Italian Machismo and Roger’s New Toy

Carol and Roger arrived in Florence September 25th after a l-o-n-g but uneventful flight.  The next morning bright and early it was off to Casa della Bici to pick up Roger’s new toy. 

The fit was nearly perfect right out of the box.  A minor tweak to the seat height and position, and we were ready for the test drive.  But where to go?  Florence’s streets are a labyrinth of dead-ends, one-ways, and unmarked name changes that would only guarantee Roger would get lost less than five minutes after leaving the shop.

Sergio Guerrini, the shop owner, suggested Roger join his bike club the next day for their Sunday morning ride.  Roger accepted with trepidation…remembering his humiliation the year before when he went on a lunch-time ride in Lucca with a bike-shop owner and his friends.  One third of the way through the ride, they sent Roger home because he couldn’t keep up with even the laggards in the group.

Yet, there Roger was bright and early Sunday morning, ready to see if his new Pinarello was even a fraction as good as its reputation.  He waited outside the shop for the members of Squadra Guerrini (Team  Guerrini) to arrive and was relieved to discover the first guys to appear were two brothers in their late 70’s.  In all, a dozen men showed up for the ride, and all but one appeared to have seen their mid-century birthday at least a decade before.  Roger let out a deep sigh of relief.

As we took off, Sergio asked Roger if he thought he could handle a 75 km ride.  As anybody who ever went on a TBA bike ride with Roger and Carol knows, ride leaders always lie about how long a ride will be.  This Sunday Roger learned this is an international phenomenon.

We took off from the shop at a moderate pace.  Three kilometers out Roger realized he would have to keep up with the group because he was already hopelessly lost.  Sergio, as ride leader, assigned the best English-speaker on the team to shepherd Roger along.  His English was so poor we ended up speaking mostly in Roger’s pidgin Italian.  As our peleton picked up speed, it was a good thing both of us were breathing hard…because it prevented either of us from embarrassing ourselves with our language skills.

Ah yes, the pace did indeed pick up.  These dozen old codgers…Roger included…were tooling down the back roads outside Florence at 35 km/h (no need to have Google convert that for you, it’s 22 mph).  Every time a bike club of younger guys blew past us, Sergio upped the tempo in an attempt to keep up.  That lasted perhaps a minute, then we gave up and lapsed back…thankfully…to our previous pace.  Since no self-respecting Italian male…especially those in their mid-70’s…can suffer the indignity of repeatedly being passed by fellow cyclists (including a few women), Squadra Guerrini reverted to hurling insults at the other bike clubs as they passed.  Most were idioms or colloquialisms well beyond Roger’s grasp of Italian, or we would have recorded the most colorful of them here for your reading pleasure.

Using circuitous back roads, where the Sunday morning cyclists outnumbered the cars at least ten-to-one, we wound our way to the town of Vinci. 

Yes, it’s the birthplace of Leonardo di…  

About five years ago, Carol and Roger conned Greg and Ruth Berkman into riding our bikes to Vinci so we could see Leonardo’s birthplace.  When we got there, we were unable to find it.  This time Squadra Guerrini rode right past the house.  Unfortunately, the pace was so fast, there was no chance to stop and get a photo. So Greg and Ruth, you’ll just have to trust Roger on this one.

On the far side of Vinci, we started an 8 km climb that proves the old adage, “A bicycle’s only as fast as its motor.”  Roger showed all those other 70-year-olds what he was made of: he fell instantly behind the rest of Squadra Guerrini and dropped further and further back the longer we climbed.

Fortunately, the stop for coffee was at the top of the hill.  When Roger finally arrived, there were a hundred cyclists at the cafe.  It had seats for four patrons.  The club elbowed its way into the building and up to the bar, downed a shot of espresso, and was back on the road in less than five minutes.

Here’s where the real test of Roger’s Pinarello occurred.  After the stop for coffee, we started a 5 km descent.  The road was narrow and steep, with frequent switchbacks and no margin for error.  Those of you who have ridden with Roger before know he is normally a cautious descender.  On a brand-new bike, unfamiliar with the way it handles, Roger was going to be very cautious going down this hill.  

Most of those other 100 cyclists at the cafe flew by Roger as if he were standing by the side of the road.  As he descended, the bike felt good underneath him…very stable and not pushed around by the cross-winds.  Roger guessed he was going 25 to 30 km/h around those tight curves.  He finally mustered the courage to look down at his speedometer…51 km/h!

When Roger got down to the bottom of the hill, Sergio was waiting for him.  There were no witness to record who had the bigger smile on his face, Sergio or Roger.  Roger didn’t even mind that the promised 75 km ride turned out to be 95 km.

Mantova: City of The Gonzagas

There are many reasons to visit Mantova (Mantua).

It's often mentioned as Italy's most livable city.  It's won awards as Italy's "greenest city."

None of these is the reason we came to Mantova.  Carol insisted we go because of a project she had in an Italian literature class at UW (more about that in our next blog post).

Mantova is not on most tourists' radar.  Yet, it has a number of notable features.

Seven hundred years ago, city fathers surrounded Mantova with four artificial lakes to protect against invasion.  It worked!  It was never sacked by invaders.  As a result, the city has a rich architectural legacy...from Romanesque on...

...right through Baroque.

Mantova also has a rich history in literature and the arts.  The Roman poet Virgil was born in this city.  The site of his house...near this statue in his honor...is a landmark.

Mantova was well known to Shakespeare.  The city is mentioned in Merchant of Venice, is the site of Romeo's exile in Romeo and Juliet, and is the local for several scenes in Two Gentlemen from Verona.

Some argue the first modern opera was performed here.  

There is no argument that Verdi's operatic hero Rigoletto was a clown in the court of the Duke of Mantua.

This rich cultural history was made possible because of the four centuries-long rule of one family...the Gonzagas.

The Gonzaga family took control of Mantua in 1328.  They soon formed an alliance with the Sforzas of Milan.

In this famous painting (about which you will hear more in the next blog post) Ludovico Gonzaga (seated, with the paper in his hand) receives a message from a Milanese courier.  Mantua was the eastern outpost of Lombardy and a bastion that blocked the territorial ambitions of Venice.

A century later, Federico II was named Grand Duke of Mantova.  Thus began an impressive run of marital alliances with the great dynasties of Europe.  The Medici of Florence, the Hapsburgs of Austria, the Brandenburgs of Prussia, and the Bourbons of France.

When Napoleon invaded Italy in 1799, the Gonzagas lost their absolute rule over Mantua, but they continued to serve.  In World War I, this Gonzaga duke served as a general in the Italian army...winning the medal of honor for personal bravery.

The Julian Alps

In Slovenia, the Alps are called the Julian Alps.


After a week on the bikes, we decided to see the Julian Alps the easy way.


We hopped in a shuttle, and in 45 minutes were in Lake Bled...in the heart of the Julian Alps.

Lake Bled was first inhabited 5,000 years ago.


The Romans mined iron ore there for armor and weapons.


In the Middle Ages, monks built a retreat on Bled Island.

In the year 1004, the Holy Roman Emperor gave Lake Bled to the Cardinal of Brixton, who ruled there for hundreds of years.



A succession of Cardinals built this castle on a rock promontory high above the lake.

The view of the lake from the castle is pretty spectacular.

In the middle of the 1800's, The Austro-Hungarian Empire re-annexed the area around Lake Bled.

Wealthy Viennese built villas all around the lake, and it became a prime vacation destination for the Austrian elite.


Much like Lake Tahoe for San Franciscans, Lake Bled offers boating and hiking in the summer and skiing in the winter.

Today, small gondolas offer boat rides out to Bled Island.

A very pleasant place to relax.

Slovenia By Bicycle....or....Love Those Hills

Ljubljana is a cosmopolitan city, about the size of Tacoma, in a small, often overlooked, country.   The rest of the country---at least what Carol and Roger saw of it---was just plain small.


Our purpose for coming to Slovenia was to do a seven-day, self-guided bike tour.




To put the size of Slovenia in perspective, from the southwest corner of the country to the northeast is barely 300 km, smaller than the state of New Jersey.  From Ljubljana, you can get anywhere in little more than an hour.

The northern part of the country contains the Julian Alps....


...so, we chose to ride in the south.

How could we find 500 km of roads to ride inside the red box on the map, when the whole country is only 300 km across?

Here's how...




Day 1:  Crnomelj to Dragatus:  75 km and 800 m of elevation gain.


We got a ride from Ljubljana to our starting point, Crnomelj.  It was a straight 9 km shot from there to our destination in Dragatus.  But as you can see from the map to the left, we didn't take the direct route; our tour itinerary took us on what Carol calls "the scenic route."


If you look carefully near the green dot on the map (our start point), you'll see a bunch of squiggles.  That's because we immediately got lost.  We discovered following directions in Slovenia was not as easy as we'd thought it would be.

First, many of the roads are not marked in any way we were used to (when they were marked at all).

Secondly, when we couldn't pronounce the names of any of the towns on the map, it was hard to remember where we were supposed to go.

Eventually...and it was many days until eventually...we got the hang of it, and ended up limiting our wrong turns to two or three per day.



The countryside we rode through was beautiful rolling hills, dotted with small villages.  Two-thirds of Slovenes (about the same population as New Mexico) live in villages of less than 10,000 population.

Most villages were so small the addresses weren't based upon the street where the house was located, just a number and the village name.

Each village had a very prominent church, a few homes, and...often...not much else.

All along the road, we saw small chapels, usually very pretty, but always very neat and carefully tended to.


We were later reminded by one of our hosts, Slovenia has been many things over the years...Roman, Austrian, Slavic, Communist...but for more than the last millennium it has always been very Catholic.








Day 2: Dragatus to Oselinca:  78 km and 960 m of elevation gain.

As we headed out on Day 2, we realized we were skirting the Croatian border.  Roger's cell phone got a text message saying coverage was now provided by Croatia Mobile...at least that's what we think it said.

We were riding along the Kolpa River, which divides Croatia from Slovenia.  The farm you see across the river in this picture is in Croatia.

Everywhere we rode, we saw small sawmills, dozens and dozens of them.

It would be several days before we realized what all this wood was used for.

The further we went on this day's ride, the more remote the country became.  We went from pretty valleys and rolling hills dotted with small villages to stunning mountainous country with hardly any villages at all.

The "town" we stayed in this night had a hotel and three other buildings.  That was it.



Day 3: Osilenca to Markovek:  42 km and 900 m of elevation gain.

Carol and Roger were both pretty worn down from two hilly days in the saddle, so we decided to ride the "short option" on our third day.

Little did we know what was in store for us.


First we had to cross the Kolpa River and enter Croatia.

Since Slovenia is in the Eurpoean Union and Croatia is not, we had to pass through a formal border crossing to enter Croatia...and then another less than ten km later to return to Slovenia.

Our passports now have yet another stamp from a country we know nothing about.

We had a real surprise right after crossing back into Slovenia.

Not 100 meters after the border crossing, the road took a sharp U-turn and went straight up... stretches of 15% and 17% grade within the first kilometer, and then another 5 km of uphill after that.


A few kilometers later we had to do it all again.


Go back and look at this day's map.


See the squiggles about one-third of the way up.  Those were two back-to-back Category 3 climbs.  They were beasts!

And remember, Carol was in a wheel chair six months ago!

By the way, the formal border crossings with the armed guards and document checks were silly and unnecessary...


...since at several spots along the road there were bridges across the  Croatia/Slovenia border with nothing more than an unmanned (and unlocked) aluminum bar separating the two countries.

After the two big climbs, we had a short reprieve cycling through a pretty valley. Then, yet another Cat 3 climb before reaching the B&B where we would spend our night.

So much for choosing the short route!






Day 4: Markovec to Ratecevo Brdo:  69 Km and 675 m of elevation gain.

This day was relatively benign...until the end.

More travel through very rural farmland.  The picture at the right shows one of the haystacks unique to this part of Slovenia.

The villages we rode through were widely-spaced and very small.  

At lunch-time, the only place that was open was a small bar (which every village had, regardless of its size), and it had only beer...no food.  

We passed and rode on.

The B&B we stayed at was lovely but very remote...and of course at the top of another huge hill.




Day 5: Ratecevo Brdo to Komen:  64 km and 560 m of elevation gain.

Finally, a day with no monster climbs.

About half way through the ride, we came to the town of Lipica.

Remember the Lipizzaner Stallions, the famous show horses?

Well, this is their mother.


Lipica, Slovenia...right on the border with Italy...is the home of the Lipizzan Stallions.


The horses were bred and trained here back when this was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

And today, they are still bred and trained on the same farm.  This was part of a herd of perhaps 50 mares.

An equal number of colts and stallions were in a separate pasture across the road.

If you go back and lookout the map for this day's ride, you'll see a small spur headed west out of Lipica.


That was the wrong turn we took out of the horse farm.


Without knowing it, we crossed the border back into Italy.  


We were a kilometer down the road before we realized we weren't in Slovenia any more.


So, we turned around and went back, and at the border we came across this...

...a large parking lot?

It is now.  It used to be the border crossing between Italy and Slovenia.

When Slovenia joined the EU, the border crossing went away.


Compare that with our experience crossing into Croatia!




Day 6:  Komen to Postjana:  48 km and 790 m of elevation gain.

We were in the home stretch now, headed back toward Ljubljana.

But first one huge climb, a Cat 2, one so big we considered trying to find a bus we could put us and our bikes on.

That morning, the weather was threatening.  The rain, however, held off until we began the big climb.

Then, the skies opened up.  Lightning and thunder.  Torrential rain.

Fortunately, about half way up the 15 km climb, we found a bus shelter to wait out the storm.

The picture at the left gives no indication of how wet Carol actually was by the time we reached the bus shelter.

When the rain finally let up, we trudged our way to the top of the climb and started down the other side.

Suddenly, we found ourselves in Slovenian wine country.

Remember all those sawmills we saw back near the beginning of the tour?

Now we realized what all that wood was used for: wine barrels.

Slovenian oak is the gold standard for wine casks nowadays.  It produces a mellow wine with the right amount of tannins...just what premium vintners are looking for.

If only Slovenian wine were as good as the barrels!



Most of the reds tasted like slightly sour Welch's Grape Juice.  The white wine were a bit better.



Carol and Roger both believe the Slovenes should stick to brewing beer, which they do really well.  Beer is so popular here, almost every morning we saw men drinking it at breakfast.






Day 7: Postojna to Ljubljana:  67 km and 779 m of elevation gain.

Our last day.


We were confident enough that we decided to design our own route for the day.


Slightly shorter distance at the expense of a bit more climbing, but we would be off the main roads and away from the heavy traffic.

The scenery was still pretty, and after only one wrong turn...

...we made it back to or hotel in Ljubljana!

One postscript:

Everywhere we went in Slovenia, the food was wonderful!

In the really small villages, it wasn't fancy, but it was wholesome and tasted great.

Slovene cuisine is a blend of Italian, Austrian, and Slavic cooking.  It's heavy on meats (not a great destination for vegetarians), especially wild game.  Along with the beer, it's a great reason to visit.

And the desserts...