Giovedi

Thursday morning I hit the fabulous colazione buffet again and then sat in the courtyard to catch up on my blog and email.

I had a video chat with Insegnante Drew, where he tried to trick me with never-before-seen phrases, but I am better than he realizes and I triumphed over his pitiable attempts. Then I headed, invisibly, a la spiaggia.

SSDD... Went to Il Gigante beach... got a Sun Bed and Ombrella... had lunch at the little ristorante (they could see me there)... actually an Italian guy about my age stared my way... but packed up and left after wiping the melted cheese from his facial hair... Maybe he saw a shimmer, like a mirage on the hot asphalt ahead, but then I was gone.

Four hours with Anjin-san... back to Hotel Palme for the Modified Navy Bath... and today a Big Birra in the courtyard before cena.

Maybe I'll meet Val and Rachel again tonight.

Invisibility -- without a Cloak

My newfound Superpower of Invisibility extended beyond the confines of la spiaggia, out into the village of Monterosso al Mare, though with weakening strength.

I found that Americans and our Brit cousins could see me just fine. Perhaps it was the Bill for First Lady tee shirt I was wearing. At any rate, as I walked the main road I was accosted with "Hey, I like that shirt! You must be American" often. To which I responded "Vote! Early and often!!"

(Huh huh huh ... I coined that phrase myself.)

After spending 20 minutes chatting with due donne da Minnesota and due donne da Birmingham, England about everything from the dire political straits of the US and the UK, a desire to re-elect Bill in 2016, Trump as Nero, who's currently leading in the polls, Brexit, NPR and Netflix, the Americans took leave and I sat down.

And then Val (mother), Rachel (daughter) and I (sola donna invisibile) got down to important things... Like Peaky Blinders (oh Tommy, Tommy, Tommy) and Graham Norton (did he used to be The Galloping Gourmet?), James Cordon and Daniel Craig (should that have been in the same sentence??!!) Wallander and Broadchurch.... and Sherlock... sigh.... Who will be the next James Bond... Also Henry the Eight, Catholicism, who drives on the correct side, why do Americans drive on a different side, Damian Lewis in Wolf Hall, his wife in Peaky Blinders. We tackled many issues facing PBS during our 2 hours, and I feel we could contribute real solutions if asked.

During this time a group of Italians sat next to us, and one tall man with shiny shaved head (Seinfeld! Seinfeld!) smiled in my general direction as if he could actually see me, but then they were joined by friends and moved to a larger table. I never learned if the Invisibility was wavering.

I had half a birra left when Val and Rachel left... and I took my time finishing up, went for a Limone gelato (they saw me in the gelateria!!!), and slow and drippingly I strolled back to Hotel Palme. Yet again, I didn't make it to Bar American...

Apres Beach

I had a terrific lunch at Il Gigante beach ristorante... basically is was a peperoni sandwich... yummy... And I spent a total of 4 relaxing hours on the beach... and headed back to Hotel Palme.

There are signs everywhere about conserving water, so I proceeded to take a Modified Navy Bath... meaning water-on-wet-face-water-off-wash-face-water-on-rinse-face-wet-hair-water-off-etc.... I always have such paranoia about being a disrespectful entitled American... but... maybe sometimes I go to far.... maybe... sometimes..... not sure.................

Then I sat outside in the hotel courtyard and worked on blog posts. Twelve tables under the pines and palms... with bar service if you want it. After a couple of hours I had a little brewski to whet, before going out for dinner. It came with complimentary (complementary?? not sure...........) chips and tiny savory pastries filled with spinach... Yummy!!!

On The Beach

The beach is like a beach anywhere... sorta... 

The lifeguard has an impossibly rich tan -- how does skin do that? There are kayaks and other water toys to rent (but nothing motorized -- no jet skiis).. and oddly no ginormous water tricycles.

The water laps quietly at the gravel-ish beach -- I was expecting waves in a body as big as the Med, but no cigar. I walk out to test the water (after asking an impossibly stoic German woman to keep an eye on my bag for 2 minutes, just 2 minutes, per favore) and I found it really cold... I'm used to the bathtub temps of South Carolina and Georgia beaches, warmed from the Gulf Stream that flows from the Gulf of Mexico... I had assumed the Med would be similar. Nope.

There are differences from American beaches.... To begin with, everyone is so quiet, even little kids. They speak in soft tones and laugh quietly together. Also, even when the kids are active, they're not WFO like American kids would be. Really nice environment, actually.

Then, everyone is so thin.... well, maybe not "thin" per se, but "fit".... I look around at folks and invariably the ones who don't appear fit and trim are speaking some accent of English. Weird.

And there are lots of Speedos and "loose" Speedo types (which are actually even creepier than a speedo). Speedos topped by Tees saying "Alaska" or "Key West" or "Brooklyn".

And finally... I am invisible. Not sure if it is the single-female-alone thing.... Or the obviously-American thing.... but the only people who see me are the people I'm paying for a service or good. Whereas in the US women over 50 are typically unnoticed, that is a totally different sensation from being "invisible". I can only liken it to the experience a friend told me about, when she visited a predominantly gay beach in RI.

Cellophane
Mister cellophane
Should have been my name !!!!
Mister cellophane
'cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there!
I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister cellophane
Should have been my name
Lyrics from "Chicago"

Off To The Beach


I headed off to the beach. My hotel doesn't have a "private beach" but right next to Il Gigante there is a free public beach, and a "pay beach" where you can rent chairs and umbrellas for the day. I go for the pay beach, where I can also have lunch at the ristorante and use the bagno.

I settle in to read Shogun (sigh, thinking about Richard Chamberlain)... but can't get comfy because I can't understand how to engineer the elaborate "sun bed". There is a shield to cover your face if desired, which I don't need because I have the handy umbrella. How oh how to get rid of that thing??!!  Also the back clearly goes up and down but has these complex gears on each side and without a third arm I cannot work both gears and position the back. Sigh. It's very sad admitting that I finally gave up, because the physics of the thing is just too elaborate for my little brain.

I settled back in a not so comfortable position, alternately reading about Anjin and gazing at Il Gigante.

The Bidet

I'd like to use the bidet, because I enjoy that fresh from the OB-GYN feeling.... Unfortunately it's being used as a vanity counter.


'Cause Who Isn't a Yankees Fan?


My bed is big and comfortable, and I slept with the windows open and the wind blowing through the palms outside. It was a good First Night sleep.

I set an alarm to wake up, and promptly fell back asleep. The only thing keeping me awake was the sound of the guy next door shaving... Scrape, scrape, scrape. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Scrape, scrape, scrape. God, he's a hairy bastard! (Turns out it was someone out front raking up the pine straw... )

I headed down to breakfast, which was really terrific.  Cereal, yougurt, meats, eggs for boiling, cheeses, many many pastries, tea, coffee, juices. All palates could be satisfied from this buffet. OK, fine, so no scrambled and bacon... but, when in Rome... or ... when in Monterosso....

After brekkie I sat outside in the hotel courtyard, and caught up on my email and started my blog posts. While there I saw this little Italian girl, with a New York Yankees baseball cap.


Cena Numero Uno

I ended up at a little place called Barabba, situated just where my street perpendicts with the oceanfront lane, and since I was 5 minutes before the rush I snagged a sweet seafront table. Where I took these photos. I had scampi, Moretti, and fabulous pane... And then went home to acclimate to the local bedtime... Otherwise known as succumbing to jetlag.



Arrivo Monterosso

Getting off the train at Monterosso was a little sketchy, because you can only get off in a few of the cars due to the shortness of the platform.... or perhaps I was just a sheep following a lost person... not really sure at this point...  at any rate... I exited onto a platform in a long tunnel. And followed the crowds toward the Uscita.

Two flights of stone stairs later (with a giant bag on wheels and 50 lb backpack for which I had no counterbalance!) I emerged onto a sweet waterfront lane which I recall fondly from my last visit here.  I took a minute to acclimate (meaning, I rooted around in my bag for my Big Book of Trip Info, and found the Google map to the hotel), turned right, rolled off down the lane.

I walked past my right turn and ended up at the il Gigante.

I made a U-ee, and headed toward Hotel Palme.

Booking.com had done their job, Hotel Palme was waiting for me... I popped upstairs... changed my shirt and shoes... brushed my hair and teeth, and headed out for dinner.

Il Treno at the Edge of Al Mare

The train from Milano through Genova takes about 3 hours. It was a very nice ride, as I went first class. And other reasons.... But overall, the first class seat and table is wonderfully spacious...

As you get close to Monterosso the track comes very near the mare.

(Please note: these videos show my true skill as a moviemaker!)