The New Yorker magazine published a series of articles on climate change earlier this year. They are now on line and provide excellent reading. Along with some recent articles in the Scientific American, which are not on line, these provide enough information to show that a) humans are indeed affecting the climate, and that b) it is reasonable to do something about it, even though it is probably true that severe effects in the next couple of generations are likely to be unavoidable.
New Yorker Part 1
New Yorker Part 2
New Yorker Part 3
Metchosin, Vancouver Island, August 2006
This is looking south over the Strait of Juan de Fuca in the late after noon. The sun is behind the camera. Why are the rays converging toward the horizon?
Monday, July 18, 2005
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
What I Did In Italy This Summer
These are my reminiscences about the family vacation. A trip to Italy. For a family of four. $$$. Of course that last three character sentence is not that important in the long run. The two children are young adults, one having graduated from college and the other within a year of doing so. Years ago we had promised that, if we were able, we would give them a trip to Europe sometime near the end of college.
This is the way it went. The daughter, Jenny, is majoring in Italian and near the end of May she went to Italy to spend a month in an "immersion" program. At the end of her term there the mom/wife, Jill, and I the husband/father joined her. The son, Jeff, had gone to France a little more than a week before. The family trip turned out to be convenient for him, because he was able to leave early to attend the wedding of one of his best friends from college in a small town in Provence. Jeff left early, attended the wedding, fully participated in all the celebretory imbibing associated therewith, and then spent a week in Nice with some members of the wedding party while he awaited our arrival in Italy about a week later.
Jill & I arrived in the Venice airport where, emerging from the baggage claim area, we met our daughter who we hadn't seen for a month. Bongiorno, signorina. To understand our activities for the next three days it's useful to consult a map of Venice (nothing I've found on the internet is that great, but the link is better than nothing). From the railway station we had to get across the Grand Canal to the San Toma area, which is on the north side of the Grand Canal, on a line drawn southeast from the railway station. The first trip was by water taxi around the grand canal, but we found later that we could do just as well by walking -- Venice is not that big, and walking is an adventure.
There are no cars. Goods, food, bricks for construction, are all carried in on boats, barges, and/or hand drawn carts. There's the Grand Canal, roughly fifty yards across, which snakes its way through Venice in a kind of lazy, backward "S". Then there are smaller canals criss-crossing the island, and there are even smaller canals. The streets, calle, vary in width from 20 or 25 feet to breadths so narrow that two people can hardly pass without bumping shoulders. Straightaways of more than 50 feet within the neighborhoods don't seem to exist. There is some canal or other beyond every third corner, with of course an arched bridge for crossing. Houses will exit onto the calle or the canals, and in the latter case, the bottom step or two is more than likely underwater.
Another thing that is true for Venice, as well as the rest of Italy it would seem, is that every fifth or sixth building is a church. One heads down a calle in the general direction of the Academia Bridge, intending to get the the famous Piazza San Marco, and in the process runs into multiple smaller piazzas, each with their own sidwalk cafes, gelaterias (Italian translation of Marble Slab Ice Cream), and more often than not a parish church.
We toured Piazza San Marco, which is just marvelous, along with the palace of the Doge of Venice. Jill had to see the Murano Island where there are extensive glass works. And each day we had a two hour dinner (really the minimal time required to enjoy that sort of thing) at a sidewalk cafe. Everywhere we went, by the way, the cafes were small, service was slow and deliberate, the food and the wines were good. For reasons I'll describe later, we have no pictures of the first few days, which include Venice and our next stop, but there are some great images on the internet.
After three days we took the train to Vernazza, one of the towns in the Cinque Terre, a scenic, national park type region on the northwest Italian coast (this link to images of the Cinque Terre has several images of Vernazza, where we stayed). The journey to Vernazza was one of the two main downsides to our trip -- under normal circumstances a train ride requiring most of the day, we didn't arrive until around 10 p.m. becuase of weather related cancellations and delays. Vernazza, a small town on the northwest coast of Italy, was the place I enjoyed the most. It is very scenic, but during the day it was flooded with tourists -- although this may have been because of the season and because we were there on the weekend.
The Cinque Terre is actually a string of five small towns built on the rocky, cliffy, coast of Italy on the Ligurian Sea. The are connected by a railroad, by foot paths (some of which seem to have a vertical component at least as great as their horizontal one), and possibly by roads, but I can't be sure of the latter. The hillsides around Vernazza are terraced -- these are indeed spectacular, with the successive terraces appearing to be at least the height of a human above the previous. I saw ladders placed so one could ascend or descend from one level to another. And the level parts of the terraces -- again their horizontal dimensions seemed significantly less than their vertical -- were covered in grape vines. Some of the literature said that the wine industry in the area was struggling because of the difficulty of tending these vineyards and it was easy to see why. I walked about half the distance along a trail to Montorossa, the next town north from Vernazza, and it was a serious climb.
I took a number of pictures of the area that I thought were really great, but as I'll describe, I don't have these.
Arriving late in the evening of our scheduled arrival day, we only spent one full day in Vernazza. Jeff actually arrived later in the afternoon of that day, having managed to find his way via train from Nice through Genoa and catch the "milk run" train which ran through the five towns of the Cinque Terre. This was my main concern for the whole trip, that he would arrive on time, and not have to spend his time chasing us through Italy. Jill & Jenny explored the some of the other towns of the Cinque Terre by boat, train, and foot. I stayed, climbed, took pictures, did laundry, and met Jeff. That evening we climbed the hill a Vernazza to a "castle" restaurant and shared a wonderful meal with marvelous wine, savouring the moments as the sun dropped behind the mountains of Montorrosa, the next town north, which could be seen across the water.
The next day, a Sunday, we traveled to Florence, stopping for a few hours in Pisa to see the leaning tower there. The leaning tower is part of a combination that is common in Italy -- three separate structures consisting of a church, a baptistry, and a bell tower.
Late in the day we went on to Florence, the site of the Renaissance, and of the three major cities we experienced, the one we all agreed we enjoyed the most. Our B&B was the Hotel Scaletta, with four terraces, the highest of which allowed us a panoramic view of the city. Staying in Florence for three nights and two full days, we explored museums and churches. Florence has many churches, including its own Duomo with bell tower and baptistry. If the bell tower were leaning, it would surely be as famous as the Pisa version, because the architecture and beauty are clearly rivals.
Although I try never to pass up an opportunity to visit a European art gallery, the most interesting visit in Florence was to the Academia Science Museum, containing amazing instrumentation from over the years. Among other items it contains Galileo's telescopes, as well as his middle finger. When my children expressed amazement at the presence of this relic, I immediately had an explanation. Now I haven't read this in a book, but that in no way renders me less certain of its truth.
Galileo, as everyone familiar with the history of science knows, was called before the Inquisition for his assertions that the earth -- heretofore thought to be the motionless, center of the universe -- actually moves, and goes around the sun. Threatened with loss of freedom and even his life by the church, he recanted. However, even as he recanted, the legend says that he muttered under his breath, "Nevertheless, it moves." Having seen the finger in the cabinet in the Academia, it is obvious that at the same time he was making a gesture in keeping with his respect for the Catholic magesterium ... although I am sure that the gesture was made surreptitiously, otherwise we would have heard more about it. Even though this gesture was meant to be secret, known only to Galileo and God, nevertheless the pope or one of his apparatchiks saw Galileo's subtle act of defiance. Realizing they had their victory with Signore Galilei's official recantation, they did not make a public issue of it, even while it was duly noted. Thus, when he died, or knowing the church of the time possibly even before, they extracted their ounce or two of revenge by removing the appendage with which Galileo had expressed his defiance of the church. So, Galileo "flipped off" the pope, shot him the bird, and you can see the finger with which he did so, in an upright, defiant pose even today, in the Academia in Florence.
On Wednesday we went to Rome. Initially this was a bit of a disappointment to me. Our B&B was within a couple of blocks of the train station -- this turned out to be very convenient in the long run -- and my first impressions of the neighborhood were less than stellar. However, we managed, with the Metro, to get around Rome quite handily. We explored the old Roman ruins, including the Paletine Hill and the Colesseum. Another day we spend in the Vatican Museum and St. Peter's and the Sistine Chapel. It was expensive to do all this, but I don't regret it one bit. The last day we did something a little different and that was to take the train to the ancient Roman city of Ostia Antiqua, which 2000 years ago was on the Italian coast at the mouth of the Tiber. Thanks to the river and the marvels of silt, it is now more than a mile away from the sea. Unlike the ruins within Rome, the remains of Ostia are in the countryside, and exploring can be done in the presence of clean air and natural background noises rather than traffic of the city. Again, I lost my pictures of Ostia, but there are some excellent ones here and here.
Finally, on the way back from Ostia, as we got off the Metro at the last stop, I let my guard down. Pickpockets are bad on the Metro -- this is a well advertised fact -- and I had relaxed, carrying Jeff's backpack in one hand and leisurely keeping my camera -- a pretty good cybershot model -- in the pocket of my shorts. As we were to get off the train the classic pickpocket event occured: A couple of guys hemmed me in, moving with me as I tried to move around them. Irritated, I moved my attention from guarding my possession to getting around them, and only seconds after getting off the train I realized my camera was gone. It all happened so fast. The worst of the deal was that the largest memory stick we had was in the camera, with about two-thirds of the images for the trip on it -- Venice, probably Florence, and the images of the last day at Ostia Antiqua (At the time of this writing I still have not obtained a reader for the remaining memory sticks, which are also full of images, but which are much smaller than the one in the camera). That was the absolute worst thing that happened on the trip. I would gladly have given the camera away to keep my pictures, which are images of exotic places, but which contain images of my family and the kernels of memories that will be cherished as long as I live.
But I'm ready to return, with another camera, a bigger memory stick, and, of course, my family.
This is the way it went. The daughter, Jenny, is majoring in Italian and near the end of May she went to Italy to spend a month in an "immersion" program. At the end of her term there the mom/wife, Jill, and I the husband/father joined her. The son, Jeff, had gone to France a little more than a week before. The family trip turned out to be convenient for him, because he was able to leave early to attend the wedding of one of his best friends from college in a small town in Provence. Jeff left early, attended the wedding, fully participated in all the celebretory imbibing associated therewith, and then spent a week in Nice with some members of the wedding party while he awaited our arrival in Italy about a week later.
Jill & I arrived in the Venice airport where, emerging from the baggage claim area, we met our daughter who we hadn't seen for a month. Bongiorno, signorina. To understand our activities for the next three days it's useful to consult a map of Venice (nothing I've found on the internet is that great, but the link is better than nothing). From the railway station we had to get across the Grand Canal to the San Toma area, which is on the north side of the Grand Canal, on a line drawn southeast from the railway station. The first trip was by water taxi around the grand canal, but we found later that we could do just as well by walking -- Venice is not that big, and walking is an adventure.
There are no cars. Goods, food, bricks for construction, are all carried in on boats, barges, and/or hand drawn carts. There's the Grand Canal, roughly fifty yards across, which snakes its way through Venice in a kind of lazy, backward "S". Then there are smaller canals criss-crossing the island, and there are even smaller canals. The streets, calle, vary in width from 20 or 25 feet to breadths so narrow that two people can hardly pass without bumping shoulders. Straightaways of more than 50 feet within the neighborhoods don't seem to exist. There is some canal or other beyond every third corner, with of course an arched bridge for crossing. Houses will exit onto the calle or the canals, and in the latter case, the bottom step or two is more than likely underwater.
Another thing that is true for Venice, as well as the rest of Italy it would seem, is that every fifth or sixth building is a church. One heads down a calle in the general direction of the Academia Bridge, intending to get the the famous Piazza San Marco, and in the process runs into multiple smaller piazzas, each with their own sidwalk cafes, gelaterias (Italian translation of Marble Slab Ice Cream), and more often than not a parish church.
We toured Piazza San Marco, which is just marvelous, along with the palace of the Doge of Venice. Jill had to see the Murano Island where there are extensive glass works. And each day we had a two hour dinner (really the minimal time required to enjoy that sort of thing) at a sidewalk cafe. Everywhere we went, by the way, the cafes were small, service was slow and deliberate, the food and the wines were good. For reasons I'll describe later, we have no pictures of the first few days, which include Venice and our next stop, but there are some great images on the internet.
After three days we took the train to Vernazza, one of the towns in the Cinque Terre, a scenic, national park type region on the northwest Italian coast (this link to images of the Cinque Terre has several images of Vernazza, where we stayed). The journey to Vernazza was one of the two main downsides to our trip -- under normal circumstances a train ride requiring most of the day, we didn't arrive until around 10 p.m. becuase of weather related cancellations and delays. Vernazza, a small town on the northwest coast of Italy, was the place I enjoyed the most. It is very scenic, but during the day it was flooded with tourists -- although this may have been because of the season and because we were there on the weekend.
The Cinque Terre is actually a string of five small towns built on the rocky, cliffy, coast of Italy on the Ligurian Sea. The are connected by a railroad, by foot paths (some of which seem to have a vertical component at least as great as their horizontal one), and possibly by roads, but I can't be sure of the latter. The hillsides around Vernazza are terraced -- these are indeed spectacular, with the successive terraces appearing to be at least the height of a human above the previous. I saw ladders placed so one could ascend or descend from one level to another. And the level parts of the terraces -- again their horizontal dimensions seemed significantly less than their vertical -- were covered in grape vines. Some of the literature said that the wine industry in the area was struggling because of the difficulty of tending these vineyards and it was easy to see why. I walked about half the distance along a trail to Montorossa, the next town north from Vernazza, and it was a serious climb.
I took a number of pictures of the area that I thought were really great, but as I'll describe, I don't have these.
Arriving late in the evening of our scheduled arrival day, we only spent one full day in Vernazza. Jeff actually arrived later in the afternoon of that day, having managed to find his way via train from Nice through Genoa and catch the "milk run" train which ran through the five towns of the Cinque Terre. This was my main concern for the whole trip, that he would arrive on time, and not have to spend his time chasing us through Italy. Jill & Jenny explored the some of the other towns of the Cinque Terre by boat, train, and foot. I stayed, climbed, took pictures, did laundry, and met Jeff. That evening we climbed the hill a Vernazza to a "castle" restaurant and shared a wonderful meal with marvelous wine, savouring the moments as the sun dropped behind the mountains of Montorrosa, the next town north, which could be seen across the water.
The next day, a Sunday, we traveled to Florence, stopping for a few hours in Pisa to see the leaning tower there. The leaning tower is part of a combination that is common in Italy -- three separate structures consisting of a church, a baptistry, and a bell tower.
Late in the day we went on to Florence, the site of the Renaissance, and of the three major cities we experienced, the one we all agreed we enjoyed the most. Our B&B was the Hotel Scaletta, with four terraces, the highest of which allowed us a panoramic view of the city. Staying in Florence for three nights and two full days, we explored museums and churches. Florence has many churches, including its own Duomo with bell tower and baptistry. If the bell tower were leaning, it would surely be as famous as the Pisa version, because the architecture and beauty are clearly rivals.
Although I try never to pass up an opportunity to visit a European art gallery, the most interesting visit in Florence was to the Academia Science Museum, containing amazing instrumentation from over the years. Among other items it contains Galileo's telescopes, as well as his middle finger. When my children expressed amazement at the presence of this relic, I immediately had an explanation. Now I haven't read this in a book, but that in no way renders me less certain of its truth.
Galileo, as everyone familiar with the history of science knows, was called before the Inquisition for his assertions that the earth -- heretofore thought to be the motionless, center of the universe -- actually moves, and goes around the sun. Threatened with loss of freedom and even his life by the church, he recanted. However, even as he recanted, the legend says that he muttered under his breath, "Nevertheless, it moves." Having seen the finger in the cabinet in the Academia, it is obvious that at the same time he was making a gesture in keeping with his respect for the Catholic magesterium ... although I am sure that the gesture was made surreptitiously, otherwise we would have heard more about it. Even though this gesture was meant to be secret, known only to Galileo and God, nevertheless the pope or one of his apparatchiks saw Galileo's subtle act of defiance. Realizing they had their victory with Signore Galilei's official recantation, they did not make a public issue of it, even while it was duly noted. Thus, when he died, or knowing the church of the time possibly even before, they extracted their ounce or two of revenge by removing the appendage with which Galileo had expressed his defiance of the church. So, Galileo "flipped off" the pope, shot him the bird, and you can see the finger with which he did so, in an upright, defiant pose even today, in the Academia in Florence.
On Wednesday we went to Rome. Initially this was a bit of a disappointment to me. Our B&B was within a couple of blocks of the train station -- this turned out to be very convenient in the long run -- and my first impressions of the neighborhood were less than stellar. However, we managed, with the Metro, to get around Rome quite handily. We explored the old Roman ruins, including the Paletine Hill and the Colesseum. Another day we spend in the Vatican Museum and St. Peter's and the Sistine Chapel. It was expensive to do all this, but I don't regret it one bit. The last day we did something a little different and that was to take the train to the ancient Roman city of Ostia Antiqua, which 2000 years ago was on the Italian coast at the mouth of the Tiber. Thanks to the river and the marvels of silt, it is now more than a mile away from the sea. Unlike the ruins within Rome, the remains of Ostia are in the countryside, and exploring can be done in the presence of clean air and natural background noises rather than traffic of the city. Again, I lost my pictures of Ostia, but there are some excellent ones here and here.
Finally, on the way back from Ostia, as we got off the Metro at the last stop, I let my guard down. Pickpockets are bad on the Metro -- this is a well advertised fact -- and I had relaxed, carrying Jeff's backpack in one hand and leisurely keeping my camera -- a pretty good cybershot model -- in the pocket of my shorts. As we were to get off the train the classic pickpocket event occured: A couple of guys hemmed me in, moving with me as I tried to move around them. Irritated, I moved my attention from guarding my possession to getting around them, and only seconds after getting off the train I realized my camera was gone. It all happened so fast. The worst of the deal was that the largest memory stick we had was in the camera, with about two-thirds of the images for the trip on it -- Venice, probably Florence, and the images of the last day at Ostia Antiqua (At the time of this writing I still have not obtained a reader for the remaining memory sticks, which are also full of images, but which are much smaller than the one in the camera). That was the absolute worst thing that happened on the trip. I would gladly have given the camera away to keep my pictures, which are images of exotic places, but which contain images of my family and the kernels of memories that will be cherished as long as I live.
But I'm ready to return, with another camera, a bigger memory stick, and, of course, my family.
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