June 17

Richard drives and I ride. It’s my duty to watch the traffic and traffic signs to keep him on the right track which can be confusing to foreigners. Ferrara brags that it is a bicycle friendly city and riding in the car seemed like a slow motion swim where the multitudes on bicycles were fish swimming alongside. Everybody rolled along at a gentle pace. Of course we were swimming a little faster and left dozens of two wheelers in our gentle wake. It's not always clear what we might be looking for. If a museum or a cathedral looks accessible and the parking legal then we stop and take a look in these smaller towns.

It was the first of many we would dip in and out of but the cathedral in Ferrara which had been consecrated early in the 12^th century featuring a mixture of Renaissance and Gothic styles will be remembered for the special woman among a smattering of worshipers who knelt in reverence to the words spoken. She was kneeling five rows in from of where I rested. Richard and I had quietly entered and sat down at the back of the sanctuary to take in the architecture and its adornments. We rarely sit side by side in these places. I hid my naked shoulders with a scarf that I had bought in Granada two years ago. Many cathedrals, basilicas and churches in Europe place a guard at the door preventing anyone who is not properly dressed from entering. There was no one at the door of this cathedral but I had no intention of offending anyone. It amazes me but probably shouldn't that services around the world are similar. We have a ceremony at St. John's in Northfield where a prayer is given and then parishioners shake hands and pass the peace by wishing everyone within reach in about 100 seconds time “the peace of the lord”. It’s nice, one of my favorite parts of a Sunday morning service. The rhythms of the words the priest at the Ferrara cathedral spoke seemed familiar and suddenly and surprisingly the woman five rows away walked to where we had come to pay our respects and passed the peace of the lord to each of us. I was so touched by her gesture that I didn't even sneak a picture inside to preserve its appearance for my memory.

After the cathedral, hunger was on our minds and bellies. As good luck would have it we spotted a Co-op, a name for grocery stores around the country. These delightful places have delicatessens with wonderful treats. We were also canvassing the area for Gaz in a small can which would fit the tiny camping stove that has traveled with us many times all over the world. We don't cook much while traveling but hot water for tea or coffee is important to campers like us. The grocery did not have Gaz but we bought prosciutto crudo, ricotta cheese, another soft cheese, olives, apples, cherries, wine, bread and an apple. A feast fit for anxious travelers wondering where to take their next meal. We found a shady picnic spot on the edge of town as we said goodbye to Ferrara and ambled toward our 3:30 appointment in Padua at the Capella Degli Scrovegni. It was 11 a.m.

According to the Let’s Go travel guide Enrico Scrovegni dedicated this chapel to the Virgin Mary to save the soul of his father Reginald a usurer. He used his fathers money to build and decorate it. Is this a Carnegie concept? Well, it is highly recommended and we wanted to be sure to see it so we reserved tickets weeks in advance. Giotto frescoed the walls. We arrived in Padua with lots of lead time, picked up our tickets, went to a nearby bar for a beer and a pizza and decided to see th Musei Civici Ermitai first. I am so glad we didn't wait around until after the chapel appointment because the musei was huge. Much too huge to detail. I have pictures. None allowed but with my new tiny digital camera it’s easy to sneak a few. After the musei we waited on the grass by the Scrovegni Chapel. The impressive Italian heat at mid afternoon had sacked our enthusiasms. Siesta is wanted but you just have to stay awake for the coveted appointment. The beer and pizza had worn away and now I am thirsty for something cold. While I rested there in the short thin grass among the drought tolerant five-inch high daisies the ground felt damp on my butt. No, it must have been the sweat that had been running down my back for the last several hours that made contact with the ground and moistened it up.

Entering the Scrovegni Chapel is a three step process. First, you must be waiting outside a few minutes early so as not to miss your 15 minute opportunity to see the paintings. Second, for fifteen minutes you are placed in a room that is closed off from both the and world outside and the preserved world inside the chapel. They show a film but I fell asleep sitting there in the oxygen lockout and barely woke to hear them say we could move into the chapel after the previous group exited. Third, you are escorted into the chapel where a guide explains in Italian what the history of the chapel might be. If there was an English chapter to the explanation I missed it because I was walking around trying desperately to absorb all the paintings before time ran out. Even though the Florentine painter Giotto rocks in my book and that seeing the master's work in the flesh, or the wall if you will, is the best, I had to agree with Richard that the paintings in the chapel looked better on the web page. I am not saying anyone should skip this opportunity. They are a must see. Even though they are using state of the art technology to preserve what is remaining of the original frescoes, art conservators could someday win the battle to keep curious peon tourists out because the elements in the air we exhale or something like that might damage them further. I sneaked a couple photos (no flash). They are blurry.

The next event was to drive as quickly as possible to Lago Di Garda to find a camp for the next two nights. On the way jet lag hit Richard hard. He was falling asleep at the wheel. We stopped at one of those over the big road gas/ restaurant stops so he could catch a nap. I was certain that he was not only tired but dehydrated and searched the big stop store for some cold water. He made use of my eye drops and drank twice as much water as he wanted due to my insistence and was able to drive on toward the lake where we stopped at the first of dozens of camping spots along the lake. Beautiful Camp Capucinni was on a view-filled hill. We felt fortunate. The camping store was slightly open and we were able to buy Gaz. The ristorante was closed because of the world cup soccer match between Italy and Brazil on t-v. We had goodies left from our grocery store cache which included a warm bottle of red wine which we drank while setting up the tent. The soccer match was being watched on t-v by a small group of young people in the site next to us. They were noisy even after the game but we had our ear-pugs and slept off the wine till the sun warmed our tent on our third day.