Home Again, Home Again

The belle of every party, Stevie Nicks.  We gave her many a pat over the three weeks.

We were going home to Toronto and our cottage on Stony Lake for three weeks.  Even though it was July and high season in the Med, we were excited to head home in the summer for the first time in five years.  

After a late night at Gid & Em's birthdays party, the two clans of future in-laws got together for a long afternoon brunch.  Then dinner for eight of us.  It was a celebratory weekend, full of good cheer.

And then another family gathering.  This time the O'Neills.  Plenty of love.

Events were plentiful and filled every second - 30th birthday celebrations for Gid and Em, seeing Tom’s apartment, sailing with him on his co-owned boat and visiting his RCYC hangout, socializing with Gid’s parents, sister and partner on a couple of occasions, getting together with the Ramshaw clan, wedding dress shopping with Em several times, visiting with dear friends in Toronto and at the cottage, spending time at the cottage and taking stock of what needs to be done after our neglect, clearing out the locker and taking remains to a generous friend in London’s basement, and getting together with my big brothers and partners.  This final event only happens every five or so years when Michael returns from India for visa renewal.  Tim specially flew in from Bermuda and me from Rome.  It was extra special and meant so much that we all made the effort along with our partners and our children.  

Me and my big bros!  Loved every minute and so grateful that we pulled it off.  It's no easy feat when we are so far flung around the world.

For the first time in five years, we felt that our three week visit home wasn’t long enough.  There were many friends we hadn’t been able to see.  We had had a wonderful time and were committed to spending a few months at home in 2020.  Too soon we were headed back home to Milly.

A little bit of R&R at the cottage.

Our home abode is Milly wherever she happens to be.  Our home place is Toronto.  Our cottage has never been home - it is “the cottage” and we love it.  After five years, I am comfortable with the meaning of the terminology.  We flew across the ocean home and recrossed home again.

Hopping to the Tiber River via Gaeta

Milly had never been so guarded, as in Gaeta.

We were on a schedule - never our favourite thing, but seems to be our habit this season - to get to a reserved berth on the Tiber River where we were leaving Milly for our trip to Canada.

A stop on the way was Gaeta.  In ancient Roman times, Gaeta was and still is, a resort for the Roman Emperors and rich.  Via Appia, which Peter and I had bicycled 8 years ago, leads to the villas of the wealthy from Rome.  Today the city is thriving with tourism but other industrial trials have been unsuccessful including as a commercial port which makes it a favourite stop for yachts.

A small chapel sat wedged between these two walls of rock.  Legend has it that the rock split at the moment of Christ's death.  

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A battalion of beach chairs.  Can't imagine trying to find my towel after a dip in the crowded sea.

Gaeta was a lovely anchorage.  We explored the levels of medieval lanes up to the churches on the left and hiked to the top of the promontory to unexpectedly find a 1st century mausoleum of a Roman general - currently a museum in the middle of nowhere.

The tiella is unique to Gaeta.  It is a cross between a pizza and a calzone, baked, not fried. It comes with a variety of stuffings.  We tried the typical - diced calamari with garlic, oil, pepper and a tiny bit of tomato sauce and a baccala (dried codfish).  Interesting but a bit too much dough for me. Gaeta also boasts a distinctive brand of olive.  We have the green in our stores for future consumption.  The black have been consumed. 

Traditional fishing techniques at Ostia, the mouth of the Tiber River.  Called "bilancione or "big scale".  Not sure what they were catching but it was a very murky, opaque river.  We also saw guys fishing with a cast net.  

This guy moved Milly from one berth to another by rafting up and pulling, pushing, nudging her into place very gently, without mishap and lickety split.  Very skilled.

This was a family run marina where boats were rafted up on old, rather decrepit wooden docks.  Our neighbours behind us were collectors items and hadn't moved in eons but were much loved.  We had to climb over our neighbour from Guernsey and another boat that was slowly sinking to get ashore.  The marina, staffed by the charming family, was simple but lovely surrounded by marshland.  We had constant entertainment when we weren't working by the boat traffic on the Tiber.  

One of three swan teens who swam by twice a day and slept at night on a tiny private beach across from us.  Private - only for them and a muskrat.