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Lauren and I have returned home.
The trip was fantastic. We have many more stories to share, so I hope that you will continue to check back periodically to read new posts. We have returned on a bit of a somber note. Before heading into work this morning an email from my sister informed me that Frank McCourt had passed away. I did not know Mr. McCourt personally, but his writing contributed greatly to my inspiration for taking this trip. He was, in my opinion, an amazing writer. It's only fitting that I pay him tribute today.

Final Post from Europe

Atop the Acropolis!

Relaxing on one of the beautiful beaches found in Ithaca.

Taking a moment to soak in the view and have a water break.

Hanging out with one of the great literary figures of our time, Odysseus.

Lauren and I will soon begin our trip home, and unless we have some extra time in the airport tonight or tomorrow, this will most likely be our last post from Europe. However, I am going to continue to blog about our experiences the past few weeks. I have to much to say about London and Paris for example, and this post is not going to do Ithaca justice.

We are currently in Athens. Yesterday we went to the Acropolis, the first Olympic stadium and few ruins in between. It was an unbelievably exciting experience for me. For as long as I can remember, I have wanted to go the Parthenon. Yesterday, I made it there. Yesterday, was also the first time that I actually was within feet of where the Apostle Paul gave his speech to the Athenians on Mars Hill(Acts 17?). It was a remarkable time.

However, aside from the historical significance entrenched here, Athens is nothing to write home about. It's pretty dirty, there's graffiti everywhere, and hundreds of dudes just hanging out on the street.

Overall though, Greece has been incredible. We enjoyed our time on the island of Ithaca as much as anywhere else we have visited the past three weeks. Much like Verona, Ithaca has completely embraced its place in literature. The major difference is that there is enough archeological evidence to suggest that not only did Odysseus exist, but he was worshipped as a demigod 500 years after his death. I could bore you with more of those details, but instead I'll show you some random pictures from the last few days.

Watching the gondolas and motorboats along the canal.

Lauren in front of Notre-Dame cathedral in Paris.

Hanging out with a couple of Roman soldiers outside of the arena in Verona.

Lauren and I standing in San Marco's, Venice

Venice, Italy

The north of Italy reminds a bit of the Midwestern plains of the United States, if the Rockies were not quite so tall, and constantly looming in the distance. This is where Ernest Hemingway was injured during WWI, and this is also the setting of his novel written a decade later, A Farewell to Arms. Even though it was here where he experienced the horrors of war, Hemingway seems to have always been attracted to this part of the world, and simply staring out over vineyards, and numerous green fields with flecks of brown, it’s easy to see why.

Hemingway’s stories are not without their romance. Various cafes and characters in Paris may have ignited this spark in his writing, but his trips to Venice surely fueled the flame.

Our train rolled quietly from the plains onto the thin causeway connecting Venice to the mainland. It was not until I began planning for this trip that I learned Venice was and island, and it was not until we began our trip that I learned Venice is without a single automobile because it is really a series of islands. Water is everywhere. The guidebook says that Venice is made up of 181 small masses of land connected by dozens of bridges. Canals of various length and size cut between a maze of four story Venetian apartments, hotels, and houses. At are tourists everywhere, many of them with maps out, trying to solve the labyrinth of narrow tunnels and side streets. The first night we arrived, Lauren and I just headed out. This may be the most confusing city we have walked, but a wrong turn here leaves you a five-minute walk away from an answer. The city itself is small, and packed with people. Still, I was never overwhelmed. It’s easy to find an escape from the crowds by ducking into a café or gellateria. Gellatto, by the way, is king in Venice. It is all over the place. Just down the street from our hotel there is a gellateria that boasts 40 different flavours! I wasn’t sure that I would be able to restrain myself, but I left Venice being able to count the number of scoops I downed on one hand.

After our first night in Venice we woke up and went exploring. As I said before, there are no cars in Venice; however, the public transportation is quite efficient. On two 12 hour passes we were able to cruise all over the city, hopping on and off ferries wherever we liked. Our first destination of the day was San Marco’s Piazze. I had seen pictures of San Marco’s severely flooded, but was pleasantly surprised to find the area very dry, but not much more than a few feet above the water. We have seen so many beautiful churches and squares, and this was no different. There were so many different, fascinating sculptures, gargoyles, statues, and icons. This was honestly a place well worth visiting after having studied more of the history. While in awe, I still felt that a great deal of significance was lost due to my own ignorance of the images surrounding me. For instance, I’m not sure why, but the image of a lion with wings is etched into hundreds of buildins, and flown on flags all over the city. It’s quite a majestic figure, and at San Marco’s this lion was everywhere. Sometimes the lion was transformed into a full blown Griffin with a beak and claws. In other statues clearly illustrated one of my favorite biblical images, as the lion was holding a lamb. The images in Venice are definitely more welcoming then the terrifying demons all over the outside of Notre Dame.

After walking around the plaza, and taking a bunch of pictures in the hot sun we needed to sit down for a bit, so we decided to make are next stop of significance. Right next to San Marco’s is Harry’s Bar. This is a place where Hemingway, once he had the money I suppose, used to frequent. Well, we walked past the place twice, then finally noticed a couple of completely etched window displaying “Harry’s.” After more searching, we finally found the door to this place and entered. Right away we were greeted by one of four white coated, slick haired waiters leaning against a polished wooden bar on the left. I felt like we had arrived in Rick’s Café. The Bogart look-alike who greeted us gave us menus and a table on the side. I took a moment to take in my surroundings, you know, to look for a glass case of first editions, an autographed picture, anything to prove we were in a place of great literary inspiration. I guess this was not that kind of place. It wasn’t a very big room and for 1:30 in the afternoon, pretty empty, I thought. We flipped open the menu, I could tell Lauren was going to let me make the call, so I decided we were more in the mood for something to eat. We stood up, politely said grazie and strolled down the street for some delicious lasagna, my favorite food and first of the trip.

What happened at Harry’s? Come on, no amount of nostalgia, especially for a time I’ve only experienced in books in movies is going to compel me to pay 19euro ($25.00 plus gratuity) for a drink. I’ll leave that to Robert Deniro and Tom Cruise, two more of Harry’s celebrated patrons.

Lauren and I on the river in Verona

Verona, Italy

Two households, both alike in dignity

in fair Verona where we lay our scene…

The first person to call Paris the city of love must not have visited Venice or Verona. Furthermore, I’m not sure Shakespeare could have chosen a more appropriate setting for Romeo and Juliet. Despite our troubles the night before, Lauren and I woke up ready to take in as much of Verona as we could before catching a train to Venice. What we saw was so cool that it made the delayed trip well worth the hassle. Verona is really two cities, an old medieval city complete with an arena and several ancient plazas. We walked a block or so from the hotel and took the bus into Old Verona. It was a very short ride, and we knew exactly when we had arrived. As we passed under gates and through walls hundreds of years old, we were instantly transported into another time. The major sight to see in Verona is the arena. A smaller, although better maintained, version of the coliseum in Rome, Verona’s arena continues to host festivals and events. Days earlier the Killers brought American Rock to the house, and days after our visit the annual festival was to begin.

Now, while the arena was a pretty cool sight, since 1620 or so, Verona has gained notoriety thanks to an Englishman and a couple of fictional Italian teenagers with raging hormones. Well, that’s how I have described Romeo and Juliet to my students for the past three years, now that I have seen the streets of Verona I may have to change my tune. Yes Romeo and Juliet made some rash decisions, but it’s impossible not to feel the romance of Verona. Lauren and walked under archways, through narrow streets, along the river, and had lunch in a plaza surrounded by statues and disappearing frescoes painted centuries before. The citizens of Verona seem to have embraced their place in literature. The names of several hotels and cafes pay homage to Gulietta and Romeo. Apparently, you can even visit the Capulet’s home and for a fee stand on Guliette’s balcony. We chose not to indulge in this particular fictitious fantasy.

Under a warm blue sky, our time in Verona was coming to a close when Lauren spotted a plaque mounted on the outer wall of Old Verona, visible to those leaving through the gate. Engraved alongside a bust of William Shakespeare were the following words from Act III, “There is no world without Verona Walls, but purgatory, torture, hell itself. Hence banished is banish'd from the world and world's exile is death...”

Well said Romeo.

Well, Lauren and i have made it safely into Paris. I would really like to share with you all of our stories from the past few days, but for now here are a few thoughts and pictures.

Here I am crossing the Liffey on Hapenny Bridge in Dublin.

Here is Lauren along the Shannon in Limerick. King John's Castle is in the background.

This is Westminster Abbey in London. Yesterday, July 4 Lauren and I were blessed to arrive just as Evensong was beginning. So, we headed inside to join the worship service. As we walked the long corridor I was obviously speechless. The melody of the organ and voices of the choir seemed to fill the entire space between our heads and the vaulted ceiling. Twenty minutes into the service I looked down, and Lauren was standing upon the grave of William Wilberforce! It may have been because I was tired and extremely hot, but there, in that place I honestly teared up a little. I'm not Anglican, but this massive place definitely has an effect on you. The cool thing is that I didn't feel insignificant in this place, but a part of something huge, a continuation of the work that was begun by amazing men like Wilberforce.

6/30/09

Journal #1

(written on the train from Limerick to Dublin)

Today riding the bus into Limerick we, my wife Lauren and I , caught our first glimpse of the Irish countryside. What I saw was like something straight out of my imagination. Under iconic overcast Irish skies we rolled over and around hills drenched in green. Everything seemed to be over grown. Sheep, cows, and horses grazed on hillsides, next to fields that could hardly pass as cultivated land.

Once in Limerick we crossed the Shannon and had a perfect view of King John’s Castle. It’s high walls jutting up out of the water below. The Shannon was dark and ominous. Looking down into the dark cold water as it reflected the sky above, one could easily believe the accusations made by so many against the Shannon’s damp consumption causing waters.

We had a few hours before our tour began so we went to the Hunt Museum. Inside were three floors filled with all kinds of historical gems. Minor works of Picasso, and Renior hung amidst exhibits with artifacts from ancient Ireland, Egypt, and Greece. Apparently, Mr. Hunt was somewhat of an expert on early Christian symbols, and because so, there were cases filled with wooden, ivory, bronze, gold, and silver crucifixes.

We left the museum as the mist we had felt earlier thickened into a light rain. Hungry and damp Burger King was a welcome stop. Over burgers and fries Lauren pondered the influence of seasonal affective disorder on Limerick’s residents, and I couldn’t help but compare the morning mist to the weather I saw for an entire June while living on Kodiak Island, an Ocean and continent away. Veiled, I think, in our conversation was the fact that neither one of us was looking forward to a rain soaked walking tour of Limerick.

An hour later though, the clouds remained, the mist stopped and we greeted Mic O Donnell. Along with an Australian woman, who like myself had Limerick ancestors, Mr. O Donnell led us on a tour of sights mentioned in Angela’s Ashes. We walked past the old dock road where Frank and his brother collected bits of coal. We saw Leamy’s National School, and South’s Pub where Pa Keating bought Frank his first pint. We walked past the façade of the post office where Frank raised money for his fare to America. It was really neat to see literature come to life in this way. I have seen books made into movies. I could even have watched the movie version of Angela’s Ashes, but being there on walking the streets was a completely new experience for me.

Still, the highlight of Limerick would have to be Mr. O Donnell himself. Nearly every step of the way he quoted, or quite accurately paraphrased stories directly from the book, only after having asked our permission to do so, and having emphasized the author’s support for this very tour. Mr. O Donnell grew up in a working class family and from time to time would weave stories from his own childhood into the tour. This contributed so much to my enjoyment of the tour and the validation of McCourt’s heartbreaking story.

After the tour we hiked a half mile or so to the train depot and booked the first one out of town. We're both looking forward to our time in Dublin

(Pictures and video to come later)