling Jokes is a breeze. If we weren't sick as dogs (Why? How are dogs, in particular, sick?) Going uptown I get shat upon by a pidgin which Bob claims is good luck (that it didn’t choose him?). Maybe in New York. Tho the way things are going, I'll get bird flu. (The current flu not being enough tsouris.) Provisioning At Food Emporium. Sandwiches and a shrimp cocktail for me partially consumed before a nap and readiness for the evening's entertainment.

SAT APR 26. Evening. Old Jews Telling Jokes. Nancy What I Wore by one of the Ephons. Before the show they play Yiddish songs. It's delightful. A laugh a minute, but that's the idea. 3 old Jews (we recognize Marilyn Sokel, not sure from where) and 2 young ones. . . . telling jokes. Afterwards we buy an Old Jews refrigerator magnet for Gary, who loves to tell jokes. Bob is surprised by how good the play, divided into comedy topics, is. On the way home, we try to remember favorite jokes from the show. Pathetic. Not our métier. But this one: Doctor. "Your husband is going to die." Wife. Anything I can do to save him?" "You can give him a blowjob." "A blowjob!" "You know what that is?" "Yes." Home. Husband. "What did the doctor say?" Wife "He says you're gonna die."  

Last row center which is fine. We're separated by a pole - so no partial view pole to worry about. Bob recalls this is in the theatre where last year we saw with Dorothy and Nancy that enjoyable Ladies play.

SUNDAY APRIL 28

Another sunny day. Supposed to go up to the 70's. Spending Sunday morning at home with the wonky shows just as we do in the real home only it's 3 hours later.
Taking advantage of our proximity to Central Park, we don our lighter jackets and amble thru the park, noticeably greener now than when we first arrived - the Spring effect.

Small world! In a city of 8 million people we hear “Bob and Reuel!” It's Ellen from the group whose lecture at the library we passed on on her bicycle. 


As we walk back along Columbus Ave. Sidewalk restaurants opening up, flower stalls, "There's a lot to be said for the upper West Side.” We both agree that we loved NY and thought we'd never leave.
And then we pass Wolf Blitzer wearing Jeans. Ellen and Wolf the same morning. What's not to love.
Brief respite back at the apt. And by noon we set off downtown. 
Something's always happening. A movie tying up 8th between 56th & 57th. "Move on" the handlers exhort the gaping or slow moving public to their visible and occasionally visibly hostile annoyance (include moi).
By 1: we are restored and ready for brunch in Chelsea and settle into an Italian restaurant on 8th, Donatella,
Carafe of red wine. I like my tagliatelle more than Bob his Marguerita.
Girls next table, "creative" talking of their potential. And showgirls who do feminist dance plays. And then to the lovely Village. Brownstones. Trees shedding blossoms. Quaintness.

SUNDAY APRIL 28. Matinee. Buyer & Cellar. Heard in the audience. "My husband and I have a transgender son . . . " hint this might be your more progressive type play. We're in one of those marvelous little blackbox theaters -- doing yeoman work so far from the ethos of a Kinky Boots extravaganza. All good.

This is a play by Jonathan Tolins, of The Twilight of the Golds, directed by Steven Brackett, starring Michael Urie of Ugly Betty fame. We saw him last year in The Temperamentals as Rudy Geinrich. We have what they no doubt consider the worst seats in the house top row, but I think they are fine since the theatre is so small. Under 100. How very off-b'way. There's one bathroom with one toilet for all. Hence a long line before and the play can't start until all have been accommodated. And this solo show is 95 minutes without intermission and the restroom is closed since it is adjacent to the stage.

As to the event, Urie is very good, accomplished as a young gay out of work actor who accepts a job as "salesclerk" at Barbra Streisand's house, specifically in her mall cellar repository of her things. This is not based on a true story which fact bothered me; that it was long (his seat was uncongenial) bothered Bob. Streisand emerges in this portrait as eccentric bordering on nuts, a perfectionist who can't get over her childhood problems.

BOB'S APT. 213 1/2 W. 21ST

REUEL'S 207 W. 21ST

Hike back up 7th Avenue (stopping along 21st to pay homage to our former apartments, a yearly event) and decide we'll see Forbidden Broadway on two-fers (on my ap as an option) only to determine that it is sold out when we arrive at the TKTS booth. Nothing to do but find a lovely bar (Center Bar - new we think since we were last here) on the 4th floor of the Time Warner Center commanding that gorgeous view of Columbus Circle and the 59th St corridor leading to the glamorous east side skyline. Very dry Belvedere martinis please. Bob notes that the Time Warner has become the canteen for our apartment across the street - Porterhouse, Bouchon and now the Center Bar. Worse we could do. When we've had our fill -- how crude -- downstairs, or rather down escalator, we face the Kafkaesque/Orwellian line at Whole Foods with our parfait purchases.



Back home evening-theatreless -- by 7:30 where I can finish the prosecco and enjoy more of the shrimp cocktail -- it says New York -- Bob the red wine as we watch teally, funny snippets from the annual White House correspondents dinner. And so goodnight.

MONDAY APRIL 29

So we set out into the drizzle (well expecting every single day to be as perfect as it has been is a bit much) and stroll along Amsterdam to 86th just taking in . . . New York. Then back down Broadway, stopping at Zabars (ah memories, the delicious smells, especially of coffee - I'd buy the darkest Blue Mountain then -- almost enough to bring me back to coffee again. True I did try a cup of espresso somewhere in this trip and managed to enjoy it). We buy Zabars bags, one for my Zumba things and one for Don.

And then head through the Lincoln Center Rubenstein atrium- a great space for the public to sit, the one with all the plants on the walls.

"Maybe I'll move back to New York when you pass away," I say to Bob, who tries to find his breath after that remark. "I'd have them deliver groceries and I'd have enough money to see all the shows", I continue. It's all done in my Sadie from New Jersey voice so the impact is softened.

An hour or so later we are in our smart casuals and ready for the culinary pleasures that await. It’s Jean George’s Nougatine in the Trump Towers. Seated next to two chatty women talking women's things, husbands, pregnancy. The nannys are with the kids. We've lovely martinis most likely made lovelier because of the glasses. We decide to go slowly. Maybe the girls will leave before us though Bob says he doesn't even hear them. 

My tuna tartare. Oy.  Sooo good. Bob is kveling from his fennel and (they've done something to) the goat cheese. Our Chardonnays are wonderful accompaniments to my crisp, delicious snapper and Bob's crispy baked chicken "very lovely".
The molten chocolate cakes are not special but the magic lingers on anyway.
We've spent 2 1/4 hours (and $165) and I note as we receive our coat checked coats that the Zagat review says "jackets and deep pockets are mandatory here". Next year see you again, so there.

Rest and we’re ready for a TKTS walk to nab some tickets for Newsies, play 9 on this one week trip - not a record but worthy. How bad can it be? Stop at a wine shop and a Duane Reed (open24 hours) along the way for post-show provisions before a quick rest and heading back downtown 17 blocks to 41st Street. Again getting lots of walking as substitute for our marathon exercising when home. We'll see what the scale will reveal and how much abstaining to do for all the enchiladas awaiting during three weeks in Puerto Vallarta only five weeks hence. Already the mind is saying Arriverderci to the present great holiday. How fickle.

MONDAY APRIL 29. Evening. Newsies.
We're seated in the upper mezzanine but at least we're pretty center. Lets see what Disney has to offer.
This is a musical by committee. Which is not to say that it doesn't follow in the great American musical tradition - this story which exploits rooting interest to new levels,. You've got a cripple and a child selling newspapers to survive for Gods sake.

With a book by Harvey Fierstein (again) typified by that rooting interest at all cost - here will the newsies succeed against Joseph Pulitzer and his newspapers, and forgettable music by Alan Menken. Though he won a Tony for it, choreography by Christopher Gatelli, who also won a Tony and deserved it because when those gymnastic boys leap in unison the show is suddenly energized, transformed instead of falling into the trap as it does of emotional manipulation - Fierstein's fifteen-word emotional transformations, I hate you/I love you; (as in the leads, improbably the newsboy leader and the Pulitzer heiress); hate it/I'll leave it/I love it/I'll lead it, and a pervasive soullessness. Nevertheless, this is the archetype, dazzling in its glossy precision -- the scenic technicality is marvelous -- and although the super text of the masses winning over the capitalists is entirely bogus, the show is a fascination.  

Home for our wine, sandwiches and a bit of the refrigerated parfait. Another good day - and the illnesses are lifting.



TUESDAY APRIL 30

It's all business when we get up. E-checking in. Damn no priority lounge at our gate. Amex Platinum, you'd better do better. Daniela at the door at 10. When are we leaving? I say annoyedly around 11 and we'll pick up our luggage at 2. (We're waiting the president's press conference on his first 100 days anyway.) Irina deserves a nasty note when we get back.

Pleasant 50 minute walk along the park and back up Amsterdam. So much to take in. And then back to Porterhouse for our final NY lunch. This time Bob has a lovely iconic Manhattan park view and I have a delectable Manhattan clam chowder while he enjoys that view (tradeoffs). I've gone for the 3 course special - going out in style - while he opts for the cheeseburger. 

We talk of how I'll live in New York when Bob “passes away”. And so we spend a merry time waiting for the next course.
Of course the filet is - again - magnificent. Cheesecake to die. Bob deigns to take a bite and agrees. Clearly high powered suited types surround us now that it's approaching 1 pm. We are unintimidated.

We find the apartment being dismantled. Huh? I think she just moves from apartment to apartment as they are vacant. Good timing: We catch a cab right outside our door. Our pleasant turbaned driver is unremittingly on his mobile - why is this true of all cabs we have taken on this trip? How much can they have to say? And to whom? In what language? And to where? He is jolly, talks to us of San Diego happily -and has smiling eyes under his turban in the rear view mirror so he gets a good tip.

New unfinished terminal (#4) for Delta which might be why they haven't gotten a priority lounge yet, though there are power outlets for our iPhones and lounge like seats. 2 white wines apiece and a need to stand in the rear of the plane and stretch and stretch until finally the wheels hit the pavement of our beloved city where for a while the familiar will seem strange. 

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RECENT TRIPS

2012

3/6-3/20 THAILAND, MYANMAR TOUR

6/7-6/28 PUERTO VALLARTA CONDO
9/14-9/30 PERU, ECUADOR TOUR

11/20-12/10 ROME, SPAIN, FRANCE-FT. LAUDERDALE CRUISE

12/10-12/17 MIAMI BEACH CONDO

2013

4/11-4/23 CROATIA, SLOVENIA, VENICE TOUR

4/23-4/30 NYC APT.