Hanging in Hangzhou

 

“I’ll be baack!” (Insert heavy German accent)  With those immortal words echoing in our ears, we boarded China Eastern flight # 1345 for Shanghai. We have left China for the last time, two times previously. But like Arnold, we keep coming back.  It just keeps getting easier each time and so changing our minds is easier. Five years ago, the visa process involved a fist full of documents and at least three or four hours of our time.  That is if you filled out the documents correctly. This time it took 5 minutes to drop off a lot less paperwork and 3 minutes to pick it up our passports a week later.

 

We flew to Shanghai because of a promise we made to friends our last “last time”, that we would visit them if/when we returned to China. They live in Hangzhou, about a one hour, high speed train ride from Shanghai or as we traveled, a three hour bus ride.  

 

 

 

 

 

We over-nighted in Shanghai to give us a leg up on the jet lag that we knew we would be suffering and left the next morning for Hangzhou.

 

 

Hangzhou’s climate is described as “humid subtropical”. It lived up to its billing with temperatures well into the 30’s and the humidex off the chart. Just raising my arm to wipe the sweat off my brow caused me to breakout in a sweat. It reinforced our decision to avoid living in a tropical climate.  On the upside, our skin had never been so soft; actually mushy might be a better description.

Hangzhou has to be in our top three most beautiful cities in China, perhaps number one. So nice in fact, for a millisecond, we even considered living and teaching here. Perhaps it was the affects of dehydration or the closeness to our friends. What impressed us the most was the strict adherence to traffic laws that all drivers follow in Hangzhou. 

 

 

Traffic actually stops when you are standing at a crosswalk. They obey traffic signals as well, unlike Harbin where red means “slow down”, yellow means “speed up” green means “go like a bat out of hell” and pedestrians are just moving speed bumps.

 

Hangzhou sits on the Yellow River delta so water, water, everywhere and West Lake is its most famous feature.

 

 

 

 

Thanks to dredging that has been going on for centuries, the lake has an average depth of about 3 metres and comes with three man made islands and a causeway formed with the dredged material.

 

 

 

 

Providing a nice view point for Hangzhou and the surrounding mountains is a brand spanking new Leifeng Pagoda which finished construction in 2002 and replaces the original one which had collapsed about 80 years previously.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Most of the area around West Lake is maintained as parkland along with a well placed Starbucks to ice the cake. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The park is home to the Lingyin Temple, a very large and very rich Buddhist monastery. We caught a glimpse of the monastery from the Leifeng Pagoda but did not have the time to explore it and the surrounding park.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But what I have read about it warrants a return visit to Hangzhou. We will be returning to Shanghai in the spring of 2015 on a cruise ship from Vancouver as part of our goal to have circumnavigated the globe by land and sea.  It is one of the last pieces of our global land and sea journey.

 

 

 

We were treated like royalty during our stay in Hangzhou and it was with sadness that we had to leave after only a few days.  We have to start teaching a week earlier than in previous years. An indication perhaps that “something was rotten in the state of Denmark” or HIT.

Grandparents Handbook Section 229, Sub-Section 23, Article 7b, Appendix A

After eight weeks on the road and an 8 hour flight from Rome, the Aeroport Pierre Elliot Trudeau at Montreal was looking pretty good. What was even better was being greeted by our grandchildren. We will have a whole week with them before we fly back to Penticton.

Beside being giant fibbers, grandparents learn early how to take a simple moment in their grandchild's life and weave it into a display of great intelligence, cleverness, acumen, wisdom, insight and/or perception by their grandchild.

These moments may pass unrecognized by most, including their parents but once you become a grandparent, you become highly attuned to these moments.

You also develop an eloquence that can transform a simple moment of their life into a grand and riveting story that is sure to bring tears of joy to all who hear it.

Some would say that grandparents see their grandchildren through rose coloured glasses so it is impossible for them to seen any flaws or faults. I would argue that, of course we cannot see any flaws or faults because it is impossible for them to exist.

As grandparents, we also understand that when we listen to other grandparents, we are required to look completely interested in hearing their stories while using adjectives like, cute, precious, charming, adorable and sweet.

With our inside voices we are systematically ticking off all the reasons why our grandchildren are so much better than theirs. We do not do this vindictively, it is just the truth. 


So we will enjoy the week, creating a whole new set of stories in which to regale our friends who we are sure, can't wait to hear them.
  

It Takes A Village

Bienvenuti al villaggio Roio Del Sangro.

La casa ancestrale della famiglia de Lucia. 

The village of Roio del Sangro is located in the mountains about a four hour drive south and east of Rome.






Some of you may be surprised to know that Nonie has some Italian blood coursing through her veins. Those of you who have had the opportunity to taste her pollo parmigianna would not be surprised.

Like all good Italians, the need to return to her ancestral roots was in her blood. A grateful thanks to her Uncle Tony who gave her the opportunity to visit Roio del Sangro, the historical home of the de Lucia famiglia.

The age of the village is unclear. Roman ruins have been found in the area. The first historical references date back to the 14th century, successively it was a feud of Pietro Antonio Berardelli and in 16th century of Giulio Caracciolo. Saint Francis Caracciolo was born only an hour away by donkey in the village of Santa Maria. You can see his perfectly preserved body interned in the church there, which we did. Very creepy.

The official population is listed at 210 residents. The village was once home to over a 1,000 people in its hey day. Most have had to leave the area to find work, immigrating to all corners of the world. Nonie's grandfather left Roio in the Thirties, first to America, eventually arriving in Ladysmith on Vancouver  Island. Here he settled, found work in the mines and raised his family.








The blue steeple of the church of Santa Maria Maggiore marks the centre of the village, not only for its location but its position in peoples lives.

The interior of the church is Baroque. A number of the interior fixtures bears the name of  the craftsman who crafted it with many bearing the name of Antonio de Lucia. I think we may have discovered the root of Nonie's uncanny crafting skills.

The Church is so old, they have worn out a bell.














Nonie's grandfathers house. Don't let the fresh paint fool you, the house had been vacant for sometime. The second floor above the apartment actually belongs to the apartment next door while her grandfather's apartment has walkout basement to the alley in the back.






 
 









A walk through the village provides some insight to life in Roio del Sangro.

We found the school dark and empty.

The population does not seem to  support the number of homes that can be found here. Many of the  homes have been beautifully restored and maintained but are empty.










These empty homes belong to many of the families who once lived here and are used as vacation and summer homes. In the month of August, the traditional holiday time for Italians, the population of Roio swells with returning families like Nonie's uncle Tony. The come from all corners of Europe and now the world.







Nonie's has added a visit to Roio in August  around the time they celebrate the Feast of St. Fillipo, to her bucket list. 











Feasting is very appropriate because Roio del Sangro is known around the world for its cooking traditions and is the birthplace of many famous Italian chefs as attested by the bronze bust of a chef seen as you enter the village. In fact Nonie's Uncle Tony is a well known chef in Rome and has worked as the head chef at a number of embassies there.

We now know where Nonie gets her culinary skills.

Not everyone in Roio lives somewhere else. Meet Nina. She is the daughter of Nonie's grandfather's brother. She has lived in Roio all her life.










Generations of de Lucia's can be found resting comfortably in the dozens of crypts that populate the cemetery just below the village.  We could have spent hours wandering the place but rain was threatening and we needed to get back to Uncle Tony's house for a four course lunch he was preparing before returning to Rome. A chef and a chauffer. Sweet!

We are not saying goodbye to Roio but "finche torniamo"

Ciao Italy

 Bonjour a nos petit-enfants. 







 

Rome Redux

They say if you throw a coin into the Trevi Fountain, you will return to Rome. It was late June 1993 that Nonie tossed a lira into the Fountain.










Her she is, twenty years later, June 2013 throwing a Euro into the Trevi Fountain. What a difference 20 years of inflation makes.














My beard was darker.




















Global warming was just starting to make its presence felt.





 
 







The Collosseum was 1,.913 years old.















At 1,933 years old, it is still looking good.











20 years ago, it was hot, Africa hot, Tarzan wouldn't like it that hot. The boys were getting grumpy as we arrived to the Spanish Steps. Perhaps too many historical sites. Just next to the Stairs we found a McDonalds. It was filled with pseudo ancient Roman artifacts that completely took our breath away. That and the ridiculous price for a cheeseburger and fries. We bit the burger, fed the boys and the day was saved.


 

The Steps are still there and McDonalds is still saving the day. This day was wet, cold. Antarctica cold, penguins wouldn't like it that cold. Cue "You Deserve a Break Today". Pan the camera over to three wet and cold tourists huddled over cups of  steaming hot McCoffee,  digging in to a rich chocolate McMuffin and taking advantage of the shiny clean McToilets. The prices are still ridiculous but location, location, location.

Thanks to the kindness of Nonie's Italian branch of the family, we were able to enjoy a day on our own, while the kids roamed Rome with their cousin Antoinetta. We spent the day exploring the Forum, the downtown of ancient Rome where some of the ruins date back to the 7th Century BC.














Does my butt look too big?

Twenty years, later, a leaner and meaner Brett and Nonie. Yeah, and the Forum still looks good too.












Twenty years ago, we had to visit the Vatican twice. Seems shorts are verboten and we were not allowed into to the Sistine Chapel. No shirt, no pants, no service. We came back appropriately dressed and were not disappointed.

It was a hot day at the Vatican, with no air conditioning. Most of the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel was hidden behind scaffolding as it was undergoing extensive restoration.  Worse of all, the Vatican did not have a McDonalds.

Twenty years later, a new Pope and they still won't let you into the Sistine Chapel with out pants. Admission fees are biblical in price but the air conditioning was worth the price.  Best of all, the ceiling of the Chapel was free of any obstructions. To call it stunning would be an understatement. Sadly, no photos allowed and still no McDonalds.

Meet the de Lucia girls, the Italian and Canadian branches.







Still looking good after 20 years.

Twenty years ago, we visited Europe on a shoe string. Feeding and housing two teenage boys was a daily challenge.

Twenty years later, still on a shoe string, found us switching our daily libation from cheap Sangria to cheap Italian red,  bought from a back street convenience store.  They pull the cork, throw it away and provide you with plastic glasses to enjoy the wine while perching on a 500 year old fountain with the young of Rome laughing at the old tourists squirming around trying to get comfortable.