ABC: Aristo’s, Barga’s Cantina

11/5/00: Barga, Italy

Just down the mountain lies the town of Barga, which features a Medieval walled city, which boasts Aristo’s Bar (known to most as Casciani’s).

For three generations, this little establishment has offered neighbors the “vino locale,” or fresh, local wine by the glass (22 cents), the bottle ($1.10) or the jug (why bother?). Our love affair with this area is neatly centered in this colorful bar, where vino, smiles, and songs are served lovingly in many languages by Saint Aristo and his friends. Between the last time we were here (’96) and now, Aristo suffered a serious health problem, buried his mother (with whom he had dined nightly), and quit sampling his own wares. Other than that, and for three generations now, not much has changed, thank God. As the sign hanging in the bar says, “From wine what sudden friendships spring.”

• Barga, Italy.

Just down the mountain lies the town of Barga, which features a Medieval walled city, which boasts Aristo’s Bar (known to most as Casciani’s).

For three generations, this little establishment has offered neighbors the “vino locale,” or fresh, local wine by the glass (22 cents), the bottle ($1.10) or the jug (why bother?). Our love affair with this area is neatly centered in this colorful bar, where vino, smiles, and songs are served lovingly in many languages by Saint Aristo and his friends. Between the last time we were here (’96) and now, Aristo suffered a serious health problem, buried his mother (with whom he had dined nightly), and quit sampling his own wares. Other than that, and for three generations now, not much has changed, thank God. As the sign hanging in the bar says, “From wine what sudden friendships spring.”

A Roof Over Our Heads

11/4/00: Sommocolonia, Italy

Terra cotta roofs roost throughout Italy. This one sits atop a 500-year old villa in the mountains of Tuscany, where we are making our home for about three weeks.

Despite frightful weather, intermittent Internet access, and perilous mountain drives, the splendor and history around every corner remind you that your woes will soon fade—and so will you.

• Sommocolonia, Italy.

Terra cotta roofs roost throughout Italy. This one sits atop a 500-year old villa in the mountains of Tuscany, where we are making our home for about three weeks.

Despite frightful weather, intermittent Internet access, and perilous mountain drives, the splendor and history around every corner remind you that your woes will soon fade—and so will you.

The Train Storms on Through

11/03/00: Alps, Italy

A week ago, we left behind blue skies and warm highs in Minnesota.

Although our exit was strategically timed to trade in snow for a lingering fall, the new continent refused to cooperate. We chose train travel between Paris and Bologna to absorb the beauty of the mountains. Instead, we saw more of the “storm of the century” that has been burying roads, villages, and people. Our heavenly train ride became a hellish confrontation with Mother Nature, as this shot through the window suggests.

• Alps, Italy.

A week ago, we left behind blue skies and warm highs in Minnesota.

Although our exit was strategically timed to trade in snow for a lingering fall, the new continent refused to cooperate. We chose train travel between Paris and Bologna to absorb the beauty of the mountains. Instead, we saw more of the “storm of the century” that has been burying roads, villages, and people. Our heavenly train ride became a hellish confrontation with Mother Nature, as this shot through the window suggests.

Technology Terror

11/2/00: Paris, France

Having traveled and worked internationally before, we did all we could to prepare for the inevitable connectivity challenges. No matter. So much went wrong that our week in Paris turned into a week of technology terror (between meals, of course).

Just one example: When we were ready to download the first batch of photos from our new digital camera, we realized we forgot the necessary USB cable. So we checked a French megatechstore’s website. And talked to them on the phone (thanks to our French-speaking hosts). They claimed to have what we needed. So we drove across Paris to one of their stores. There, two “experts” disagreed on which cable would work. In the end, neither did. So we ended up FedExing the original cable from the states—which took days and barely arrived before our exit because of a French holiday. Meanwhile, our memory card was full so we could take no more pictures.

LATER IN ITALY, things went from bad to worse. Although we had a local access number that allowed us to get plugged in and turned on, the erratic 28,800 bps connection made completing this website a frustrating exercise in futility. Then the storms that blew out electricity and phone (intermittently and for our final week) made it completely impossible. We did have nearby friends with web access available, but they were fighting storm outages of their own—plus a rash of viruses, hackers, and nightmares too numerous to mention.

At home, we take 24/7 DSL, voicemail, c-phones, and more for granted. So far on our journey, we take what we can get—when we can get anything at all.

• Paris, France.

Having traveled and worked internationally before, we did all we could to prepare for the inevitable connectivity challenges. No matter. So much went wrong that our week in Paris turned into a week of technology terror (between meals, of course).

Just one example: When we were ready to download the first batch of photos from our new digital camera, we realized we forgot the necessary USB cable. So we checked a French megatechstore’s website. And talked to them on the phone (thanks to our French-speaking hosts). They claimed to have what we needed. So we drove across Paris to one of their stores. There, two “experts” disagreed on which cable would work. In the end, neither did. So we ended up FedExing the original cable from the states—which took days and barely arrived before our exit because of a French holiday. Meanwhile, our memory card was full so we could take no more pictures.

LATER IN ITALY, things went from bad to worse. Although we had a local access number that allowed us to get plugged in and turned on, the erratic 28,800 bps connection made completing this website a frustrating exercise in futility. Then the storms that blew out electricity and phone (intermittently and for our final week) made it completely impossible. We did have nearby friends with web access available, but they were fighting storm outages of their own—plus a rash of viruses, hackers, and nightmares too numerous to mention.

At home, we take 24/7 DSL, voicemail, c-phones, and more for granted. So far on our journey, we take what we can get—when we can get anything at all.

11/01/00: Richebourg, France

Travelling is most always meaningful. But it often gets profound when you go beyond the museums and restaurants and get a glimpse inside others’ lives.

Here, three generations of Parisians invite us to break bread with them at their country home—which served as stables for hundreds of years before renovation about 55 years ago.

• Richebourg, France.

Travelling is most always meaningful. But it often gets profound when you go beyond the museums and restaurants and get a glimpse inside others’ lives.

Here, three generations of Parisians invite us to break bread with them at their country home—which served as stables for hundreds of years before renovation about 55 years ago.