Appian Way - #10, Going Home

Appian Way - Last Diary Entry

March 5, 1992

Just some observations.

Clothes - The men usually do not match or are their clothes cut to western standards.  However the very rich do look rich.  The young men are attractive. The older men not so unless they are wealthy.  The average woman is not that good looking when they are my age, again unless they are wealthy.  The young women are not that attractive as our average woman, but there is an air about them that is appealing.  Perhaps it is the confidence they display.  There were a lot of unattached women travelling around.

Food - I have not been impressed by the food.  It's OK but nothing to write home about so I wont.  The servings are smaller and there seems to be a difference on how much they charge if you are waited on or not.  No sandwiches as we know them.  The tea is good, the coffee bad.

The women are not modest on the beach.  They go topless a lot.  People say this is just natural to them but if it's so natural why do the men point and stair.

TV - There are an overabundance of commercials.  Everyone is trying to sell you something.  They act like the barkers in the carnival.  There is is lot of nudity on TV.  Some shows have nudes and and a lot of string bikini's.

Hotel - We stayed in a nice place.  The rooms were small and so were the beds.  The towels were like dish washing towels but much larger.  The telephone was rotary.

Most things were expensive.  A coke cost L2,500 or $2, a can.  An average meal cost about $14, beer L3,500 and it keeps changing from day to day.  The room cost L120,000 per day.  It doesn't seem like much really.  I guess it is because it is a resort area where we stayed.  The BMW I drove around would cost about $50,000 in the states. More later.

Pisa Airport.

One thing that always strikes me when I am on overseas active duty (which is only three times) is that the military hold many opportunities for travel and excitement.

Well my great adventure ends today.  The only highlights are slim ones really.  My flight will pass over Shannon Ireland.

Yesterday we visited the Leaning Tower of Pisa.  Ate in a road side restaurant.  Pasta was served first, followed by salad, meat and french fries.  I had veal, three of the guys had wild bore, another stuffed pork chops.  I bought two bottles of Dom.

My feelings are mixed.  I feel like I have nothing really to go home for.  I miss the kids but I miss more not having a normal life.  A man my age is supposed to have a different life than the one I have.  It really gets me down sometimes.  But I am a survivor.  I'll carry on and shake the depression.  It is one thing to be depressed now and then and another to let it run your life.

This undoubtedly will be my last "great adventure" (note:  I did not know that I would ever teach Eskimos in bush Alaska)

I have read James Michner's "The World is My Home" while here and I find it very inspiring.  I wish I had his character and fortitude and belief in life.

I guess one of the more interesting things that happened to me is that I met a Dutchman in an American Bar and had many interesting evening with him over drinks discussing his country and mine.  His name was Hans Boot.  I have his address and I will write him now and then.

Unless something really unusual happens this will be my last entry.  We arrive in KC at 4:17 PM, 5 March.

Just remember that what ever happens between the time this narrative is written and the time it is read that I've loved you all.  When one is away from those he loves he ponders and thinks - usually to much, but that is life.

I am going back home with no resolve just some tasks to be done, much to do before I sleep, and miles to go.

Love Dad, 1992, Pisa, Italy

Post Script:  It is now 2007, Oct. 23,  I stored this book in a box that I put in Shannon's garage.  I've rented a house on Spring Street and thought I better get the box.  I re read all of what I have written and it is all true - facts are left out however but in the main unimportant ones.

After returning from Italy I went to a couple of drills.  Flew to Virginia to help at pre camp.  Ate at Virginia Beach.  But that is about it.  The National Guard got very time consuming.  I was made the XO of our unit but really received no guidance as what was expected and I wanted to leave on a good note.  I told the LTC I was retiring and then after 20 years and nine months I walked away.  This year, last May, I received my first retirement check.

Staying and being a member the National Guard was the smartest and most interesting thin I have ever done.

Appian Way - #9 (Rome)

Friday, April 15, 2011

Appian Way - Rome

Sunday morning we got up early and went to the Pisa Terminal which was different than the one at the airport.  We were told that the train to Rome did not leave until 9:30 but we could catch one in Florence if we left immediately and it would take us there.  We did.  We got to Florence just in time to catch the train to Rome and had to run to do that.  It was a different kind of train than the one we took to Florence, it was more like the ones you see in the movies, you know like side compartments and a small hall way running down one side.  We had to split up and sit in different compartments. 

The trip took about 3 hours so along the way I walked up and down the length of the train.  I met a guy from Romania who I some how figured out was a reporter.  We didn't have a real long conversation because he couldn't understand me more than I him.  Mostly I just looked at the country side going by.  There were many farms and now and then you could see what looked like ruined castles in the distance. 

When we got to the out skirts of Rome the train stopped and we were told not to get off until the second stop if we wanted to be in the heart of Rome.  Rome Central, as they called it was much bigger and more crowed than the terminal in Florence.  We ventured outside and found a little cafe, sat and drank coffee while trying to figure out our next move.  No one thought about getting a map or anything so we just started walking in a general direction that some body in the cafe told us the Colosseum was. 

On our way we came across a lot of interesting looking landmarks and ruins but had no idea what we were looking at most of the time.  I do recall that one place I think might have been the Forum smelled like cat urine and I guess that was because I bet there were a hundred cats just lazying about.  We did see the tomb of the Italian unknown soldier and witnessed a change of guard ceremony.

We had no trouble recognizing the Colosseum of course and I was surprised they just let you walk around the place with few places being off limits.  They had some guides giving lectures to small groups but they were not in English so we just wondered around for about an hour.

We did mange to ask directions to the Vatican and ended up catching a bus that would take us there.  The bus ride was free only because when we got on it was to crowed for us to give the money to the driver who didn't seem like he cared much.

When we reached the Vatican we entered the city/country from a side entrance and a whole bunch of people were in the square looking up at this guy on a balcony.  A voice was booming over a loud speaker.  The guy was Pope John Paul II.  We had accidentally gotten there as he was giving his Sunday blessing to the faithful.

If any one regardless of his religion has any historical perspective or interest in history you had to be impressed to see one of the most powerful men in the world. After the blessing I bought a crucifix blessed by the Pope and it hangs in my house to this day.

We went on an unguided tour of St. Peters.  It was more grand and ornate than anything I had or have seen.  The Piata was near the front entrance, two weddings were going on, a group was singing and a mass was being held.  We ventured down a little stair case and saw a place where a lot of the Popes had been buried and even saw the supposed burial place of St. Peter. 

I stopped a priest on the street and asked him where the Sistine Chapel was.  He pointed it out but also told us it was closed for repairs.  I was disappointed.  That is one thing I really wanted to see.

We walked back to the train station. We crossed the Tiber River, ate in a cafe, saw another Basilica and countless other strange, interesting, and beautiful places. 

We ended up getting on the right train back to Florence some how, our trek was over.

Appiean Way - #8, (Florence)

Feb. 1992

After winning the bowling bet and paying for every ones ticket we left Saturday morning by train from Pisa near Camp Darby.  The train station was also near the airport.  The train ride was only one hour and when we got to Florence their central train station was extremely busy.  It reminded me of what the US train stations must have looked like back when commercial train travel was in its heyday.  Apparently most of the larger cities in Europe have train stations just as big and just as busy.  We immediately found our way to the Galleria dell' Accademia where resided Michelangelo's David.  The Galleria was sort of a small place considering the giant reputation of the statue.  There were other statues and painting and many tapestries of a religious nature.

We then ventured towards the center of town and visited a big church  known as the Duomo.  It was huge, impressive, artistic, and being used for several weddings and religious services.  I had never seen anything that large and that majestic.  Across the street was the Basilica and the best I could tell was a church smaller than a cathedral and larger than a chapel.

I went off by myself trying to find a Gucci store.  I stopped several people on the street and asked them directions.  It soon was apparent that unless I stopped middle aged well dressed people it was a waste of time.  Finally I stumbled onto enough people and in their broken English they guided me to the right place.  Sort of small and unimpressive for such a big reputation on the out side.  The inside was lavish and expensive as one would suspect.  The sales person was not very helpful and if one can look down ones nose he did.  It might have been because I was unshaven, dressed in jeans, and had a flannel shirt on and I asked him what was the cheapest thing they had in the store.  I ended up buying a key chain for $50.

I ran into the LTC and he and I shared a spot of tea and a pastry.  It cost about 17000 Lira, about $15.  This was before the Euro and the rate of exchange if I remember correctly was $1 for every 1,225 Lira  It was really something I thought to carry around L500,000 in your pocket.

We caught up with the rest of the group and went to the Medici palace I think it was and saw all kinds of painting.  We did not know what we were looking at and no doubt saw a bunch of famous paintings not realizing how famous they were.  There were two big pictures by Michelangelo and Leonard Di Venci which for some reason I recognized, probably because the plaque on the wall beside them.  They were impressive of course.  If I had been up on my art work or paid closer attention in Art Appreciation I might have had a more enriched experience.

My overall impression of Florence was that it was large but quaint, dirty but had an individual sparkle.  There were small cars and many scooters.  Many girls held hand and arms as they walked around town, a sign of friendship nothing else.  To a lesser extent men did the same thing.  Not sure about them though.

I saw men rowing on the river, saw people from all over the world with all types of dress.  I was surprised to see as many Africans as I did.  Their cultural dress were just so so, but they held themselves with dignity.  The Italians were not dressed that well but for those who did they rally stood out and smacked of money.  The men wore their coats over their shoulders without using the sleeves.

There were no bars like we know them.  There were many cafes however that sold bear, wine and liquor and coffee, ice cream always being available along with Coke. 

I just walked around most of the day and observed and eventually made my way back to the train station and back to Pisa.  The next day would be Rome.

Appian Way - #7

Appian Way - A Diary Entry

Feb 27, 1992

Camp Darby is supposed to be the resort area of those soldiers stationed in Italy.  I don't see it.  They have some camping grounds and some cabins for rent and it is next to the Italian Riviera, so I guess it counts as one.  The official use for Darby, named after Darby's Rangers they claim, is for prepositioning equipment in case there needs to be a rapid deployment to North and Northeast Africa or Northwest Asia.  It is sort of like our poncus sites in Germany.

For the last several days I tried to figure out how I could get the guys to take advantage of their free trip to Italy.  I came across an idea and it worked.   They had been pestering me all day today to take them bowling at the camp.  I finally relented and said I would.  When we started bowling I suggested we make a bet to make it more interesting.  They complained that they didn't have as much money as I did, so I told them that I would put up a $100 that could be split between them if any of them beat me and that if I beat all of them they had to let me plan a weekend excursion for them this coming weekend.  Well, I won.  I even picked up the 6,7,10 split.  We will be going to Florence this Saturday and Rome on Sunday.  I'll even pay for the train tickets.  They complained about losing the rest of the evening.  Go figure, I wouldn't mind losing several bets like that.

Appian Way - #6

(Diary kept while in Italy)

25 Feb 92

Yesterday was a long day.  There is some sort of problem with the orders but I really don’t care, I am here now.  At least the lodging and transportation is working out fine. 

The BMW we rented is really too small for all six of us but some how we all manage to pile in.

Last night we all walked around Tirrenia stopped to drank some wine and eat spaghetti and bread.  Sgt. Kennedy and I left the others, went to another restaurant/bar and just sat around till one o’clock in the morning talking and drinking beer between wines. 

26 Feb 92

I get my days mixed up.  Yesterday, or I think it was yesterday, I got the Sgts started on a project and scanned some secret op-plans (they didn’t seem to secret to me.)  The only highlight of the day was when Sgt Ball, our interpreter, and I went to Livorno.  I thought it might not be a bad idea to put boots on the ground at the place we were developing new defense plans, albeit never to be used I suspect.  Sgt. Ball readily agreed just to get off post and besides he said he wanted me to know where the bars were.  It seems like that is all he ever has on his mind.  Ever since he brought up the subject, the first time I met him, I have continually told him I wasn’t interested.  He said he realized that but suggested that perhaps some of my enlisted men would be.  Two might I think. 

We road around the city dodging traffic, weaving in an out between cars (I was driving) and he pointed a couple of the bars out.  The trip was so confusing and I was so turned around that I could not get back there if I wanted – which I don’t.  The two guys who might be interested will just have to suffer.

Other than all the traffic my observations were of narrow streets, cars parked on sidewalks, and an extremely dirty city over all with trash on the streets and dried dirt on what would other wise be very attractive edifices.  The buildings could use a good sandblasting.

As we were driving along I kept wondering what type of businesses were in the buildings, what did the insides look like, wondered when they were built, and if they had any significant history attached.  Sgt Ball, who has lived in Italy, France, and Germany for the last 19 years has no idea and cares less.  He is much more interested in the whores.

As we went back towards camp he said he knew a short cut and thought I would like the scenery along the way.  I soon found out what kind of scenery he was talking about.  The whores apparently stand along the road in some areas that look like a rural setting.  There were a couple of whores he knew standing along the road.  One looked like a nice young girl, the other whom he apparently knew better than the other, looked every bit the part of being of whore – short dress, low top, bad teeth.  Of course he had to stop.  They muttered something in Italian.  He said she wanted to know if I wanted a “date.”  I said no.  He pinched her on the boob, they both laughed and we drove off.  He wanted to know if I thought she was good looking.  I tried to be polite and be non committal because I feared she might look like his wife.  He thought she was hot.

Appian Way - #5

 

 

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Appian Way - Tirrenia

I appreciated the use of the interpreter, but I told him the next morning after leaving the restaurant in Livorno that I thought that his time would be spent better helping out the younger members of our contingent.  I decided to explore the surrounding area on my own. 

I started out not real early, perhaps around 10:00 and decided to walk around Tirrenia on my own.  It was a modern little Italian village but different in a lot of ways.  The center section of the town had cobble stone streets with a lot of little shops of all kinds that seemed to specialize in different products.  Tobacco, wine, pottery, clothes, jewelry, and several quaint little cafes.  I found an ice cream shop and bought a cone of some strange flavor that I really can’t describe.  There was a festival that the local Catholic Church was having to raise money I guess for some worthy cause, so I bought some flavored coffee, which wasn’t much good, sat on a park bench and just watched the people parade around in their Sunday best. 

I went to Mass that afternoon at the local church and was able to follow the service pretty well.  I understood every part of the Mass except for the serman of course.

After leaving Mass I ran into one of the young men that was part of our group named  Terdoff.  He was a little older than the other guardsman and had grown tired of pretending he was on just another army post.  He too wanted to take advantage of seeing the local Italian scene.

We went to a place that was a combination deli, ice cream parlor, and bar and had a glass of wine.  I joked with the owner about him giving us California wine (it was a white wine from Tuscany.)

We ventured back to the festival area and ate a pastry that was creamy on the inside and fried on the out side sprinkled with sugar.

We went to a spegatteria  across the street that served different kinds of pasta but it was run by some Arabs.  After another glass of wine we decided not to eat there and walked down a side street that I had not noticed before  We stumbled across a quaint little café that reminded me of the restaurant where Michael shot the Turk and the corrupt police captain in the Godfather.

We ordered a dinner that consisted of red wine and spaghetti with white sauce that had small chunks of ham infiltrated though out.  They served some interesting flat bread sticks, a small pizza with mussels, a chocolate éclair and some of the worst coffee I ever tasted in my life.

We both went back to the spa and to bed.  I woke around 3 am, still suffering from jet lag, went down to the main lobby and started writing some letters and post cards.  The desk clerk thought I was crazy.

I noticed during my meanderings that day that the normal people, the middle class I guess, dressed a little different.  They all seemed to be just a touch more poor than our middle class, but that might have been because it was a small town and not very cosmopolitan.  Their clothes did not match it seems and their shoes were not up to our standards. Many of the women who walked around held hands and the older ladies dyed their hair a deep red, almost purple. 

I just hung around the lobby writing and “reading” magazines until breakfast and hoped that the coffee would be better in the morning.

Appian Way - #4

Appian Way – The Interpreter

Four days on the coast of the Italian Riviera, a BMW, living in a spa overlooking a nude beach, on an expense account, and now an interpreter.  Fighting communism could not get much better than this.

The interpreter the commanding officer lent us was a Staff Sergeant who was getting ready to rotate back to the U.S.  He was going to be assigned to the 101^st Air Assault Division at Ft. Campbell, Kentucky.  His father had married an Italian and he had lived in Italy most of his life including most of his tour of duty.  His assignment to the 101^st was going to be for four years and he was not looking forward to the assignment.  He loved Italy.

He was full of questions about the states and Kentucky in particular, and for reasons that I guess were typical European, he was interested in whores.  He asked if I knew what the whore situation was like in Kentucky.  I told him I did not know and even though I had served two short tours there I never saw the reason to find out.  Other than that he seemed like any other young American soldier being sent oversees, or I guess I should say he was typical of any young man being sent away from home for the first time.  Women have always been a high priority to young men away from home.

I told my contingent that we had the sergeant’s language expertise at our disposal but they seemed unimpressed.  They had developed their own itinerary for the next few days and decided to leave me out of their plans.  I did not mind. There was a difference in rank and ages and I am sure they thought I would be a drag.  I am glad they felt that way, besides I had the car.  I did tell them that we needed to be back at the base no later than 0800 Friday and not to be late.

I asked my interpreter if he would mind taking me on a tour of the surrounding area.  He was more than happy to oblige.  He picked me up at the spa that evening and suggested we drive into Livorno.  We headed toward the Italian seaport, weaved in and out of traffic, up and down the streets of the old section of Livorno, and eventually arrived at a spaghetteria.  A spaghetteria, according to my guide, is a restaurant that serves typical types of food common to Italy but specializes in different kinds of pastas. 

The tone of any Italian meal differs from one part of the county to another and so to the differing restaurants.  First was wine, then some shelled muscles, next a pasta dish, a fish of some sort accompanied by crushed spinach, garlic, olives and bread.  Then came a fresh salad followed by fruit with a demitasse of espresso.  If that were not enough a rich thick creamy pudding followed.  Of course wines of different sorts were brought out with each course ranging from dry to sweet. 

I staggered back to the car, not from the wine but from over indulging my gastronomic side.  The sergeant thought we should now go out and look for some whores but I declined the invitation and he returned me to the spa. 

I needed to rest up for the county side tour the next day the sergeant had promised to take me on.