I watched a movie this morning that was set in Italy. My mind, as it usually does, drifted off to my time in Italy, 21 years ago. My travel buddy, John Rosenberg and I were on a train from France heading towards La Cinque Terre, five little towns set between steep hilly promontories. Our travel guru, Rick Steeves, highly recommended a stop there. Previously, we had trained from Barcelona to Avignon. It was a sunny day and we were warm and comfy, bathed in the sun pouring through our window. When we got off in Avignon, I realized the insularity of the our sunny little train compartment obscured the fact that La Mistral was blowing. As I disembarked, the icy wind chilled me to the bone and that night, in the charming little village of St. Andre des Alps high in the French Alps, Rosie and I came down with "La Grippa".
The next day as we were wandering around, coughing and sneezing, we came to a strange lake below the road we were on. I say strange because the lake's color was grey and the surface was glassy. Intrigued at this strange sight, I picked up a rock and through it down into the lake. It bounced. "Jesus, Rosie, the sucker is frozen solid! Let's get in the car and head down to the Riviera. It's bound to be warmer down there." Rosie heartily concurred so, with John at the wheel, imagining that he was driving at the Le Mans Raceway, we headed down this treacherous, narrow, icy, winding one and half lane road cut into the side of an almost vertical cliff. When I peered out my window, I could see a raging torrent far below me. I shut my eyes and started praying to a God I'm not sure I even believed in. They say there are no atheists in fox holes and I would add, nor on this road trip either...
A couple of days later we find ourselves decamping in the quaint little village of Vernazza. The five villages nestled between steep hillsides are; Monterosso al Mare, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore. Although still feeling kind of punk I cowboyed up for a hike up and over the big hill to the next town north. I was an avid vegetable gardener in those days and as I labored up the rocky little trail I admired the quaint little "gardenettes" that had been carved out of the steep terrain. There were lots of brassicas and fava bean plants growing as well as crimson clover and hairy purple vetch that had been planted as Winter cover crops. The gate to one of the plots was old bed springs wired to a post in the ground. As I got to the apex of my hike there was a little wooded area. Coming towards me I heard two female voices speaking in English, with American accents. "Hello, Hello! Where are you ladies from?" I asked. "Were from a little town out in the Western part of the country called Berkeley." The red head replied. "Oh, well I'm from a little town even further West called Mill Valley!" I said, jovially. After a short conversation we parted ways, they to continue their hike to our town and I to there's. Ships passing in the night...
Considering my delicate condition, rather than walking, I decided to take the little train back to Vernazza. "Hey Mikey! I met those two chicks you talked to up on the hill. I invited them to join us for dinner tonite." said my traveling companion. "Rosie, they're two women from Berkeley traveling together, they're probably ultra-feminist dikes and the last thing they want to do is have dinner with a couple of aging horn dogs. They're probably big fans of Betty Friedan. Wasn't it Friedan who said that all heterosexual intercourse is essentially rape? If they do come tonite, they'll probably drug our wine so after we fall down, stupefied, they can kick us with their Doc Martin femi-nazi boots. Remember what Thelma and Louise did to the men they met in their travels..."
I admit I was in a sort of misogynist phase of my life and wasn't expecting any chance female type encounters on this trip. But John was undaunted by my cautions and looked forward to a nice dinner, sitting across from two gals from Berkeley. Imagine my surprise when out of the cold rainy night the two gals from Berkeley walked into the warm and cozy taverna where Rosie and I were sharing a bottle of vino. "Molti cordiali saluti a voi!" I said, after a quick look in my phrase book. The two gals from Berkeley, Pam and Nicole couldn't have been more delightful and the next day we all took the train to Florence with a stop at the leaning tower of Pisa on the way.
I took a special liking to Nicole, the red head. She was kind of feisty and had a wonderful earthy sense of humor. We all had dinner together again in "Firenze" that night and enjoyed a post-dinner walk across the Ponte Vecchio, the oldest and most famous bridge over the river Arno. It was also the only bridge on the Arno that was not destroyed by the Nazis in their retreat from the allied advance. We said our goodbyes and they headed back to their fairly upscale hotel and we to our decidedly less opulent room in a little pensione next to the train station. The girls could afford to splash out a bit as they were only traveling for two weeks. Rosie and I were on a three month travel adventure that would include all the main countries of Europe (including Prague), Israel and Egypt. Our budget only allowed for economy class accommodations as advised by Rick Steeves, our travel guru. (author of the "Through the Back Door" travel books).
Back home that Fall, I was thinking about that funny and charming red head I'd met in Italy and wondering how I could get ahold of her. I remembered my travel diary and there it was. Nicole Peelle of Mountain Travel, the adventure travel company. I gave her a ring and started a romance, then friendship that lasts to this day. Sneedy! Thanks for all the great times we have had together. I love going through my photo albums to marvel at all the places we've been together.
Cordiali saluti a tutti voi! Mickey da Mayor
THIS IS NICOLE BEFORE I MET HER
THIS IS NICOLE AFTER SHE GOT TO KNOW ME... Sorry for almost getting us stuck, Sneedy!
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