Under the Hill

Montenegro may seem like a strange name for a country in Eastern Europe. Not strange because of its meaning, which is the phrase Black Mountain. It is strange because of the language, Spanish, which is not the language spoken in Montenegro. And it may not be the language of the name either.

There are some mountains, not black exactly.

What do we know? In the local language, the Montenegrins call this country Crna Gora. (Keep in mind that "c" is pronounced like "ts", so this transliterates as "tserna gora". This phrase also means Black Mountain with Crna meaning black and Gora meaning mountain. The name comes from the many pine covered mountains which can look black from a distance. In particular, Lovćen is a mountain of national pride, a symbol of the country, and often considered the black mountain.

See the pretty red roofs of Podgorica

Where does the name Montenegro come from? That's not entirely clear. It may have been from Spaniards, but it may have come from Venetian sailors or from the Dalmatian language. Regardless of where it originates, it does mean Black Mountain and that is the one element on which everyone seems to agree.

In the Bosnian/Serbian/Croatian/Montenegrin language, you form the diminutive of a word with the suffix -ica (pronounced eetza, like the end of pizza.) So if gora is mountain than gorica is little mountain or hill. This leads to the name Podgorica which means "under the hill." If being over the hill means getting old, then maybe being under the hill means getting young. Or staying young? Though, from my observations, there are older people in Podgorica along with younger ones. Perhaps they age the same as the rest of us. Or perhaps they only aged during the time Montenegro was part of Yugoslavia. In this period, the city was renamed Titograd.

Some of the manhole covers still say Titograd (this one in Cyrillic)

There is a particular hill in the city called Gorica which has a very nice park on it. I went hiking there and saw some lovely views of the mountains that surround the valley in which Podgorica sits. Also in the park are a Mediterranean Garden (which is a lot less bloom-filled in December), the Partisans Memorial (to commemorate those Montenegrins who fought in World War II), lots of exercise equipment and fun rope bridges, biking paths, and a restaurant.

Partisans Monument

Though Podgorica has been settled for a long time, it doesn't have a lot of historical buildings. Most of them were destroyed during the bombings of World War II. Very few survived, and we saw many of those as we enjoyed a walking tour of the city.

A piece of the old fortress, not so effective any longer

One is the clock tower. It was built during the reign of the Ottomans, not originally intended for a clock. It was a lookout tower. The Ottomans built a fortress and walled city southeast of the confluence of the Ribnica River and the Morača River. They wanted to hold this land, a good place for trading, against the native Slavic people. At some point after the Ottoman Empire fell, a clock was placed on one side of the tower, though today it isn't working. Still, this building wasn't destroyed in the war.

The Clock Tower (from the clock side)

We walked to the confluence of the two rivers, an area called Skaline. It is much lower than the surrounding lands, quieter as you are away from the road noise, and has two lovely and very transparent rivers. Crossing the Ribnica River is the Old Bridge, also built in Ottoman times, and another piece of architecture that survived the war. The Skaline area is a favorite for the people of Podgorica. In the summers, they come here in the evenings after it cools outside. There are concerts or movies. Though in the summer the Ribnica is dry and the Morača has a lot less water.

The Old Bridge crossing the Ribnica River

Independence Square is in the cultural center of Podgorica. Nearby are the National Theater, the governmental buildings, and King's Park. But at present, Independence Square is home of the New Years' Bazaar. This seems to be the same as a Christmas market, but named for New Years instead.

We tried some wonderful traditional Montenegrin foods. We had podgorica popica. This is a pork cutlet which is pounded flat (like you would for schnitzel). It is then rolled with proscuitto and cheese, breaded, and then fried. Ours was served with a sauce, (I have no idea what was in it, but it was off-white if that helps.) Very tasty. We also tried japraci, which is a roll of seasoned beef and cheese in grape leaves, served in a bowl of red soupy sauce. It is similar to sarma, the Greek or Turkish rolls, but the leaves are darker.

Today is New Years Eve, so we are planning to go out tonight to see the Podgorica celebration, something like Times Square but on a Montenegrin scale. It should be a delightful way to ring in a New Year. And best of all, we won't be aging when we turn over to 2025, because we are "under the hill."

Nikola, Two-Face, and the Dead Duke

Sarajevo is weird. And I love that about Sarajevo. I love the quirky decorations, the sense of humor, and the odd ways they commemorate things.

I just liked the view of the snowy trees on the mountains

We went out exploring on Christmas Day. One lovely thing about Sarajevo is that things are open. It is a city of many peoples. The Croats are primarily Roman Catholic, so Croat owned businesses were closed on Christmas. But the Serbs are Eastern Orthodox and celebrate their Christmas in January. And the Bosniaks, who make up the majority of the population of the city, are primarily Muslim, so Christmas is just another day. That's fantastic for me, because I wanted to use my few days in Sarajevo to see what I could see, eat what I could eat, and enjoy what I could enjoy. (Plus, for me, along with almost 70% of the world's population, Christmas is just another day.)

For lunch, we started with gelato. I know that usually gelato is not considered an appetizer, but we were passing one of Syarra's favorite gelato places on our way to one of her favorite lunch places. You wouldn't expect us to go back and forth, would you? After yummy gelato we moved on and had pasta for lunch. And then we still stopped at a slaštičarna, which is a sweet shop, where one buys desserts. We tried tufahija, a traditional dessert made of an apple soaked in simple syrup and stuffed with cream and nuts. This is only one of many amazing desserts you can try in this country. We also enjoyed tulumbe (which is a fried dough dessert with a star shape somewhat like churros, though tulumbe is not filled like a churro) and hurmašica which is another cake soaked in simple syrup. Let's say this: If you like dessert, then you will find lots of please you in Bosnia.

This is bear territory

Both sides of the street are bear territory

Walking about with our full and satisfied stomachs, we found a bar protected by bears. It was actually one on each side of the street. And sitting nearby was Nikola Tesla.

Just inventing something else brilliant, don't mind me.

That's right, Tesla, the genius behind alternating current, Tesla coils, and plasma was just chilling (somewhat literally as it is winter) in Sarajevo.

Continuing on we found a large snowman. Someone or someones had collected up the snow in a particular street and turned it into this snowman. But this was no ordinary snowman. Here is what we saw as we approached. (Note: he has buttons on his non-existent shirt.)

I'm so fancy!

But when you walked past the snowman and turned back to see him, he had another front side! That's right, this snowman has two faces (and two chests for non-existent shirt buttons with the shirt being the non-existent part and the buttons existing.)

I'm fancy too, but less happy about it

Finally, we visited the Latin Bridge. This is a very cute bridge from the Ottoman era. But it is most famous for what happened there. This is where Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sofia, were riding when they were assassinated by Gavrilo Principe. It was this event which sparked the War to End All Wars (the first world war, which apparently did not end all wars, since there was a second world war.)

Over troubled waters?

Here you can see the footprints marking the spot that Principe stood as he shot the Archduke and Archduchess. (I assume the wife of an archduke is an archduchess, but maybe she is a catenaryduchess or a paraboladuchess.)

Even the snow doesn't want to stand there

One thing we didn't get to see much of are the Sarajevo roses. During the siege of Sarajevo, there were many bombings and other violence. Places where three or more people were killed by a mortar blast were then marked. The mortars left these scars in the pavement, and Sarajevo later filled them with red resin to commemorate the loss. But because these scar patterns are vaguely floral in arrangement, they have come to be known as Sarajevo roses. We didn't see these because there was a layer of snow or slush over the streets, so the roses were hidden away.

The next day we headed out of Sarajevo, taking a bus to Podgorica, Montenegro. That was over six hours on a bus. But we did get two breaks and we got out twice to cross the border. We all exited the bus with our passports, made a line, walked to the border control station in Bosnia, and got stamped out of the country. Then we got back on the bus, crossed a bridge, drove about a kilometer more, and repeated the line up to get our passports stamped into Montenegro. Some of the people on the bus have cards instead of passports, probably because they cross often enough that they don't need stamps over and over. Imagine if the bus driver had to get new stamps everyday. He would go through a lot of passports.

A single lane bridge that connects two countries

It was a short trip to Sarajevo, but a fun one. Now we will see if Podgorica is as weird as its neighboring capital city.

Unexpected Dog on Roof

I am not like Bing. Or Rosemary. I mean Crosby and Clooney, respectively. Because they were dreaming of a white Christmas. Not only was I not dreaming of a white Christmas, had you asked me a week ago (or even today) I would have voiced a preference for a Christmas lacking in any sort of frozen precipitation, snow, slush, sleet, or freezing rain (which should start with the letter s if it wants to fit its companions).

Intellectually, I can understand the appeal of a white Christmas. It is very lovely to see the barren trees with snow on all the branches, to see the fields as blankets of white. I'm sure Santa's sleigh has a much easier time taking off from rooftops with powder to reduce the friction between runners and shingles. But for me, it is a question of footwear. I didn't want to experience a white Christmas because I just don't have the appropriate footwear for snow.

Alrica and I carry everything we own on our backs. I don't have any shoes packed. The only shoes I have are the New Balance sneakers I wear. This means they have a rough life. When I hike, they hike. When I walk long distances (which is very much like hiking) they walk long distances. When I step in a puddle, they step in a puddle. And when I walk through the snow, they walk through the snow. But the whole idea is that I shouldn't be walking through the snow. And yet, here I am.

That dark figure on the right is Alrica.

But where am I? Sarajevo, Bosnia. Which has, in the past two days, gotten about ten inches of snow.

Why am I here? Yes, the plan had been to avoid winter, because we weren't packing for winter. But Syarra has come to spend her winter break with us. She wanted to go to places that spoke Bosnian/Croatian/Serbian, the language she learned when she spent her senior year abroad. And the place she spent it: Sarajevo. So we had to come for a few days to see where she lived, how she lived, and to experience this very impressive city that captured her heart. If only it hadn't decided to snow.

The birds got here before me

It leads to a lot of funny stories. (By funny, I don't necessarily mean humorous, though you may find them so as you are only reading them and not living them.)

Story One: getting here. We took a bus from Mostar into Sarajevo. That went great. The bus dropped us near a tram station and we took the tram to Sarajevo City Hall. All we had to do was walk from City Hall to the apartment where we are staying. Now Google says this is an eight minute walk and it is mostly flat. Let's chat, Google. What qualifies, in your extensive algorithms, as mostly flat? Does that just mean an absence of ladders or other vertical climbing implements? Because this walk is not flat. It is far from flat.

In normal circumstances, that wouldn't be a big deal. But add a couple inches of snow and shoes that aren't meant to be snow boots, and this far from flat becomes close to treacherous. (Lack of the proper winter tread, you see.)

One of many pretty places of worship here

We are staying in an apartment, but no one was going to be available to meet us when we arrived. No problem, the host explained where a key would be left for us. Except it wasn't there. There was a key, but apparently the communication about where said key would be kept had a bit of a disconnect between what we were told and reality. Now, the host did text Alrica last minute to tell us about the change. But we didn't have internet while we were frantically searching for the key. It wasn't until after Syarra, luckily, found the key, we got in, and then connected to the internet, that we learned where the key would be.

Story Two: the apartment itself. Our lodging is fine, there are beds and a bathroom and a kitchen, all good right. Even better, check out the washing machine. It has a five god guarantee! That's really good if we are thinking gods like Athena (who would totally know how to keep a washing machine running). Not so good if one of the gods is Loki who will make socks disappear and turn all the laundry pink for no reason except it amuses him.

And if you order now, you get not only one god, or two, but five!

But there are some oddities here which have nothing to do with divinity. For example, one of the bedroom has no outlets at all. No worries, I charge my devices in the kitchen. The double bed has a blanket which just fits the top of the double bed. There is no extra to hang down over the sides. Now if Alrica and I could just lay on our backs, fall into a cryogenic slumber, and never move, maybe this would work. Sadly, this is not our reality, and last night involved a battle for coverage. I wish I could report my absolute victory, but honestly, I think we both lost this one.

The shower is a fascinating little anomoly. You know the pull thing that changes from bath to shower, well, Superman, the Hulk, and probably Andre the Giant would have the strength to pull that thing without breaking a sweat. For me, there is sweating, there is grunting, there is gritting of teeth. Once you have it turned to the shower, not all of the spray comes out of the front of the shower head like you would hope. About half of it sprays out of the side like a peacock tail of water. This loss of water has the further effect of diminishing the pressure of that which does spray in the expected direction. But maybe getting less water isn't such a problem, because even when you get it, you don't always want it. Imagine spinning the Wheel of Fortune and that determines what temperature of water you are going to get. But there is a second Wheel of Fortune that determines how many seconds that temperature will last before another spin of both wheels must be accomplished again. Speaking like a mathematician (which is a thing we mathematicians do sometimes) I would say both the temperature and the duration of the temperature are independent random variables.

Story Three: Back to shoes. As I mentioned, I have only my sneakers. Syarra, likewise, has a pair of sneakers. But Alrica's shoes are even less conducive to snowy travel. Alrica has what she calls "river sandals." They are more shoey than sandals and more sandaly than shoes. (I know spell checker is going to object to both shoey and sandaly. Too bad, technology. You don't even know what "mostly flat" means, so grow your vocabulary!) The point is that while they are mostly closed, they have holes to let water in and out if you go walking in a river. (How often does Alrica walk in rivers? You should ask her. She chose the shoes.) So whereas my shoes get snowy and wet, and eventually that seeps into my socks and wrinkles my feet, at least the water has to work at it. For Alrica it is like, hey snow, free access to socks, go for it!

Mosque made even prettier with the snow

Before I go on with more so-called "funny" stories, let me tell you some of the wonders of Sarajevo. We did go out last night, even with the treacherous slippage and open access shoes. We went to Baščaršija, which is the Sarajevo Old Town. This long pedestrian only area has restaurants, museums, shops, churches, mosques, and other attractions. It is also beautifully decorated for Christmas. One famous item is the Sebilj (which is just pronounced Sehbee, I don't know what happened to the L. The letter J in Bosnian is like the Y in English.) This wooden water fountain has a spigot where the people can get free water! But it has become a symbol of Sarajevo. We had delicious doner for dinner, and then we split up. Syarra has a list of friends from her time in Sarajevo that she is getting together with. Alrica and I were left to explore on our own.

The Sebilj

We visited a very powerful, but disturbing, museum called Gallery 11/07/95. This is a reference to July 11, 1995 when the Srebrenica killings took place. This gallery was about the thousands of Muslim victims of the genocide that took place in Srebrenica, Bosnia, the aftermath, the failure of the international community to do anything about it, and the work to identify the remains found in mass graves throughout the region. Sometimes we need to remember terrible things so we don't let those same things happen again. This museum was a powerful story telling exhibit about this tragedy.

Okay, that changed the tone. Let's get back to funny stories.

Store Four: Today's excursion. We discovered at the apartment that there is one pair of boots here. So today when we went out, we thought maybe Alrica would wear those instead of her partial cover shoes. The problem was one of size. They are just way too big for her. So we got creative. I wore the boots. They are too big for me also, but not at much too big. And then Alrica wore my Horace and Shirley. (Now you are thinking I have added new characters to the tale. But actually, Horace and Shirley are the names of my shoes. Horace is the right shoe, Shirley is the left shoe. So now you are thinking, do you always name your shoes, Erich? Well, yes, but they are always named Horace and Shirley. When I get a new pair of shoes, the right one is named Horace and the left one Shirley. If I own more than one pair of shoes at a time, it is generally the main one, the one I wear most often, that has the names. Though if pressed to refer to one of the lesser worn shoes by name at any time, it would be Horace, were it a right shoe, or Shirley, were it a left one. And no, I did not name the boots I wore today Horace and Shirley, because they aren't my boots. My shoes, even when worn by Alrica, are still the ones named Horace and Shirley.) This meant both Alrica and I had our feet in vessels larger than optimal, but it also gave us both superior snow soakage protection.

Today, our big trek was across the entire city to reach the home of Syarra's host mother from her ten month study abroad year. Syarra wanted to visit her and Alrica and I wanted to meet her. The host mother is very sweet, though she doesn't speak any English. So Syarra got to play translator for the entire exchange. But before we get to that, I want to talk about UDOR.

On the way to the trolley bus which would take us across Sarajevo, we had to walk through the snowy streets. Then suddenly, without warning, there was barking... from above. There was a dog on the roof, letting us know that it was displeased with our proximity to the ground level of the house. While I am sure the dog probably already has a name, not knowing what it was, I named the dog UDOR, an acronym for Unexpected Dog on Roof.

Sit, UDOR, sit. Good dog.

It was nice to meet Syarra's host mother and to see the room which Syarra called her own for ten months. It was... cozy. (Isn't that the euphemism for small?) Now host mother is a very gracious host. She insisted we try Bosnian coffee, because that weak American stuff just doesn't count. Alrica rarely drinks coffee. I never do. But you can't say no, so today, I drank a cup of Bosnian coffee. It was served with delicious sweet cakes, so I got a hunk of cake in my mouth and used that to help disguise the bitterness of the coffee. But that wasn't generous enough, our hostess also had to give us fruit. She peeled oranges and handed them to us. Not the peels, but the fruit. So, oranges are another thing I don't tend to injest. I like orange juice, but there is something about the texture of orange slices that I find somewhat "ew". So I got to have coffee and oranges. Hooray. Still, our hostess was very sweet and very happy to see Syarra again.

Who's down with SCC?

Next we visited the Sarajevo City Center (SCC). This is a big mall, but it is always interesting to see how they are the same and different than our malls. Now I have a puzzle for you. Let's say you are going to the WC (the restroom) and you see this.

There is a missing second sign, isn't there?

Which side is the men's room and which side is the women's room? How are you supposed to interpret this?

I, very tentatively, decided on the left fork and crept in slowly, hoping I wouldn't get myself into legal trouble. First I saw hand dryers, not helpful. Then I saw sinks, again, that was not identifying. But after that I saw urinals and breathed a sigh of relief.

The truth is, in spite of the challenges, we are having a lot of fun. Sarajevo has a vibrant energy that I really like. And perhaps one day, not in winter, I would enjoy returning. But in the meantime I will enjoy what I can when I can. Tomorrow is Christmas and its going to be white, whether I want it that way or not.

White Christmas decorations

So to misquote Bing (or really Irving Berlin), "May your socks be cozy and dry! And may all your Christmases be full of unexpected adventures." (Admittedly, not my best lyric. Irving Berlin would not approve.)

The City's Bridge or the Bridge's City

When last I posted, I was in Czechia posting about Prague. Since then, Alrica and I have been in two more countries (though one hardly counts.) But we've also gained one more traveler (at least for a few weeks.) We flew from Prague to Belgrade, Serbia. There we met Syarra, visiting during her winter break. We stayed one night in Belgrade and then flew to Mostar, Bosnia.

Stari Most

The centerpiece of Mostar is a bridge. It is called Old Bridge, or in Bosnian that is Stari Most. It is such a defining feature of Mostar that the name of the city is comes from the word mostari, or bridgekeepers, which refers to the two towers, one on each side of the bridge. Because this isn't just the bridge of the city. In many ways this is the city of the bridge. The bridge made the city.

Alrica and Syarra and the bridge

In the fifteenth century, this area was on the frontier of the Ottoman Empire. Traders and travelers needed a way to cross the Neretva River in this land at the outskirts of the Ottoman Empire. A bridge was needed.

There were temporary wooden bridges, but they weren't good enough. So the Ottomans decided to build a stone bridge. First, they built a smaller bridge across a smaller waterway, the Radobolja River, which is a tributary of the Neretva. They wanted to test out their design and they liked it. This first structure is called the Crooked Bridge. Next, the Ottomans built the Old Bridge bridge, a technological marvel in its time with its semicircular underarch and peaked overarch, supported by the natural walls on either side of the river. There were also two towers built, one on each side of the river. The Crooked Bridge and Old Bridge are only about 100 feet from each other.

The Crooked Bridge

With this important crossing established, a frontier town developed. It was the Wild West of the Ottoman Empire, a pinch point for travelers who needed to get across the water. Beautiful Turkish houses were built here. There was a unique architecture in which mosques, churches, and synagogues were often built next to one another. People of different ethnic groups and faiths lived in relative harmony for centuries.

The symbol of Mostar is the Bridge (in a shield)

The area changed hands from the Ottomans to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, but everyday life in Mostar didn't change all that much. The bridge endured as did the people, until 1990.

Looking up from below (and there's me!)

After the death of Tito, the leader of Yugoslavia who had united several different Slavic groups as one identity, that unity didn't last. Wars broke out between the various peoples, atrocities occurred. And in Mostar, one of those atrocities was the destruction of the Old Bridge, the Crooked Bridge, and the historic city around it. The Croats wanted to demoralize the Bosniaks and to eliminate one of their supply lines, and so a beautiful piece of history was lost. At least temporarily.

After the Balkan War, much of Europe, which had sat by while the atrocities occurred, got involved, wanted to help the people who had suffered. Along with UNESCO, they invested money, time, and specialists, collecting as many pieces of the original bridge as they could, and they built a bridge as similar to the original as they could. They used only materials and technology that would have existed when the original Stari Most was made. The Crooked Bridge was also rebuilt as was much of the Old Town around the bridge. And today, the new Old Bridge spans the Neretva exactly as its counterpart had. It is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

The bridge has speed bumps to help you with traction

Since the bridge was rebuilt, in the summer months, young men from Mostar dive from the bridge into the cold Neretva below. They train for years to be able to do it, and apparently collect money from tourists to fund their attempts. At the end of July each year since 1968, an annual diving competition takes place off the bridge. We are here in December, so no one is diving from the bridge.

Here is a piece of history, risen again, giving Stari Most a new life and a new history that will hopefully last as long or even longer than the first.

Make Your Head Spin

Prague is a wonderful city of contrasts. It has castles and architecture that make it seem so old school old. And yet, it is cosmopolitan and modern, with fantanstic public transportation and any kind of food you could want. On the streets (even in December) you can hear a huge variety of languages from Europe, Asia, and Africa. It is a city with charm and a sense of humor.

The Astrological Clock

Though Alrica and I speak only one word in Czech (which is děkuju, and also which I mispronounced the entire time I was there) we had no troubles interacting in the city and had a wonderful time in our few days there. Now, it was cold for a pair of travelers who carry all they own on their backs. (I mean us.) We don't have winter coats. So we each wore two pairs of pants, two shirts, our jackets, and luckily, we do each have a stocking cap. Also, tons of the locals wear stocking caps, so we completely looked the part!

Our first night, we went into the Old Town Square where there is a Christmas Market. In truth, I should say we tried to go to the Christmas Market. You could not believe how packed that area was with humans. We even had to set a muster point in case we got separated from one another.

Yes, you can actually buy Childlike Punch

Deciding that this was a bit crowded for our tastes, we went on a nighttime journey through the city. (This nighttime journey is beginning at about 5:30 PM. It's already dark, so technically nighttime, but not late night.) We visited the public library. The library has made a stack of books in the shape of a tower. There was a line of people out into the street waiting their turn to get pictures of them at the tower of books. That's encouraging, people want to be seen with books. We actually went into the library, saw how they had it organized, and got a bit warmer.

Then we headed off to see a good king. Well, we went to Wenceslas Square where the other big Christmas Market was. This was also crowded, but not so overwhelmingly crowded. We enjoyed a delightful herb infused sausage and the happy people all around us.

Alrica in her stocking cap

The next day we returned to the Old Town Square. This time, while crowded, it wasn't too much for us. We tried some filled dumplings (one was savory with pork and sauerkraut in it, the other sweet with raspberry and white chocolate) and we tried a traditional langoš. Langoš is toppings on a fried bread. It is round like a small pizza, but with a fry bread rather than a baked one.

That's the crowd going on to the Charles Bridge

There is a famous bridge that crosses the Vltava River called the Charles Bridge. We tried to go to it, but if we thought the market had been crowded the night before, that was nothing compared to this bridge. Had we waited long enough to get on to it, we would have been two tiny corpuscles in the clogged artery of sluggish flow along its length. So we contented ourselves with pictures from the side.

The Charles Bridge with its throngs

We did make a different amazing find. As I'm sure you know, one famous luminary of Prague is Frank Kafka. Well, we found his rotating head! There is a sculpture called Franz Kafka's Rotating Head. And for the first 15 minutes of each hour, the various levels of his head spin, distorting him in crazy ways. I think Kafka would have either loved it or hated it, but would not have been neutral on the topic.

I have videos of the actual spinning, but it's probably a "had to be there" thing

We enjoyed several amazing meals (beyond those purchased at Christmas Markets) including Indian food, Vietnamese food, and traditional Czech food. They have this bread which translates as bread dumpling. But it isn't a dumpling, it is slices of bread. However, it is incredibly dense. I picked up my first slice and I was amazed at how heavy it was, like I was lifting an entire loaf of bread. I realize a loaf of bread isn't heavy, but my hand expected only a slice, not a loaf. I'm just saying it was noticeable, okay. Don't make fun!

We also took advantage of the opportunity to see a movie in English (with Czech subtitles.) We saw Wicked - Part 1. It was only because of the subtitles that I now know that the English word "well" translates as "no" in Czech. (Here, I mean well as in, well, that's the word I mean. I don't mean a deep hole from which one draws water.) As for the movie itself, it was just okay. I thought the cinematography was imaginative and vivid, the acting was superb, but the story proceeded so slowly! I realized, as I was checking my phone to see how much longer I had left of this, that it is not a good sign when your audience is checking their phones to see how much longer they have left of this.

Old school, am I right?

I think one day, when it is warmer, Alrica and I will have to return to Prague. Not for the movies we could see. But because there are so many other things to see and to eat and to make our heads, like Kafka's, spin.

Progenitors of the Kool-Aid Man

Florence has a round bottom. If you're thinking, "What?!" then you are not a chemist (meaning chemist and not meaning pharmacist.) But chemists, you feel me, right? Pharmacists probably understand what I mean too. In chemisty, a lot of glassware is used: graduated cylinders, beakers, and flasks. There are many types of flask, the most commonly known being an Erlenmeyer flask which has a conical shape and a flat bottom. But there is also a Florence flask which has a spherical shape, and one way to remember which is which is the phrase "Florence has a round bottom."

The symbol of Florence isn't named Florence. He's named David.

This is probably insulting to people named Florence, discouraging anyone with that appellation from serious study of chemistry. That explains the dearth of Nobel Laureates in Chemistry named Florence. But the Florence flask wasn't named in an effort to make fun of Florences. It was named for the city of Florence, Italy.

That was a roundabout (and round bottomed) path for bringing up the subject of our visit to Florence. This is appropriate because of the interesting path that Alrica and I took to get there. We started in San Marino. We planned to take a bus to the train station in Rimini. From there, it was supposed to be a train to Bologna and then another train to Firenze (which is the Italian name of Florence.) The bus trip went exactly as planned. But when we got to the train station and bought tickets, we were given another option.

To get from Rimini, which is on the Adriatic coast, over to Florence, you have to cross the Appenino Tusco-Emiliano Mountains. The train from Bologna to Florence would do so. But our ticket kiosk suggested the fastest route was to take a train to a smaller town called Faenza. There we would board a bus which would go up into the mountains, following the passes along the Lamone River, and drop us at a town called Marradi. And there we would board a different train which would take us over and at times through (in tunnels) the mountains, arriving in Florence. We could also take the original route, but it would cost way more and get us in later. That didn't make a lot of sense to us, so we shrugged and said, let's do it.

Do not enter - artistically

The bus ride through the mountains was scenic. We were in the passes, but sometimes up on the mountains above you could see a castle or a large church looming over the villages.

And that was just getting to Florence! We had a lot of great fun in Florence. We also had a lot of great food in Florence. We had two different types of sandwiches, one more of a panini, the other on schiacciata. That's a flat bread made without salt that is like a thinner focaccia. And pasta? Well, yes, we had pasta. That we made ourselves!

Masterful Ravioli Chefs

We took a cooking class. It was very informative. One thing we learned: In Florence, they never use salt in any of their cooking. Why? Well, long ago, the government of Pisa imposed a huge tax on salt to the people of Florence. So the Florentines said, "Screw that. We just won't use salt from now on." And that's still their tradition today. (Though you can find salt in the grocery store.)

First, we made tiramisu, which is a lot easier than I would have ever thought it was. Because the class often draws children, this tiramisu was sans alcohol. But it was excellent nonetheless. We also made our own pasta, starting with flour and eggs. We then used a "machine" to roll the dough into thin sheets. You can see the machine in the picture above, just under the board holding our ravioli. Half our sheets became ravioli with a ricotta-spinach filling. The other half became tagliatelle. We used a different setting on the machine to cut the sheets into the ribbon-like tagliatelle strips. And of course we got to eat our own creations. The ravioli was served in a simple butter and sage sauce. The tagliatelle was served in a tomato sauce. The tiramisu was served without any additional sauces. I must say, we are amazing pasta makers!

We also took a night time "ghost" tour of the city. This wasn't so much about ghosts (though it had a couple of ghost stories) as much as who assassinated who in the history of Florence. The general rule of these stories is either the murderer or the murderee is a member of the Medici family. Sometimes, both. We saw a stone in the street where Dante Alighieri was born that has his profile in it. And that stone is always wet, even in the summer (or so we are told.) Why? Because of Dante's tears apparently.

That's Ferdinando de Medici, one of the murderers. (He murdered his brother.)

No trip to Florence would be complete without seeing some art. We saw some. We went to the Galleria dell'Accademia di Firenze. This is actually an art school that has a museum. The idea was to have works by the great masters that the students could learn from, try to copy, try to understand.

At Galleria dell'Accademia, we got to see something very uncommon. It was the clay model of a sculpture called The Rape of the Sabines. There are a couple of interesting aspects to this. First, a lot of artists make clay models before they sculpt. But rarely do those clay models survive. Having one that did survive is an incredibly rare instance. Even more rare, this one is the same size as the final sculpture. Often clay models are scaled down version of the work to be carved in stone. One interesting fact we learned about The Rape of the Sabine Women is that it isn't about the rape of the Sabine women. (If you don't know the story, the Roman soldiers were conquering lands and needed wives. So they went into the lands of the nearby Sabines and just carried off the women.) The sculpture shows three figures all twisted together. There is a crouching old man, over him is a leaning young man, and in the young man's arms is a young woman. The entire sculpture twists around like a helix. The artist, Giambologna, was trying something new, to make three figures that could be structurally sound on one base. But he did not have any story of Roman soldiers in his mind when creating the sculpture. He left it unnamed. He didn't care about the name of the sculpture at all. At various points in the process, he had different working titles like "Paris and Helen" or "Pluto and Proserpina". After the sculpture was finished and ready for display, it upset the elite of Florence that it didn't have a title. So a committee decided what to call it, not Giambologna.

David (and Alrica)

Now, the most famous work in the Galleria dell'Accademia is Michelangelo's David. It is deserving of its fame. The anatomy is incredibly real and precise. David looks so lifelike (except he is 17 feet tall.) We learned some interesting facts about David too. For example, he is anatomically correct in all things but one. There is one missing muscle on his back, just at the shoulder blade on his right side. This wasn't a mistake by Michelangelo. Rather, while carving it, there was a flaw in the marble at this point, so there was no way Michelangelo could make that muscle.

Unfinished Piece by Michelangelo

Michelangelo worked on David for three years and wouldn't let anyone see his work as he was in progress. While he was doing so, it was decided that David would go on the roof of a church in Florence. But when David was revealed there were three problems. First, the statue is 12,500 pounds. So they didn't have a good way to lift it. Second, though the priests agreed it was a masterpiece, David is particularly naked. The priests didn't really want an exposed marble penis on the top of their church. Third, the majesty of David is in the details. Putting it way up high would hide all of that from the viewer. Instead it was placed at the entrance to the Palazza della Signoire, the town hall of Florence. It was there for over three-hundred years, but got damaged. Eventually it was moved into the museum where it is now. In fact, the museum was built for the David.

Another unfinished piece

As you walk to the David in the museum, you walk past several other sculptures that Michelangelo started, but didn't finish. They were commissioned for the tomb of a Pope (by the Pope while he was still alive.) Michelangelo believed that the sculpture already exists inside the stone and it is the artist's task to free it, to let it out. These sculpture seem very modern, because Michelangelo didn't finish them. It looks like figures trying to emerge from the stone, trying to break through, but still captured in the block of marble. Alrica described them as "progenitors of the Kool-Aid Man." And all I can say to that is "Oh yeah!"

Florence is a city to which I would very much like to return. I feel there is a lot left to explore, more to see, more to learn. And maybe, just maybe, I will find out if Florence really does have a round bottom. Oh yeah!

Stepping into the Unknown

If you have only a much forgotten smattering of geographic knowledge that you, in spite of the best effort of your brain cells, still remember from your middle school days, then you are probably, much as Erich of three months ago was, aware that the smallest country in the world is Vatican City which is entirely inside the city of Rome, Italy. But if you are like that Erich of the past, then you are unaware that there is another country which is entirely inside the borders of Italy. (No, I don't mean Italy itself.) This country is called San Marino. You also wouldn't know that its capital city is called San Marino (which does make it easier to remember.) What's more, you don't know that it is the fifth smallest country in the world. (In ascending order by size, the countries are Vatican City, Monaco, Nauru, Tuvalu, and then San Marino.) The entire country is 23 square miles in area. That's the same as the island of Manhattan, which is only one borough of a city (albeit a large one.)

You might think, "Maybe I never learned about San Marino because it didn't exist back when I was in school." If that is true, then you were probably classmates with Plato. Because San Marino is the oldest republic in the world. It's traditionally held founding date is 301 CE.

To explain the founding of this republic, we are entering the realm of legend—where we will encounter a villainous emperor, a woman of questionable sanity, a worker of miracles, and even throw in a few pirates to give it some spice—with not a lot of evidence to back it up. According to said legend, there was a stonemason named Marinus who came from the Island of Dalmatia to Rimini (back then a city in the Roman Empire, today a city in Italy) in 297 CE. The walls of Rimini had been destroyed by pirates. Yes, I promised pirates and I delivered! In response to this, Emperor Diocletian of Rome, put out a call for stonemasons to come rebuild. That's what brought Marinus over to the mainland.

But Marinus encountered some problems in Rimini. Of particular concern: he was Christian. Understand, this is the time before Rome became a Christian empire. Diocletian was actively pro-persecution of Christians. No problem, right? Marinus would just keep his faith on the DL. (The down low, not the disabled list. Baseball hadn't been invented yet.) But he was "outed" by an insane woman who accused him of being her estranged husband. This brought a lot of unwanted attention, so Marinus fled Rimini.

He went up. Marinus fled to Mount Titano which is only about 14 miles away from Rimini. But it's a steep climb. This was uninhabited rocky badlands. Here, he lived as a hermit, practicing his Christianity away from the prying eyes of Rome.

Sure, he was only 14 miles away from a major city, but the Romans had no idea he was up there. Why would anybody be up there? So they left him alone. They didn't even know to look for him.

Word of the Christian hermit got out and other persecuted Christians came to live on Mount Titano. Marinus founded a monastic community. It didn't have a name yet, it didn't show up on any maps. No one wanted to be too open about its existence.

But this land atop the mountain, though it had been uninhabited, belonged to someone. A woman named Felicissima of Rimini owned the land. According to the legend, she had a sick son, and heard about this amazing man Marinus. I don't know if she sent for him or brought her son to him, but one way or another, Marinus performed a miracle, healing the boy. In return, Felicissima bequeathed Mount Titano to Marinus and his community telling them to always remain united. Thus, according to the tale, the community became its own independent republic on September 3, 301 CE.

When Marinus died, which according to some legends is on September 3, 301 CE and according to others is a good fifty years later, he is said to have spoken his last words: "Relinquo vos liberos ab utroque homine." Pretty deep stuff, right?

Oh wait. Just in case your knowledge of Latin is, like that of present-day Erich, even less than your knowledge of geography, let me translate it for you. "I leave you free from both men."

The two men being alluded to are the Emperor of Rome and the Pope. This community, which is named San Marino in honor of this miracle worker Marinus, was free of control by both the empire and the church. According to legend.

In verifiable history, there is a history written in 511 that mentions a monk living on Mount Titano. A community grew up, some of it on the mountain top, the present day city of San Marino, and some of it at the base of the mountain, the present day city of Borgo Maggiore. Over the centuries, different people tried to conquer the community, but it's not so easy to conquer a mountain. Four more cities became part of San Marino in 1463, three as gifts of the pope and one by decision of the joining city. That's when San Marino reached its present size.

Alrica and I visited this oldest republic and it was old! The hotel in Borgo Maggiore where we stayed is built inside a building from the 1400s (though it has been updated to have plumbing and electricity.) That was at the base of the vertical slope of Mount Titano, though you've already ascended a lot of elevation even to reach this point.

The seal of San Marino shows three towers aloft over a long building with a clock tower in it and the word LIBERTAS engraved on it. That LIBERTAS building is in the Grand Plaza of Borgo Maggiore, just across from our hotel. Oh, and the clock tower, yeah, it works. It rings every fifteen minutes. The good news is its last ring of each night is at 11:45 PM and its first ring of the next day is at 7:00 AM. So you get seven hours and fifteen minutes to get in your eight hours without the soothing (sarcasm) chimes.

LIBERTAS (Look above the door, it does say that.)

I enjoyed the puzzle of the clock. You see the chimes are not your typical chimes and I wanted to figure out what was going on. For example, at 5:00, you would hear five low pitch chimes. At 7:15, you would hear one low pitch chime and one high pitch chime. At 11:45, there would be five low pitch chimes and three high pitch chimes. If you waited until 1:30 the next afternoon, you would hear one low pitch chime and two high pitch chimes. So what was going on with that?

For me it was mathematics (as are more things than I should admit to.) Go ahead and pause the blog reading and see if you can hypothesize what's going on. Then I will tell you my hypothesis.

CUE INTERMISSION MUSIC

My hypothesis: The high chimes are telling you how many quarter hours past the hour you are. On the hour there are no high chimes. Fifteen minutes later, there is one. Thirty minutes after the hour, there are two. And forty-five minutes after the hour, there are three. But what about the low chimes? Well, you know how a clock works modulo 12? (For those who aren't hip to my jargon, I mean how a clock doesn't go from 12 to 13, but from 12 back to 1 and then starts counting from there again.) The chimes were actually working modulo six. So at 6:45 you would get six low chimes and three high chimes. But then at 7:00, you wouldn't get seven low chimes, you would only get one. After 6, you jump back to 1, and start counting again from there.

But wait, there's more. I haven't told you about the three towers. On Mount Titano, the ancient city was protected by three towers that could see far and wide and shoot down on invaders. They are still there, as are a lot of other cool things. So the next morning, Alrica and I rode in the funivia. That's a funicular cable car that took us up to the old city of San Marino atop the mountain. From the top, one would imagine a spectacular view of the surrounding lands, maybe seeing far across the Adriatic Sea. I'm sure many visitors to San Marino get that exact experience. But for Alrica and I, it was a much different one. Here is my ironic picture of the panorama viewpoint entrance.

See how less than panoramic this is going to be?

That's right, it's fog! We were shrouded in thick, thick fog. Views from above were views of a white mist everywhere. But that didn't stop us from having a lot of fun. In some ways, it made the experience so much cooler (both in amazement and temperature.)

Basilica of the Saint

We walked to the Basilica of the Saint, a beautiful church some fascinating statuary inside. From there we headed to Guaita, the first tower. It's called the first tower because it was built before the other two, in the 11th century. (It was reinforced several times since then.) Gauita is more than just a tower, it is like a mini-castle. The people of San Marino could all huddle within its double walls during sieges of the town.

The First Tower (way more gothic in the fog, right?)

From there we walked the Passo Delle Streghe, a stone walkway that could be used by defensive warriors. But the fog was so thick here, we just had to have faith that this led somewhere. We could maybe see ten feet in front of us and had to hope we wouldn't just reach a precipice. We didn't. Instead we reached Cesta, the second tower. This one was built on the highest peak of Mount Titano in the late 11th century. This was the main guardhouse of San Marino.

The second tower, a little closer so you can see more through the fog

After visiting the first and second towers, naturally we headed for the third tower. Here is what's amazing. We reached this point where a crumbling staircase went up or the path continued forward. We knew we should be near the third tower, but we couldn't see it. I decided to go up the staircase, while Alrica took the path. We couldn't see one another, but we could hear each other. My staircase ran out of stairs and then I was just walking on the rocky ground, when all of a sudden, right there in front of me, not twenty feet away, was a tower! No, I'm not saying the tower moved or jumped in front of me. I'm saying I couldn't see it until I was almost on top of it. And this is a tower, not a tiny hut. The third tower, called Montale, was built in the late 13th century. Today, all that remains above ground is a single tower, but there were outer walls for this one too. And the only door that remains to enter the tower is, well, let me show you.

I'm almost there!

If you are ever in Rimini, Italy, then San Marino is very worth a visit. You can catch a bus from Rimini (near the train station) up to the old city (and back down.) Perhaps you will have the panoramic views we missed, and perhaps you will have the gothic thrill we experienced instead. (It feels so much more medieval in the fog.) Either way, you will get to see some old buildings, old weapons, cute shops, stone streets, and the world's oldest republic that many of your contemporaries (just like the Roman Empire of old) didn't even know existed.