Touching History

You may not be surprised by the fact that, as a child growing up in the province of Newfoundland, Canada, I studied Newfoundland history evvvvverey year from elementary through secondary school. You can see how joyful that was for me. While I no longer remember the number of quintals (more colloquially called ‘kettles’) of fish that were caught from year to year, or when the provisional government operated, I do remember that these were actual things. I’ve never seen a quintal, my family have never been fishers (we lived inland), and the provisional government was many decades distant by the time I went to school.

One thing I’ve never forgotten, though, is that Venetian explorer and navigator John Cabot (Giovanni Caboto) discovered the island of Newfoundland in 1497. In service of English king Henry VII, Cabot claimed the land for England. At the time, there were so many codfish in the waters surrounding the province, the sailors on Cabot’s ship would lower buckets into the sea and bring them up, literally overflowing with the slippery black-skinned fish with the milky white flesh. [Sidebar: Although this next bit is a bigger conversation for another day, the stories of the proliferation of cod in Newfoundland’s waters became reasons for European countries – particularly Spain and Portugal – to pillage the fish to an extent that the cod fishery in Newfoundland literally had to be closed to locals some 20 years ago.]

Prior to a trip to Italy in spring of 2018, I did some research to find out if Cabot’s house still exists in Venice (it does), whether I could visit it (I could), and whether visitors can go inside (they cannot). I’ve seen his statue in Newfoundland, but this would be a great opportunity to see his homeland – and his home. I mapped it out and positioned it in our schedule for our second day in La Serenissima.

After you go east, only a few blocks from the bridge that overlooks and serves as the only non-liquid location to photograph the famous Ponte de Sospiri, (the Bridge of Sighs), you are suddenly divested of the hordes. At the corner of Via Giuseppe Garibaldi and Riva dei Sette Martiri stands Cabot’s house. The shape and colour and windows and architecture all scream “Venice” to a point that it is almost nondescript. That is, unless you’re looking for it. Then it stands out as a glorious beacon.

Cabot’s House

On the side of the building is a plaque from the people of Newfoundland, commemorating Cabot’s discovery, which made possible a dwelling place for a proud yet humble people, attached to both land and sea. There is also a plaque from the Italian people, noting the navigational significance of Giovanni Caboto and his son Sebastiano.

Plaque from the province of Newfoundland, Canada, commemorating Cabot’s 1497 discovery.

Plaque (and Venetian symbol, the winged lion) noting the navigational skills of Giovanni and Sebastiano Caboto.

After “circumnavigating” the building (see what I did there?) and reading the plaques, I placed my hand below them, gently touching the building with a sense of awe and gratitude, as if touching the explorer himself. In that moment, I felt a kinship with Cabot never spoken of in those history books. Without his discovery, his bravery in traversing the cold and dangerous North Atlantic, I would not be here today. Truly a moment of goosebump-filled reflection. Everything was silent. I shed some tears – a rarity for me – and slowly removed my hand from the cool wall, looking up at it as a child looks up at a parent. As sound gradually reentered my ears, I moved away from this piece of tangible history and gradually made my way back through the crowds on the bridge, stopping to take my turn at snapping a photo or two of the Ponte de Sospiri.

Thanks for reading. Leave me a comment below, let me know if your experiences in touching history.

Cabot House, side view on Via Garibaldi

Ponte de Sospiri – Bridge of Sighs.

Criminals were convicted in the Doge’s Palace, on the left, then were sent to the dungeons in the prison on the right. The small windows were the convicts’ last opportunity to behold their beloved Venice. Their sighs as they crossed from freedom to captivity gave the bridge its name. You can almost hear the sighs to this day.

Massive crowds on the Ponte della Paglia, where tourists stand to photograph the Bridge of Sighs

#Venice #Venezia #LaSerenissima #Italy #Newfoundland #Canada #JohnCabot #Cabot #CabotHouse #GiovanniCaboto #Caboto #explorer #navigator #sailor #discovery #brave #intrepid #PontedeSospiri #crowds #history #tears #thankful #gratitude

A Return to the Travel Blog – Part 1 – UPDATED April 2020

In the absence of ability to travel right now, I thought I’d re-read some of my travel posts and update them as appropriate. Since the original post, we went to a Italy in May 2018, and I went solo to my home province of Newfoundland and to Ontario to visit family in June 2019. I’ll write about those places in another post. Meanwhile, I’ll add some pics from the 2018 Italy trip. (See my post “A Day in Bologna” for details on our explorations during that trip.)

My husband and I were to celebrate our 25th wedding anniversary by going to Paris for a week in May 2020 (a place I’ve wanted to see since I was a child), followed by two glorious weeks enjoying the beaches in and around Cagliari, Sardinia. We had booked a tour of the Louvre, boat trips, beach tours, and had lovely accommodations arranged in each place. Alas, it is not to be. Thanks, pandemic. 🤨

But I can still dream. Once travel is safe again, we will re-establish our plans and go to the places we planned, drink the wine, eat the escargot and croissants and pasta and seafood. I admit that I haven’t done any travel research since we had to cancel our trip, but how I plan a trip is outlined below, in my original post. I hope you find something worthwhile. And I hope we all get to travel again soon!

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It’s been some time since my last blog. Too long.

They always say to write what you know and write what you love, so I’ll make my re-start by writing about my prep for our trip to Italy.

A lineup of gondolas in beautiful Venice, April 2015 (read my blog post about our first trip to Italy for more info).

Bobbing gondolas (gondole?), the classic pic, yet still unbelievable to see in person. May 2018.

I tend to do a lot of research before we undertake any travels. Like, a LOT of research. My husband and I discuss (often reluctantly on his part) what sort of vacation we’d like to take at least 7-8 months in advance of a trip (yes, I usually start planning for the next one about 4 or 5 months after our most recent trip) along with what sort of budget we have to work with. Do we want to relax on a beach? Immerse ourselves in a different culture? Admire art and architecture? See the scenery? Shop? A combination of the above? Then the conversation moves to which areas or countries we might like to experience.

Florence street art by Blub. Lots of cool works like this all over the city, especially in the Oltrarno. May 2018.

Looking towards the Duomo in Florence (Santa Maria del Fiore) from the Boboli Gardens, May 2018.

Personal size pizza, made by me – from scratch! – at a pizza and gelato-making class in Florence, May 2018.

Fruit and cheese platter with magnificent house-made pear jam. Florence. May 2018.

Michelangelo’s David. Pure perfection. Florence, May 2015. (Read my blog post about travelling Italy to learn how seeing David in person affected me.)

Ponte Vecchio, Florence, May 2018

Walking from our rented apartment towards the Duomo. See the crowds and how they’re dwarfed by Brunelleschi’s dome?

After we narrow the selections to 3 or 4 places, I go to amazon.ca and order the Lonely Planet guidebooks to those areas. (I like the Lonely Planet series because they are extremely informative and the writing is the most beautiful of the stacks of books available.) While waiting for the books to arrive, I do online research on the unique features or products, activities, attractions, beaches, weather, markets, must-see sights, art, shopping, restaurants, spas, etc. of each place. TripAdvisor is a fabulous resource for all things travel, and I spend quite a bit of time here, as well as on the tourism pages of each potential location. Prices for flights and accommodations and additional costs (such as shuttle costs from airport to where we’ll stay, excluded city taxes, food costs, etc.) figure prominently.

Palapas for shade on beautiful, sunny Cala Mesquida, Mallorca, Spain. April 2016

Building facade and decor. Palma de Mallorca, Spain, May 2017.

I’m looking for the positives as well as the possible negatives: tiny rooms, unswimmable beaches, distance from airport and amenities, scary roads, pickpockets (a big problem in many places!). And I want to see what sort of fit a place will be based on our tastes and interests. I literally spend hours and hours on travel research, virtually every spare moment over a 4 to 6 week period. Then I share the nutshell version of my discoveries with Other Half and we come up with a decision.

Once we know where we want to go, about 6 months before we plan to travel, I nail down the best prices and either book myself with the airline and the air bnb-type accommodations, or book one or both pieces through an online source (Expedia is my favourite, but there are a multitude of others), or through my fabulous travel agents, Julie and Christian.

Bali beds enjoying some quiet time in the beautiful sunrise. Cala Mesquida, Mallorca, Spain. May 2017.

Cafe Bombon – perhaps the best thing ever! Cala Ratjada, Mallorca, Spain. May 2017.

As soon as these essentials of our trip are booked, I start on my packing list, which includes things you might not think of tossing into the bag. But I’ll save that for another blog.

Do you have any research tricks or recommendations? Any sites you peruse when planning your travels? I’d love to steal – um, hear – your ideas.

Thanks for reading.

The Italian Experience (part 1)

Rather than express any emotions I feel, I tend to internalize them. Blame my “stiff upper lip” upbringing. As a result, I’m not a person who cries. Once a year, whether I need it or not, I always say.

But I’ve recently done a considerable amount of crying. Not out of sadness but from awe. I’m not long returned from 17 days in Italy, a trip of a lifetime that I’ve dreamed about for decades and planned over the last 3 years. I had very high expectations, based on my extensive research. Italy far exceeded my hopes and dreams. Leaving trails of wet Kleenex, I cried my way through Venice, Rome, the Tuscan countryside, and Florence. Though I will try to do so, it’s difficult to convey just how deeply moving and emotional this experience was for me.

Since I was a child of 9, I’ve dreamed of the romance of riding in a gondola. Why that visual captured my imagination and heart at such an early age, I don’t know. To see one in person brought on mild waterworks; to finally RIDE in one had me smiling while simultaneously crying tears of joy. It was everything I dreamed it would be and so much more! The epitome of romance and elegance.

Tuscany was stunning! So dreamy and relaxing and soothing and comforting. Every hairpin turn in the road revealed a new beauty that brought tears to my eyes. The gorgeous scenery seared itself into my memory and will add colour to grey cityscapes forever after.

I LOVED Rome! Such an authentic place, a real, living city, modern, but rooted in the past. Two memorable crying moments to recount: the first, finally getting to see Bernini’s Proserpina statue, which I’d studied extensively in university and loved from the moment I first saw it in the art history textbook. To see the sculptor’s incredible gift of capturing the immediacy of the moment, the fingers pressed into the flesh – I still get goosebumps!

Visiting the Sistine Chapel was extremely moving, almost a religious experience. I was awed by Michelangelo, a master of creation, an almost divine artistic intellect and talent. I stood, head back, mouth open, hungrily gazing at every centimetre of the ceiling and Last Judgement wall for ten minutes, tears streaming down my face the entire time. It’s something I’ll not soon forget – or get over.

My most emotional and transformative experience, however, was in Florence, meeting Michelangelo’s David and spending about 30 minutes “communing” with him. I came around the corner from the musical instrument exhibit and saw him from the far end of the corridor, and that was it. At the first sight of the 17-foot high statue, my lips started to quiver and the tears came, unbidden, freely filling my eyes and rolling over my cheeks. It’s difficult to put into words the in-person experience and associated feelings – burning eyes, butterflies in my stomach, pounding heart, breath caught in my throat; those things barely scratch the surface of my feelings in the moment. And then I moved closer. And closer. And closer. I was almost overcome with awe. David is imposing, huge, massive, gigantic, the centre of the room’s domed focal point (the centrepiece of the entire gallery, really). There are so many words that can describe David, but the one that I find the most fitting is ‘perfect.’ He is absolute perfection. End of story. Truly awe-inspiring. When I talk about him, even writing about him now, my eyes well with tears…

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Italy is a repository of so many delights.  I talk to friends about the different pieces that might appeal to them – the excellent coffee to my barista friends, the delicious pasta to my fellow foodies, the vino to the wine bibbers, the incredible painted ceilings to the art lovers, the scenery to the photographers, the ancient sights/sites to the history buffs – but for me, Italy will always be about the delight of David. Always. I was very deeply affected by him. I hope I never forget how I felt in that instant of meeting him, how I still feel when I think about him.

If and when you visit this land of incredible, historic beauty, and wonderful people, I urge you to make the pilgrimage to meet David in person. And I hope he makes as powerful an impression on you as he has on me.