Postcard from Arezzo - postmarked 21 June 2025

While strolling about in Florence, I felt fortunate to stumble across a few hundred shady characters dressed up in Medieval outfits. I quickly noticed that they were grouped according to the colours of their outfits. From jesters to jousters, drummers to trumpeters, and archers to swordsmen, they wore outfits sporting a pair of colours, unique to their team. Later I learned that there were four teams, or four quartieri, neighbourhoods, that competed each year in a Medieval reenactment of various events. Before long, an orderly parade emerged out of the chaos. It was too hot to stay out in the sun much longer however I was mesmerized by the realistic, elegant costumes, one quartiere after the other parading, with drummers drumming and trumpeters trumpeting. It was sensational! 

I possibly missed a highlight event at the parade's destination, I learned a few days later. Normally, I'd have informed myself, however I was seriously overheating in the 38C sunshine. It occurred to me that somewhere, there must be some jousting matches, as there are apparently a few annual Medieval events taking place in Italy. Now, that would be fun, I thought! I continued imagining this possibility...

 

Fast forward one week. I am in the front seat of the minibus heading back to Florence after a week of heavenly cycling in Tuscany with TrekTravel. Our driver, Marcello, and I are chatting half in Italian, half in English, when he, out of the blue, decides to tell me about a huge Medieval festival tomorrow in Arezzo, an hour away by train. This town also has four quartieri that compete in various competitions ending in a spectacular display of jousting! It is tomorrow and only an hour away! What a stroke of luck... Let's go!

In the next few minutes, I Google the event to purchase my ticket to see the 9:30pm jousting event. But wait, it is all sold out! I tell Marcello about this disappointing twist of fate. He replies, "don't worry, I'll call my son." Yet another twist in the tale: his son, Alex, is one of the organizers of one of the four quartieri, Sant’Andrea. The others are called Santo Spirito, del Foro, and Crucifera. Marcello leaves a voice message as we motor along. Alex replies to the voice message an hour later, directly to my phone, that a ticket is being put aside for me. Another stroke of luck... tomorrow I am going to see real live jousting!

 

The free portion of the day's events in Arezzo, the parade and various performances, start at 6pm according to Alex. However ChatGPT informs me of something important going on at 3:30pm. I can find absolutely nothing on the Internet about the day's program, so I aim to take the 2pm train. But first, with my morning free in Florence, I head off to see Michaelangelo's David. Here, too, tickets are sold out online for both today and tomorrow. Sound familiar? I walk over to the Accademia Gallery anyway, to learn that I can stand in line for a while and buy a ticket. A hustler sees me circling around the different queues and approaches me. For an extra 5 euros, he will sell me a ticket whereby I can walk right in. Sold!

Admiring David and seeing jousting, both at sold out events, on the same day! Fortunately, it is air conditioned inside the museum, so I linger in front of the many statues, busts, and huge paintings before arriving at David. I sit on a bench in front of, and then on another behind David and admire the statue. I imagine, if this is David, how big Goliath would need to be, to remain in proportion. Did you know that David's sling is also etched into the statue as it is draped over his shoulder and down his back? It is difficult to notice. I also learn that David’s head and hands are disproportionately large but nobody knows with certainty why Michaelangelo chose to do this.

 

As I hinted at earlier, ChatGPT was hallucinating. There is no 3:30pm event scheduled. Arezzo, maybe because of the high heat, was dead in the afternoon, no townspeople, barely a tourist, certainly no knights nor trumpeters to be seen. I make my way up the hill to the Cattedrale dei Santi Pietro e Donato to get out of the sun. Lucky break for me, a wedding ceremony was just then beginning. Organ music, the priest's benedictions, the whole nine yards, replete with a beautiful bride in white, of course, with a very long train trailing behind her, a groom, and 150 guests, all in a magnificent 850-year-old church. I stayed 45 minutes for the experience, angelic melodies, and cooler air.

 

I had decided yesterday to fly home tomorrow, three days ahead of schedule, and pass up spending those planned days in Sienna, due to the broiling heat. I changed my flight. So staying overnight in Arezzo became risky as my flight home was now at noon tomorrow. The last train back to Florence from Arezzo was at 10:45pm. I noted another one later, at 1:11am, on my train app, but GoogleMaps couldn't confirm this. Nor could Rome2rio.

 

The 6pm procession lasted 90 minutes. It was most impressive! Hundreds and hundreds of townspeople dressed up in elegant Medieval costumes, many with shields, spears, or crossbows. The musicians are all playing their instruments in unison, mostly drums and trumpets. Many flag bearers, priests and bishops, all marching in step and ultimately congregating on the terrasse and front steps of the very same church where two hours earlier I found welcome shelter from the heat. The costumes were dazzling. Before long, I easily imagine myself a peasant in Medieval times, watching in awe as the parade of important and powerful people file by, the rhythmic drumming overpowering my senses. You must add this phantasmagorical experience to your bucket list.

 

But let's jump to 9:30pm when the by-invitation-only big event starts. The crowds arrive, starting a half-hour earlier, taking their seats in the stands, built on either side of the path where soon mighty stallions will be galloping at top speeds. My gifted ticket placed me in the standing area, where I am surrounded by a couple of hundred cheering 18-year-old kids from the Sant'Andrea quartiere, each one wearing the team colours, green and red, on their identical loose-fitting scarves. I am wondering if I should have bought one, the better to blend in. The other three teams are clearly visible by their colours, too. Two teams in my standing area, two teams in the other, across the way. A lot of yelling and cheering by the kids, supporting their quartiere.

 

The excitement is palpable, the first 25 minutes pass with hundreds of medieval warriors marching into the central arena, drums beating out their music, one quartiere at a time. The outrageous outfits, the brilliant colours, the thunderous drums and blaring brass sounds, the synchronous marching, my senses are all simultaneously overflowing with excitement. Only once in your life do you get to enjoy something novel for the first time; I know it and I am loving it! Following this, a 20-minute flag-waving and “flag-throwing” exhibition, a spectacular event under the glare of the bright floodlights, the likes of which I have never seen before. 

The jousting hasn't even begun and I know that I would have to leave any minute and make my way back down to the train station. I certainly got my "money's worth" by now and refuse to feel disappointed at missing the jousting competition. Just then, riders, one at a time, are galloping along the jousting path at top speed, faster than I've ever seen horses gallop before. In full regalia, they each in turn, extend their right arm as though holding a lance, ready to joust and then ride out of sight. The jousting exhibition would soon start and by 11:30pm a winning team would be selected by the judges. Alas, exalted, I exit the arena and head to the train station. I smile to myself, grateful for all my good fortune, and know that next time, I must buy a proper seat in the stands weeks ahead of time, after securing two nights in a local hotel.

 

As with nearly all my travels, every place I visit beckons me to return to see and experience what I have missed the first time round. Which is precisely how David lured me to return to Florence.

 

 

Postcard from Antarctica - Postmarked 15 January 2025 (the mail takes months to arrive from Antarctica!)

The excitement built slowly and surely from the time I decided to explore Antarctica, until my departure date, only two months later. When asked where I'd be traveling next, I had gradually become more thrilled to reply, Antarctica, and then wait for the expected look of disbelief. I get it -- I know not a single soul who has ever voyaged there. I began to feel like one of the crew of the starship, Enterprise: to boldly go where no man has gone before! One of the reasons for the sparse tourism there, aside from the hefty cost, may be that three flights were required, straddling 32 hours of travel time. I had experienced more than my share of missed connections on my most recent voyages overseas and so I decided to allow for an extra three days of margin on my flights south. Arrive three days early, to not be a minute late! The boat was sailing with or without me on the 4th of January. On the one hand, I missed celebrating New Year’s Eve at a terrestrial party. On the other I witnessed from above the night skies of Buenos Aires, lit up with fireworks for 15 minutes, as my second of three flights approached and landed there just after midnight on New Year’s Eve. The most magnificent welcome I could have imagined.

 

Arriving a few days early in Ushuaia, on New Year’s Day, the most southerly city in the world and departure point of my cruise to Antarctica, was a great decision, in the end. It was summertime with sunny skies and daytime temperatures of 15-20C. The city’s population has multiplied from only 30,000 to over 100,000 in the past 15 years, thanks to exploding tourism and the need to service all those tourists. The majority of travelers quickly head off to a backpacking adventure in nearby Patagonia, an order of magnitude less expensive than a cruise to Antarctica. Ushuaia is a charming city with basically one main commercial street lined with shops, restaurants and cafés, more than a kilometer long of them. All the streets are one-way for cars, a service to the pedestrians, too, as it simplifies crossing them. All the other nearby streets are where the hotels and lodges are located, and further uphill are the small, adorable houses where most inhabitants live. There is a palpable vibe in the city which is contagious: everybody is about to leave on an adventure of a lifetime, or they have just returned from one.

 

Ushuaia has a lot to offer for day-trippers, too. Kayaking, cycling, hiking and touring the nearby national parks. I rented a bike my first full day and decided to cycle to the top of a nearby hiking trail. My mountain biking skills are questionable and I was not too proud to walk my bike whenever a section of the trail became too steep or too scary. After sitting in airplane seats for a day and a half, it felt great to exert myself and the views from the summit were most rewarding as well. I did attract some attention as I was apparently the only fool on a bicycle. My next day, I went for a hike with a new friend to Emerald Lake and to walk on snow at the bottom of a glacier that feeds the turquoise lake. I would soon be seeing a lot more snow! 

Let’s get to the part that you have been waiting for… my cruise. It takes more than two days to sail to Antarctica. From the most southern point of South America, which I have just described, we have to sail further south by first crossing the dreaded Drake Passage. It’s known as the Drake Shake. Most crossings experience seas with 6-meter swells, and more. This, because of ocean currents from the Atlantic on the east, and from the Pacific on the west, and the narrow passage between South America and Antarctica through which these currents must pass. We are told that a few times a year, the Drake Shake becomes the Drake Lake as the waters are completely calm. Luck was not on our side and the 180 passengers onboard the Ocean Victory were all warned to take anti-seasickness pills before we left port, not to wait for The Shake. I followed the sound advice and it was clear from the sparse attendance at mealtimes for the next two days, nearly half the passengers spent this time in their cabins, seasick. The ship was rocking and swaying continually. At times it was hard to walk forward, hard to avoid bouncing off the hallway walls, hard to sit down and land squarely in the seat beneath your butt. Fortunately, I never got seasick thanks to the half portion of pills that I took, nor was I too drowsy from the pills. I had brought fresh ginger with me as I had read somewhere that ginger helps also. I chewed on a big chunk in the morning and in the evening, too. I conclude that the combination worked well for me. 

No sooner are we out of rough seas, I spot my first iceberg. What a thrill! I felt amazing! It’s quite different from seeing them on television or on a computer screen. Before long, they are everywhere, big ones, small ones, white, blue, and every shade in between. One day, out on a Zodiac ride, we saw a couple that were larger than a building, a hundred feet high and five times as long. I suppose ten times that lay underwater, too. Yes, we had a Zodiac ride every day, ten of us in each rubber dinghy. We are supposed to stay clear of the big icebergs as they may calve and when a big chunk breaks off and falls splashing down into the sea, a mini tsunami results. We often spotted whales and motored over to where they were swimming to watch from up close. One can grow tired of watching sea lions, but never of watching whales. One day we saw a pod of orcas from the ship, supposedly a rare experience. I feel terrible about this, but I went to the gym twice during the 10-day voyage, and one of these workouts was during the orcas experience. While I was sweating on the treadmill, unbeknownst to me, nearly everybody else was outside on the bow of the ship taking pics and videos. In life, you win some and you lose some. I know I’ve had my share of wins. 

There are also two landings every day. While half the passengers are zooming about in Zodiacs, the other half are ferried to land, ten at a time, where we disembark and walk around Antarctica for a couple of hours. There are always hundreds of penguins to admire. They waddle around, feed their chicks, maintain their nests, fish, swim and apparently, they play. It does look this way. We are supposed to keep our distance from them, 10 meters minimum. Often, however, they come walking along to within a couple of feet of where I am standing, before continuing on. Humans are not programmed into their DNA to be dangerous. So, you can stick to the law and not approach, but if you hang out in their path, one will surely pass right by you, affording you a rare close-up experience. There are a lot of other rules, too, to follow. One is that we are not allowed to bend down. I had to break this rule in order to get good photos, but then I got scolded by the staff who watch over us. Sometimes, a penguin stops at your feet and looks up at you quizzically. I was possibly the first human ever seen by one penguin or another. 

It takes your breath away to be walking on Antarctica. Everything is so white, there are mountains and glaciers everywhere you gaze. If it is sunny, the blue sky reflects off the sea and the icebergs take on a blue tint near the waterline. It is surreal. Overwhelming, really. And then, the penguins. They often appear to be planning on doing something surprising, like sliding down an icy surface and dropping into the sea, one after the other. Once, from the ship, I saw a column of penguins following one another on top of a huge iceberg; when they reached the edge, they all dove off, one by one, into the sea 10 meters below, beak first. Did I mention there are albatrosses flying around, too. They are big, beautiful birds. The entire tourist ecosystem is managed very carefully here. Each ship must make a reservation in advance before sailing anywhere and weighing anchor in a cove. In our five days visiting the White Continent, we never once saw another ship. Antarctica is huge with thousands of miles of coastline. There are only fifty tourist ships permitted along its shore at any one time. I understand that there are only 70 ships in the world outfitted for the cold weather and the ice. In summer, however, the temperatures are wonderful, close to 1C or 2C degrees. Although I had read that it is much, much colder at the south pole itself, even in summer. 

Get comfortable because the best part of the tale is starting. Only 70 passengers get to go out in kayaks, ten at a time, for an extra fee. I failed to win the kayak lottery and was not one of the 70 chosen. However, the first morning in Antarctica had rough seas with overcast skies and it was snowing/drizzling/windy outside during breakfast. These were borderline conditions for kayaking but the decision was made to do the tour in any case (it is cancelled sometimes). I imagined that one or two of the more timid kayakers reserved for that first morning would bail due to the inclement weather, so I went down to the third deck to learn that, yes, one person had cancelled! I suited up (everybody wears a drysuit in case of accidental capsizing), I took their place, and before long I was kayaking, two to a kayak, along with four other kayaks and two guides, one in front leading in his own single kayak, one in back in a Zodiac. I am kayaking in Antarctica! 

I have to pinch myself to ensure that I am not dreaming! Our kayak smacks into icebergettes, as we paddle. Sometimes a small piece of ice floats by that is completely colourless, transparent. These are supposedly at least 10,000 years old, as all the tiny air bubbles have been compressed out of the ice over the millennia while on land under hundreds of feet of ice and snow. Eventually, this ice breaks away and falls into the sea. We brought back a chunk to mix into some drinks at the bar. As it melts, we get to drink perfectly clean and pure scotch on the rocks. Let’s get back to the kayaks! We kayak the whole morning in the choppy sea, spotting whales nearby as they surface for a breath of air after first exhaling a misty spray from their blowholes. And we see seals, some large birds and many penguins swimming by, of course. The weather has improved with drizzle giving way to some intermittent sunshine, painting the mountainous shoreline with sunny spotlights. As the Zodiac idles far behind, it is completely silent, surreal again. I can dream of kayaking every morning in the Antarctic, possibly more rewarding than yoga and meditation that millions practice just to hope to achieve this very Zen feeling. 

Before signing off, I must relate how our evenings were spent. My expedition was nothing like the typical National Geographic style of cruise. Nearly all passengers were single, 30s, 40s and 50s, and ready to party. Three different pairs of DJs were flown in from the Netherlands, Germany, and the US. Sometime late in the evening, a dance party would break out. With world class electronic dance music, endless daylight (the sun never sets) offering no clue as to the real time, unlimited drinks, the parties wound down only sometime after 5am (I am told). I am unsure about other Antarctica cruises, however on this cruise, every individual had met and talked with nearly every other individual at some point, on land, on the water, or on the dance floor, allowing for unique, and occasionally long-lasting, relationships to form. 

Finally, I would be remiss if I omitted reporting one of my highlights: the polar plunge. Anybody who wanted to, had one opportunity to dive or jump into the freezing cold sea and have it captured on video. A few people even jumped in, naked. Ouch! One hundred and forty of us made the choice and thus it took three hours to complete the whole process. Why so long? Each person, in turn, had to wear a belt to which a safety line was attached. Just in case. Both the seawater and the air temperature are about 1C during the month of January. Cold enough for you? I attempted a back dive and a moment later my body froze and tensed up the instant I entered the water. It felt like 30 seconds before I surfaced but that pause is probably due to brain freeze. It was difficult to take my first breath for some reason. Am I in shock? The ladder handles and steps felt so very, very cold on my hands and feet that I forget to feel cold myself. I fail to understand why, but I never felt cold from that moment on. It was more a feeling of awe that washed over me and kept me warm somehow. I basked in the emotion, chatting with the others who were around me just inside the ship's hull. Afterwards, one by one, we quickly climbed up to the topmost deck to jump into the heated pool, and meet more new friends. 

I am slowly beginning to understand why the captain of our ship has been returning to Antarctica for 35 summers and is having difficulty retiring, in spite of his age. I had three long conversations with him during the voyage, and I can feel his angst. I am wondering if I would enjoy spending a summer working on such a ship, maybe doing a job like Steve’s, our onboard photographer.