Poems of Turkey and Beyond

The Ferry, part one

There is a girl
Very pretty and quite sincere.

Every week
We ride together
Her and I
Side by Side

When she sees me
She waves and smiles
And I do the same

On the last ride
She cried
As she and I left the boat
Each into our own worlds
Both speaking a different language


Part one was written about 1969/70. The other two parts about forty four years later

The Ferry, part two

She married a sailor, and I,
After a few years, became one.



The Ferry, part three

And It is strange.  It's like
Just yesterday
But a thousand years
Seemed to have gone by.

We have lived our lives
Without regret.

Knowing what could have been
Will never be
And what has been
Was meant to be.

She lives with her soul mate
And I with mine.
And we are blessed with Family
Grandchildren and Spouses.

And now that our worlds
Are once again touching
And as we enter
Our twilight years
It leaves me wondering,
Wondering just a little.

My wife I know
Is just like her.
Is he perhaps
Like me? 

.

She Who Listens to Trees.

My friend Courtney "who listens to trees" is having emergency surgery tonight at the Albany Medical Center.  Please pray for this wonderful lady.

From Courtney's mom Gina Halona, this morning about 4:00 "Courtney was just wheeled into recovery. As soon as she wakes up, I will get to see her. The surgeon said she did well...Hopefully, she can come home Friday! Thank you for all your prayers and well wishes. Courtney felt special when I told her how many people were thinking about her."

A short rant on Facebook Patriotism

 A repeat from October 2013

 

A short rant on Facebook Patriotism

I consider myself a Patriotic American, I have retired from the military after 20 years of service after serving during the Vietnam and Gulf War Era. My father and stepfather(uncle) served during WW2. My grandfathers served during WW1. My great grandfathers served during the civil war. My family also served during the War of 1812, the Revolutionary War and the French & Indian War.

I guess my families mistake was raising me to think for myself.   I see many posts in Facebook that say "If you are a Patriotic American you will....." or "If you are a real American you will......"   To me this implies that If I do not take the recommended action I will be less than dirt etc.   Please, if you do not want me to express my own opinions feel free to unfriend me Because I will not be told what opinion I must have nor what I "must" do.  

Thank you for your time and patience.

39. Going Home

 

I checked back into the airline charter office on the appointed day and found out I was scheduled to leave on a flight the next day.  The attendant was very nice and told me I could catch the bus in front of her office the next morning and it would take me out to Heathrow Airport to catch my flight.

I managed to arrive for my flight with a little pocket change.  Enough to buy a piece of fruit.  Then I sold two poems that I had written.  I sold them for a sandwich, two pieces of fruit and a bottle of pop.  I started my trip with $100.  $50.00 of that I sent to my friends in Turkey.  I sold some of my blood in Greece for about $15.00.  Carl Erik Rosen gave me $20.00 in Austria.  My father sent me $20.00 to Amsterdam to catch the ferry to England.  Total$155.00.  I left the states the beginning of June and returned the end of August, about 90 days which averaged out to about $1.75 a day, Europe for three months on less than $2.00 a day.

I checked in for my flight back to the states and found out that there was a three hour wait until boarding time.  Up to that point the day had gone well .  It slowly went downhill from there.  About one hour before boarding time we were told there would be a two hour delay.  A couple hours later we were notified of another two hour delay.  So far there was four hours of delay.  After another 3 hour delay we were told we would be loading shortly but we noticed there was no plane at our assigned gate!  After further questioning,  the Airline Representative told us that our plane did not land at the right airport.  It landed at Gatwick instead of Heathrow and would be a couple more hours until the plane was refueled and flown to Heathrow.   During the next hour we were told that our pilots had exceeded their flight hours and needed eight hours of off time before they could fly the plane from Gatwick to our gate at Heathrow.  Those that had the money could upgrade to a regular flight if they didn't want to wait and there was an opening on another flight.  The rest of us would have to wait for our scheduled flight that was now scheduled for tomorrow, about twelve hours away.

Cleaning Lady

 There was no such thing as customers' rights in 1970 so we all settled into an upstairs lounge away from the noise and bustle of the terminal.  We sort of took it over and no one bothered us.  We slept on the floor and made what children there was, comfortable in some overstuffed lounge chairs.  About 3:00 am, a cleaning lady came into the lounge to spruce thinks up.  She actually picked up all the trash and cleaned out the ashtrays.  Her only problem was trying to vacuum the carpeted floor that we were all sleeping on.  Our saving grace was the little old lady that was sleeping by the electrical outlet.  The cleaning lady plugged the vacuum in and started it up.  The little lady rolled over, sat up and yanked the plug out of the outlet.  She was greeted by clapping and a few quiet cheers.  The cleaning lady moved on.


The next day, we got on our flight at the scheduled time plus 24 hours for our flight back to the States.  Only one minor drawback to the whole flight.  No alcoholic beverages on board.  Just juice, soda pop and water.  Apparently, we were considered an unruly bunch for our actions of taking over the one lounge in which we slept thus they were ordered not to supply the plane with the little bottles of liquor, wine or beer.  That was our laugh for the day.  Most of us could not afford to buy them anyway.

This was my summer of 1970, posts from number one through this post number thirty nine, a trip from home to England, hitchhiking to Turkey and then back to England.  It was a fantastic time; I learned a lot about people and myself.  My wife wanted me to write this blog so my grandchildren would be able to "read" of my past.  I leave it for them and others to judge and I also leave two quotes for your consideration.

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
and know the place for the first time.

                 Little Gidding V,
                 Four Quartets.
                 --  T. S. Eliot  (1943)

"All stories are true," Skatpi said.  "But this one really happened, if that's what you mean."  He took another slow drink, then smiled again, his bright eyes dancing.  "More or less.  You have to be a bit of liar to tell a story the right way.  Too much truth confuses the facts.  Too much honesty makes you sound insincere."

The Name of the Wind
-- Patrick Rothfuss  (2007)

38. London - 1970

What do you do when you are in a city with very little money?  I started my visit in London in my usual manner, walking around the city.  I walked through the Kensington area to Chelsea, where a friend of mine lived that I stayed with when I first started my trip back in Post 2. London to Belgium 1970.  I was hoping to stay there while waiting for my flight back to the states, but according to her maid, she wasn't there, she had just returned from a festival in Belgium watching Badfinger and Cat Stevens and was now on her way to the upcoming concert at Isle of Wight.  It paid to have a rich father so you could bounce around from concert to concert!  Some of the people and performers scheduled for the Isle of Wight Festival that year were Supertramp, Chicago, Joni Mitchell, Miles Davis, Emerson Lake & Palmer, The Doors, The Who, Sly and the Family Stone, Kris Kristofferson, Jethro Tull, Jimi Hendrix, Joan Baez, and Leonard Cohen.

Speakers' Corner

Speakers' Corner

Well, it was a short walk from her place to Hyde Park where I spent the next two nights.  The British Bobbies were pretty good about it.  They would come along about 6:00 in the morning and give you a nudge with their nightsticks to remind you to "move along".  That summer there were a bunch of free concerts in the park but I managed to miss them too.  What I did get to see was the Speakers' Corner in action.  The Speakers' Corner is an area in the northeast corner of Hyde Park where public speaking is allowed.  Speakers there may talk on "any" subject, as long as the police consider their speeches lawful.  Discussion is allowed, so one must be ready for hecklers.  There is no immunity from the law, but in practice, the police tend to be tolerant and intervene only when they receive a complaint or if they hear profanity.

Russ Hunter of the Pink Fairies at Trafalgar Square 1970

Across town on the 22nd of August at Trafalgar square was a Anti Pig Rally to protest police brutality in London that I did manage to attend.  The amazing part of this rally was the crowd control.  There were about 4000 people at the rally!  There were only 2 (two) uniformed Bobbies maintaining order with no problem.  The band playing at the rally was the Pink Fairies.

It seemed to rain every afternoon or evening for a couple of hours.  I remember during one of these afternoon downpours, meeting an "older" woman coming out of a post office one day.  Thinking back, she appeared to be a cross between Nanny McPhee and Mary Poppins!  She was an indomitable woman dressed in a dark trench coat, had a smile that wouldn't stop and a twinkle sparkling in her eyes.  She had  stopped us hippies to talk with her.  She spent a good 20 minutes extolling the virtues of  her home country (Ireland), and trying to convince us to go visit there.  She was oblivious to the wind and rain to the point that although she carried an umbrella she never bothered to open it for protection.  It seemed the umbrella was used as a cane if needed and as a pointer when giving directions.  We stood in the warm pouring rain and had a fantastic visit.  If I wasn't heading back to the states soon, I would have headed immediately for Ireland.

After a couple of nights sleeping in the park, I splurged on a bed in the youth hostel.  My timing was very good!  I managed  to land a job working for the people that ran the hostel.  Very little money (enough for a couple of beers at the local pub) but free room and board at the hostels.  What we did was tear down and store beds from an unused hostel to a central location warehouse for the next year, so they could close some of the hostels that were no longer being used.  The heavy season was coming to a close and the organizations did not want to pay rent for the extra buildings.  The manager had us take the beds apart and help load them in lorries.  We would then get the next load ready for the return of the lorries.  We were efficient enough that we would have an hour to wait for the lorry to return.  While waiting for the lorries, the manager would escort us over to the neighborhood pub and buy us a sandwich and a couple of beers for lunch.  The patrons were a little skittish upon meeting us but once they found out we were actually "really working" we were considered "true working blokes" and we were invited back for their evening pub fare with a warning not to tell the other hippies.  They didn't work for a living.  You bought your beer and you were welcome to fill your plate from a buffet set up for early evening.  We were in Heaven!

Enjoying a moment in time

               
The manager put us up in a hostel that was separate from the ones we were disassembling.  He would pick us up in the morning and drop us off after our workday.  We sometimes were asked to "watch" the check in desk also.  The doors were locked in the evening and we had the list of people that had beds and would let them in the building after hours.  It was at this hostel that I met Barbara Allen, a first grade teacher from Brighton, Massachusetts.  She asked me to write a poem about her that night.  She was probably tired of hearing people recite the 15th century Scottish ballad about the cruel "Barbara Allen".  This was my attempt at a Japanese tanka poem.  Right number of syllables, wrong number of lines

Barbara Allen

Barbara Allen,
A glimmering star,
A walking rainbow,
Surrounded, by drab
Incoherent shadows,
Posing as people

37. Getting to London. 1970

Night Ferry

 Once the money arrived that my father sent me, I caught the ferry from Amsterdam, Netherlands to Newcastle, England.

Customs House in Newcastle

It was a nice ride and uneventful until I attempted to go through customs in Newcastle!  They would not allow me to enter the country!  It seemed  I did not have enough money to satisfy the customs agent.  It did not matter that my ferry ticket included train passage on to London and I was also carrying a plane voucher for a flight scheduled to leave from London to New York in two days.  I also had enough money for a couple of meals.  He was not impressed!  He said I might not catch my flight and, without a work permit, I would be a drain on society!  He had me scared, and after dancing around and talking to him for about 5 minutes trying to convince him I was going to catch my flight and leave his country and at that same time I was currently employed as a writer writing about my travels.  I showed him my journal of mediocre hand written poems to try and convince him of this fantasy.  I don't know how or why, but it worked and I was soon out of customs.

I hopped on the first train I saw that had London displayed on the side of the rail cars.  Naturally, after a few stops the conductor looks at my ticket and informs me that I am headed in the wrong direction.  The train originated in London and was headed north into Scotland.  He escorted me off at the next stop.  This stop was a little hamlet and the morning rush of commuters had already passed through.  The station master was sitting at a small table on the loading dock with a cup of tea (presumption) with milk smoking a cigarette.  After an hour or so he put me on the correct commuter and told me which stop to get off.


After arriving in London I went directly to the ticket agents office to exchange my plane voucher to a ticket for my next day's charter flight back home.  The woman was kind enough to show me the clause in the fine print that says  I needed to give them 20 to 30 days notice of my intention to take the return flight.  I did not do this.  Someone else was scheduled in my place and already had the ticket.  The agent said that she would try to put me on the next available charter flight scheduled for the following week, and to check with her in five days.  There was no such thing as passengers rights in those days.  I now had to survive a week in London with very limited funds.  It was going to be fun.

Left without me!

36. Amsterdam, Part 2, 1970

Dam Square

The experience at Dam Square was something else.  We hippies were there from all over the world and we were international news.  We were on the cover of "Match", the cover of "Life", and many other magazines.  Many tourists and other people wanted to take photos of us.  It turned into a game of sorts.  Most everyone of us had a little piece of mirror we used to reflect the sunlight into the camera's lens until the photographer coughed up some money for the group of people being photographed.   Once the group gave us the signal, there was no problem for the photographer.



Some people thought we were living an idyllic life there.  We were not.  We  had to put up with what we called "the giggle crowd".  They were the pretenders,  They pretended to be hippies and to be constantly high.  They horsed around and harassed other tourists and the problems they caused gave us a bad name.  Most of the youth hostels were full.  The police were in the process of "cleaning up" the square.  Everyone had to leave the square at night, depending on which policeman were on duty and also the daily activities;  overdoses, bad drugs, and sometimes fights.  One night in the rain I was sleeping under a covered archway just to the left of the square.  There were about 20 of us there trying to keep warm and dry.  I woke up with two men standing over me with knives pointed at each other.   As I somehow crawled down inside my sleeping bag and managed to roll out of the way with my backpack and Linda's autoharp, someone else ran for the police.  It was determined that the two people were victims of bad drugs and were hospitalized for a day and let go.  The next night I slept in a "crash" attic.  A few cents got you floor space in an attic filled wall to wall with squirming bodies on the floor.

Chips

During my walks, I managed to have a new food experience.  I was hungry, with little money, but saw a street vender selling chips (french fries).  I had enough pocket change for one order served in newsprint paper shaped like a cone.  After he served me and I payed, the vendor asked me a question I did not understand.  When he realized I did not understand him he closed his fist with his thumb sticking straight up.  He then flipped his hand over my bag of chips with his thumb pointed down over the chips and shook his hand up and down a few times while looking at me with a questioning face.  I grew up in Mechanicville, New York and considered myself quite astute communicating with hand gestures.  I was smart and knew what he was asking me.  It was "Do you want ketchup on your chips.  So I did what every other American would do; I nodded my head up and down enthusiastically while mouthing the word "yes".  He immediately smiled, reached under his working tray and come out with a squeeze bottle and sprayed a white dressing all over my chips.  After I got over my initial shock and tried it, I found that this yoghurt and dill sauce was actually quite good with chips.

Old folks

On another morning walking in the sunlight, I stopped for breakfast and sat down on some steps in front of a building along the canal.  There was an elderly couple slowly walking by arm in arm.  They stopped, waved to me, and gestured to the sunlight reflecting over the water.  They then smiled at each other, regained their arms and then slowly continued to walk along the canal.  They reminded me of two songs.  One titled "Old Folks" by Jacques Brel and the other "The Dutchman"  by Michael Peter Smith.

Old Folks

Here is a version of "The Dutchman" sung by John Mcdermit.
  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF2fsEEA8mM&feature=kp 

 And a version of "Old Folks (Les Vieux)" sung by Elly Stone
  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXGlo1euwBY  

35. Amsterdam, Part 1, De Kosmos 1970

The first thing to do In Amsterdam was to walk to Dam Square.  In the 60's and the 70's it was practically taken over by the hippie movement.  People were there 24 hours a day sleeping, talking, smoking, eating, greeting, drumming, dancing, chanting, mediating, and  playing music.  There was always something happening.  It was the hub of the city where you found anything you needed or where to get it.

My initial visit at Dam Square was just a quiet midday visit sitting in the sun soaking in the environment (smells, sights and sounds).  It was crowded but not filled with the normal discord associated with a crowd.   It was busy, yet mellow at the same time.  There were many tourists and hippies sitting and mixing with the local business crowd who were out eating lunch and visiting with each other.  The sort of inspiration for Donovan's "Mellow Yellow".

Dam Square

After locating the American Express Office to check for the wired funds from my parents.  I found I had received nothing from home yet, so started my walk around the city.  Amsterdam was quite nice, whether the sun was shining or even during a summer rain.  It was a nice afternoon walking in the sun.  It was like walking in a storybook with people pedaling to and fro, and children playing in the parks under their parents watchful eye.

Kosmos

After a while, I found my way down past the  famous Red Light District to a little known (at that time) club called Kosmos.  It wasn't a typical club.  It started as a club in 1968 named Fantasio.  Groups were booked  in conjunction with the Paradiso club.  They booked groups such as Pink Floyd, Jefferson Airplane and Mothers of Invention.  Many times the groups would go from doing a set in one club followed with the next set being performed in the other club.  The Paradiso continued on over the years.  In 1969 The Fantasio changed to "De Kosmos, a meditation/new age centre".


I will try to describe it.  You walk up a few steps into the building.  Once inside there is a small counter on your left where you payed a nominal fee to enter and leaving your backpacks behind the counter .  You just leave your backpacks, you don't check them in, they just go into a big pile.  On the right is a person behind a table selling a choice selection of various flavors of rolled joints, both marijuana and hashish along with a selection of individual packets of small amounts of loose "herb".   De Kosmos was licensed to sell "soft" drugs.  Included are also little trinkets and paraphernalia. Further in, you find a few books for sale and loan on various subjects, i.e. Yoga, Tibetan Buddhism, Astrology, Cannabis and the Legalization of Drugs and Meditation.  You could also find a small variety of books written by people like Allen Ginsburg, a couple different Swamis, Piet Hein, Gibrahn, Baba Ram Dass, Richard Brautigan and others.

Walking in a bit further, you found yourself in a large spacious sunken room with various sitting cushions placed in small nooks along with a few chairs and benches. In one of these nooks was person rumored to be one of the Mothers of Invention reading a storybook to one of his children.  In other nooks you would find some Hare Krishna people trying to chat up some people and then take them alone down into one of the meditation  rooms in the cellar.  They were soon banned from the center.    Off to the side of the room was a set of stairs that led up to two more floors.  The next floor was set up with psychedelic patterns and videos being projected on the walls with music of the 60's and 1970 concurrently being played.  This was the room where you could use the soft drugs you purchased downstairs.  No drug use was allowed on the main floor.  If they had a band, the band performed on the almost soundproof third floor. 

Further in the building, on the main floor, was a large room that has been credited as one of the first Zen Macrobiotic restaurants. Once again, the cost was minimal.  It was what you could afford to put in the jar, a sort of good will pay it foreword restaurant.  It had an amazingly quick staff and a fantastic cook.  Everything was delicious (I was told).   I did not get a chance to try different things.  Judy would not let me.

Courtney

Alicia

My waitress/cook was Judy.  Judy was not verbal.  I don't know whether it was by choice or not.  I do know she was one of the "gifted" people.  I know a couple of the "gifted" people.  One is my daughter Alicia, who talks with animals, as opposed to those that make up conversations and imagine the animals response.  My daughter actually has real conversations with them.  I also know another "gifted" young woman a MicMac named Courtney, who listens to the trees talk.  Well Judy would walk up to you, take a good look at you,  and without asking what you wanted, would turn around back into the kitchen, cook, and then return with what you needed.  No one argued with Judy!  If you wanted something else you were asked to leave by "the management".  What I was served was delicious.  I still don't know what it was, but was well pleased with what I was served.  If I remember correctly I ate there for a couple of days and felt much better.

This was just part of My Amsterdam in 1970.  Hopefully, I will have the other half written next week!

34. Between Interlaken Switzerland and Amsterdam, Netherlands - 1970

 I am not done yet, but here are some short thoughts to ponder while I continue to write of my visit to Amsterdam.  Attached to the end of this post are the notes I found from my visit to this wonderful city.  It will show you why this one is taking longer.

Interlaken

 The next morning, my partner took the mountain train up to Grindalwald.  I had a lazy day and walked to the town center, had a pastry and fresh juice for brunch. 

Cuckoo Clock

 After looking around the town for a while I found myself in a little shop with nothing but watches and clocks.  I bought my mother and father a Swiss made cuckoo clock and made arrangements to have it shipped to our home in Mechanicville, New York.















After completing this transaction I went to the train station and got a ticket on the overnight train to Amsterdam.  I also called back home and asked my father to mail me enough money to pay for my ferry trip between The Netherlands and England.  I cannot remember how much the fare was in 1970.

Waiting for the train

 I caught the train that evening.  After two border crossings and three transfers, I arrived at the Amsterdam train station late the next morning. From there I located the different areas in Amsterdam that were interesting to me and set out to visit the city I had heard so much of during my travels that summer.



Pass the box
Match box
With toes
Laugh
Try paper
Laugh

No I don't have any cigarettes

Strange Turkish shit
Not like in Turkey
But still Turkish

Sleep
Noise
Loud drums
Flute
Breakfast
Bun and Milk
Five, maybe four people
Walk
Rain

Post Office
Funny tourists
Letter
Bring back the change
Rain
Walk

Amerian Express
Change Money
Rain
Rain
Walk
     Walk
          Walk
Walk

Dam Square
Sit
Sit
Sit
Sit
Rain
Walk

Kosmos
The Kosmos
In
Feel
Look
Microbiotic food
Judy cooks, a witch
Good food
Tasty
Too much

Sit
Listen
Watch people
Silly high, maybe faked
Giggle crowd
Don't know what its about
         Others fantastic

One of the Mothers
Four or five year old girl
Really nice

Two Pipes
One Shalom
Three hours
Talk
Sit
Write

Giggle crowd moves
Thank the Gods

Wild Guitar and mouth harp

Let the Sun Shine In
One Man
Guitar and voice

Nice

33. Milan Italy to Interlaken Switzerland 1970

Bergamo was founded as a settlement of the Celtic tribe of Cenomani about 300 BC.

Delivery Van

The next morning I decided to get back on the road.  It was an easy hitch this time.  It was by way of Padua, Vicenza, Verona, and Bergamo back to Milan.  I must admit that I did not stop to do any sightseeing.  I managed to hitch rides with a variety of trucks and delivery vans.  I arrived in Milan in time to get a bed in the youth hostel and met some new people and some that I had met before, everyone going in different directions and looking for hitching partners.  I managed to partner with a girl heading to Grindalwad, Switzerland, abut 10 kilometers further than Interlaken.  We stayed together as far as Interlaken.
 

Our route to Interlaken was through Como and Lugano with delivery trucks.  Remember I told you in an earlier post that when traveling with a woman, the guy usually sat in the middle seat so the woman could avoid being groped.  Well that day, on one of the rides between Como and Lugano, the girl rode in the middle seat so I could avoid being groped!

Bellinzona

After Lugano our last ride was to Bellinzona where the rides dried up.  Once in Bellinzona, the trucker dropped us off at an intersection and gassed up to continue on to Chur.  We were headed to the northwest so walked to the edge of town in the direction we were headed.  We stopped at the edge of town near another petrol/convenience store to wait for some traffic and a possible ride.  After some time we eventually got a ride with a man and his young daughter.  About three quarters up the St Gotthard Pass to Hospental we had to stop to let the small engine cool down.  While we were waiting the driver said that he was going to take his daughter to the small cafe we had just passed and would be about a half hour.

Tubing

 The girl I was traveling with and I went to the edge of the parking area and, once under some trees, we noticed a stream that had people in it who were cooling down.  There was quite a number of people, making up a few families riding inner tubes on the opposite shore.  They would walk into the water, get on the tubes and ride down through the small rapids.  There were adults standing in these rapids helping to steer the children, and more adults were further downstream to ensure the children, riding the tubes, were steered into the inlet pool of slow moving water to allow them to get out, walk back upstream, and repeat the process.  We ate a small lunch, sitting on the bank with our feet in the stream.  I wanted no repeat of what happened in Greece while skinny dipping.

Climbing to St. Gotthard Pass

After a short while, our ride was ready to continue.   We continued to climb up to about 7000 feet through the ST Gotthard Pass before dipping down to Hospental, a small linear village about two kilometers south of Andermatt.  In Hospental we turned left to tackle the Furka Pass.  This pass was closed because of snow when I went through Switzerland earlier that summer.  The Furka Pass reached an elevation of about 8000 feet.  This time the car made it all the way up and then down to Meiringen with only stops for us humans.   After that it was only fourteen more miles to the youth hostel at Interlaken.  This was my third and last visit there until 2010. 

The View From the Top of Furka Pass

This route from Milan Italy to Interlaken Switzerland takes about three and a half hours to drive on today's modern roads.  In 1970 we left Milan early in the morning and it was dusk when we got to Interlaken, about ten or eleven hours on the road.

32. Venice, 1970

Venice

The next morning we had a good breakfast of fresh fruit and yogurt mixed with muesli.  The muesli was good mixed in with the yoghourt in those days because there was no raisins in the muesli.  I have an intense dislike for raisins.  Try to find some muesli without raisins today!  While we had breakfast we were joined by a girl named Candy Edwards from Western Australia who also wanted to go to Venice.

We left late that morning and headed for  the east coast of Italy towards Venice, we thought.  We drove all day over the mountains and ended on the east coast but we were about 300 kilometers south of Venice, somewhere between Ancona and Mondolfo.  Not exactly where we planned but it was the right coast and it didn't really matter when we got to Venice.  We found a small market and got some cheese , cold cuts and rolls for our supper and a little fresh fruit for breakfast and camped out near a beach along the Adriatic for the night.


The next day it was a beautiful drive up the coast to Venice and we arrived early afternoon.  I can not remember the proper name of where we ended up in Venice but can tell you we drove into the city nearly as far as we could without parking in a parking garage.  I remember we took a hard right hairpin turn after going across a bridge and ended up in a small neighborhood piazza that contained what we thought was a large warehouse building and several small apartment buildings.  The piazza was also bordered on one end of the Grand Canal.  Well, we parked near the warehouse away from the apartments and actually made arrangements to go to the laundromat.   This consisted of checking with the people living on the edge of the piazza for directions to the laundromat that we knew from "Europe on Five Dollars a Day" or a closer one that they knew of.  Once that was settled, we went back to the van and collected our clothing for the laundry.  My contribution was my two tee shirts and the bell bottom pants I was wearing!  Another person and I took our clothes off and added them to the laundry bags, otherwise we would not have any clean clothes to wear.  We were restricted to the inside of the van until our friends returned with our clothes, all nice and clean.

My situation had changed over the time that I had originally started hitchhiking through Europe.  When I first started my trek, my knapsack was full of clothes and toiletries. My sleeping bag and poncho was tied over the top of the knapsack.  Now, over the period of my travels I was reduced to essentials.  I carried in my knapsack, a sleeveless tee shirt, a loufa sealed in a plastic baggy, my sleeping bag and some food items like bread and fruit and a small composition notebook.  I wore a pair of burnt orange corduroy pants that Linda Booth had converted into bell bottoms, my second sleeveless tee shirt, a pair of sturdy sandals and  the woolen poncho that Linda had also made as a gift.  I was traveling with the knapsack over my back and Linda's auto harp over my shoulder.  I never did learn to play it!

Courtyard

While out doing laundry, the other people also stopped at a market and bought some vegetables and some meat for a soup for our supper.  After they returned, we dressed in our clean clothes and made our soup.  a couple of the locals came over and asked about the laundry and did we have any problems finding it? They then invited us to come over to their back yard for a taste of their wine.  We did that and had a quiet evening talking with the people from the neighborhood. 

The next morning we were greeted with a surprise.  While we were eating our breakfast,  a few of the workers from the warehouse came over with one of the young neighbors to translate.  We found out that what we thought was a warehouse was the local municipal public waterworks that supplied the city.  They saw that we washed clothes the day before and offered us the use of their hot showers inside the building followed by a tour of the waterworks.

Old man in Piazza

After a good breakfast, shower, and tour, we went our separate ways, some to visit museums, some to cross over to one of the islands where all the glass blower guilds were.  As usual, I walked the streets and watched the people.

I can remember, as a young child in Mechanicville New York I had a weekly egg and chicken route for my grandfather on Round Lake Avenue.  At the same time, some local gardeners would drive around in a pick up truck and stop along the streets to sell their vegetables and fruit.  And there was the ice truck, that I chased for a chip of ice hat the man gave to all us children, and the coal trucks making their deliveries.  Venice had all that only they were from Gondolas!  Vegetables galore with people yelling their wares while poling up and down the canal, large bottles of water, ice,  and coal that was shoveled into large bags and thrown over the shoulders of a young man covered in coal dust who carried the bags into the houses for the patrons.  In Saint Mark's Square there was what looked like the original pigeon lady, from Mary Poppins movie, selling food for the pigeons to the young children that played tag with them, burning up energy, before they went home or back to hotel rooms.

Children Playing in St. Mark's Square

Note:  In 2009 the feeding of pigeons was outlawed and you would be fined 50 euros for the offense.
 
That night, I remember, the local neighborhood was having a cookout that we were invited to.  We did not expect this but were prepared to contribute with some music!  We still had Gilbert Murphy with us and who in 1970 could not sing along to some Elvis Presley songs.  Another nice ending to a good day.  Almost!  The really nice ending came a little later when Candy and I moved across the piazza next to the canal to sleep under the stars.  We were almost asleep when two or three gondola's loaded with tourists came down the canal past us.  The Gondoliers were serenading the tourists in their gondolas, with classic love songs and their button accordions, all in sync with each other.  They spotted us on the edge of the canal and made sure that they drifted by so all the tourists could see us.  On the returned trip, they once again passed on our side of the canal, and this time the tourists waved to us as we all were sharing a quiet moment in time that could not be recaptured.

The Grand Canal at Might

31. Florence, Part 2. 1970

 Florence

The next day was another good one.  In the morning we hopped back into the van and headed back to town.  We had a quick breakfast of fruit and some tea.
Once on our way I remember we stopped at a park that overlooked Florence and had a fantastic panoramic view of the whole city.  After entering the old city we parked the van in the Piazza del Duomo near the Duomo di Firenze (Basilica of  Saint Mary of the Flower), and went our separate ways for the day.

Woman Playing Cello

Laundry

I once again did the backstreet thing (walking) and ended up sitting on some steps along the river listening to the echoes of someone practicing on a cello while I watched some women hang laundry from window to window and other people coming and going about their daily lives.  I do not know why this memory was so vivid unless it had to do with the blue sky, wispy white clouds, and warm summer breeze combined with the near perfect strains of the cello. I say near perfect because the woman played some phrases over and over again, until she was satisfied.  My uneducated ears were more than satisfied with the first playing, but somehow you could tell when it reached her expectations.  I left this scene when the woman came out of an apartment carrying her cello, and hopped on a bus.

David

Perseus with the Head of Medusa

After some more walking I ended up back in the Piazza and looked around the area.  Everything I wanted to see was in within walking distance.  First, there was the Cathedral.   I managed to blend in with an English speaking tour and gained an appreciation of what I was looking at.  This lasted about 45 minutes.  After that I walked down the street about three blocks to the Galleria dell"Accademia to see Michelangelo's David.  The David is awe inspiring, 17 feet tall and to my eyes, perfect.  Also found there are his four unfinished statues called "The Slaves".  This museum cost money now and has long waiting lines.  In 1970, the  there was no cost and you could go in and take your time and walk around them and take a good look.  The only problem then was trying not to step on the art students sitting on the floor sketching the statues trying to gain some insight.   In the opposite direction from the Duomo, about four blocks away is the Loggia dei Lanzi.  The Loggia is an open air museum that is still free and open 24 hours a day.  It contains many statues by famous artist mostly from Florence.  My favorite is by Benvenuto Cellini titled "Perseus with the Head of Medusa".  This was a 18 foot bronze casting, completed by doing the entire cast at once, unheard of at the time that he made it.  I had read "The autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini" the previous year and was amazed with his description of the processes he used for making this piece of art.  Actually his whole book was a very interesting read!

Couple, Hitchhiking

It was still early afternoon when we all met back at the parked van and headed back to our campsite in the farmers field.  Campfires were started and people started walking from site to site checking for rides in all directions and the possibility of new traveling companions of the opposite sex heading the same direction.  As I stated in a previous post, this was not a sexual thing.  A girl was hassled less if she was traveling with a male and a guy got rides quicker while traveling with a girl.

I found an old tab of acid {LSD} in the bottom of my backpack and split it with three of the people in my group.  This cut the strength down and we ended up with an incredible hashish like high, complete with the munchies and giggles.  How did we handle it, you ask?  There was a pizzeria down the road a couple of miles.  One of the girls that did not share the tab, drove us to the pizzeria and we ordered individual pizzas with an ungodly quantity and assortment of toppings.  Even the anchovies tasted good!

 Note to my grandchildren:  Yes, I did take some drugs in the 70's and mention taking some in this post.  I do not believe in skipping over that fact that I took some and will not lie about it.  No, I do not condone drug use.  It is an individual's choice and I have seen a number of people messed up from drugs.  I was one of the lucky ones who was not messed up, at least I do not think I was messed up.  The 70's were easy, but now in this century, there are a multitude of many more dangerous types and combinations you should avoid.  And now, enough said, and back to the post.

After devouring the pizza, a problem developed.  The girl drove us back up to the field but the the farmer or "someone else" had decided that the field was full enough and no one else could enter!  We could not persuade him that we already had a campsite inside the property with some of our equipment still there.  As luck would have it, we found a break in the fence up the road a'ways and around  a curve that was out of sight of the gate.  We were all laughing (we still had a good case of the giggles) as we immediately drove into the field and headed back to our campsite.  As we swerved around a small stand of trees, we came to a quick stop.  In front of us stood a tall slender man with his eyes closed, playing a violin and dancing.  He had a long van dyke style beard and ponytail that was almost down past his shoulder blades.  He seemed to be a very good violinist and a passable dancer, but what did we know about the subject.  We were distracted by him being completely nude! 

Nude Violinist

Things calmed down after that.   Gilbert Murphy entertained us with some more Elvis Presley tunes interspersed with some folk songs.  I seem to remember him singing about some children playing between some tenements and their mother's tossing some sandwiches down to them from the windows.  We spent the rest of the evening talking and reading.  Gilbert wrote two poems in my journal.  I shared them in my last post.  One of the girls was entertaining us by reading aloud my copy of "Europe on Five Dollars a Day".   We were doing Europe with much less money and having a blast!  All of a sudden, she stopped and looked up at us and shouted "There is a coin operated Laundromat in Venice!"  Guess where our group headed the next day!

30. Florence, Part 1. 1970

 

After my rest in Milan, I once again headed south in Italy towards Florence.  Florence was an experience!  I caught a few rides and  it was a pleasant travel day when I walked into the center of the city.  The sun seemed to glitter the whole time I was there.  I walked the back streets of the city and got lost and found my way and got lost again.  It was exhilarating!

The youth hostel was on a hill near the edge of the city.  I got a ride with some other people in another van but by the time I got there the hostel was full.  One of the people there told us of a farmer near the hostel that let hippies camp in his field.  We found it and after paying a nominal fee we set up a small campsite in the field.  There were already several small campsites set up.  The people in my campsite included the owners of the van, a couple from Vancouver, British Columbia.  If my memory is still good they got married in Morocco.  Also riding with us were two girls; one from Australia and the other, I think, from the United States.  To round off this group, we add the effervescent redheaded Gilbert Murphy.  His appearance would remind you of Ronald Beasley from the Harry Potter movies.  He was a former Roman Catholic priest turned poet/folk singer and had, at the same time, an encyclopedic knowledge of Elvis Presley tunes.


Gilbert Murphy roamed the different campsites entertaining everyone with his songs like a minstrel.  By evening all the sites were being entertained by a band made up by various musicians playing flutes, saxophones, guitars and a juice harp.  It was a mellow evening underneath the stars.

Two of his poems I found  in my notebook that he wrote, either on the spot or from memory.  One on spirituality and the other on the horrors of war.

Adieu

You left my life
You made your mark
The night has gone
But it is dark
I'll never see you again

The things you did
Shine out like stars
The memory of them
My heart jars
But when I die I will see you

Oh take me to the life that's new
Then I'll see you again
               Gilbert Murphy


War is Warped
Icicles sparked bright on leafless trees.
Twisted branches shimmered in the cool breeze.

Crispy snow yielded neath my feet
as on I strode.
On to the bridge that crossed the sprightly brook
Silent now, like a closed book.

I stared around in hollow gaze once more
The heart of man has frozen to the core

Sanguine patches blotched the virgin snow a brilliant red
Mother nature tried alas, pathetically, to conceal the dead......

(The carnage and the pointless gore)
-Would it never end, this Godforsaken war?
              Gilbert Murphy

29. A Second Visit to Milan 1970

The Duomo of Milan

 I left Interlaken early and this time had no problem making it to Milan by evening.  There was room in the hostel and it was time to relax for a little while. All I did was walk around, usually down by the Doumo and sit in front of one of the neighboring cafes drinking a coffee or eating a gelato while watching the world stroll by, or take some time to walk to the railroad station, where there were always some street performers to watch.

Inside The Galleria Vittorio Manuele ii

The Duomo of Milan is located in Cathedral Square (Piazza del Duomo) the main piazza of Milan.  It is one of the worlds largest "Gothic" cathedrals.  In fact it is the world's third largest christian church.  On one side of the square you have the famous Galleria Vittorio Emanuele ii.  It is an impressive five story arcade covered with a glass and iron roof in the shape of a cross now full of high end shops and cafes.  The structure is decorated with patriotic mosaics and statues.  It is one of the worlds first shopping malls.


The other end of this Gallery opens into another square that contains the famous La Scalla Opera House.

La Scalla Opera House

Also located in the Piazza del Duomo across from the gallery is the Royal Palace of Milan.

Royal Palace of Milan

As I was writing earlier, that is what was there in that one location to visit as a tourist.  What I enjoyed was watching the street life.  I sat off to the side of the square in front of one of the cafes with a good view of the street.  What I saw was amazing.  During the daytime, (late morning and early afternoon) you would see all the tourist hurrying here and there in their groups following a tour guide so they wouldn't miss anything!  During the siesta time (I do not know the Italian word for it) you would see many women standing along the sides of the streets usually near the intersections hopping into cars that would stop by and pick them up.  A few minutes later the same woman would be left of at the same intersection and then the woman would get into another car.  This was repeated at various intersections up to a certain time and then they all disappeared.  The area reverted back to a more traditional neighborhood.  This is the time that the young families came walking about, or taking an evening stroll with their children and grandparents before the evening dinner.  After that the night slipped into a world for the young dancing from one club to another.

McDonald's

Prada

Another thing of note.  When I was there in 1970 there was no McDonald's in Milan.  While I was looking for photos for this post I noticed that there was a McDonald's in the Gallery from 1982 until 2012.  McDonald's was kicked out of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele ii presumably because it was not upscale enough.


It has since been replaced by an expansion of the Prada Store in 2012.  Prada is, for those not in the know, an Italian Luxury fashion house specializing in ready-to-wear leather and fashion accessories, shoes, luggage, perfumes, watches, etc.,  I believe McDonald's is suing.