Dear All,

We told the Divine Ms. O that we have been guessing what she will do next to which photo. She came up with this. Don sure looks happy. And it's not far from the truth. And no, we didn't guess this one.

Dear All,

Don and I climbed up the church tower to get an overall view of Sibiu. The inside of the tower looked like something from a movie set; it would never be allowed in the States - wonderfully risky. You can see some of the stairs ascending in the bottom left corner.


At the very top was the old bell ringer's quarters, which is now used for an office. The young man in the photo pointed out some of Sibiu's towers (again, built by the different Saxon guilds).


I just realized that this guy looks a little like Mr. Bean.



Bird's Eye Views of Sibiu


On the road to see the painted monasteries of Bucovina. It's a day's drive, and then 2 days more driving to Buchurest, where we fly back to Italy, and we almost decided not to do it, but how often do we get to Romania?


Sheep, shepherd and his dog on the road. And a word about these sheepherding dogs. They are the most competent, self-confident, smart and I would even say proud dogs that we have ever seen. They know they have a job and responsibilities and they take their job very seriously. They are busy, bright and bushy-tailed. None of that goofiness that you see in some American dogs. As you can see, we had pretty wet weather for a lot of our time in Romania. It was supposed to have been hot before we came.

Driving in Romania is quite the challenge. The "freeways" are basically 2 lane roads, some with better surfaces than others. Romanians drive them as if they are on the Autobahn (120 kph = 75 mph), only slowing down for potholes. There are deep trenches along the sides and sometimes more than occasional potholes, train crossings, horse carts, venders and other pedestrians. We went through villages where babushka'ed women came out into the road with trays of food. Would have liked to stop and try, but we would be risking our lives as well as theirs.

This is one of the worst roads we had to navigate in Romania. There was a sign erroneously claiming it was the way to a major city, and there were many trucks on it, but it only circumnavigated a high school soccer field. It took forever to make the circuit. Them potholes are deep.


It was probably inevitable, but we had a flat tire. Don managed to change to our bicycle tire spare on the narrow little road, and we drove to a Vulcanizare, which is Romanian for a tire shop. Not surprising, there are many of these in Romania. The guys at the shop, pounded out the rim - the tire wasn't punctured, but the rim was way dented - changed the tire and got us back moving in less than 10 minutes. Charge, about $3.50. Unbelievable.


Then there is the amazing scenery. It is sooo green and lush. And the people who have gone out of their way, way out of their way to be helpful, kind and giving whenever they possibly could.



Much love,

Era and Don

Dear all,

After the opening, Ron and Darlene took everyone out for drinks and a fairly large group out for dinner.   We had plates of different sausages, cheeses, some great vegetables and salads, and one Romanian delicacy, which only a few of the Romanians seemed to really enjoy: a bowl of refined pig lard. I spread a very thin layer on some bread when urged to try it, and ate it with the traditional accompaniment, raw red onions. The dollar was at its strongest right then. We were delighted to chip in as the bill for dinner for 12 with people eating and drinking copiously was about what you'd pay for a dinner for two in San Francisco.


Don taking pictures from the pulpit with Kirsten Bahrs Janssen's piece to the left.


Working on a Condition Report. This thangka is from the Dalai Lama's personal collection. That's Tenzin, Era, Darlene, Fernando and a guard.

Found out that our suspicions were correct, shortly before his change of heart, the director of the Contemporary Art Museum had been visited by representatives of the Chinese government on at least one occasion, maybe two. Apparently they made him an offer he couldn't refuse. It is amazing how much effort they are putting into trying to suppress this art exhibition which merely considers the Dalai Lama and is not at all anti-Chinese. This is not the only venue where they have tried and sometimes been successful at stopping The Missing Peace from being shown. I guess nobody should even think of or consider the Dalai Lama.





































Laurie Anderson's piece in process of being installed


View from our hotel: Sibiu and the Bridge of Lies. Don't stand on that bridge while telling a fib, or it will fall down - so they say... Note the eyes in the roofs of the houses.

When I thanked Killian Doerr profusely for stepping in and making the exhibition happen (by providing the other venues on such very short notice), he was very modest. He did say that his superior had asked him, Why are you doing this? He responded it was the right thing to do and that he was delighted to have the exhibition in the Church and the Museum. Killian told me something of the history of the Saxons in this part of Romania, and mentioned that his father had suffered a lot of hardship. He said, "We know what it is like to be exiles," referring to the Tibetans as well as the Saxons.


Brukenthal Museum Courtyard

A group of us got a great tour from Killian of the gigantic organ inside of the Church; really fascinating. It's a mammoth, handmade, hand-carved instrument. They have also kept a record of important papers connected with the organ, including what famous musicians and composers had visited through the centuries to play the organ.


The Brukenthal has the original of this very beautiful Jan Van Eyck painting, Man with a Blue Turban. Don was acting out what he thought the fellow might be holding in his hand and perhaps why he donned that blue turban.

Below is a photo of a very interesting tradition in Europe. This is a post which stands outside of a small house belonging to a guild of craftsmen and women who are in trades connected with, I think, building. They do an apprenticeship which lasts 3 years and 1 day during which they travel around and learn their crafts. Those who have come to live and work in Sibiu are invited to drive a nail into this post to commemorate their time here. Killian said a number of them have worked on the church.




Our hangout in Sibiu, Kaffe Vien, where they supposedly serve Viennese coffee, and where they do fly their pastries in from Vienna, which seems a bit absurd. Romanian pastries are quite good. That's Era, Liviana, who is a curator with the Brukenthal, Darlene, Ron, Corinne (sp?), Anna, and Tenzin. Corinne and Anna are curators from the Nobel Museum in Stockholm, who came down to see the exhibition. Maybe we will be going to Stockholm next!

Love from,

Era and Don

Dear all,

It is a miracle that The Missing Peace happened at all in Sibiu. A couple weeks before we were scheduled to go on our trip, we got an email from Darlene Markovich, one of the organizers of the exhibition, that the director of the Contemporary Art section of the Brukenthal Museum had suddenly and inexplicably gotten cold feet. He wouldn't talk to his own curators about it, he wouldn't talk to Darlene, he wouldn't sign any papers. Of course, the art was already shipped at great expense, and everyone who was planning to go already had their tickets and other reservations. We decided we were going anyway, as all plans were made and we were excited to see Romania.

None of us could understand what had happened with the formerly very enthusiastic director, had he lost his mind? had a very large and powerful government put pressure on him in Sibiu, Romania from all the way across the world? What was going on?


The ferula of the Evangelical Church in Sibiu; Lewis deSoto's reclining Buddha "Parinirvana" Don and my tapestry "Dharmakaya" and William Wiley's "Serpent Frightened by Abstraction." The Romanians have hung valuable Middle Eastern carpets in this manner in their churches for centuries

We had invited a Prof. Kessler, a Romanian art professor and curator who was visiting the Bay Area, to come to Magnolia and meet some of the Bay Area artists involved in The Missing Peace. It turned out Prof. Kessler was very well connected; he is a member of the Romanian Institute of Culture, a govt. post. Darlene contacted him, he knew all the personalities involved, and all the labyrinthine relationships. He said let me give it some thought as to the best approach. Prof. Kessler advised Darlene to go to the head of the Evangelical Church in Sibiu, Killian Doerr. The Evangelical Church owns the Brukenthal Museums; we found out only since the last 5 years. Darlene contacted Killian Doerr, the head priest, and said he could not be more helpful. He was going to make room in the Old Masters part of the museum and the Church so that the show could go on. So when we all met at Magnolia, it was a celebratory dinner. I was expecting a gray beard, but Erwin Kessler is youngish (looks early forties) and energetic. Many thanks to Maria Coffino who was hosting Prof. Kessler in SF and helped put everybody in touch with each other.


Kids fascinated by the Ryuichi Sakamoto and Fernando Aponte sound piece, where the music creates patterns in the sand. In the crowd: Tenzin, Era and Fernando.

So that was about 2 weeks before we were to leave. While we were on the road, I think while we were in Venice, we got an email from Michelle Townsend, the person who basically makes the exhibitions happen at the various venues. The pieces for the show, which had been shipped by an art shipper, were on a ship which had gone to Haifa, Israel first and were stuck there. Michelle had been doing everything she could from the Bay Area, but was basically pulling her hair out in frustration. While we were eating our pasta and sipping our wine in Venice, then relaxing in our beautiful apartment in Budapest, we would get email updates: the ship left on the last possible day from Haifa and was chugging its way across the eastern half of the Mediterranean and up through the Black Sea. The ship was going to dock in Costanta, Romania's port on the Black Sea, and they were going to drive across Romania (no small feat) and walk everything through customs. If necessary, could we help with installation. We said sure, anything we could do.


Don't remember all these artists, but that is Chuck Close's portrait of the Dalai Lama in a very large room at the Brukenthal Museum, Sibiu, Romania. This is before the opening.


It turns out that Michelle, Anca, a young curator from the Brukenthal, and a young employee of the museum drove all day and night over Romanian roads, which can be grueling in the best of circumstances. There were many complications, because of the change in sponsorship, different special licenses for this and that. In Michelle's words:

But wait, there's more.  Anca and I will leave Sibiu at midnight (this is the movie part--feels like we are in some film noir caper), in order to meet our Kunsttrans agent in Bucharest at *cough* 4:30 in the morning, and arrive at the customs office first thing.  Fortunately, we are being driven, so neither of us will be behind the wheel.  Anca's mother is making us sandwiches.  I am bringing Red Bull for the driver.  If all goes well, we get our official benediction, then the truck leaves.

Nope.  Not done yet--the Piata Mare is inaccessible to vehicle traffic.  In order to get the truck into the Piata, we need a special permit, which takes a day to get.  Once we know if the truck is coming, Anca calls her colleague Liviana, who then persuades local officials (their good friend the mayor, is unfortunately, out of town) to let our truck through.


Rupert Garcia's mixed media painting "Abu Ghraib" to the right; the room was still being installed.


After driving Romanian roads, there is no way that I would want to drive them at night: insane drivers, narrow roads, potholes, and very deep open trenches on the sides of the road. And speaking of inaccessible to vehicle traffic in the Piata Mare, which is the main square in Sibiu, Bucharest itself is almost inaccessible to vehicle traffic, but maybe at 4:30 in the morning it's better. More Michelle in a later email:

Just wanted to let you all know that through a mix of tenacity and divine intervention, we cleared customs yesterday afternoon and were able to bypass a queue of about 250 trucks waiting for clearance.  We made it back to Sibiu at 1:30AM, exactly 25.5 hours after we left.  More on this adventure in another message.  Our crates arrived in excellent condition at the museum this morning, and we began unloading at 7:30.  Just had a break for Austrian kaffee mit schlag and fabulous chocolate cake, made by Anca's mother.


Adam Fuss image of a Chrysallis looks fantastic against that red brocade.

Then these amazing people installed day and night, getting the show up in I think a matter of a couple days. Maybe Michelle can correct me if I'm wrong. So that when we arrived in Sibiu there was nothing for us to do, except take photos.

Speaking of arriving in Sibiu; Sibiu is a far larger city that Sighisoara. It was raining, lots of traffic, signs which seemed to point in contradictory directions. With no language skills, we finally managed to make our way into the old, medieval part of the city and found the only parking place. Don stayed with the luggage and I ventured out to try to find either our hotel or Tourist Info. I walked up an old stone walking street, into a plaza, and right into Michelle, Ron Haak and Fernando. That itself was a minor miracle, as they had all been madly installing inside the museum and were rushing back to the museum after a hurried lunch. Ron (with more on his plate than could be imagined) took the time to find us permanent parking, walk us to our hotel and get us settled in.


Squeak Carnwath's painting and a photo from the Starn twins in a little jewel box of a room at the Brukenthal.

The opening ceremonies for The Missing Peace exhibition were in the ferula of the huge Evangelical Church which is in the middle of Sibiu. Killian Doerr, who is the head priest and an amazing man, rang a Tibetan bowl (by rubbing a sort of stick around the circular rim) in between each speaker. The work looked great; that which was able to be installed. Unfortunately, there was not room enough to install some excellent pieces. The exhibition did not have the impact of seeing it all together as Randy had originally planned, but it was amazing to see the works installed in these centuries-old, elegant venues.


Killian Doerr speaking, Tenzin, Darlene, Michelle, Anca and others in front. Many more attendees in back with us.



Era and Killion (un-Photoshopped!). Killion Doerr is head of the Evangelical Church in Sibiu, and rumors are he may be made bishop some day. He's a great guy. This was before all the celebratory parties - afraid I've gained most of my weight back.

The Divine Ms. O just came out with the new, improved version.

We have often projected ourselves into those wagons as we drive by. It rains a lot here, and many of the roads are beyond bumpy. The poor horses and drivers of the carts have large semi trucks and sporty cars whizzing by them.

One cart driver saved our ass, by looking over his shoulder and waving us to slow, as there were 2 cars passing on a blind curve, and one of them was in our lane.

We think it would be very wise for Romania to have a horse cart lane only, and to do everything they can to save and support the horse carts. Otherwise, they will be gone in a short time. We've seen them hauling refrigerators, lumber, pipe, hay or grass, firewood, fencing, bee hives, people and empties as well. They are a pleasure to share the narrow road with, whereas the huge trucks are frightening and spewing constant fumes.

Hi friends and family,

For those of you who are asking, we will be getting to the opening soon, probably in the next installment. It is a long and pretty amazing story.

Brasov, where we just left (in our emails), Sighisoara, where we are going to, and Sibiu, where the Brukenthal Museum and the exhibition is located, are all Saxon towns. This is a history I was completely unaware of  until coming here. Saxons (Germans) were brought into Romania around 850 years ago by the Hungarian kings to help protect the mountain passes from Tatar and then Turkish attacks. The Saxons thrived until a Tatar invasion which left only 100 people alive in Sibiu. After this they fortified their towns. In an organized Germanic fashion they assigned each guild to build a tower and a section of wall around their towns. The guild was responsible to defend that section of wall and tower during attacks. So Sighisoara and Sibiu had the Ironsmiths tower, the Shoemakers tower, The Bakers tower, the Tinsmiths tower, etc., etc. I think Sighisoara has almost all its towers still intact.


The Tinsmiths' Tower and part of the defense wall, Sighisoara

Skipping way ahead, and I almost left this out because it is so depressing, but during WWII Romania sided with Germany. The Nazis came in and with the assistance of the Romanian government, carted off and exterminated hundreds of thousands of Jews and thousands of gypsies. As the Russians were advancing and the war began to turn, Romania changed sides and Antonescu made some effort to save the remaining Jews. Around 400,000 Jews in the Southern part of Romania were saved; the ones in the Northern part of Romania, under Hungarian control, were already gone. Too little, too late, Antonescu was executed after trial. I don't know where he was tried, perhaps at Nuremberg?


Furriers Tower, Sighisoara

After the Russians marched into Romania, they rounded up most of the able-bodied Saxon men and women (even though they had been living in Romania for over 800 years) and sent them to camps in Russia and to work in the coal mines where most of them starved to death. The ones who were left behind or managed to survive were stripped of everything, even citizenship. It's been a bloody mess here for a long, long time. Thus today the Saxon towns have very few Saxons left in them.


As for the Romanians, they seem to be descended from a mix of Roman settlers (my book says they were mostly Greek and Arab, but also Roman) and Dacians. Dacians were a mixture of different Asiatic nomadic tribes, similar to the Huns who settled Hungary and the Bulgars who settled Bulgaria. They look mostly European these days. A most helpful young woman at our hotel in Sibiu proudly said she was 100 percent Romanian; yet she has light blonde hair and very blue eyes.

Romania also has a sizable Hungarian population, and the Roma or gypsies.


Ropemakers Tower, which now houses the cemetary caretaker

Sorry, that was pretty depressing. Man's inhumanity to man (and everything else) seems to know no bounds. Fortunately, most people seem to be decent and kind; we just don't always have the gumption to stand up to the bullies. There is a reason why I am giving you this history, which will become apparent later.

When we were in Sighisoara (just overnight) we shared our dinner table with a Berlin producer and a Budapest actress who were making a movie in Romania about a Saxon man coming back to Romania. Some of these Romanian Saxons are slowly returning to Romania, mostly to Transylvania, which is the mountainous, forested country where (I think all of) the Saxon towns are.



The Clock Tower and Entrance to the Citadel - Sighisoara

I'm going to sign off with something a lot more light-hearted. We pass these horse-drawn carts frequently on the Romanian roads. I doubt an hour goes by without us seeing several of them. It's hard to get a good photo, though, as we generally whiz past each other. We saw an amazing cavalcade of about 8 of these wagons, all filled with colorfully dressed Roma yesterday. No good photo.


More later, I hope. We are leaving our good internet connection now, our super comfortable hotel in a northern Romanian spa town.

Love,

Era and Don

Hi friends and family,

These exotic names in the title are all locations in Romania.

We have had 2 additional "taxi" drivers in Romania, both were on the very dull side, both were named Igor; you know the type. The first one we ended up with as our train pulled in very late to Brasov, and he was a buddy of the man at Information, or perhaps a local charity case acquaintance. He had a car about as big as a postage stamp, not a taxi, and managed to get us to a hotel in my tour book, which fortunately had a room. The second one took us to the wrong location out in the countryside where we were supposed to pick up our rental car. Fortunately, we didn't have our luggage with us and managed to get to our car rental by running alongside the freeway for a short block or so.

Before we left Brasov, which is a very nice old Saxon town, we walked around the city center (where we saw the priest) and took a ski lift type cable car up the hill. Stalin once had this hill denuded so that he could spell out his name in giant letters - no ego problems there - but the trees have grown back and there is a giant Brasov sign at the top of the hill now. This is what it looks like from the back.



Before walking back down to the city through the woods, we were warned that a bear cub had been spotted on the trail the day before and advised that if we should meet one or its mother, drop what we were carrying and run in the opposite direction. That would be up the hill. Thankfully we didn't run into any bears as our legs were very wobbly after just walking down the hill.

Maria Coffino, who we met shortly before we left for Romania, and who is the only person we knew of (before coming here) who is at least partly Romanian, strongly advised us to drive into the mountains surrounding Brasov. This was a lovely drive, past Vlad the Impaler's castle, aka Dracula, and then up a very unlikely looking road, incredibly rutted and pot-holed, with many of the protective side barriers missing. In fact, Don was convinced that we must be on a wrong road, that it must be someone's private road to their farm. We persisted and were very glad we did. It was getting late and we didn't have a place to stay. The pensione Maria recommended was full, booked for a wedding. We wandered up to a house with a small sign "Pensiune Mamina" (Grandmother) and struck gold.


This truly is a beautiful area; it looks like parts of Switzerland. Nick and Paula (or Mamina) couldn't have been nicer or more welcoming. They fed us copious amounts of stuffed cabbages (delicious), sausages, pickles, bread, and when we couldn't eat all Mamina had served us she moaned in distress "You no like, you no like, OOhhh, you no like my food." It took a great deal to assure her that her food was absolutely delicious, but we were very full. They also brought out the home-made wine, home-made tuinca (tastes like grappa), home-made brandies, see picture below. Nick and Mamina posing with 3 water bottles, not containing water.


More later. We've got to go, and don't know when we'll see another good email connection.


Love,

Era and Don

Oh, I knew I shouldn't have eaten those pancakes on top of the schnitzel, the goulasch and the stuffed cabbage. And why did I drink all that palincka? Burp.


(Photo credit: Ms. Deborah O)

Love,

Era

p.s. Can you read the letters on the umbrellas? They say "Kronstadt" (the German word for Brasov) " Probably the Best City in the World." Don looked at that and commented, there seems to be some room for doubt in their mind.

Good-bye, Budapest.

Went to one of the owner's favorite cafes for breakfast: 2 cappucini and 2 very tasty cheese croissants. Total bill: less than $5.



We got into a cab and were whisked to the Ferigheny Airport. Luckily, no traffic. The traffic can be brutal in Budapest. Waited on the runway for an hour, for no discernible reason. Malev Air, Hungarian National Airlines, who are actually highly rated.

Landed in Bucharest's Otopeni Airport. My plan was to take the train directly to Brasov and not go into Bucharest, which I've heard has not much to recommend it and is snarled with traffic. I had been indirectly told in email by the Romanian Tourist Agency that I could do this, but when I think back on it, they never directly said I could catch a train at the airport. So they didn't actually lie when asked the direct question because, guess what? There is no train that comes even close to Otopeni Airport. So we had to take a cab into the boiling cauldron of Bucharest traffic. The driver seemed to have about 6 girlfriends, Don was convinced, because he was on his cell phone constantly while making death defying driving maneuvers which I would never, ever consider doing outside of a nightmare. Fortunately, he didn't get us into any accidents; especially fortunate as his seat belts weren't working.

Got to the train station with not much time to spare. We purchased 2nd class tickets as Frommer's said that they saw no difference between 1st and 2nd class on Romanian trains. Don't know if that's true, but we did meet the most interesting people on the train. I actually met and spoke with a young man for quite some time who told me he was Tatar and Roma (gypsy). I admit I was startled to hear that he was Tatar. I think of them as galloping across the Hungarian plains during the middle ages, living in their saddles, and maniacally attacking everyone in sight. All these fortresses we've been looking at were built to defend against these people. I figured they had all returned to Mongolia centuries ago or intermarried, leaving only a faint genetic whiff in the Eastern European makeup. This young fellow told me that no, there were actually quite a few still living near Costanta on the Black Sea coast, still keeping to their old religion (not sure what that is) and still speaking their language. He, Jonnie, was very intelligent, interesting, well-spoken, in English, no less, and worked for a nonprofit in Romania who helped the Roma people when they were discriminated against. I would guess that might be just about all the time, but I could be wrong. He said he is very busy in his work here.

In our compartment were 2 college students, also from Costanta. The young woman was absolutely gorgeous as well as sweet and the young man played basketball professionally for a Romanian team while also attending college. These two bright and attractive people laughed long and inordinately at our jokes (so not sure how bright they actually are), but fell into the pattern of making some moderately snide comments about the gypsies. I tried to tell them that in the next compartment was an intelligent, very nice man of gypsy heritage, but it just seemed to glide right past them. They couldn't hear or consider it.

I also met an old Romanian mountain man, who lived way high up in the mountains with bears, a few wolves and many foxes. We had no language in common, but a woman on the train kindly translated for us.

All this in a 3 hour train ride. I think I'm going to like Romania.



Priest, reminiscent of St. Francis, feeding pigeons in Brasov Square.

Love,

Era and Don

Dear friends and family,

For those who were not sure, that was not Don practicing for a new vocation upon a move to Venice; that last photo was produced through the amazing Photoshop skills of our friend, the mysterious Ms. Deborah O.





We agree with everyone who has been here and told us about it; Budapest is a great city. We feel that we barely had enough time to dip our big toe into it. There are fantastic buildings, beautiful bridges, great food, plentiful cafes, great museums, lots and lots to see. It reminds us of exploring Paris and London for the first time in the late 'sixties (in and just out of high school - we're not that ancient yet), before these cities were totally cleaned up and pristine, when they were still sooty and a bit crumbling, when the streets were not yet packed with tourists, and when prices were a lot less.


There was some serious money here at one time. Luxurious, highly decorated buildings in varying stages of entropy. Luxurious, completely renovated palaces side-by-side with bullet-ridden buildings.

Spent the good part of a day at the mammoth Budapest Fine Arts Museum. They have some wonderful Velasquez and many other works. There was literally almost no one there (see below).


Our apartment, which continues to be a joy and refuge to us, is in a small court with an old church and many trees, at the foot of a narrow (almost) walking street filled with great cafes. At the end of the street and a bit to the left is the also mammoth Central Market Hall, half French covered market and half Oriental bazarre. From the outside it looks very Hungarian, I guess. I do not yet have any expertise in Hungarian architecture.


Central Market Hall, Budapest. It's huge, but looks mammoth in this photo

(outside of market)

We ate at a restaurant which specializes in good Hungarian wine from its many wine-producing regions.


Era looking quite pleased that she's about to chow down on some salmon with porcini and gnocchi. Don has a duck breast in a Hollandaise sauce with a dish made of layers of pastry and vegetables. No dieting here.

Waundering the little streets, we went into an art gallery and met a very nice Finnish man (Ari) who dealt in antiques and was also showing works of prize-winning Hungarian art students. He sponsors students in the visual arts and music by providing scholarships. He is working on opening an art center with teaching facilities outside Budapest with some Finnish backers. Apparently, the Finns cannot understand Hungarian without studying it, but the grammar is similar. The next day we ran into Ari with some Finnish friends on the Liberty Bridge.


Era on Liberty Bridge

Climbed to the top of the citadel, one of the high hills on the Buda side of the Danube. According to one of my guide books, Budapest was once located on the great Hungarian plains, but after being attacked one too many times by Tartars, Turks and other invaders, the city was relocated to its present site on a high protected hill. The views at the top were stunning, but we didn't have long to enjoy them as the clouds rolled in, the heavens got active and we had a thunder and lightning storm. Just that morning, we had gone back to the apartment to get my sunglasses as the day was so bright. After huddling under the stone gate of the old citadel, we decided to brave the rain with our smallish umbrella, which Don hurriedly purchased for $5. We ended up getting hopelessly lost and almost completely drenched. We somehow managed to come down the wrong side of the hill, lose sight of the huge Danube River and wander into some residential and uninteresting business areas. By the time we got back to our apartment, Don was feeling a little chilled, so we decided to get warm and take it easy.

It's not all smooth, dry sailing on the road.

Love from

Era and Don

Dear friends and family,

We thought we were incognito, but our friend, Deborah O., unbeknownst to us, managed to get this shot of Don playing gondolier.

Love,

Era and Aldo (what the Italians call him)

Dear friends and family,

Venice is fairly unchanged in the last 10 years (we have been back at least one time since) and we don't really remember too well what it was like 30 years ago, except that it was shabbier and more smelly. The same beautiful buildings are still there in the same place, still beautiful and in a more or less frozen state of decrepitude (at least from 10 years ago), although I'm certain a lot of renovation and repair has been done over the years.


Bob Morgan, Ewa and Felicite could not have been kinder and warmer hosts. We are sorry we never were able to touch base with our friends Franco and Maria Ferrari. We heard from Susan Filter that they are going to Romania also. Maybe we'll run into them there!


Robert Morgan in his studio. (Don helped him document and color correct each of his paintings.)


On the Zattere.


Traffic jam.

We walked all over Venice; hardly ever choosing to take a vaporetto. It is such a pleasure for us to walk, especially in a city like Venice. The little streets and campiellos (small courtyards) are beginning to look familiar. I asked Bob, who has lived in Venice for probably 35 years, if he thought there were any little alleys or campiellos which he hadn't been through in Venice, and he said yes, although not many.


Era and Bob crossing by traghetto, with a somewhat reluctant gondolier.

We went to the Fortuny Museum today, our first visit there. The Fortuny dresses and fabrics were gorgeous. Also, they had an exhibition of samurai armor, always fascinating. I was interested to see them; curious to see the presentation. They had an impressive and very large collection of stunning armor on display. The colors melded beautifully with the Fortuny dresses, capes and hangings. A similar aesthetic. Bob told us that the Fortuny Museum used to be an art school, and that he had met Susan Filter there - long ago.

Our meals with the Morgans have been lovely mostly vegetarian and light suppers; a very nice counterpoint to our mostly heavy Italian pasta and sometimes meat lunches. Our last meal with them was quite amazing and elaborate: a roast guinea hen with a delicious, mouth-watering aroma and flavor, some beautiful organic cabbage, which Ewa had cooked with lots of fresh dill and lemon, baby potatoes, a salad, some of our Imagery wine which he had lugged from California.

We ate early as Don and I had to catch an overnight train to Budapest. I had read on TripAdvisor all sorts of people saying that whatever you do, don't take the overnight train from Venice to Budapest. When Don heard this, he immediately wanted to take it. Bob and others have been teasing us about thieves squirting knockout gas under the doors and through the keyholes, then rifling thru your luggage at their leisure. We also had to go to the ATM machine and gets loads of cash, as we have to pay for our Budapest apartment in cash (euros). Bob also regaled us with a story of visiting Poland and getting pickpocketed by a team of thieves on the bus. (I am typing this on the train right now, and I think Don and I will sleep on our valuables, although I'm really not that worried about it.)

Bob was so kind and insisted on accompanying us to the train station and carrying and wheeling my luggage. It involved wheeling to the vaporetto stop and then making a transfer. Don said he wanted to make sure we caught the train and didn't come back to stay with them for a still longer time.

On the train now in our little private sleeping compartment. Bob laughed when he saw our Hungarian train. He said they had forgotten to open the windows when they had to spit. Quite a contrast to the sleek Austrian train on the other side of the platform. Everything does look a little retro, but clean enough and neat. I stood as our train pulled out of Venice to salute the magical city. It's dark outside and our compartment does make a bit of a rattle. I just closed our door and the conductor admonished me to lock it. There are 2 bolt locks on the door and we are using them both.


No air conditioning or heat; thus the extra scarf as covering.

More later.

We did survive the journey to Budapest with life, limbs and worldly possessions more or less intact, although we were woken by uniformed guards numerous times in the middle of the night. The first was border control as we passed into Slovenia around 3 in the morning; then Croatia about 20 minutes later; then leaving Croatia about an hour and a half later; then Hungary about 10 minutes after that; and shortly following, another Hungarian official inquiring if we had anything to declare. No, surprisingly, we had not managed to pick up anything in Slovenia or Croatia. At each interruption Don's smile became broader and broader. He was so pleased at the absurdity of the situation. Sometimes he is really strange.


Our fabulously comfortable and luxe apartment in Budapest. Movie mavens (Era's movie group), note Leonard Cohen poster to the right.

Much love,

Era and Don