Nice Columns

Not much is left of the old biblical town of Corinth. Most of the ancient ruins have long come down over countless earthquakes. In its place is a bustling city. The harbor is rather small but close to the downtown area. Young boys are diving off the piers with big grins and lanky frames. Shops are filled with the latest designer clothes and restaurants offer gyros and Greek salads, which we are quickly getting addicted to. We spent the night and the next morning sailed through the Corinth Cannel.

The cannel is about a 3.2-mile stretch that connects the Gulf of Corinth with the Aegean Sea. Nero first started digging the cannel back in Roman times using 6000 Jewish slaves, but never finished it. It seems a little uprising in Gaul distracted him from the project. Octavia tried to bridge the gap by building a road and dragging his boats across this narrow stretch of lands. The remains of that road can still be seen. It wasn’t until 1893 that the cannel was finally cut through the limestone. We had to wait outside the cannel for almost 3 hours before we were allowed to cross in so the boats from the other direction could clear the channel. The interesting thing is there is a low bridge just as you enter the channel. Instead of raising the bridge, it is submerged into the water and the boats pass over it. When we came out the other end, we had strong winds and were able to sail for 5 more hours all the way to Athens.

Patras for the Night

Just a stop along the way, Patras is a pretty big city with all the noise you would expect and none of the charm of the islands. It is the largest city in the Peloponnisos and third largest in Greece. We are headed for Athens and this was just a stop for the night. We barbequed chicken and enjoyed the sunset from the back of the boat.

Kefalonia and Underground Lakes

Our journey continues to the Ionian Island of Kefalonia. We slung our anchor out and backed up to the quay of a small little town built around the harbor. The first thing on our list of things to do is visit the caves. They were about 5km away from us. So we decided to rent a taxi. But since there were now 5 of us, (Rebecca’s friend Amanda joined us in Paxos) we wouldn’t all fit in a taxi. The fare was 35 euro to take us to the caves and back. Since we had to rent two taxis, the cost would have been 70 euro. That was a little more than we wanted to pay. After looking at renting a car, or scooters or taking the bus, I decided I would just ride my bike and meet them there. So all the girls got in the cab and I followed on my bike. The taxi driver was quite surprised when I showed up just a couple of minutes after he did. The distance was not that far and the road was pretty level.

The first stop was an amazing underground lake. It looked more like a movie set from Phantom of the Opera than a natural grotto. The water was crystal blue and the air felt refreshingly cool to my hot skin. You could see 90 feet to the bottom without any problem. They had us get into a rowboat and a guide took us around the lake and into the cave. I asked him if he would sing to us, but he declined. He didn’t want to upset the fish.

The second cave is just up the road about 8km further. This cave was a big underground cathedral of stalagmites and stalactites in colorful hues of yellow, orange and creamy white. They looked like melting ice cream cones. The cave is a very big room that at times has been used for classical concerts. I can’t imagine the wonder and excitement of looking down a small opening and discovering such a wondrous site. I am sure I would vacillate between keeping such a place for myself and telling all of my friends, knowing that it would never be quite the same again. The girls got in the taxi to head back to the boat and as I was getting on my biking helmet, I see this nice Greek with broad shoulders and defined chest wearing a swimming suite that kept staring at me in my biking clothes. Well it isn’t the first time I have been stared at over here, so I don’t think much about it. He crosses over to the parking lot where he has a RV parked. I am just a bit curious what might happen. I guess I saw that hungry look every gay boy learns to spot when he feels something is up. Well the guy comes out of his RV with just a towel and starts drying himself off showing off his dick to me. I just had to investigate a little closer, so I rode my bike over to where he was. Evidently he was hoping for just such a move. He grabs my dick in my biking shorts and gives it a big squeeze. The next thing I know, he has my dick in his mouth and is giving me a much-needed blowjob. I don’t think he spoke much English, but we really didn’t have much to say to each other. Besides, his mouth was full anyway. He couldn’t get much in his mouth, but what wouldn’t fit, he grabbed with his hand. It didn’t take much for me to give him a taste of what he seemed to be waiting for. We both grinned as I stuffed my dick back in my biking shorts and headed back to the boat.

The next day, we headed to a beautiful beach strung out along the coast. I feel like we are living in post cards most of the time over here. It is everything you want a Greek beach to look like. The water is warm and a turquoise color. Blue and white umbrellas all lined up like soldiers in formation dot the beach. And most of them have a bronze Greek god in a tight speedo soaking up the sun under them. Their golden skin, toned bodies, dark eyes and oodles of curly raven black hair make them pretty good eye candy to take in. I have flights of fantasy on a regular basis over here.

Diving Through Liquid Sapphire in the Caves of Lefkas

Lefkas is a medium size town that was mostly leveled in an earthquake in 1953. They rebuilt the town stronger and better than ever. It still has a unique character to it. When they rebuilt, they used a lot of corrugated metal in the buildings. Strangely it works pretty well. There is a big downtown street that is just packed at night until about 1am. The Greeks like most of Europe stay home until about 7 or 8 pm. Then the whole family goes downtown and mingles with friends and neighbors. They walk among the shops eat gelato and sit in the cafes until about 1 in the morning.

The next day, we hop a bus to Dessimouon the other side of the island where we rented a boat to explore all the little islands scattered around the area. Across the channel is the island of Meganisi. We found a private beach where we snorkeled and swam and laid in the sun. It would have been fun to strip down with all of you and swim naked in the clear water. Then we took the boat further south to these incredible caves. You can take the boat in some of them but most you have to swim into. When you dive into the water here, it is like you are diving through liquid sapphire. The water is crystal clear with a blue tint to it. It is that blue tint that is found nowhere else on earth. Streaks of light shine down through making it even more magical. The first cave seemed to end at a wall. I climbed up the wall and looked over. The cave continued a little longer so we swam under the edge and into an opening on the other side. I felt like a kid exploring the wonders of some lost treasure. Light streamed in from the top and lit up this small circular pool of water. Some of the caves you would swim back as far as you dared until light and nerves ran out. It is a little creepy swimming into pure blackness. We took turns so that someone stayed with the little motorboat. It was all fun and games until Lindsay starts shrieking. She saw an eel in one of the caves and that was the end of exploring dark caves underwater. I tried to assure her that eels are very shy and hide from their predators because they are not very protected. Science does not matter when talking to a female that just saw an eel. I will make a note of that.

The next morning the girls headed to Milos, one of the top 10 beaches in Greece. I stayed on the boat to meet with an electrician to figure out why our windless was not working right. The windless raises and lowers the anchor. In Greece there are not always slime lines. So you have to put your anchor out and back into the quay then tie off. It works well unless other boats cross your anchor line, then it can be a bit of a job untangling things. I have learned to just be patient and have the boats leave in the reverse order that they came. It seems to solve the problem. He fixed some cable and we were back in business.

Paxi

We left the big city life of Corfu and headed to the tranquil island of Paxi. Dotted with a few fishing villages, this little island has more than its share of captivating views. We pulled up to the quay of a small town with fishing roots that have long been grafted into tourist catering. It is an easy transition with the quaint village architecture dating back from centuries gone by. We rented scooters for 15 euro and headed to a couple remote villages on the other side of the island. It was the tucked away beaches and isolated beaches that drew us there. And we were rewarded with a day filled with both. The beaches in most of Europe is not the sandy beaches we are used to, but mostly small pebbles of smooth stones. Not quite as soft as sand, but it doesn’t get caught between your toes. Snorkeling right off shore, I see plenty of sea urchins and lots if fish that growing up I thought only lived in aquariums. If it sounds like we are having the time of our lives, well, we are.

Corfu, Kepkypa, Kerkyra, it’s all Greek to me

One of the first things you notice about Greek is you can’t figure out the name of anything. Even the Greeks can’t figure out the name of anything. First there is the Greek itself, which looks like fraternities gone wild. And the shirtless boys running around only reinforce that impression. Just the Greek alphabet on the signage, which doesn’t resemble anything you are familiar with. You could be looking at the sign for Athens and have no idea what it is saying. On the maps and some street signage, there is a western alphabet spelling of the name. The trouble is, there is typically two or three different western spellings for the same name. Hence, Corfu is also Kepkypa, and also Kerkyra depending on what book you are reading, or what map you have or what some Greek chooses to call it. The old town is very charming with the ubiquitous tourist shops sprinkled with a few nice clothing stores and great restaurants. We ate at a bakery serving freshly made Greek dishes still warm from the oven. A couple of Euro will get you a great lunch. The town has not one castle but two, complete with mote and imposing towers. One is called the new castle because it dates back only to the 15th century. The old castle is a mix of crumbling impressive structures with some relative new university buildings thrown in. I wonder if they offer storming castle walls and archery as PE classes. The second day we rented a car and drove to a blue lagoon Brooks Shields would have been jealous over. Sheer cliffs that young guys could not resist plunging off of into crystal clear blue water that you can see forever in. The scale the cliffs with a deftness that is fascinating to watch. Ok I also was fascinated watching their muscular butts work their way up to the top ledges. I figure it is ok to stare because they are climbing to get all the attention on them. We snorkeled and relaxed in the island sun. There are some places on this earth that seem to be carved out in the most breathtaking way. This was one of them. When the afternoon sun was more than enough for us, we went to another beach and rented kayaks and explored some deserted beaches and small caves. It does get hot here, but is usually remedied by a plunge into the ocean. We drove up to a near by town high on the hill. They would build up high to protect themselves from pirates in days gone by. This place does not get many visitors, and I am sure they looked at us in puzzlement as we digitized every falling down door and window in the village. We had our first authentic Greek dinner at a family restaurant. Mom and sister waited on us while dad cooked our meal. We felt more like we were invited into their home than their restaurant. It was incredible. I am already in love with Greek cuisine. We bought fresh produce with the locals off a truck and headed back to the boat. We stayed for three days.

Greece is the Word

After waiting for the winds and high waves to calm down a little, we headed to Greece. The trip across the open waters turned out to be uneventful. The water for the most part was smooth as glass and the wind only helped us for part of the way across until it dropped off to a whisper. We headed to Corfu, one of the bigger islands of the Ionian Sea.

Arrivederci

The winds have calmed down and the sea is a bit smoother. We check the Internet one last time to make sure the weather is in our favor and head out. Our sails are unfurrowed and our course is marked at 83° due east. We leave Italy and the site of land heading for the Ionian islands of Greece. I have grown to love Italy and the Italian people. When I think back upon these past couple of weeks all the sights we have seen are recalled like a photo album in my mind, but the people are recorded in my heart. They are very proud of their country, but are more loyal to their regions. They also have an incredible regard for their monuments of history, but don’t seem to mind spray painting graffiti on the walls of ancient ruins. They view foreigners as an invasion on this little piece of heaven, but welcome you into their hearts without reservation. There is a dichotomy about them that is both frustrating and endearing. Such kindness and love have been shown us all along the way. We could not have made it through Italy without their help and generosity. I will also miss the men of Italy. Strong, sexy and lean, they always look great in their bulging speedos and dark tans. Smiles come easy to them and there is an undercurrent that totally screws up my gadar.

Diamonds on the Soles of Your Shoes

Santa Maria de Leuca is at the very bottom of the heel of the boot of Italy. It is the closest port to our first Greek Island, Corfu. The town gets its name from the white limestone cliffs, the Greek Leucos meaning “white”. There is a monumental staircase by the harbor built by Mussolini as a ceremonial gateway into Italy. We plan on spending the night. 5 days later we are still here. The waves and wind have kicked up making our passage in the open sea a bit tenuous. We decide to error on the side of caution and wait until things calm down a little. It is not like it is a bad place to spend some time. We go to the market and restock up, head for the beach, and visit the grottos that are strung along the coast. I take a bike ride up the eastern coast along a beautiful road that clings to the side of a cliff on my left and blue ocean on my right. A string of resorts and quiet road make it one of those rides you don’t forget easily. I stop by at a particularly beautiful resort. The sea comes in through a narrow ravine. Locals sprawl out their towels and soak in the summer sun. The water is crystal clear, a beautiful turquoise. I brought a white swimsuite with me and change behinds some rocks from my biking shorts to my suite. The whole beach has a sexual undercurrent. Two guys in particular are checking me out. I wonder if they are gay. It is more difficult to tell. I go swimming for a while. The water is cool and refreshing from the ride. Afterwards, I hike up a short hill where there is a cement slab. Leaning back, I am just soaking in the sun and the atmosphere. These two cute guys that look to be about 19 head right where I am and put their towels down inches from where I am leaning. I am wondering what that is all about. And these Italians have no problem staring at my dick. There are none of those sneaking a peek before he notices I am checking it out looks. It is all a bit confusing to me since we are clearly at a public beach that is not exactly a pickup place. I stay there for about an hour before continuing on my ride. One day we rent a car for 35 euros and head for the town of Lecce.

Lecce, in my opinion is way more beautiful than Pisa. It doesn’t have a famous leaning tower, but the baroque churches and meandering stone-paved roads leading you through quaint shops are way more impressive. The facades of the churches look like a mad man tried to put as much detail in every square inch only to be followed by an even more insane man who found even more places to carve detailed ornamentation. They look more like wedding cakes than stone buildings. The baroque style spills out onto the streets with intricately carved balconies and impressive entryways. The old gates to the city and strong castle walls are still protecting the area from bad developments. The town is much as it was a couple of centuries ago.

We Have Hit Bottom

After sailing through the Straits of Messina, we headed to the town of Gallipoli. No longer headed south, we are now sailing east along the bottom of the boot. The old town of Gallipoli is built on an island perched once again on high cliffs. These towns really knew how to defend themselves. The new part of Gallipoli is built on a peninsula that now connects to the Island. As we sailed into port, we were told it was a fishing port and no room for us. The Italians make a lot of noise and you think their decision is final. Just when they sense they have won, they relinquish and tell you to go dock over to the right. No fees just stay for free. We throw the lines through the old cast iron rings on the dock that have been securing boats to the harbor for centuries. Four teenage boys curious about our boat immediately come to pay us a visit. The oldest has on blue squarecut trunks that clung to his body. And I have to say this kid was packing some serious meat. His dick was wrapped around the side of his leg. Quite honestly, it was the biggest dick I have seen in a swimming suite in Italy. I could tell he was well aware of his man-size cock. He kept pulling on it, making sure it showed all his length. His friends too were well aware that this kid was the top dog in the group. I ask him how old he was and he tells me he is only 14. Damn that boy is going to be one happy Italian. I could tell he was checking me out as well. There was this knowing glance between us that acknowledged that somehow there was a connection between us that was not shared by the other boys. I have seen that same look on guys much older than him. We invited them on board and they loved all the room. It didn’t take them long before they were doing back flips off the back and swimming under the main hull between the two pontoons. Just teenage boys looking for some adventure on a hot afternoon.

Once again, we are entranced by the narrow streets and Italian buildings aged with many winters until they take upon their facades a wonderful texture and subtle color tones of yellow and ochre. In front of the local church, teenage boys are smoking on the steps, slipping into a macho persona much older than their age. Girls flirt and hover hoping to be noticed. I have to say Italy has a whole subfeeling of sex all the time. And they learn it at a very early age. I think it starts when they learn how to walk. It is not just how they dress, which in general is all about exuding sex. It is also in their eyes and in their walk. They have no problem staring at what they want and not turning away when the message is clear. It is much the way you can tell in Home Depot that a guy is cruising you. Nothing has to be said, but the message is crystal clear. With the toll of a bell, the youth all gather in the courtyard for a youth meeting. Songs of redemption and swaying hands tell of a faith deeply rooted in tradition. The group is mostly girls, and it seems the guys that are there are more interested in picking up girls than being saved.

The next day we meet with the Raymarine dealer who comes and fixes our autopilot and depth gauge that was giving us problems. By lunch we are headed to our next port, Santa Maria de Leuca

Sirens and Mythical Monsters

The Strait of Messina separates Sicily from the mainland of Italy. It has been a place of mythical stories since the voyages of Odysseus. He records in the Odyssey of having encountered monsters and demons that could swallow whole ships and pluck sailors from unwary ships to devour. And if that isn’t enough to throw at you, there are the sirens that sing songs to lure you into their clutches. The men were counseled to stuff soft bees wax in their ears to block the sounds. But if the captain wanted to hear their seductive vocals, he was to be lashed to the mast. And if he asked to be released, the men were instructed to lash him even tighter. My girls thought that might be a good tradition to continue, but fortunately they are not very good with knots.

With this legacy, we were a little intimidated by what lay before us. We wanted to make sure the weather was mild and the seas relatively calm. All the turmoil in the strait is caused by two oceans coming together. The Tyrrhenian Sea is warmer and less salty then the Ionian. When they meet in the strait of Messina, big whirlpools and eddies can form.

With all of this historic bad press, we enter with everything prepared and on top alert. But quite frankly, we didn’t really see much to even notice. There was a strong current that helped push us through, but we failed to see even a minor demon grabbing at our boat. I guess it helps to have two powerful diesels backing up your sails. You can power right through the wrath of powerful

Southern Italy and Lucky Charms

I can’t get over how beautiful southern Italy is. It is like a charm bracelet with each little hamlet a unique charm to be collected and saved as a memory. I have hear how beautiful the Amalfi coast is, but I didn’t expect it to be this way all the way to the tip of the boot. Each town has a storybook quality, rising from sheer cliffs and crowned with a stone church built a century or two ago. After the hustle and bustle of Genoa, Pisa, Florence, Rome and Naples, it is a welcomed change.

We stayed a couple of days in Maratea, which is in the middle of three small fishing villages that are perched on the cliffs along the coastline. You hear so much about the northern Chinqua Terra, but these unique towns are every bit as spectacular but without the tourists and souvenir stands. The girls went to the beach and I rode my bike from town to town. It was a steep ride and quite a workout. I have to do more riding. I think I have lost some of my edge. And riding a bike is the absolutely best way to meander through these small towns. You connect with the landscape in a way you can never do from a car or train. I rode down to one of the beaches and hung out for a while at the local refreshment stand. The guy that ran the stand was an Italian hunk. He served me with his shirt off and an incredible body. I kept trying to think of more things to order from him. While I was sitting there, 5 speedo dressed 20 something Italian boys go walking by. I wanted to follow them, but thought it might be a bit obvious. My patience paid off when they walked back past carrying a small changing room that was being relocated to the beach. I have to say hurray for speedos. They look so sexy on guys that are that age in particular. Everyone at the refreshment stand is very welcoming and they don’t laugh very much over my communication skills. I think I laugh more than they do. It is pretty feeble, but all in good fun.

The next day we boated past two or three ports that I would love to throw my anchor around, but we are trying to at least pretend that we are making our way to Greece. I think I could spend a month or two just hanging out and enjoying what this region has to offer. Our next port is Tropea, another precious memento to look upon and treasure. It to is built on sheer cliffs with the harbor down below. You have to climb 200 steps to get to the city above, but it is worth every step. It is like walking into a living fairytale, or maybe I am just out of breath a little. I rationalize an extra gelato every time I climbed it. The main part of the old town is built like a cross with two main streets intersecting and anchoring the majority of the action. As is pretty typical of Europe the crowds start descending on the place a about 10 every night, and are there way after we leave at about midnight. You see families with little kids hanging out and enjoying the social mingling. I wonder when these guys sleep. It doesn’t seem to matter much if it is a weeknight or the weekend. Of course I play this little “I wonder if he is gay” game with every single guy I see. It is hard to tell when the guys are wearing stylish clothes and flashing easy smiles. While I was buying yet another gelato, about 4 cute guys were laughing at my pronunciation of the local flavors. It just made me want to mispronounce the flavors even more

We had planned to spend two days there, but ended up staying three. It was partly because of weather and partly because we couldn’t tear ourselves away from the place.

The long and short of Capri

Is this where those pants that are either to long or to short came from? Across the bay of Naples lies the small island of Capri. Once a small fishing village, little remains authentic there now. It has become a major tourist get away spot. A continuous stream of ferries arrives dumping tourists at its doorstep on a daily basis. The harbor is very small and very crowded. They had no room for us, so we tied up outside the harbor with two lines for safety on a buoy. There were several other boats tied up also. It looked like a great place to be. I rowed our little dingy into shore, dropped off the girls and then tied up to a small buoy right of shore. We had a difficult time figuring out the bus system and how to get to the famed blue grotto, but finally took the funicular up the hill and had a delightful lunch at one of the local restaurants. Our next move was to catch a bus down to the blue grotto. We looked down at the bay to check our boat out, and it was nowhere to be seen. With that small gut ache that you force down and deny it is there, I decide to go back to where the funicular was. I knew we could see the boat from there because we took pictures overlooking the bay. It was not there. That gut ache immediately blossomed into full panic attack as I went back to the girls and told them…it’s not there. We all made a mad dash back down the hill, willing with all our might for the funicular to some how speed up its steep decent. Trying to figure out how or even what to report to the authorities, I finally was directed to the Coast Guard. The guy looks up at me and says your boat has been towed to the harbor. It broke loose from the mooring and was headed for the rocks. I don’t know if it was damaged, but it is still afloat. There will be a fine for this. Come back when you have had a chance to inspect everything. He asks one of his sailors to take us to the boat. With dread, I follow sheepishly this all white uniform that has a walk all its own. Not fast, not slow, but very determined and precise. I did not know if I wanted him to hurry or to take his time and delay the bad news. The bad part is I kept going back and forth about being concerned with my boat and looking at his rather beautiful ass in those tight white coastguard uniform. Those guys can look so sexy. When we finally got there, I inspect the boat, and not a scratch on it. I thank God and included all the Roman gods just incase that everything was ok. We go back to the coast guard office to fill out the report and find out what the fine would be. As it turns out, the buoy itself broke loose from its mooring with my lines still tied to it. As the guy is filling out the report, he realizes that it is my birthday. With a nervous laugh, I say I am not sure if it is a luck birthday or unlucky that the buoy broke loose. He looks up at me and says, well let’s make it your lucky day, I am not going to fine you. Good luck and have a great time in Capri. You gotta love the Italians. When you are most in trouble and down, they come to your aid. We spent the rest of the afternoon putting together big fruit baskets with lots of goodies in it to give to the coast guard and to thank the people that helped save our boat. We ended up staying in the harbor for a couple of nights before moving south once again.

What is all this stuff falling from the sky…cough…

Our next stop takes us to Pompeii and Herculaneum, two cities destroyed when Mt. Vesuvius blew it’s top around 79 ad. People were so caught by surprise that many were buried in soot and ash before they knew what hit them. While the tragedy wiped these two costal towns off the face of the earth, it left a historical record of ancient Rome unique in the history of the world. Pompeii is huge and excavation has been going on there since the 1700. Most of Herculaneum has been dug up just recently and there is about 3/4th of the city yet to be exhumed. Between the two, Herculaneum is much more intact and filled with a more complete picture. You can see how the interior walls were painted in most of the buildings. They are very beautiful with individually designed decoration in each room. No two rooms are painted the same. The bathhouses and some of the homes are very close to how they were left, frozen in time for centuries. Floors have intricate mosaic work that shows the artistic level of the civilization. With a little dusting shops could reopen for business without much trouble. They even found cupboards with the food still in them. And the people? So caught by surprise that they were still sleeping. The archeologist injected plaster into the cavities where the bodies were to create an exact cast of what the people looked like and to some extent how they dressed. The most different thing about them is they are pretty short, around 5’. I loved both cities. If you only have time to see one, I would recommend Herculean. While it is smaller, it is much more complete and takes longer to go through because of the detail that can be found there.

I do have to tell you about something that happened on the train ride from the port to Pompeii. It was a crowded train and there were no seats left. I climbed aboard and knew I wild have to stand the whole way. So of course, I chose the cutest guy to stand next to. The train was bumping along and the guy was holding a folder in his arm right next to my dick. When the train would bump I could feel his arm press into my dick. I didn’t care and didn’t shift positions. I guess he liked that because he started pressing his arm into my dick even when the train was not bumping. Well I could feel my cock start to get hard and heading south down my shorts. I am sure he could feel it growing as well. Because the next thing I feel is his hand squeezing my dick. He still held on to his folder with two of his fingers but the rest of his fingers were feeling the entire length of my cock. I pretended nothing was going on and so did he. He must have liked what he felt because he started squeezing the end of my dick jerkin me off through my shorts. I was so close to shooting a load, but knew that would be a bad idea. It is amazing what you can get away with on a crowded train. I don’t think anyone knew what was going on. Our stop finally came and I got off, no just off the train. He just smiled and said chow. These Italians are so friendly.

Roaming around Rome

We had a little difficulty finding a berth in Rome, but finally found space in the port close to the airport. Once again, the Italians threw us lines and helped us get situated. It turns out Luigi who manages the port became our best buddy, helping us find grocery stores, taking us to the laundry and making reservations for us at a nearby restaurant. It was all pretty incredible since he didn’t speak a lick of English. We are all getting pretty good at charades. Rebecca’s Spanish is helping a little as well. She seems to understand most things and is picking up the variances of Italian enough to get basic ideas across.

What can I say about Rome. It is a huge city with traffic everywhere. Even the sidewalks are not safe. It’s history is sprinkled throughout the streets. You begin to think nothing of a 2000 year old marble column lying around. The old Roman forum and city center is still there, in various stages of decay. There was certainly nothing like it anywhere else in the world during that time period. Grand plaza’s with historic fountains surprise you on a regular basis. Churches with works of all of the renassance painters are a regular site. There are statues of naked hot guys everywhere. I don’t think they wore a stitch of clothing because all of them are naked. I try not to look at them too long. It has been way too long since I have been with a naked guy. It is a little difficult playing around when traveling with your kids. I walk down the streets of Rome and see plenty of very hot guys. The Italians seem to exude sexuality about them. You can feel a sexual tension in the air all the time. It is hard to take it all in. There is greatness in Rome that will never diminish with age. It kinda soaks under your skin and you walk away with a feeling of power and greatness that once was alive whose influence is still all around us today.

St. Peters is awe-inspiring. It is so huge. And the art is hanging in every nook and cranny. The Vatican has probably the largest collection of Greek and Roman art. There are room after room filled with statues that were taken by the church. And without the Catholic church, a lot of it would have probably been lost. The sad part is some pope decided that all these naked statues was causing way too much lust so he had all of their dicks hacked off with a hammer. Virtually every one of them have been desercrated. The guy must have been a major closet case. We climbed 544 steps to the very top of the dome through very narrow passages. It is not for the weak hearted or clastrophic, but the views are a great reward.

I have seen pictures of the Sistine chapel all my life, but I still was not prepared for it’s beauty. The depth and perspective is something that really doesn’t translate to a photograph. It is amazing how Michelangelo got such dimension. The figures look like they are reaching towards you. Not bad for a guy that claimed he was a sculptor not a painter. I was surprised when the guide told us that Michelangelo was gay and his main motive for painting the Sistine ceiling was because of his tortured feelings about being gay. He could never turn down a request from the church. And his scene of the last judgement shows torture only a gay guy that felt condemned by God would understand. There is a self portrait of him painted with his skin pealed off of him. I guess he never got comfortable with being gay. It is sad that he lived such a torchered life. I guess this guilt stuff has been going on for a long time.

My Slant on Pisa

When visiting a foreign country, it is thrilling to see the monuments of past glory days. Architectural feats executed so many hundreds of years ago are a marvel to behold. But what tugs at your heart is the people themselves. And so it will always be when I remember Pisa. We chose to stay at the closest port to the town of Pisa. Pisa is slightly inland, but there is a river from the ocean that goes a couple of miles from the town. It is a bit of a challenge. Very shallow, in some places just a couple of meters deep. The other challenge is the fishing nets. The Italians strung high cables across the river. They then have huge fishing nets on a frame that look a little like upside down umbrella’s. The nets slide along the cable and drop in the river to catch the fish. The trouble is, the cables almost caught my mast as well. When we passed under the first set of cables, it was inches away from my VHF antenna. There is not really any organized harbor on the river. It is more like rambling docks owned by a dozen different people. All of them looked completely full. But luck would have it, we found just one space and pulled in. It was lunchtime and we decided to make a quick meal of baguettes, cheese and chicken. While we were eating, a local guy came up to us. He didn’t speak much English, but he did better with Spanish. So we had Rebecca talk to him. It turns out he spent a couple of years in Brazil and spoke Portuguese. Close enough. He told us, that the spot was not vacant. The owner was just out sailing and would be back in an hour or so. Seems like our luck was a bit short. But then this guy started making calls to all of these marinas up and down the river. Then he told Rebecca and me to get in his car and we could go talk to a few of the owners. He drove us to several marinas, but no luck. We thought we might have to just anchor out in the river and were resigned to do just that. Then his friend called and told us we could stay up the river a bit further. So the guy tells us he will go with us on our boat and help us negotiate the deepest part of the river. As it turned out, the water lever, while very shallow was not the problem. There were two more sets of cables across the river. Going up further, they just got lower. We nudged up next to them hoping it would not hit my wind gauges. The mast cleared them by literally inches. The VHF antenna bent back as we tenderly passed beneath. He showed us the marina and the empty spot. It looked like we were home free. Then the trouble began. As I passed by one of the docked sailboats, my propeller caught his slime line and wrapped up tight enough to cut the engine. Because the river was so shallow, the lines were just below the water surface even at quite a distance from the boats. Not only was I caught, but also I didn’t have much control as we slowly slid toward the docked boats, their anchors at the bow of the boats looking like angry teeth ready to rip the side of my hull. The Italians sprang into action, going to the bows of the boats and making sure my boat was pushed off, avoiding any damage to the boat. We managed to get a line on the left side of my boat, but the other side was still tangled. I ended up getting a mask and flippers on and going down to try and release it from the prop. It was very tightly wrapped around. So the owner of the marina gave me his knife and I cut the rope free. Once it was cut, with a little effort, I managed to free it. The four guys that were on the dock all helped to secure the boat. I was relieved that everything worked out ok, but also overwhelmed with the kindness of these strangers. I think there is nothing more charitable then helping a complete stranger. It shows a side of humanity that we sometimes are not sure is still there. The guy that drove us all over just to help us find a spot, and these other guys that were willing to do what ever they could to save us from a very difficult situation. When we were ready to leave, I gave the owner of the marina a pie that we picked up in Pisa, and in simple English and broken Italian, thanked him and his friends for helping us. Just as we were shoving off, he came out with a bottle of wine to wish us well on our journey. I didn’t have the heart to tell him we don’t drink wine, but thanked him graciously and was again overcome with a grateful heart. It was worth more than all the monuments and cathedrals we saw during our stay there. No matter how grand a cathedral is, the outreach of love is always more grand. Grazie.

Oh yeah, Pisa and Florence.
For the most part Pisa is just a big city where people make a living and enjoy life. But hidden amongst all the hustle and bustle of the city is this little oasis that is so beautifully designed it takes your breath away. The infamous leaning tower, the grand baptistery and an even more monumental church anchor a grand plaza making it one of the most beautiful spots we have visited. And wow is that tower leaning. It looks like it is defying the laws of gravity. It started to lean even before it was completed in 1372. The architects tried to balance out the lean but with no avail. Not only does the tower lean, but the baptistery and church also lean. I guess this was just not the best place to build. Different attempts have been tried to stop the leaning. For a while big cables attached to 600 tons of lead weights buried in the ground were used, but it continued to get progressively worse. A couple of years ago, they ended up taking out some of the dirt from the high side and have managed to stabilize the structure for the time being.

Pisa is mostly a university town, and has been since the time of Galileo. Lots of marauding scooters and bikes barreling down the busy narrow streets. And lots of hot guys running around in shorts and tee shirts. Great shopping and great people watching. There is something about Italian guys. A confidence that comes from within that is very sexy.

The next morning, we caught an early train and headed to Florence, which is about an hour and a half away. Florence can only be described in terms of magnificent, astounding, monumental, and impressive. Buildings with intricate designs adorned with grand sculpture are everywhere. And at the center of it all is Michelangelo’s masterpiece, David. And I have to say, David is quite the stud. Chizeled the way only a gay artist like Michelanglo could cut him. He managed to sculped out perfect abs, an ass that every top would drool over and nice bicepts. Yeah you gotta love this piece of stone. We went to the Uffizi gallery, which houses the greatest collection of Italian paintings anywhere in the world. Giotto, DaVinci, Raphael, Rubens, Titian and Michelangelo are all there. In fact it holds the only surviving easel painting Michelangelo ever did. There are also a slew of sculptures up and down the halls. The whole town has a lot of homoerotic pieces. Big muscular guys being attended to by young boys worshiping the bulging muscles. Centars wrestling with perfectly formed athletes. It must have been something else going to the gym back then. You begin to think that all the guys back then were chisled to perfection. The wait to get into the museum is long, and the collection massive, but all well worth making your way to this art Mecca. I felt like I was walking through the pages of my art history books hand in hand with these sculpted gods.

The other not to be missed museum is Accademia, which houses the infamous David. Besides this masterpiece are a room full of works Michelangelo did in his later years. They are a series of sculptures that are still immerging from the stone. The part that is immerged is very finished and very beautiful, while the rest of the form is still waiting to be released. I find these very exciting pieces. I personally think by not completely finishing the piece you get a sense that Michelangelo was not so much sculpting as he was releasing the figure that was trapped in the block of marble. If you love art, Florence is its birthplace. If you love sculptures of lots of naked hunks, this is the place for you.