Shel Israel and Rick Segal are going around the world this August, looking for “companies that may prevail because they are empowering communities of people, rather than attempting to command and control them.” But little did they know when they set out on this journey that the biggest treasure of all was right in their own backyard.

(No, that last sentence doesn’t make sense. It just seemed like the obvious ending.)

[Tags: shel_israel rick_segal travel]

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I’m giving the closing keynote at the Digital Insight customer conference in Orlando today, staying at the continentally-misnamed Royal Pacific Hotel — there’s no ocean nearby, and if there were, it wouldn’t be the Pacific. I got in late last night and I leave this afternoon, so I don’t have a lot of (= any) time to see the sights, but this morning I made the mistake of taking a 6 a.m. walk along the river. Or is it a river simulacrum? It was a mistake only because I find the artificiality of the environment so disquieting. The grass has been engineered to be as close as organisms get to Astroturf. The shrubbery is placed at measured intervals. The dirt’s nudity has been clothed in wood chips. The river probably has a drain plug somewhere. It’s all too planned and perfectly executed. As an indoor Jew with no sense of nature, I found it disturbing that even I was disturbed.

But now I’m safely back within the overtly controlled bosom of the hotel cum themepark, mopping the dew from brow, and discovering that the dew has been lightly scented with lemon essence and Sucra™.

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Ann and Nathan woke relatively early and went off to the synagogue. I went to my own “temple” where I caught up on my email.

By 12:30, we had packed and checked out. We headed out to San Marco to meet up with our daughter Leah who had gone ahead to meet a friend from school. As we made our way through the crowds, I worried that meeting someone in San Marco was going to turn out to be as practical as the time in 1969 when I agreed to meet a girl at Woodstock. But, because we’d narrowed the area to the clock tower, we found her.

Paolo had warned us last night that it was going to be a crowded day. As he said, some of Venice’s streets were declared one way for the weekend. Yes, one way pedestrian streets…and thank goodness for them. We were packed like the proverbial sardines, except vertical and moving more slowly.

(I did have a million dollar idea during the slow-motion stampede: Stock the canals with dolphins.(tm))

We made our way through San Marco, looking to escape the crowds. Eventually we found a restaurant with an empty table and had pizza, and then wandered directionally back to the hotel. After a vaporetto (water bus) ride to the train station and some serious hoisting of our big three suitcases — not a great city for people who need ramps, not steps — we are now on the train to Milan.

I’m missing Leah more than Venice, but I’m missing Venice a lot. [Tags: italy venice venezia travel]

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Venice is a ridiculous idea and its realization is indescribable. The throngs of tourists (including us, of course) cannot defeat the city’s basic architectural rhythm: Street, alley, passage, up a bridge, down a bridge, street, passage, open space.

And jeez are there are lot of tourists here! Even though it’s cold enough to have me buy a scarf and gloves (at surprisingly reasonable prices), the place is packed. Aside from the sheer number of people in the street, a small percentage of whom are in various revelers costumes, you’d hardly know it was Carnevale.

This morning we took the hotel’s shuttle boat to San Marco, the piazza where foolish seed-bearing tourists have their photos taken as pigeons flock around them; our children went through two bags of seed. Then we wandered. And wandered. It’s a scientifical fact that at any moment, 90% of the people in Venice are lost. The city is so confusing that even the concierge at our hotel couldn’t find some addresses. Way-finding works using the Internet routing technique: People point you to the next waypoint where you ask someone else.

We strolled and wandered all day. Venice is newly beautiful at every turn. We were driven by small goals: Find a photo store that doesn’t charge 9 euros for a roll of b&w film (try S. Lio, if you can find it, which you can’t); find a place for lunch where we could sit and eat something other than a panino or pizza (Hint: Don’t try the place we ended up where the pasta arrabiata was ok and the pommodore was not), find a gift for the girls next door who are feeding our turtles.

We staggered back to the hotel around 5pm, quaking with fatigue. The temperature had topped out at 50F and we had walked a long way. We fell into a sleep the depth but not the length of a canal, except for my wife who had been told by the synagogue in the Ghetto area that she had to come before 5:30 with her and our son’s passports if they wanted to be admitted on Saturday. So, she made her way there and back, lit candles and said prayers over a couple of local rolls.

Then we went out to dinner with Paolo and Monica Valdemarin. They took us to La Zucca (Santa Croce, 1762, phone: 041 5241570), a tiny restaurant with as many meatless dishes as ones with meat. The food was fabulous and the prices were reasonable. It was also wonderful to catch up with the Valdermarins. Thank you!

We got back to the hotel without getting lost, the first time in all of Venice’s history that any tourist has done so. [Tags: italy venice travel venezia]

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Again just a couple of minutes left at the Net cafe. I don’t even have any guidebooks with me in which I can look up spellings…

We wandered around Florence again today, this time in the general direction of the synagogue. It’s nice-looking on the outside, but pretty dark and unattractive inside. The museum upstairs is small and is so poorly labeled that if you don’t happen to go with an orthodox Jew who is your spouse, little of it would mean much. One of the exhibits does helpfully explain that Florence has had on and off relationships with Jews over the past 800 years, going through times of acceptance and times of not-so-acceptance. There are currently about 1,000 Jews in the city. The one kosher market doesn’t seem big enough to support them all.

We had lunch in a kosher vegetarian restaurant, Ruth’s, that serves pretty good Italian and Israeli food. The cous-cous was good.

We walked to a church, the name of which I won’t get right, that has an exhibit in its bowels featuring Michelangelo’s Medici tombs and lots of reliquaries. I have to say that exhibiting the bones of dead saints seems a tad pagan, but who am I to judge? But it does make you wonder if there’s a respectful way of cutting up a saint for display.

This evening we go to Venice by train…

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We took a 9:10am bus to Siena today and wandered around all day in the rain. The Fort was closed and the Duomo (“Duomo” means ca thedral, not “dome” as we cognate whores assume) was covered with a giant billboard showing what it will look like after it’s refurbished, but so what? The old part of Siena retains is medieval shape and a lot of its medieval stones. The streets are wider and not as warren-y as those in other medieval towns I’ve visited. Well worth the beautiful ride and the rainy day.

We came back in time to sneak a visit to the inside of Florence’s Duomo. It’s a huge empty space; the one euro audio kiosk did not explain why it’s sparsely decorated and furnished. In fact, the audio kiosk didn’t explain much. The inside of the dome depicts what heaven might look like – remarkable ( especially the foreshortening), but it pales compared to Michelangelo’s vision of the last day in the Sistine Chapel – the Duomo’s seems static compared to it. Of course, that’s a pretty tough act to follow.

Time’s up at this Net cafe…

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We got a slightly late start in Florence and then spent the day enjoyably strolling the city aimlessly with our daughter as our guide. We s tuck our heads in here and there, but other than going through the Dante house museum – some information about Dante but nothing original from the period – we just strolled in the rain. Across from Dante’s hosue is the church where Beeatrice is buried. It is dark, old and moving. We did some grocery shopping in the indoor market next door to our daughter’s shared apartment; it doesn’t get much more charming than that. We had an excellent dinner at Otorino, a restaurant we’d enjoyed the last time we were here; it was as close as we’ve come to ordering a first course and a second course for dinner. Where do the Italians fit it?

We did run into one confounding scam. As we were walking away from one of the outdoor markets, someone ran up to us claiming to be a vendor from whom our daughter and her roommate stole sunglasses this morning. And, he added belatedly, they stole a Gucci watch as well. This theft supposedly happened this morning, when it turns out our daughter was with us. The best we can figure is that I was supposed to be intimidated and pay him for the watch and glasses to get rid of him. I told him to go to hell. Weird.

We went to the bus station, bought tickets for Siena tomorrow, and went back to the hotel to sleeeeeep.

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I feel stuffed. It’s as if we did nothing but eat color yesterday.

We got a late start and didn’t get to the Vatican until 9:45. It’s a good thing we weren’t fifteen minutees later because the line doubled. Even so, we had a twenty minute wait to make it to the security checkpoint. (I wish I’d been taking photos of all the checkpoints we’ve encountered at ancient and religious sites.)

I hadn’t been in St. Peter’s for 35 years in which time it outran my memory. This is what you get if you want to turn stone into spirit and have all the money in the world.

When we left and asked directions to the Sistene Chapel, we were told that it closes in 30 minutes — the cut off is 12:20 or 12:30, depending on whom you ask. So, we hobble-ran the kilometer (our son is on crutches, recovering from knee surgery) and joined the back of the line, six blocks from the entrance. In desperation, we accepted a guide’s offer to get us in their special way. The tour turned out to be surprisingly good, and I feel only extremely elitist at having bought our way in; my pretend consolation is that we didn’t keep non-guide-payers out.

Unlike St. Peter’s, the Chapel has changed since I saw it in 1971. It’s been entirely cleaned, and the colors now are not shy. (A hint if you go: Start at the back end because that way the paintings aren’t upside down.)

It is odd coming as a Jew to the Vatican. While we understand some of the symbolism, we are reading it, not living it. It is as hard for us to get a grasp of the spirituality that chooses to express itself that way as it is for Christians to understand why my wife and son won’t carry an umbrella on the Sabbath.

We walked back from the Vatican, checked out of our hotel, and took a train to Florence where we met up with our daughter who is studying here this semester. (Excellent restaurant: I Tuscano.) We walked a little bit last night: Straight streets, single-file sidewalks, quiet enough at 10:30pm that our son’s crutching banged out loud. [Tags: italy rome travel florence]

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Yesterday we walked an itinerary sketched by Gianluca the night before. And it was a wonderful day.

My family went to the Great Synagogue for services. My son’s knee was hurting, so they came back to the hotel for a rest. We then walked to the Monument to Vittorio Emmanuele II and the tomb of the unknown soldier. One of the guards approached us and asked if we were Jewish; our son wears a yarmulke, so he was either a Jew or has bad taste in headgear. The guard was also a Jew and told us about his injuries in the first Gulf War. Throughout the day, strangers came up to us and identifyied themselves as Jews; this is not an experience we have in Boston, and it felt pretty good.

We then walked to the Trevi Fountain, which was more interesting than I’d remembered. Those of us who handle money on the Sabbath threw coins in, thus guaranteeing – according to the legend – that we would feel like gullible tourists. We ate in a random pizza place to everyone’s satisfaction, and then walked to the Pantheon, a beautiful building. It’s been a Christian church for about 1500 years, but it still feels like a pagan boast.

From there we went to the Piazza Navona, the shape of the chariot race track that once was there. The buskers were entertaining, and the coffee at the sidewalk cafe was priced, let’s say, enthusiastically. The piazza was yet another in a day of glorious public spaces.

We walked a little more, made it to the piazza where they burned Bruno (O burn, Bruno!) and then we pooped out and took the #8 home. We rested a bit and had a delicious Indian meal near the hotel in Trastavere.

Today we wandered through the Sunday morning flea market for about an hour. It is one gigantic, crowded market. (Interesting taxonomic item: Things people leave a flea market with. In our case, it was a toothbrush and two hair clips.)

We then went to the Colliseum. Being there forces you into multiple perspectives, none of which you can manage: What was it like to be a spectator? A victim? In another culture 2,000 years ago? (Note to tourists: When the guides outside tell you that for 8 euros per person they can skip you over the 45-minute wait, what they actually mean is that they can skip you over the 7-minute wait. Surprisingly, we didn’t fall for it.)

The Palatine is next door. You approach it by going up a walk at the crest of which is Titus’ Arch, a memorial to his victory over the Jews. “People like him were not allowed to go through it,” a guide said to the large crowd surrounding him, pointing to our son. Jews were barred from the gate until the Allies liberated Italy in 1945. Pretty amazing. But, the Roman Empire crumbled and the Jews are still here. So, now what does the arch memorialize, eh? In your face, Titus!

The vista then opens on a field of ruins in various states of repair. One can almost imagine what the scene must have looked like when the Empire was in flower and committed to being magnificent in public. Fascinating, moving, eerie.

We had lunch at a vegetarian restaurant that had been recommended to us: Marguta (Via Marguta, 118). It was fancier and more expensive than we’d expected, but it was also delicious.

From there we wandered through the Piazza del Popolo (all spellings approximate). The exhibit of models of Leonardo’s inventions was actually not the rip-off I anticipated, although I’m really not convinced he invented the bicycle. We wandered a bit more and came back to the hotel, only to find some open wifi. Woohoo! Gotta love the open wifi. (Thank you, Belkin54g!)

The weather has been perfect and the city is continuously surprising. What a great use of 2,000 years. [Tags: italy rome travel]

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Time is running out at the Internet cafe I’m typing this from, so this will be quick.

Fine flight. Little sleep. Breakfast consisted of a granola bar thrown at you from the front of the plane as first class brought their kids to watch.

Into the hotel at 12:30. Out for a walk at 1. We wandered aimlessly around Trastavere (sp?), so named because it’s across the Tiber. (Note to self: Build piazzas in Boston. The American idea – bundling all of a city’s free space into a mall or two – just doesn’t work as well.) Dinner with Gianluca B., a grad student I met here last year – great fun. Spray myself, my family, and a visiting soccer team as I try to drink from a sidewalk watering tube. Asleep at 10:30. Up at 8am. Eat the free breakfast. See my family off as they go to the Great Synagogue for services. I report to the local Internet cafe, present my papers, get the retinal scan, pass through the metal detector, and am lightly probed by the Microsoft Trusted Anus system, and log on.

Loving the trip so far.

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