Love A Parade


Firenze (Florence), Italy. That cradle of The Renaissance and birthplace of modern Western Civilization. Trove of priceless art and architecture. It is only natural to view the parade of Calico Storico (Historic Soccer) with its Renaissance costumes as a quaint colorful and charming affair. In perfect fitting with all that is great with Firenze and Italy at large.


But I truly didn’t grasp what I was looking at. When I heard “Historic Soccer” I figured this was in some way akin to modern soccer.

It is not. These are mean nasty tough guys that play a sport that makes rugby look like a game of paddy cake.


A recorded date of 1530 is affixed to the beginning of Calico Storico, but it actually goes as far back as the 1400’s.


The child will not be participating. Nor will the older members of the parade. Only men in their 20’s and 30’s have the bodies capable of enduring the punishment suffered in this “sport.” A later day rule prohibits criminals from participating to somewhat mitigate blood letting.


A good wholesome church function? The four major churches of Firenze each sponsor a team. Here the white team is sponsored by Santo Spirito.

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The ball isn’t kicked in this version of soccer. A heavy leather bladder is hauled through a maul and melee across a field. The “goal” is to heave the ball over a 4 foot wall at either end of the grounds. Players literally wrestle, shove and bare knuckle punch or slug. It is part “Fight Club,” carnal demolition derby in some semblance of a ball game. By the end players are near naked from gear being ripped to shreds. Bruised, bloodied, dirty, sweaty and spitting mud. A splendid time for all!

The Netherlands of Van Gogh and Hitchcock

If you discover the tourist hubbub in Amsterdam not to your liking escape easily by heading north a short distance to the Waterland.

The Waterland is a region of lakes, canals, ditches, dikes, and drawbridges. Once a land of bogs, it was first drained for practical use in the middle ages. Today peace and quiet with lots a fresh air and unspoiled scenery characterize this region.

With little change here in 400 years, the sites are similar to ones inspiring Vincent Van Gogh.


A creaky wooden windmill recalls Hitchcock’s Foreign Correspondent (1940).


Joel McCrea discovering sinister activity in a Dutch wooden windmill.


Ten small towns and villages dot The Waterland. The proper experience here is by bicycle on the narrow dike roads. The villages have their shops. Cafes offer Dutch cuisine.

Dairy farmers welcome bicycle tourists to view hand made cheese production. Samples offered of course.

California Burning

Wildfires/Firestorms are devouring massive areas of Southern California. The above photo is not smoke of the current “Witch Fire” but of the “Cedar Fire” almost four years ago to the day of the current disaster. Although the Witch Fire is significantly worse than the Cedar Fire, it is not so evident here at my humble abode. In other words, today’s calamity hasn’t created the dramatic sky at my location as with the Cedar Fire. Not the overhead trough of smoke. The odor of smoke still permeates however. There is lots of ash. But the thick of smoke is more of a distant sight. Overhead the sky is hazy but remains blue. The sun isn’t shrouded. Certainly anyone in the wind path of the current fires will see a deep smoke trough overhead. My location this time hasn’t had that delivery. Not yet any way.

Midday during the 2003 Cedar Fire. This is all smoke. Otherwise a bright blue sky would have been the canopy. More than a month passed before the Cedar Fire was 100% “Controlled.”
The number of evacuees resulting from the 2007 firestorms is more than 3 times the entire population of San Diego when my mom and dad first lived here during WWII. These fires are not new in the history of California. Only the communities and houses destroyed are relatively new.

Breakfast At Venezia

Daybreak at Basilica San Marco, Venice. Workers hose and scrub the Piazzetta.

Gondolas on the Grand Canal looking toward Punta della Dogana


Gondolas under protective drape.

Gondola Captains await their customers.

But the “streets” of Venice were quiet.


The milk man makes his rounds. Two men (left) walk and talk politics.

A chef with fresh produce in hand for the morning fixins stops to talk futbol with a friend.

The ladies lament grocery prices have never been higher.

The morning commute in Venice is either by foot or boat.

Yellow Chairs


Venice Italy is arguably the most photographed city. And certainly one of the world’s most popular as well. It is pretty difficult to maneuver in the city with a camera during the height of day time. One needs to rise when custodians are sweeping the side walks, when milk is delivered, and when the baker is loading his oven. The yellow chairs are at Piazza San Marco. The brick element on the left is the base of San Marco’s bell tower. Straight ahead in the background is Torre dell’Orologio. It is the city’s famous astrological clock dating from 1499. That is the bell atop the structure. On either side of the bell are statues of Moors that strike the bell as part of the clock mechanism. “A masterpiece of technology and engineering.” The archway at tower base leads into what is the main shopping street of the city, the old Merceria.


The elements of Piazza San Marco, the historical political and religious ground zero of the city, face the waters and oceans Venice once ruled.

A nice quiet Piazza newspaper read before tourists arise and fill the awaiting yellow chairs.

Pedal Power

At the train station in Amsterdam there is a remarkable three level parking structure.

It is all bicycles. Everybody rides them. Youngsters, housewives, fully suited businessmen, and seniors. This is indeed a foreign sight to tourists whom worship their SUV chariots. The tourists frequently fan out into the bicycle streets thinking these are extra sidewalks. “Watch out assholes!,” I heard one yell in his Texas twang as a slew of bicycles nearly clipped his fanny. He was clueless about the right of way and what he was doing.

Stockholm
I don’t suppose I should “talk.” I was nervous to find myself driving a car on a bicycle street in Stockholm. Afraid at any moment I’d be facing a head on collision with a flock of bicycles. My course was corrected though without incident.

Stockholm. The ever present bicycle anywhere people gather.

I got to peddling myself when I reached Copenhagen. At first I tried the civic bicycles. These are for everyone to use at their convenience. You unlock it by inserting a token or coin into the lock box on a rack. When you are finished with the bicycle you re-lock it to a designated rack and your coin is returned to you. It works pretty well except if you leave the bicycle unattended someone will take it. There is a minor industry of people taking these bikes and getting the coin for themselves.

Biking to market, Stockholm.

The civic bicycles are built to be sturdy. Not comfortable or quick. My Innkeeper in Copenhagen suggested I shouldn’t torture myself with those “old slugs.” He had a nice bicycle available for rent, so I took up the deal. What a pleasure. I did all my sightseeing in Copenhagen by bicycle.

When I got to Amsterdam, the first thing I did was rent another good bicycle. It really makes a difference in the way you see and interact with a city.

I liked this experience so well when I got back to the USA I purchased a basic but nice city bicycle. I put on a rack and saddle bags. I do most of my marketing by bicycle. Trips to the library, bank, what have you. Sunshine, fresh air, and burned calories. Not a bad deal.

San Diego Autumn


San Diego doesn’t experience a dramatic Autumn or Fall. It is more a continuation of Summer but with cooler temperatures and shorter days. In my garden the tomato vines all expired. But it is still warm enough for volunteers to sprout right up. I even have new pumpkin vines sprouting. I bought the hanging flower baskets last spring. They suffered a bit through the hottest weeks of summer. But as you can see, they’ve come roaring back.

That is a rather giant night blooming jasmine bush by the front fence and gate. Last winter I cut this bush back to a nub. But it came back like gang-busters. Those branches are loaded with blossoms which flood the evening air thickly with jasmine. So sweet you can almost taste it.

The cosmos and marigolds thrive on. Bird of paradise are opening. And the dichondra is more than happy.

The Hinterlands

As the Boulevard stretches past La Mesa a different look emerges. Earthen roadside, orange trees and pepper trees.


Interstate 8 seems to lop off one stretch of The Boulevard into a lonely and not particularly busy stretch of road.

A Motel is about all there is on this sliver of The Boulevard.

The Boulevard winds below the Interstate then dips into El Cajon.

On the El Cajon stretch of The Boulevard is one of the last old motor and trailer camps. Under the shade of pepper trees.

Little Sweden

Perhaps the area between Utah Street and 28th Street isn’t enough real estate to be called Little Sweden, but there are a number of structures there built by San Diego’s Swedish community.


Dance Halls were popular teenage hangouts in the 1930’s. Of the many venues in San Diego, Vasa Hall at 3094 El Cajon Boulevard was among the most popular. Here on any given Friday and Saturday night the joint was hoppin’ with Jive, Boogie Woogie, and The Lindy.

I remember when Bit Of Sweden at 2850 El Cajon Blvd. was open for business. I probably ate there. It is now a banquet facility for rent. And sometimes it is also referred to as Vasa Hall or Club.

Sweden’s three crowns; entrance to Bit Of Sweden.

Two other businesses associated with the Swedish community are Rudford’s and the former Gustafson’s Furniture.

The Gustafson Furniture building was in use until a few years ago. Allowed to sag and crumble. There’s a trend to tear down and replace with a similar looking structure. A bit of a compromise between preservation and tasteless development. Although a nice gesture, the Gustafsons replacement seems a bit sterile. Condos replaced the retail space shown above.

Pizza Pie, Chicken Pie and Chicken

Leonardo’s Pizza is the best. “Who sezez? I sezez,” ‘sez’ Tony.

Leonardo’s.

Now hold on. Uncle Jonni argues Uncle Joe’s has the best pizza pie.

Uncle Joe’s. But…under new management since my encounter with Uncle Jonni. Reviews however are good.

No essay of The Boulevard is satisfactory without these two major icons. The water tower and San Diego Chicken Pie Shop. There are legions and generations of San Diegans in testimony that the chicken pie dinner is the cheapest and most satisfying comfort food experience on the planet.

Gone forever. At attention at Keith’s Chicken In The Rough at 32nd and El Cajon. 1939.

I suppose the balloon is a nice try. But not even close to the charm of that old diner. Church’s has a following in San Diego because Hall of Fame Padre Tony Gwynn is part owner.

Copyright Notice: All photography is copyrighted. Getting permission is easy, just ask. Email: danielsoderberg@cox.net
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