Money has been the deciding factor in a lot of choices we’ve made on the trip.  It has been the biggest influence on deciding where we go next.  After Rome, we weren’t sure what our next stop would be.  Ben had his eyes on Modena, because it was the home to a tour of several “super car” factories and museums, including Pagani, Lamborghini and Ferrari.  The tour website suggested staying in Bologna, so we started investigating that as a destination.

When we were in Tortoreto, Ida, the cousin of a friend of ours from Cincinnati, suggested several possible places to stop in Italy.  Our goal was to experience the true Italian lifestyle, and not just go visit famous sites.  After a lot of research, we settled on Perugia, an Umbrian town known for it’s university and classic Italian architecture. 

Frequently, where we decide to stay in our next stop is influenced by elements of our current accommodations.  In Rome, for some reason the wi-fi there only worked on one device at a time, sometimes two.  That makes it difficult for Ben and Marley to do online schooling through the Khan Academy and also difficult to do research for the next stage of the trip. 

I found a nice place in Perugia in the heart of the old town, but when I asked the owner about internet access, she said it was broadband via a key that you plug into the USB slot of a laptop.  That doesn’t work for us, but it turned out she had another apartment that was smaller and not as nice, but it had wi-fi and was a lot cheaper.  Plus it had three bedrooms, not two, and the kids enjoy the rare occasions where they get their own rooms.  So we decided to go that route. 

Our time in Perugia was enhanced by the ongoing UEFA Euro 2012 championship.  Almost every restaurant we walked by advertised that they would be showing the game that night and would list the teams that were playing.  Many restaurants set up tables and chairs outside, and at night would bring TVs out to follow the football festitivies.  

On the night that Germany played the Netherlands we completely lucked out.  We underestimated the level of interest Italians and visitors to Perugia would have in the contest that night, and most tables with prime viewing location to see the action were taken.  That was until we walked by a place where we had lunch our first day in Perugia.  There, front and center, right in front of the TV, was a table that had just been vacated.  We were more than happy to sit there and wait for it to be cleaned off.

Unlike when we were in Asia or even Turkey, it was difficult to detect the nationality of the people we saw in Italy. The evening of the Germany/Netherlands game, Ben and Annie were the only people wearing anything with the Germany colors or logo.  But when Germany scored, most of the people at the other tables cheered, so we knew we were in friendly territory.  It was a lot of fun to share the passion of the football fans.  Portugal and Holland were also playing that night, and some of the other restaurants were showing that game and whenever something dramatic happened in that game, you could hear the shouts from the people watching.   

It was a great atmosphere and made for a very enjoyable time, enhanced by the fact that with their win, the Germans advanced to the knockout round as one of the eight teams moving on past the group stage.  Having the football to follow really helped us feel part of the European community.  And that’s one thing I love most about in sports: how it brings people together.

Perugia is the prototypical Italian village, perched on a hill with gorgeous views of the Umbrian countryside. The streets are charming and romantic, mostly cobblestone, weaving their way gently through the old stone buildings.

One sunny afternoon, Annie and I left the kids back at the apartment to do some schoolwork online while we did some exploring.  One thing we wanted to do was to see if there was a place to watch the football that wasn’t out in the middle of the town, hoping to possibly escape the somewhat touristy feel that had.  While we came up empty on that front, we scored big time when we found a café with fantastic views that offered some antipasti and some tasty wine.  The view was better than the food, but we didn’t mind at all.  It was great to just relax there on a rare parents-only moment and soak up the fabulous tableau surrounding us, and comment about what a wonderful adventure we were on. 

A couple of days into our four-day stop in Perugia, someone mentioned on Annie’s Facebook page something about the Amanda Knox case.  It had completely escaped both of us that Perugia was where that media circus unfolded.  During my days at WLW, I totally ignored the story that for some reason TV networks in the US were obsessed with.  I did some research and found that there was a picture of the house where so and so was found murdered, and it was apparently in the old village, but we never found it.  I did find out that the courthouse where the trial was held was a massive gray stone building that we walked by everyday. 

We made the most of the internet access we had in our tiny apartment in Perugia.  The kids got caught up on some of their schoolwork, and I made good progress in researching the next few stops of our trip.  A house-sitting assignment awaits us in the French Pyrenees starting July 5^th, and we were trying to figure out where to go before then.   Bologna was a must-see because we really wanted Ben to have the chance to see the birthplace of so many of the super cars that he loves.  The plan to hit Bologna right after Perugia and move on from there after a day or two was killed when we discovered the tour was booked up on the day we wanted to go, but was available a few days later. 

In a reactionary move to the tight quarters we had in Perugia, I found a place just outside of the old walls of Bologna that boasted a big living room and two bedrooms, plus a wrap around balcony.  That would be a nice change from Perugia, where the only non-bedroom place to sit was in the cramped kitchen. 

The train ride from Perugia to Bologna was another enjoyable one, exposing us to more beautiful Italian landscape.  The train station in Bologna was a short taxi ride away from the apartment and we met Mattia from the property management company outside the modern-looking building that was in sight of one of the remains of the 12 gates that used to provide an opening in the walled city. 

We got to Bologna a little earlier than expected and Mattia was just a little late, but we managed to find some shade as we waited, hoping to hide from the relentless rays of the sun.  Italy was experiencing something of a late-spring/early summer heat wave, with temperatures well into the 30s, even threatening the 40s.  That’s nearing 100 in Farenheit and we were looking forward to spreading out and catching up on some sleep after another day of travel.

As Mattia and I went over the particulars of the apartment, Annie started fiddling with what looked to be a thermostat or temperature control on the wall, hoping to bring a chill to the stuffy room.  When we asked about how to turn on the air conditioning, Mattia paused, and shook his head vigorously enough to cause his sweat-drenched black bangs to quiver to and fro on his glistening forehead.  “No AC” he said, gesturing toward the large glass doors leading out to the balcony.  It never occurred to me to ask about AC when I was booking the apartment.  I mostly wanted wi-fi and easy access to the city.  Every place we’ve stayed with the exception of Fiji had air conditioning.  This place looked modern and new, nicely appointed with two bathrooms, a washing machine, decent-sized kitchen.  Of course they would have AC.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.

By opening the exterior door in the kitchen that led out to a small balcony overlooking a courtyard and opening the large glass doors to led to the larger balcony overlooking the street, we got a decent breeze going through living room and kitchen in the apartment.  But the bedrooms were to the side of that wind flow so the air in them remained as still and steamy as a sauna.  That led to me waking up our first night there after about five hours of sleep drenched in sweat.

I hate being sweaty when I sleep, and always prefer some air moving around the room.  At home, I turn on our ceiling fan and a floor fan to keep a breeze going.  I’ve always been a pretty solid sweater, something my son seems to have acquired.  Plus, now that I’m more than a year into my 50s, I’m fostering a healthy amount of hair on the backs of my upper arms as well as my back.  In another ten years, I’ll be able to go to Star Wars parties as Chewbacca without having to wear a costume.  

Despite being a bit sleep-deprived and sweaty, we managed to enjoy Bologna.  The architecture is fabulous, dating back centuries.  The reddish stone buildings of the main square take you back in time.

The Piazza Maggiore is dominated by a statue of Neptune, who happens to be naked and fairly well-endowed which has caused a touch of controversy over the years.  Bologna is a very easy city to walk around in, and in some ways more enjoyable than Rome.  There aren't as many iconic sights to take in, but it's more compact and has a less hectic air then Rome.  


Bologna is also considered to be the food capitol of Italy, and we had some delicious meals there.  We had possibly the best pasta we've ever tasted at a restaurant that someone on Facebook recommended to us.  It was at a classic Italian restaurant with photos of Italian celebrities on the wall, documenting visits they had made to Trattoria Anna Maria over the years.  And we had to sample Bolognese sauce while in Bologna and that did not disappoint.  

The main reason we were in Bologna certainly didn't disappoint either. And you can read all it about it in Ben's blog about his super trip to see super cars.

Tri, due, uno...

In the course of traveling for almost seven months into and out of 16 countries, we have encountered about a dozen different languages.  In most countries, we try to at least master the basic greetings and numbers up to ten or twenty in each language.  That process has given us some favorite numbers in foreign tongues.  My favorite is the word for two in Italian, which is due.  It's pronounced due-way and the great thing about Italian is with the way inflection is used in that language, you can drag "due" out to about six syllables if you work at it. 

The language certainly isn't the only thing we love about Italy. There's the fabulous food and wine and scenery and people--and trains.  The train system is fantastic--clean, efficient, on-time and very affordable.  We traveled from Ancona to Tortoreto to Rome for less than 100 Euro for all four of us.

In the picture above you can see us all safely standing a decent distance away from the yellow line as the train that took us from Tortoreto to Rome approached.  Part of the reason for that is about three minutes before this train arrived slightly behind schedule, another train came speeding toward the station.  Thinking it might be ours, we edged up toward the yellow line so we could get all our luggage on board and get some decent seats.  Much to our surprise, that train was not stopping at Tortoreto and went flying through the station about a foot and a half away from us.  Annie did what any normal person would do and screamed bloody murder. Just another moment in the lives of world travelers.

Another positive about train travel in Italy is that the Trenitalia website is easy to use and you get a confirmation email to print out your tickets almost immediately after booking your ticket.  The seats are roomier than what you get on a commercial airliner.  Plus there is the element of romance as you haul your stuff onto the train, settle into your seats and watch the landscape roll by.

The ride from Tortoreto to Rome went through some gorgeous scenery in Abruzzo.  The late spring sun splashed over the various shades of green on the hillsides, and the terracotta-tiles of the roofs of the villages added just the right amount of contrasting color.  If only Thomas Kinkade and that guy with the afro who painted on cable TV back in the day were still around to appreciate it and perhaps re-create it in their own unique styles. (Silent pause to remember their special talents.)       Thank you.  

We first visited Rome in November of 2010, on the trip that planted the seeds for our current journey.  During that visit, we saw the Colisseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps and a few other "sights".  This time around we wanted to experience Rome from more of a locals perspective. 

We loved the feel of the Testaccio neighborhood we stayed in, and in particular a great little pizza place called Remo's.  The food was so good and the service so friendly and the atmosphere so enjoyable, we ate there twice the first time in Rome and did the same thing the second time around.

It was the first time we had ever had a true thin crust, wood-fired pizza and we were smitten.  I even attempted with varying degrees of success to make pizza in our fireplace at home in Cincinnati. I couldn't get the dough as paper thin as they guys in the picture above, but getting that burned wood flavoring was great.  It was with great anticipation that we returned there our very first night in Rome.

The train from Tortoreto got us to Rome right around six o'clock in the evening and the UEFA Euro 2012  game between Italy against Croatia was just getting underway.  Our taxi driver was glued to the radio as he sped from the train station to our apartment in Testaccio.

The radio announcers were of course speaking Italian, so it was a little hard to understand what was going on.  But we didn't need a translation app to know that Italy scored, triggering a flurry of joyous horn honking by our driver, which was echoed by many other drivers.

We had a little hitch in our giddy up on arrival in Rome.  That morning in Tortoreto, some construction work at the hotel we were staying in meant the power was turned off.  That meant no internet, so I couldn't update my email and make sure I had all the arrangements finalized for the apartment we had booked in Rome.  I remembered from the owner's email that she said she would most likely leave the keys at a Chinese Restaurant downstairs.  

When we got to the Testaccio apartment there was no Chinese restaurant anywhere in sight.  After asking several people and being pointed to a place about eight blocks away I finally found a Chinese restaurant that was closed.  By now, I'm about a half-hour into the search, and I don't have the phone number of the owner who had said she was going to a play or exhibition of some sort until 7pm.  

I managed to find a laundromat that also offered internet access so I got into my email and saw that the apartment owner had said the keys would be left at the Chinese store by the apartment.  I walked back to the apartment, finding Annie and the kids waiting somewhat patiently, although we were all a bit annoyed by the delay in our plans to eat pizza at Remo's after a wait of more than a year and a half.  Sure enough, a couple of doors down there was a store with a Chinese couple as proprietors.  

Neither one spoke any English, or at least didn't want to speak any to me.  They did apparently speak some Italian and a customer helped interpret my predicament.  Turns out the woman did have the apartment keys but refused to give them to me!  She finally got the apartment owner on the phone but wouldn't let me talk to her.  I called her on my phone and was informed that her cleaning lady was in the apartment waiting for us.  Why the cleaning lady didn't occasionally look out the window and notice a family with suitcases and backpacks standing on the sidewalk will remain one of life's great mysteries.  


We were relieved and happy to at last get into the apartment, get settled in and head over to Remo's.  Walking back into a place that we had talked about for going back to for so long.  The dining room is almost like a living organism, always moving and shifting as the servers work their way among the patrons who sit elbow to elbow at adjacent tables.  

The food did not disappoint us, and after more than a year and a half of waiting, it was great to taste the pizza that we spent so much time talking about back home in Ohio.

One of our main goals of returning to Rome, besides having Remo's pizza, was to experience it as a true city, not just a place with a bunch of tourist attractions.  That's why we stayed in Testaccio, which happens to be home to a great covered market that opens early every day and is closed by mid-afternoon.  We could see the market from the windows of our apartment and enjoyed checking it out and buying a few items from the vendors inside.  I always tried to buy two of whatever I was purchasing, just so I could say "due, per favore!"

Thinking back our first visit to Rome, we remembered liking the area around Trevi Fountain and the Spanish Steps, so we spent our first full day exploring that area.  We got there by way of the Metro which for whatever reason we didn't use on our previous time there.  The stations are clean, but the train cars are almost aggressively grungy, at least on the outside.  Almost all of them are covered in graffiti, but it just ads to the experience.

While walking around the streets that surround the Trevi Fountain and Spanish Steps, we soaked up the atmosphere of the area.  The architecture of some of the buildings around there is very impressive, with great details and ironwork.

The Trevi Fountain and Spanish Steps were both alive with people, and the energy was infectious.  We walked near the Colisseum the next day as we just explored the city on foot, but didn't stop and go inside this time around.  Instead we visited a place that was mentioned in a Frommer's guide book that we found at our apartment.

The Carpuchin Crypt is a series of tiny chapels located underneath the church of Santa Maria della Concenzione dei Cappucini on the Via Veneto near Piazza Barberini. Like many things in Europe, it's closed for a few hours in the middle of the day, and re-opens at 3pm.  We got there about 15 minutes early and there was already a line to get in.  After about a ten minute wait, we made our way inside to one of the most unusual displays we've seen on the trip.

Each of the tiny chapels is decorated with the bones of monks who died over the years.   Every bone is used and attached to the walls and ceilings in very creative patterns.  In one spot, hip bones are used to create the appearance of wings. Once you get past the fact, if you can, that this is all made of bones, it's beautiful.  And unforgettable.  Just like Rome itself.

Football and sore feet

Our arrival in Europe was fortuitously yet unintentionally timed with the UEFA Euro 2012 championship.  It’s held every four years, two years opposite of the World Cup.  As we planned our trip, we knew the championship was coming up but didn’t know for sure if we would be in Europe by the time it started in early June.  As our schedule unfolded once we emerged from Asia in late April, we realized that, yes, we would be in Europe in time for the UEFA 2012 and even toyed with the idea of taking a trip to the Ukraine or Poland in hopes of seeing our favorite team, Germany, play live. 

Some research into that quickly ended those plans.  Germany was scheduled to play in Lviv and Kiev, and getting to those Ukranian cities wasn’t going to be easy or cheap.  Plus lodging and tickets were pricey as well.  It would have been an unforgettable experience to see the Germans play their first game on June 9^th, which happens to be my birthday.  But the expense of taking a trip like this and then adding on a side journey like that was something we just couldn’t afford.  So we settled for watching the German victory in Croatia live on TV and the Germans gave me a nice birthday present with a victory over Portugal. 

The excitement surrounding the football followed us on the overnight ferry that took us from Croatia to Ancona Italy as we watched Croatia beat Ireland on TV in one of the lounges of the ferry.  It was an interesting mix of people, some with a obvious interest in the football, while others were more occupied in some of the gambling games in another section of the lounge.  There was also a guy playing an electric organ who was ignored at first, but as the evening wore on, the dance floor in front of his spot became more and more crowded with people.  They wound up doing some sort of Italian/Croatian version of a group dance, a type of Electric Slide.  It was extremely tempting to totally embarrass our kids and join in, but we managed to control ourselves and keep focused on the football.

Our chosen destination in Italy was influenced by the fact that a friend of ours from Cincinnati had relatives living along the Adriatic Coast.  We thought it sounded like a good idea to see some of the coast and also spend time with a local.  Our friends cousin, Ida (pronounced ee-da) lived in a town called Giulianova and offered to meet us for dinner.

The ferry arrived in Ancona around 8am, and the train station was about a 20-minute walk.  We were all a bit tired by the time we got to the train station, but we had about three hours to kill before our train left for Tortoreto.  So we grabbed a table at a small cafe at the station and enjoyed some tasty pastries and sandwiches and watched the passengers come and go.  It was an interesting mix of travelers, from business people to college age kids with their massive backpacks.  

I couldn't find any accommodation in Giulianova that met our parameters and price range, so we settled on a place in the nearby town of Tortoreto.  One factor was that  it boasts a very nice white sandy beach and we hadn't had any beach time for months.  Online, I found a two-bedroom apartment at a place that looked to be right on the beach.  The website said that it was 1.5 km from the train station, so I figured that worst case, we could walk that in about a half an hour, but I expected to get a taxi either at the station or right in town.  A map online gave me a good idea of the location and I was confident that finding our home for the next four nights wouldn’t be much of a challenge.

To say that I was wrong would be like saying Facebook is a safe haven for expressing your political opinions.  The train ride from Ancona gave us about three hours to rest our weary legs, fatigued from walking from the ferry to the train station about six hours earlier.  The Tortoreto stop on the rail line doesn’t have a train station, just a platform with a cement ramp leading into the village.  We are quite accustomed to trudging along with our luggage through a variety of conditions and it was no big deal for us to start walking in the bright sun of mid-afternoon, keeping an eye out for a taxi. 

After walking for about 15 minutes with no signs whatsoever of a taxi or the Residencia Playa Sirena, I stopped at a restaurant and asked for directions.  The woman working there didn’t speak much if any English, so she summoned someone from the kitchen.  He pointed back in the direction we had just come from and indicated it was about four blocks down on the left.  Meaning we would have walked right by it.  I was skeptical but decided to follow the locals advice and we turned around and trudged on. 

A walk of more than four blocks had me going into another restaurant and asking workers there for help.  One man assured me it was something like 500 meters back toward the train station.  That turned out not to be the case either, so we parked ourselves for a moment to catch our breath and try to figure out what to do next.

Our backpacks and suitcases were getting heavier by the minute as we had been walking for well over a half an hour.  I tried the phone number for the hotel on the reservation email I received but all I got was a recording in Italian that I couldn’t understand.  The address was 448 Via De Something or Other and I didn’t know if that was a side street or on the road that fronted the beach.  Plus the address numbers jumped from the 300s down to 60 then into the 400s. The last time we felt like this was on the rare occasion where we ventured to the west side of Cincinnati.

Like any youngest child raised by a tiny over-protective mother who was determined to never have any ill happen to her baby boy, I rarely talk to strangers.  But as our search neared an hour, and with absolutely no idea where to go next, and all the taxis sucked into some sort of vortex, I ignored my mother’s advice and shouted a “ciao!” to a man on the second floor balcony of what looked to be an apartment building.  He said he didn’t speak much English but made hand gestures that someone in the apartment did and he would be right down with them. 

About 5 minutes later, the man who looked to be in his 60s, appeared with a big smile on his face and what looked like his 10 year old granddaughter with him.  I showed him the name of the place we were looking for, and he looked it up on his smart phone and then jumped on a bike while his young companion pedaled along with him on her bicycle.  Using a mapping app, he led us down the street a few blocks, PAST the first place I stopped for directions.  We got to a spot where the map app showed it to be, but there was no Residencia Playa Sirena to be found. 

A picture of the place on their website showed it to be five or six stories tall, so I didn’t think finding it would be such an ordeal. Fortunately our Italian friend stubbornly refused to give up and headed south along the bike path, instructing us to wait right where we were.  About five minutes later, he came back toward us, pedaling furiously and triumphantly-he had found it!  Soggily, we picked up our backpacks and suitcases and walked about another five minutes and were happy to see what at that point looked like the Four Seasons to us.

The hotel was nice enough, although not as close to the beach as I expected and hoped.  We chose Tortoreto for the chance to meet our friend's cousin and for the chance to experience some of the Italian Adriatic Coast.  As it turned out, it was a lot like the Florida Atlantic Coast.  Nice wide, white sandy beaches.  Fewer high rises than you see in Southeast Florida and fewer people with New York accents.  We spent one afternoon lounging on the beach, enjoying the sun and sand and salty air.

One thing, or rather four things that made the rather remote location of our hotel more acceptable were bicycles.  For what added up to about a Euro a day a piece, we could pedal our bikes along a very nice bike path that ran between the north-south road and the beach.  The path was perfectly flat and curved gently along the coast, twisting its way between palm trees and restaurants and gelaterias. 

It became painfully apparent on our first night there, after our Bataan Death March from the train station to our apartment, that there is no such thing as late afternoon dining in Tortoreto.  We were well aware of the European and especially Italian habit of dining after eight, but figured with it being such a beachy and touristy area, there would be at least one place or two offering up some version of their menu at about 4:30pm.  Wrong Yankee!  

Since we were all pretty hungry and didn't want to wait another three and a half hours or so to eat, we pedaled over to a supermarket and loaded up on some tasty-looking local pasta and sauce and enjoyed a yummy home cooked pasta meal at the apartment.  

After our day at the beach the following day, we made arrangements to meet up with Ida for dinner.  We picked a spot in Giulianova, which turned out somewhat unexpectedly to be about a twenty-minute bike ride from our apartment.  Ida's brother Marcello joined us along with her daughter Roberta, who was twelve, the same age as Ben and Marley.

Those of us from the other side of the Atlantic were perfectly happy with the pizza and pasta we got at the restaurant that Roberta picked out.  But Ida was perfectly unhappy.  She wanted us to experience some true local food and the next night we met up in the old village of Tortoreto, high on the hill overlooking the beach and the ocean.  

The old village is a perfect example of the many hill towns, or hillages that you see dotting the Italian landscape.  A quick but twisty taxi ride took us up into the village which was as charming as any we had seen during our travels which had reached the six month point.

Ida chose the restaurant at which we met because it specialized in a local delicacy:  arrosticini.  Arrosticini is bite-sized pieces of lamb grilled on a skewer, then served up hit in a clay pot.  Ida impressed on us the importance of eating them as soon as they were brought to the table while they were still warm from the grill.  So when the first pot arrived, we devoured them like contestants on Survivor who win a food reward challenge.

The first batch of skewers were disposed of in olympic-qualifying time, so it was time for a second round.  Those didn't last long either, and the final count showed Ben ate the most, and said it was one of his favorite meals of the trip.  

Marley and Roberta enjoyed making friends by talking about their handheld devices.  We truly enjoyed their company and getting to hear about what their lives, so far away from ours, are like.

Our experience in Tortoreto with Ida, Roberta and Marcello reinforced the idea that the best times we've had traveling haven't involved places, but rather people.  You don't make friendships and truly get the local flavor by visiting museums or iconic spots featured in the top travel destinations of 2012 on TripAdvisor.  It's the sort of strategy that we hoped to employ for the rest of our time in Italy, especially as we headed toward Rome.

Planes, trains, ferries, more trains, another ferry and some rental cars.

Traveling through sixteen countries over six months has meant using several different modes of travel.  Airplanes got us from the US to Fiji and then New Zealand.  From the North Island of New Zealand we took a ferry to get to the South Island as we drove almost every one of our 27 days there.  We flew from New Zealand to Australia and rented a car for our 35 days there.  We flew from Australia to Singapore and then to Vietnam.  Trains got us from Hanoi to the village of Sapa and back, and then to the city of Hue in central Vietnam.  We flew again from Hoi An to Saigon, then took a bus to Phnom Penh.  We got around there by tuk-tuk, which we also used frequently in Siem Reap in Northern Cambodia which we got to by way of bus.  A bus/van combo got us to Bangkok, and then we took a long train ride to Krabi, Thailand.  Another long travel day in a van got us to Penang in Malaysia.  We spent the next few weeks getting to and around China by plane, which was also how we got to India. 

In India, we had a driver with a van for our week there.  Then Etihad Airlines got us from Delhi to Abu Dhabi to Istanbul.  A ferry took us from Istanbul to Bandirma where we caught a bus to Ayvalik.  We took another ferry from the town of Dikili, not far from Ayvalik, to the Greek island of Lesvos.  We flew from there through Athens to Istanbul.  From Istanbul, we took a train to Zagreb where we got on an overnight train to Split.  We left Croatia on an overnight ferry to Ancona Italy, and we’ve been taking trains around Italy, which have been efficient and affordable.  We got from Ancona to Tortoreto to Rome for less than 100 Euros for all four of us. 

The overnight trips have been mostly enjoyable, we’ve had about four by train and one by ferry along with an overnight plane ride from Delhi to Abu Dhabi.  The overnight train from Zagreb to Istanbul was a bit different because we had two separate two-person bunks.  The girls slept in one while Ben and I were next door.   

We all got a pretty good nights sleep, although I was having trouble keeping the thoughts in my head to a dull roar as the train headed south toward Split.  Shortly before we got on the train in Zagreb I got an email letting me know that I would be filling in for Paul Daugherty on the Cincinnati Enquirer website for one of his daily columns coming up in a little less than two weeks.  While the train chugged along, column ideas somersaults in my head.  Still, it was a great way to travel, and unlike a couple of overnight trains that we took in Vietnam that arrived at their destination at five or six in the morning, this one arrived in Split at eight am.

Split was an important domino in our plans to get to Italy.  Flying into and out of Croatia is for some reason very expensive.  But the ferry could get us from Split to Ancona Italy for less than 300 euro for all four of us, while flying was going to cost about five times that.  

Split sounded a bit busy for our tastes after spending a lot of time in Budapest seeing as much as we could in our four days there.  We wanted to adjust our pace some, so we decided to head for Trogir, which is about 25 kilometers up the coast from Split.  Interestingly, the oldest part of the city is on an island between the mainland and a larger island of Ciovo.

The apartment we booked was on Ciovo, just across the bridge from the old city and gave us a great view of the marina.  

We got into a routine in our week in Trogir of checking out the activity in the marina each morning.  It's always fun to get a peek of a lifestyle you know you'll never be able to afford.

Inside the old walled city narrow cobblestone streets wind their way past shops and restaurants, giving it a very unique European flair.  The remains of an old castle dominate the far end of the waterfront and a fairly easy climb provides a great view of the city.

Trogir attracts a fair amount of tourists and many restaurants, especially the ones on the waterfront cater to those.  We did what we could to find ones that weren't targeting tourists as much and had some pretty good meals.  The basic dish was a grilled fish that was very tasty, especially served up at a restaurant near our apartment down an alley away from the waterfront. 

We made friends with a waiter who spoke pretty good English, and ate there twice, including on the opening night of action in the UEFA Euro 2012 championship.  Teams from 16 countries across Europe qualified for the tournament, and were divided into groups of four.  Two games would be played each night for the first few nights, and every evening every restaurant in Trogir that had a TV had the game on.  We also saw TVs being purchased and carried to restaurants to satisfy customers appetites for food and football.  

The intensity of the football frenzy in Trogir was heightened by the fact that Croatia was one of the 16 teams that qualified.  Their Purina-esque color scheme was on display at many stores and markets.

I like the looks of a lot of European football jerseys, and own more than a couple, but I resisted the temptation to buy a Croatia jersey.   I didn't want to be wearing it at the Madeira Kroger and have people asking me what aisle the Dog Chow was in.

As we are finding more and more during our travels, meeting people and making friends is the most enjoyable aspect of the trip.  Our apartment in Trogir was located above a couple of cafes and about halfway through our stay we had made friends with a woman named Vinka who frequented one of those establishments.  We got to know her pretty well, enough so that she invited us to her house on the night of my birthday for a home-cooked meal, and of course, some football.  

Vinka and her mom lived close to our apartment, and their house had a terrace with a great view of Trogir.  What was even better than the view was the food and friendship.  Sylvana served up some home made pasta with home grown vegetables that were delicious.  It was one of the best birthday meals I ever had.

We also made friends with Boscho, a man who drove a van for a living and who offered to take us on the half-hour drive to Split on the day of our departure by way of ferry.  He's the one on the left in the picture above.  Our cab ride from Split to Trogir cost about 60 Euros and we offered to pay Boscho 50 Euros, but he refused saying it was his favor to his American family.  

Coming into Split by way of the highway provides a very unattractive view of seemingly endless condos and office buildings, kind of like the skyline of Deerfield Beach Florida.  But once you get down to the harbor and head into the old town of Split, you can't help but be smitten by the charm of the centuries-old city. 

Our ferry didn't leave until 8:30 at night, and we got to Split around 11:00am, so we had all afternoon to explore.  It's a great city to wander around, which we did until around 3 or so, just in time to see the start of the French Open men's finals between Rafael Nadal and Novak Djokovic in Paris as we grabbed a bite to eat.  Cafes had TVs set up outside to show the football later that night between Croatia and Ireland. 

Croatia jerseys of every variety were being worn and put on display in shop windows.  You could feel the excitement building as game time approached.  Croatia/Ireland was the late game and we had to get on the ferry in the midst of the Italy/Spain game.  The ferry was populated by it's fair share of Italians as Italy was the destination the following morning and the TVs on the restaurant deck showed the battle with the Spaniards which would end in a 1-1 tie.

Marley didn't have much if any interest in the football, so she hung out in our cabin while Annie, Ben and I sat amongst some enthusiastic Croatians to watch them take on Ireland.  Annie's got some Irish on her side of the family, but the excitement of the Croatians had us happy to seem them pull out a fairly easy 3-1 win over the Irish. 

Our quarters on the ferry were cozy, but it was fun to get settled in as a family on another overnight journey.

One aspect of traveling by ferry compared to trying to sleep overnight on a train is that there are no stops for the ferry to make crossing the Adriatic. That allows for a better chance of uninterrupted sleep plus there is not the sensation of the train hurtling along with the wheels on one side barely touching the rails as it rounds a bend.  Plus we knew when we woke up, we would be at one of the destinations we were looking forward to as much as, if not more than any other:  Italy!

Planning a year-long trip around the world involved a lot of thought when it came to what we would take with us and just as important, what we would NOT take with us.  All four of us enjoy reading, but we knew we couldn't lug a library of books with us.  So, we invested in three Kindles, plus we had an iPad, and I have discovered that my iPhone despite its small screen works pretty well as an e-reader.  We left Cincinnati in mid-December, just after The Hunger Games was released, and had it downloaded on our various devices.  Annie and the kids all had the book read by the time we reached Australia by the end of January. That led to a lot of discussions of the book between the three of them, so I thought I would give it a read.

I liked the first book, tolerated the second one, and by the third one just wanted it to be over.  I simply didn't care anymore, and I gave up about half way through.  The best thing that The Hunger Games did for me was remind me of a book I read in high school as part of an American Literature class.  It was one of my favorite classes because the teacher had us read some very interesting books.  One of those was A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter Miller.  The book had been in print for about 20 years, and was classified as Science Fiction as it dealt with the world 600 years in the future after a nuclear holocaust.  It's very well-written, with a sly sense of humor and a easy to read prose.

I was disappointed to discover that there were no electronic versions of the book-not on Amazon for the Kindle or through the iTunes book store.  So, finding a hard copy of that became my Holy Grail.  We were in Merimbula, Australia at the time, and there were a couple of book stores there that I went into and came out of empty-handed.  Along the rest of the way in Australia, I would occasionally investigate a book store and have the same result.

The search hit a long pause during our more than two months in Asia.  When we got to the airport in Athens on our way to Budapest, there was a decent selection of books in English, but none by Walter Miller.  Just a couple of days after arriving in Budapest, Annie and I and the kids were walking through the Castle District on the Buda side of the Danube.  It was late morning and our primary goal was to find a place for lunch before exploring the castles.  The Budapest guide book we were using mapped out a walking tour, and we kinda sorta followed it as we made our way through the narrow cobblestone streets.

As we headed toward what looked like a couple of possible spots for lunch,  we walked by a small book store that advertised second hand books in English for sale.  Annie and the kids were walking slightly ahead of me and just as we passed it, I said I was going to duck into the store just to see if by any chance they would have it, expecting the same results that I had gotten from all the other book stores I had stopped in over the previous three months.

I asked the shop keeper if he had A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter Miller and he smiled and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders.  He pointed toward the bottom section of one of his book shelves, where there were about a dozen books under a label "Science Fiction".  They were mostly paperbacks, with some Isaac Azimov and Arthur Clark selections.  But second from the bottom in the second of the two stacks of books, there it was:  a hard-cover copy of A Canticle for Leibowitz by Walter Miller.  I was stunned.  Finding that book in a tiny bookstore in the castle district of Budapest was one of the highlights of the trip up to that point.

I happily toted that book around with me the rest of the day, remarking several times to Annie and the kids how I couldn't believe that I could make such a discovery in a small book store in Budapest.

We had gotten to Budapest from Turkey by way of Greece.  In planning the trip, we had no definitive plans to stop in Greece.   Athens was in some degree of turmoil as we plotted our route around the world, and ruins aren't at the top of our to-do list. But as we plotted our way into Europe with an eye on Budapest and Croatia, Greece became a convenient stopping point on our way west., so we booked a few days on the island of Lesvos.

Leaving Ayvalik was the most difficult departure we've had since we left Cincinnati back in December.  We just loved it there for a bunch of reasons laid out in my previous blog.  Still, the idea of adding another country to our list gave us some motivation to get on the ferry in the town of Dikili and make the 90-minute journey west into the Aegean Sea.

We booked a two-bedroom apartment on the water about 25 kilometers north of the main port on Lesbos, Mytilene.  We would be flying out of Mytilene around 8:30 in the morning of our departure to Budapest, so we didn't want to be too far away from the airport there in order to avoid an early morning wake up call.

The woman we rented the house from said she had an associate who could get us a car for a few days and he would have one waiting for us when we got off the ferry from Turkey.

Sure enough, Stratis greeted us with a sign as we walked out of the ferry terminal.  Turns out he wanted Euros for payment for the car, and all I had was Turkish Lira.  I offered to try to find an ATM nearby, but he said it was no problem, I could just pay for the car in Euros when we were done with our stay a few days later.  With that, he took off and so did we. 

The location of our beach house was quiet.  Very quiet.  Morgue-in-the-middle-of-the-night quiet.  Seems Skala Mistegnon isn't exactly a must-see location for vacationing Greeks.  

The beach house was one of four connected units with a nice view of the Aegean Sea looking toward Turkey to the east.  The beach itself was pretty rocky and not very inviting from a standpoint of throwing down a towel and chilling for a while.

With all that, it was a beautiful spot that we had all to ourselves.  I mean, entirely to ourselves.  Annie and I took a walk down the beach past three or four restaurants that were deserted in the early afternoon hours.

One thing that kept us entertained was the herd of cats that appeared once word got out through Kitter (the cat version of Twitter) that people had moved in who were feline friendly.  Ben and Marley were generous in their feeding of the cats and we had regular visits from about a half dozen or so.

The cats weren't allowed in the house, but we spent plenty of time on the patio with them and really liked one of the orange tabbies we named Joel.  He got that name because we all love the song Uptown Girl and sing it every time we cross a border.  Actually, no, it's because he looked like one of our cats at home named Romeo, and the kids at first named her Juliet.  But then Ben noticed that Juliet had nuggets, so she/he became Joel. 

Joel and the rest of the cat contingent stayed behind as we ventured out to explore the island a day after a 15-hour storm.  The deluge kept us house-bound most of the day and caused some flooding to the south of where we were, in the major port town of Mytilene.

Our desired destination was a coastal town about an hour's drive to the north where the owner of the house we were renting had a restaurant and another rental property.  Mithymna sits on a very pretty bay, and has some great waterfront dining and shopping.  We had a great lunch at our landlord's restaurant and enjoyed strolling around the town, wishing the place we were renting was closer to a more active community.

Four days among Lesbians was plenty for us and we were looking forward to heading for Budapest, even though it meant a long travel day.  The cheapest airfare we could find from Mytilene to Budapest called for an eight-hour layover in Athens.  Our luggage was checked through, so we only had our backpacks with us, giving us the possibility of exploring the ancient Greek capitol if only just for a few hours.

A woman working at an information desk at the Athens airport told us that it was about a 45-minute train ride into the city.  Since it was just before 11am, we decided to hop on the train and head into the city for some lunch and time looking around.  The metro stop was right in the old city of Athens, basically at the foot of the Acropolis.

The area is filled with ancient buildings or what's left of them, as well as an intriguing mix of restaurants and shops, including a flea market.  It's probably a good thing we couldn't buy anything since we're traveling for so long, as we came across some very interesting items, including an old manual typewriter with the keys in the Greek alphabet.

I never belonged to a fraternity in college and didn't date many sorority chicks, so the letters were, well, Greek to me.

Much to the dismay of our adorable twin twelve-year olds, Annie and I decided that since it was a gorgeous day and the Acropolis was right there, we would make the climb to the top.  That turned out to be one of the best decisions we had made in a while, as the view was spectacular.

The partly cloudy skies were clear enough to give us great view in every direction.  The Acropolis itself is undergoing a fairly major renovation, so construction equipment and scaffolding obscured some of the structure.

Marley and Ben were actually glad that we made the climb to the top, which really wasn't all that dramatic or draining of a trek.  Plus it brought to life another piece of history in a way that a classroom just can't equal.

Ben and Marley were not disappointed to discover that the area was closing down to visitors less than an hour after we arrived.  That still gave us enough time to get enough of a taste of Athens and get back on the train to head to the airport for our 6pm flight to Budapest.

Conveniently enough, Budapest was a featured destination in the Aegean Airlines in-flight magazine and it beautiful and did not disappoint in person.  There's a lot to see and do there and the apartment we rented for our five days there was in a perfect location.  We stayed on the Buda side of the Danube, which is more residential than Pest.  Pest on the east side of the river, has more bars and restaurants and is home to the striking Parliament building on the eastern banks of the river.

Our home in Budapest was a five-minute walk to the tram, which came by in both directions about every five minutes. 

From there, the tram ran north and then east across the Danube, or south in the direction of one of the busier tram/train station stops, Szell Kallman Ter.  That's where the number 2 Metro line connects and heads east under the Danube River to Pest.  We took that route our first day in part to research the overnight train we planned to take to Split, Croatia in a few days.

That's one of the major challenges of traveling for several months:  we spend a good amount of time in our current location figuring out how and when and where our next stop will be.  We couldn't find a definitive answer online about booking the overnight train to Croatia, so we decided to take a trip to the train station that we thought that train departed from.

The tram/train system in Budapest is very efficient and there is very little time spent standing around waiting.  From the time we left our apartment, caught the tram, got on the metro and got to the train station to ask about the overnight train, it took only about 20 minutes.  It's the second oldest subway system in Europe, and the oldest on the continent, but it's clean and quick.

The Keleti train station is on the Pest side of the river and is one of those classic old European train stations.  The exterior is imposing and lends an air of importance to the edifice.

After a couple of false starts we found the International Ticket office and learned that the overnight train left from the Western Train station over in Buda, but that worked because it was much closer to our apartment and much easier to get to.

Getting to the Castle section of Budapest meant taking the tram to the train station and then catching a bus for the quick ride up the hill.   We spent some time around St. Matthias church near the Fisherman's Bastion.  Both are steeped in history and are in remarkable condition for dating as far back as they do.  The tiles on the roof of the church looked like they had been installed a couple of weeks ago, not a couple of centuries ago.

The church sits adjacent to the turrets of the Fisherman's Bastion, which was first built in the early part of the 20th century, and then restored in the late 1940s after being heavily damaged during World War II.  The views from the Bastion are spectacular, as Buda and Pest hug the waters of the Danube River.

It's one of the prettiest cities I've ever seen, with grand architecture and the Parliament Building facing the Danube highlighted by the Fisherman's Bastion and Buda Castle looking back in the other direction.  Five bridges cross the Danube in Budapest, with the most striking being the Chain Bridge. It was also rebuilt after being destroyed along with all the other bridges during the Second World War.

It's even more attractive at night with the waters of the river reflecting the lights from the buildings on both sides as well as the Chain Bridge uniting the two ancient cities.

All this beauty helps offset the city's ugly history.  It's been the battleground between a wide variety of peoples dating back centuries.  Conditions got extremely violent toward the end of World War II when the Pearl of the Danube became one of Adolf Hitler's last-gasp targets.  Much of the city was destroyed in the early months of 1945.  Then in the 1950s it was caught up fighting Soviet-influenced Communistic policies that led to the revolution of 1956.  A lot of the action on the streets during those years happened in and around where we stayed and the places we went to catch the trams and trains.  

Having such history, both of the recent and ancient variety, is one of the great allures of European cities.   We saw both in Athens and Budapest, and can't wait to see and experience more as we add Rome, Paris and many places in between to our travel itinerary.