Piazza San Marco, Venice, Italy. October, 1980

Yes, there are pigeons in front of the major cathedrals and in the big squares in both Florence and Rome. But nowhere are they more dense than here in front of the Basilica San Marco. (This picture shows only a small fraction of them.) I have not been here in Venice for almost 25 years, during which time a lot of things have changed. For example, you now can book your free ticket online to enter the basilica for one euro. Certainly worth it during the peak summer tourist months. Another welcome change, as in Florence, people who feed the pigeons are now fined for doing so. Bravo. (Our plan is to leave Venice today and sail off to Croatia.)

Caffe Florian, Venice, Italy. October, 1980

When you enjoy your coffee at the bar in Italy, it is relatively inexpensive. When you decide to enjoy it while seated at a table, it is more expensive. And when you decide to sit at a table at Florian, the fabled cafe here on the Piazza San Marco in Venice, it is most expensive. Even for Venice. Still, these ladies seem to be enjoying themselves, probably listening to beautiful atmospheric music from a nearby string quartet (either one at Florian or at Quadri, the competing cafe across the piazza; a six euro charge is added to your bill is the music plays while you’re seated.) If all goes as planned, I’m sure we’ll be passing by Florian today, right by, as I take Jay to see Venice’s greatest hits.

Venice, Italy. October, 1980

“See Venice and die.” Isn’t that what people say? Here I am, on my first visit to this magical city trying to prevent just that. Or pretending to be a Venetian blind. Or some other sophomoric photo op. If all goes as planned, Jay and I will arrive in Venice today. He has never been there and I am looking forward to showing him around. Only three things on the agenda: Thing #1: Visit the Basilica di San Marco. Thing #2: Visit my favorite painting in the world, the Titian Assumption in the Frari Church. Thing #3: Find zaleti here in the city that first developed them. Oh, and eat.

Watertown, MA. October, 2012

I love Halloween. And this year, as in the past few, I won’t be at home for all the fun. (And I won’t be able to walk with my friend Vinny through his Waltham neighborhood, looking at the kids in costume, the houses decorated.) Instead, and I’m not complaining, Jay and I will be in Italy, in the town of Portovenere (if all goes as planned, we leave for Venice tonight), where my friend Antonio, whom I have not seen in 25 years, plans to meet our boat and spend the day with us. So I was happy to see that some of my Watertown neighbors have already started to put up their Halloween decorations, including this rather extravagant, inflated death coach. Illuminated no less.

Tucson. November, 2006

Issues and candidates. And endless television ads. “Critical analysis” from so-called experts. It’s too much even for me, who stopped watching television on Election Night 2000: First Gore was winning, then Bush, so this former news junkie went to bed knowing the outcome would be decided upon awakening. Guess what? It wasn’t. The whole Florida ballot mess. I decided I had had enough and haven’t turned on the TV since. Still, I can’t escape political posters, even some that make me smile like this one I passed on my traditional downtown walk in Tucson. (I thought Dean Martin was long gone.) Anyway, I’ve already absentee voted in the 2012 election -- for president, for senator, for local contests and ballot questions. And I’m happy to be leaving the country tomorrow, not back until Election Night. I will, I hope, miss the last three weeks of all this.

San Xavier del Bac, Tucson. March, 2011

This beautiful mission church rises from the desert outside of Tucson, seen from miles away on its arid plain within the Tohono O’odham Nation. And no matter how many times I visit, I’m always in awe of its beauty and majesty. This time, Simon and I took a spur-of-the-moment drive on a Sunday afternoon, just because. Magnificent. Can you imagine what this must have looked like to those who approached it back in 1797 when it had just recently been completed? No highway drive for them, approaching by donkey along rough routes dotted with mesquite and cactus with nothing in sight, and then suddenly -- this! Some 200,000 visitors come to pay their respects each year and to marvel at its visual beauty both inside and out. It’s called the “White Dove of the Desert.” And it’s easy to understand why.

Cambridge, MA. October, 2012

Because of its reputation (since colonial days) for bucking the status quo, Cambridge has often been given a bad rap by some of its more conservative and narrow-minded critics. And, I’m happy to say as a former long-time resident, it lives up to its rep. Among its many derogatory nicknames, the People’s Republic of Cambridge. So I’m always happy to walk past this mid-Cambridge bar, The People’s Republik, halfway between Harvard and Central Squares, and be reminded of its "in your face" attitude. Love the faux-Cyrillic lettering, the use of red, the play on “party.”