Made is safely back to the United States!
I think over the next week or so we'll be filling in the details from the end of our trip, but for now we are hanging out relaxing in Jacksonville with Andy's family. I'll be back up north for Christmas and Andy will be up there after New Years.
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Barcelona + Valencia
BARCELONA
We ended up spending five nights in Barcelona. This is more than we planned but at this point, we are getting tired. We aren't necessarily up for the jam-packed sightseeing days that we have been having quite often on this trip, but we did want to see a lot of this city. After we leave a city, we are in the habit of evaluating it. Would we reccommend it for vacation? How was their intercity transportation? Could we live here? Barcelona gets the highest reviews for places that we would actually want to live (with Amsterdam also in the running). I was immediatly excited to be here because I no longer felt out of place wearing my bright purple tights (coming from Italy, where the majority of the populace is dressed in black, or dark brown leather). Although Barcelona doesn't come to mind when you hear the word "fashion," the city has a style of its own, and it is bright, vibrant, and happy. Even their mannequins are happier than anywhere we've been (seiously- they are grinning insanely). There is also a great mix of people here- those who were born and raised here, and speak Catalan, those who transplanted from elsewhere in Spain, speaking traditional Spanish, plenty of European students doing an exchange from their home colleges called Erasmus, a lot of Americans, living here to teach English, and a myriad of ofter transplants from all over the world.
Many of the sights here center around Spanish architect, Antoni Gaudi, whose unique architectual design comes off as something between Dr. Suess imagery, Salvadore Dali paintings, and those muddy "castles" kids create on beaches by letting soggy sand drip from their hands. It was refreshing to see his contemory architecture that defied conventional rules. There are several houses around the city that he designed, as well as a architectual conrtibutions to a beautiful public park, and La Segrada Familia, a church that has been under construction for over ____ years, and is scheduled for completion not until 2026. Unfortunately, we were not able to tour the interior of the houses or La Sagrada Familia as they were incredible expensive (17 euro to tour a house!- about $23!), but they were very impressive from the outside and we admired them for free. We were able to walk around the (free) park that he designed, which we would highly reccommend. Throughout the park musicians played their instruments, playing everything from raw, emotional blues on a banjo to dreamy "eastern" music on an instrument that I couldn't name, to soothing, seductive Spanish guitar. It would not be hard to spend many afternoons in this unique habitat.
One of the more fascinating places for a foodie, is La Boqueria - an immense market, open daily. Dizzying amounts of food of every variety are to be found as far as you can see. The quarters are tight and this place is always busy, and the buzz of people whizzing by is endless. For every variety of ingestible things, there are at least ten differents stands - produce, poulty, fish, beef, pork, cheeses, nuts/dried fruits, olives, baked goods as well as a few stands where one can sit down within the market and watch his or her meal prepared before them. Everything was immaculate: the fish was practically still swimming, not a bruise to be found on any fruit, everything neatly separated and artfully displayed to send your salvatory glands into overdrive; quite litereally a feast for the eyes. We made a lunch of a deep magenta colored cactus flower, a few fresh rolls, a variety of olives, mixed nuts, mixed meats, and a custard dessert, all for about 12 Euro total.
We took a nice walk up Montjuic, visiting the Olympic Park that hosted the '92 Olympics. Atop the hill, we climed a castle that once guared the harbor and enjoyed spectacular views of the city. Later, we made our way to a Picasso museum and, due to a change in exhibitions, enjoyed only a limitied quantity of his works, but at a greatly reduced admission fee. It was still great to see many of his works from his "blue period" and also collections from other periods in his life, centering around brothels, pigeons, and even interpretations of other painters' works. Other highlights from Barcelona include drinking sangria while eating tapas (of course), getting lost in an enormous flea market, and Andy catching a pickpocket in his jacket on the Subway. We also attended a few different couchsurfing meetups while in Barcelona, meeting several locals as well as people from Estonia, Greece, Romania, Germany, and the US.
Valencia
Our host, Salva, lived outside the city, but was just a short metro ride away from the train station/city center. Our first day was rainy and dismal, but we managed to eat some delicious paella, check out some of the old architecture in the city, and La Catedral de Santa Maria. It was here where we found the Holy Grail! We're a little confused as to why the search is still going on, when it has been in a church in Valencia this whole time... Mainly we just wandered around, looking at all of the different buildings. That night we, for some reason, decided to eat at a Chinese restaurant. The menu was translated into English, but when the item listed was "Rice three delicious," it didn't really help. Despite being the only customers other than a lone guy quietly smoking a few tables away, our qualms were quickly put to easy when the food arrived, in generous, delicious portions. Our second day in the city it was much nicer mainly because the weather cleared up, and decided to start the day with a visit to a botanical garden. We leisurely strolled up and down the aisles of vegetation, a pleasant break from the jungle of metropolitan life outside the walls. There were strange species of cacti, palm trees, and some fruits and vegetables growing that we couldn't recognize. After spending about an hour and a half here, we took advantage of the persistant beautiful weather and walked through another park. This was one of the more unique parks that we have visited. According to Salva, the Rio Turia running through Valencia flooded badly about ten to fifteen years ago. Apparently it had been a problem in the past, and they decided to finally do something about it. They diverted the entrie river to go around the city (Providence, anyone?)* and made the former route into a park, weaving through the entire city filled with sports fields, walking and biking paths, and playgrounds. We walked through the entire park to the end, where we found "the city of arts and sciences," a large park with some stunning modern architecture (think Jetsons arcitecture) housing a science museum and an imax theater, as well as other buildings that housed arts and science exhibitions. Although it certainly was not typically Valencian or even typically Spanish, we spent about 3 hours in the science museum. It was quite fascinating, and we explored exhibits centering on memory/perception, sound, energy, light, and design - most of them interactive. One exhibit consisted of about 30 chicken eggs, ready to hatch in incubators. It's funny how captivating a chick pecking its way out of a shell can be for people of any age (translation: we watched for about 40 minutes before tearing ourselves away, staying longer than the children). We decided that watching a live baby chick birth is so much cuter than a live human birth. The museum closed before we had a chance to visit the rest of the floor that we started on, let alone the next two above us. We blame the chickens. Later, we met Salva at a bar for a beer where he took us to a going away party for someone that he had just met a few weeks ago. Yet again, because of couchsurfing, we found ourselves at some improbable social event that we had no direct connection with. We noted a funny observation. When we arrived, we were certain that Salva and ourselves we the only three in an apartment of 30 that could speak English. However, the more this crowd drank, the more English speakers we found. Soon, we were sipping wine while chowing on finger food and cake with lots of friendly, interesting people eager to share travel stories and cultural differences. We left the next day, with a few mandarin oranges in our packs, picked by Salva the previous day from his families orange groves.
*The river in Providence's river was re-directed for aesthetic pupose in the mid nineties.
We ended up spending five nights in Barcelona. This is more than we planned but at this point, we are getting tired. We aren't necessarily up for the jam-packed sightseeing days that we have been having quite often on this trip, but we did want to see a lot of this city. After we leave a city, we are in the habit of evaluating it. Would we reccommend it for vacation? How was their intercity transportation? Could we live here? Barcelona gets the highest reviews for places that we would actually want to live (with Amsterdam also in the running). I was immediatly excited to be here because I no longer felt out of place wearing my bright purple tights (coming from Italy, where the majority of the populace is dressed in black, or dark brown leather). Although Barcelona doesn't come to mind when you hear the word "fashion," the city has a style of its own, and it is bright, vibrant, and happy. Even their mannequins are happier than anywhere we've been (seiously- they are grinning insanely). There is also a great mix of people here- those who were born and raised here, and speak Catalan, those who transplanted from elsewhere in Spain, speaking traditional Spanish, plenty of European students doing an exchange from their home colleges called Erasmus, a lot of Americans, living here to teach English, and a myriad of ofter transplants from all over the world.
Many of the sights here center around Spanish architect, Antoni Gaudi, whose unique architectual design comes off as something between Dr. Suess imagery, Salvadore Dali paintings, and those muddy "castles" kids create on beaches by letting soggy sand drip from their hands. It was refreshing to see his contemory architecture that defied conventional rules. There are several houses around the city that he designed, as well as a architectual conrtibutions to a beautiful public park, and La Segrada Familia, a church that has been under construction for over ____ years, and is scheduled for completion not until 2026. Unfortunately, we were not able to tour the interior of the houses or La Sagrada Familia as they were incredible expensive (17 euro to tour a house!- about $23!), but they were very impressive from the outside and we admired them for free. We were able to walk around the (free) park that he designed, which we would highly reccommend. Throughout the park musicians played their instruments, playing everything from raw, emotional blues on a banjo to dreamy "eastern" music on an instrument that I couldn't name, to soothing, seductive Spanish guitar. It would not be hard to spend many afternoons in this unique habitat.
One of the more fascinating places for a foodie, is La Boqueria - an immense market, open daily. Dizzying amounts of food of every variety are to be found as far as you can see. The quarters are tight and this place is always busy, and the buzz of people whizzing by is endless. For every variety of ingestible things, there are at least ten differents stands - produce, poulty, fish, beef, pork, cheeses, nuts/dried fruits, olives, baked goods as well as a few stands where one can sit down within the market and watch his or her meal prepared before them. Everything was immaculate: the fish was practically still swimming, not a bruise to be found on any fruit, everything neatly separated and artfully displayed to send your salvatory glands into overdrive; quite litereally a feast for the eyes. We made a lunch of a deep magenta colored cactus flower, a few fresh rolls, a variety of olives, mixed nuts, mixed meats, and a custard dessert, all for about 12 Euro total.
We took a nice walk up Montjuic, visiting the Olympic Park that hosted the '92 Olympics. Atop the hill, we climed a castle that once guared the harbor and enjoyed spectacular views of the city. Later, we made our way to a Picasso museum and, due to a change in exhibitions, enjoyed only a limitied quantity of his works, but at a greatly reduced admission fee. It was still great to see many of his works from his "blue period" and also collections from other periods in his life, centering around brothels, pigeons, and even interpretations of other painters' works. Other highlights from Barcelona include drinking sangria while eating tapas (of course), getting lost in an enormous flea market, and Andy catching a pickpocket in his jacket on the Subway. We also attended a few different couchsurfing meetups while in Barcelona, meeting several locals as well as people from Estonia, Greece, Romania, Germany, and the US.
Valencia
Our host, Salva, lived outside the city, but was just a short metro ride away from the train station/city center. Our first day was rainy and dismal, but we managed to eat some delicious paella, check out some of the old architecture in the city, and La Catedral de Santa Maria. It was here where we found the Holy Grail! We're a little confused as to why the search is still going on, when it has been in a church in Valencia this whole time... Mainly we just wandered around, looking at all of the different buildings. That night we, for some reason, decided to eat at a Chinese restaurant. The menu was translated into English, but when the item listed was "Rice three delicious," it didn't really help. Despite being the only customers other than a lone guy quietly smoking a few tables away, our qualms were quickly put to easy when the food arrived, in generous, delicious portions. Our second day in the city it was much nicer mainly because the weather cleared up, and decided to start the day with a visit to a botanical garden. We leisurely strolled up and down the aisles of vegetation, a pleasant break from the jungle of metropolitan life outside the walls. There were strange species of cacti, palm trees, and some fruits and vegetables growing that we couldn't recognize. After spending about an hour and a half here, we took advantage of the persistant beautiful weather and walked through another park. This was one of the more unique parks that we have visited. According to Salva, the Rio Turia running through Valencia flooded badly about ten to fifteen years ago. Apparently it had been a problem in the past, and they decided to finally do something about it. They diverted the entrie river to go around the city (Providence, anyone?)* and made the former route into a park, weaving through the entire city filled with sports fields, walking and biking paths, and playgrounds. We walked through the entire park to the end, where we found "the city of arts and sciences," a large park with some stunning modern architecture (think Jetsons arcitecture) housing a science museum and an imax theater, as well as other buildings that housed arts and science exhibitions. Although it certainly was not typically Valencian or even typically Spanish, we spent about 3 hours in the science museum. It was quite fascinating, and we explored exhibits centering on memory/perception, sound, energy, light, and design - most of them interactive. One exhibit consisted of about 30 chicken eggs, ready to hatch in incubators. It's funny how captivating a chick pecking its way out of a shell can be for people of any age (translation: we watched for about 40 minutes before tearing ourselves away, staying longer than the children). We decided that watching a live baby chick birth is so much cuter than a live human birth. The museum closed before we had a chance to visit the rest of the floor that we started on, let alone the next two above us. We blame the chickens. Later, we met Salva at a bar for a beer where he took us to a going away party for someone that he had just met a few weeks ago. Yet again, because of couchsurfing, we found ourselves at some improbable social event that we had no direct connection with. We noted a funny observation. When we arrived, we were certain that Salva and ourselves we the only three in an apartment of 30 that could speak English. However, the more this crowd drank, the more English speakers we found. Soon, we were sipping wine while chowing on finger food and cake with lots of friendly, interesting people eager to share travel stories and cultural differences. We left the next day, with a few mandarin oranges in our packs, picked by Salva the previous day from his families orange groves.
*The river in Providence's river was re-directed for aesthetic pupose in the mid nineties.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Amalfi Coast + Sicily
***FYI we posted twice in a row today, so if anyone is interesed in Rome, check out the one below! Also, we are working on one more post to "catch up" which will probably be ready by tomorrow. Or tonight. We've had a lot of trouble finding internet access the past week or so, but it should be okay from here on out.
Next up was the Amalfi Coast. We found a host, Gianfranco, living in a small town called Nocera, a little bit inland. He lived in a small house on a large property. Orange and lemon trees grew in the backyard, and we were surrounded by farms. One night we went out for pizza with his friends, and the next night he cooked us a pesto pasta, and we cooked falafel. He drove us up into the mountains for some beautiful but cloudy views, and then along the coast where we stopped in a few towns along the way: Amalfi, Positano, and . We also visited Pompeii from here. Pompeii is an ancient town that lies at the base of Mount Vesuvius, a volcano near the coast. When the volcano erupted in 79 AD, everyone in the town perished, but because of the rapidity of the eruption, everything was left in tact and it is actually still being excavated today. We seemed to be the only ones there that day, until we got to the "Lupa" (look it up) that is. This building in particular had crowds when the rest of the site was mostly vacant.
Later that day we boarded a night train to Sicily, where we had another host waiting for us. We had a late night connection in Salerno, where we had a couple of hours to kill. We spent most of the time in the waiting room, but decided to head out to the colder seats by the track when a fight between a couple of homeless guys over a blanket nearly broke out in the seat next to me. We finally boarded our train, ready to sleep the night away. The train was very uncomfortable and neither of us were able to get much sleep at all. We arrived at our destination at 6 something in the morning, tired and frustrated. It was just about dawn, but the sun had not risen yet. We walked the 100 yards to the nearest beach, collapsed in the sand, and watched the sun rise. This was nothing short of sublime after the miserable night that we had. We fell asleep moments later, using our backpacks as pillows.
We awoke around 11 to a couple walking on the street not too far away, saying, "good moooorrninggggg," and giggling at the strangely dressed travelers sleeping on the beach. We spent most of the morning here, watching fisherman and skipping stones. We hoped to swim but it was pretty cloudy and not all that warm. In the afternoon we took a bus up a cliff to a town called Taormina. We ate arancini (fried rice balls with various stuffings), and finally enjoyed the sun when it came out. We got to chatting with a couple from the US who had been touring Italy for over 2 months, and they ended up giving us a ride back to the train station so we wouldn't have to walk.
Lucio, our host in Sicily, lived in Lentini, a small town outside of Siricusa. He welcomed us into his home, and happily cooked delicious meals for us two nights in a row. The meals were supplemented with the best olives I have ever tasted (he grew and brined them himself), homemade olive oil and pesto (made from the olives and basil growing in his garden), and accompanied by his homemade merlot (the grapes, also from his garden), which he liberally shared with us.
The one thing that we really wanted to do in Sicily was visit Mount Etna, the largest active volcano in Europe. We failed at this for two days in a row. After our first failure, we ended up walking around Catania instead, where we enjoyed some delicious homemade gelato to cheer us up, and found a "beach" to relax on. The beach was covered in trash and had too many flies. We were pretty bummed, but figured we could just do Etna tomorrow. To make matters worse, when we tried to catch a train back to Lentini, we were told that we needed to wait over two hours for the next one. We did find a neat fishing pier to walk out on that killed some time (it took about an hour to get to the end of it).
After Etna fail number two, we hopped on a train to Messina, where we were able to find a beach and some sun. The water was chilly (think Rhode Island beach in early June before it has had the chance to heat up much), but we were able to enjoy it much more than the beach in Catania. Later that day we took a train to the other end of Sicily. We had a very early flight to catch in the morning to Barcelona and had decided to be safe, that we would just sleep in the airport. Getting there was trying; we took a train, a bus, and then walked about two miles before getting a ride the rest of the way (another two miles).
Once in the airport we attemped to sleep. Despite the SWARMING flies and intensive vaccuuming going on, Marisa was able to wrap her head in a scarf and catch a few hours of sleep. Andy was not so lucky. In any case, we made our flight in the morning, but not before having to lose 4 kg (8.8 pounds) from Andy's luggage weight. And by "lose," I definitely mean fill our pockets with guidebooks, electronics equipment, and pebbles from the Cinque Terre, as well as wear several shirts and jackets each. Eventually, we boarded the plane.
Next up was the Amalfi Coast. We found a host, Gianfranco, living in a small town called Nocera, a little bit inland. He lived in a small house on a large property. Orange and lemon trees grew in the backyard, and we were surrounded by farms. One night we went out for pizza with his friends, and the next night he cooked us a pesto pasta, and we cooked falafel. He drove us up into the mountains for some beautiful but cloudy views, and then along the coast where we stopped in a few towns along the way: Amalfi, Positano, and . We also visited Pompeii from here. Pompeii is an ancient town that lies at the base of Mount Vesuvius, a volcano near the coast. When the volcano erupted in 79 AD, everyone in the town perished, but because of the rapidity of the eruption, everything was left in tact and it is actually still being excavated today. We seemed to be the only ones there that day, until we got to the "Lupa" (look it up) that is. This building in particular had crowds when the rest of the site was mostly vacant.
Later that day we boarded a night train to Sicily, where we had another host waiting for us. We had a late night connection in Salerno, where we had a couple of hours to kill. We spent most of the time in the waiting room, but decided to head out to the colder seats by the track when a fight between a couple of homeless guys over a blanket nearly broke out in the seat next to me. We finally boarded our train, ready to sleep the night away. The train was very uncomfortable and neither of us were able to get much sleep at all. We arrived at our destination at 6 something in the morning, tired and frustrated. It was just about dawn, but the sun had not risen yet. We walked the 100 yards to the nearest beach, collapsed in the sand, and watched the sun rise. This was nothing short of sublime after the miserable night that we had. We fell asleep moments later, using our backpacks as pillows.
We awoke around 11 to a couple walking on the street not too far away, saying, "good moooorrninggggg," and giggling at the strangely dressed travelers sleeping on the beach. We spent most of the morning here, watching fisherman and skipping stones. We hoped to swim but it was pretty cloudy and not all that warm. In the afternoon we took a bus up a cliff to a town called Taormina. We ate arancini (fried rice balls with various stuffings), and finally enjoyed the sun when it came out. We got to chatting with a couple from the US who had been touring Italy for over 2 months, and they ended up giving us a ride back to the train station so we wouldn't have to walk.
Lucio, our host in Sicily, lived in Lentini, a small town outside of Siricusa. He welcomed us into his home, and happily cooked delicious meals for us two nights in a row. The meals were supplemented with the best olives I have ever tasted (he grew and brined them himself), homemade olive oil and pesto (made from the olives and basil growing in his garden), and accompanied by his homemade merlot (the grapes, also from his garden), which he liberally shared with us.
The one thing that we really wanted to do in Sicily was visit Mount Etna, the largest active volcano in Europe. We failed at this for two days in a row. After our first failure, we ended up walking around Catania instead, where we enjoyed some delicious homemade gelato to cheer us up, and found a "beach" to relax on. The beach was covered in trash and had too many flies. We were pretty bummed, but figured we could just do Etna tomorrow. To make matters worse, when we tried to catch a train back to Lentini, we were told that we needed to wait over two hours for the next one. We did find a neat fishing pier to walk out on that killed some time (it took about an hour to get to the end of it).
After Etna fail number two, we hopped on a train to Messina, where we were able to find a beach and some sun. The water was chilly (think Rhode Island beach in early June before it has had the chance to heat up much), but we were able to enjoy it much more than the beach in Catania. Later that day we took a train to the other end of Sicily. We had a very early flight to catch in the morning to Barcelona and had decided to be safe, that we would just sleep in the airport. Getting there was trying; we took a train, a bus, and then walked about two miles before getting a ride the rest of the way (another two miles).
Once in the airport we attemped to sleep. Despite the SWARMING flies and intensive vaccuuming going on, Marisa was able to wrap her head in a scarf and catch a few hours of sleep. Andy was not so lucky. In any case, we made our flight in the morning, but not before having to lose 4 kg (8.8 pounds) from Andy's luggage weight. And by "lose," I definitely mean fill our pockets with guidebooks, electronics equipment, and pebbles from the Cinque Terre, as well as wear several shirts and jackets each. Eventually, we boarded the plane.
Rome
Pulling into Rome was kind of surreal. It's nice that at this point in the trip that we aren't "used to" being in these major iconic cities, each one still takes us by surprise. We still feel overwhelmed and incredibly excited to be in these places- though we can now navigate a subway system like it's nobody's business (knock on wood...). We didn't have a host or anywhere booked, so we used our guidebook to pick a few places close-by and called when we got into the train station. Marisa was slightly disappointed when the first woman told her that a bed in her hostel was 24 euro per person, but when she explained that it was too much for us to pay, the woman wanted to bargain. We ended up getting the room for 15 euro per person that night, and Marisa discovered a hidden skill- one that would be honed and perfected in the coming days. Starving after a day of travel, but in need of a cheap meal after a few days in the Cinque Terre, we turned to our Let's Go book for a suggestion. They reccommended a restaurant right around the corner, whose pizza was apparently "delectable," and wine cheap at 1.10 per quarter liter. Sounds great.
To start, the restaurant is empty and over-lit. The white linen table clothes meet awkwardly with basement foamboard cieling tiles. The pizza is far from delectable- the crust was that of a low-grade frozen pizza, no, the whole thing tasted like a low-grade frozen pizza. The "creamy pasta al forno" turned out to be limp lasagna noodles in a watery meat ragu. Marisa's white wine, though cheap as advertised, was room temperature. Andy's glass of red was colder. We left feeling discouraged, and wondering if maybe we shouldn't be trusting a guidebook written by college students to choose our restaurants for us. The upshot of the night was when Marisa reached into her pocket and found the foil-wrapped block of pecorino cheese left over from the night before. That cheese, we determined, saved the day. On the way home, Marisa bargained her way to a cheap bottle of red wine.
Because there was so much to see in Rome, Marisa carefully plotted our course around the city for the next two days. On day one, we got an early start. We saw the Colloseum, the Roman Forum, and Palantine Hill. It was crazy to be in a large, modern city, and then all of a the Colloseum is right in front of you, or some other unidentifiable structure equally as old. For lunch, we stopped at a pizzeria downtown. We thought it would be a good choice due to the lack of English speaking patrons. We observed for a few minutes before venturing to put our order in. There were about three people behind the counter, each with a pair of giant scissors that they would use to cut the foccacia style pizza into a strip however large or small you desired. It was then weighed, and priced by the 100 g. Our phrasebook Italian didn't fool the good-hearted man behind the counter who laughed when I ordered, and asked me how large I wanted my piece of the pizza with tomatoes, basil, and buffalo mozzarella cheese. It was so good I went back for more- this time with zucchini and cheese. Andy enjoyed pizza too.
That night we attended a couchsurfing event held on the outskirts of town. For 12 euro per person, we could enjoy as much food and wine as we could stuff in ourselves. We had checked out of the hostel that morning, hoping that we might be able to find a host at the dinner. We were in luck. We met a gentelman named Richard before the event started, all three of us wandering around some part of town in search of it. We ended up sitting at the same table and chatted for much of the night. He is from Frankfurt, Germany, and living in Rome for just a few months in order to improve his Italian (we were not able to help with that). When it was time to go, he saw our backpacks and offered us his couch. We very happily accepted. Marisa ate several baby shrimp at the dinner,thinking that they were golden raisins, and we both enjoyed the seemingly endless jugs of wine. Richard was pretty busy during the day, but did manage to show us a few little pastry shops near his house where we picked up some snacks.
The next day we saw a LOT. We started with the Vatican. We ticked off the Vatican Museums (Sistine Chapel) and Saint Peter's Basilica in the morning. St. Peter's was the most ornate of all the churches we have been in. The artwork here was also very impressive- mosaics that I could have sworn were paintings, and massive magnificent sculptures. After the Vatican, we made our way to the Pantheon. Here, I was very confused. As we walked up to the entrance, I turned to Andy and said, "wait, no, this isn't it, this is a church..." Little did I know that the Pantheon (meaning many gods!) was transformed into a Catholic Church. I was expecing ancient ruins, not a well kept ancient structure displaying opulant crosses and other religious symbols. I do realize that it is because of this transformation from pagan house of worship to Catholic church that it is the best kept ancient Roman building, but I can't help but think that it's a little strange and even perverse.
Some food that we enjoyed that is definitely worth mentioning: Jewish style fried artichokes from a little restaurant in the Jewish Ghetto, pasta cacio e pepe and rabbit (guess who had what...) at a restaurat that my mom and dad reccommended in the Trastevere section of town.
Next: Amalfi Coast + Sicily
To start, the restaurant is empty and over-lit. The white linen table clothes meet awkwardly with basement foamboard cieling tiles. The pizza is far from delectable- the crust was that of a low-grade frozen pizza, no, the whole thing tasted like a low-grade frozen pizza. The "creamy pasta al forno" turned out to be limp lasagna noodles in a watery meat ragu. Marisa's white wine, though cheap as advertised, was room temperature. Andy's glass of red was colder. We left feeling discouraged, and wondering if maybe we shouldn't be trusting a guidebook written by college students to choose our restaurants for us. The upshot of the night was when Marisa reached into her pocket and found the foil-wrapped block of pecorino cheese left over from the night before. That cheese, we determined, saved the day. On the way home, Marisa bargained her way to a cheap bottle of red wine.
Because there was so much to see in Rome, Marisa carefully plotted our course around the city for the next two days. On day one, we got an early start. We saw the Colloseum, the Roman Forum, and Palantine Hill. It was crazy to be in a large, modern city, and then all of a the Colloseum is right in front of you, or some other unidentifiable structure equally as old. For lunch, we stopped at a pizzeria downtown. We thought it would be a good choice due to the lack of English speaking patrons. We observed for a few minutes before venturing to put our order in. There were about three people behind the counter, each with a pair of giant scissors that they would use to cut the foccacia style pizza into a strip however large or small you desired. It was then weighed, and priced by the 100 g. Our phrasebook Italian didn't fool the good-hearted man behind the counter who laughed when I ordered, and asked me how large I wanted my piece of the pizza with tomatoes, basil, and buffalo mozzarella cheese. It was so good I went back for more- this time with zucchini and cheese. Andy enjoyed pizza too.
That night we attended a couchsurfing event held on the outskirts of town. For 12 euro per person, we could enjoy as much food and wine as we could stuff in ourselves. We had checked out of the hostel that morning, hoping that we might be able to find a host at the dinner. We were in luck. We met a gentelman named Richard before the event started, all three of us wandering around some part of town in search of it. We ended up sitting at the same table and chatted for much of the night. He is from Frankfurt, Germany, and living in Rome for just a few months in order to improve his Italian (we were not able to help with that). When it was time to go, he saw our backpacks and offered us his couch. We very happily accepted. Marisa ate several baby shrimp at the dinner,thinking that they were golden raisins, and we both enjoyed the seemingly endless jugs of wine. Richard was pretty busy during the day, but did manage to show us a few little pastry shops near his house where we picked up some snacks.
The next day we saw a LOT. We started with the Vatican. We ticked off the Vatican Museums (Sistine Chapel) and Saint Peter's Basilica in the morning. St. Peter's was the most ornate of all the churches we have been in. The artwork here was also very impressive- mosaics that I could have sworn were paintings, and massive magnificent sculptures. After the Vatican, we made our way to the Pantheon. Here, I was very confused. As we walked up to the entrance, I turned to Andy and said, "wait, no, this isn't it, this is a church..." Little did I know that the Pantheon (meaning many gods!) was transformed into a Catholic Church. I was expecing ancient ruins, not a well kept ancient structure displaying opulant crosses and other religious symbols. I do realize that it is because of this transformation from pagan house of worship to Catholic church that it is the best kept ancient Roman building, but I can't help but think that it's a little strange and even perverse.
Some food that we enjoyed that is definitely worth mentioning: Jewish style fried artichokes from a little restaurant in the Jewish Ghetto, pasta cacio e pepe and rabbit (guess who had what...) at a restaurat that my mom and dad reccommended in the Trastevere section of town.
Next: Amalfi Coast + Sicily
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Vienna
We've been meaning to write a post about Vienna for some time, but never got around to. SO... here is a letter we wrote to a few people that we met in Berlin who were from Vienna.
Sophia and Stefan,
Wow! Where to begin...?
Thank you so very much for all of your wonderful information and reccomendations for Vienna. We wanted to let you know how helpful it was to us.
Our first night in town we ate at Zwölf-Apostelkeller. Andy had a (huge) pork schnitzle with potato salad and Marisa had some sort of vegetarian spatzle. We both enjoyed a 1/4 liter of Gruner Veltliner with our meal, and some Gurwerstreminer afterwards. Everything was delicious and very reasonalby priced. The ambiance was great, we loved the vaulted cielings.
We visited the MAK museum and afterwards ate at the attached restaurant. The museum was very interesting and the meal was great, too. Andy had a pasta with bacon, cabbage and chestnuts, while Marisa ordered a creamy onion soup and chestnut pancakes with chocolate rum ice cream for dessert. Again: amazing!
We visited St. Stephans Cathedral, although we didn't climb to the top, and took a ride on the Ferris wheel. We didn't make it to the Mozart Museum, but we did see one of his operas, Die Zauberflöte.
On our last night we had a fabulous dinner at Haas Beisl. The place was great and had a very "homey" atmoshphere. Our waiter was very nice and helpful in picking out our meal. Marisa particularly enjoyed all of the vegetarian options, and ended up choosing the zucchini/potato burgers in what we think was a saffron cream sauce. He told Andy that November was the time for goose in Austria, so he had that. It was delicious and came with two dumplings and rotkraut (cooked red cabbage) on the side. Truly a great meal all around!
After this meal we wandered up the street a bit to find a bottle of wine, and stopped into a wine store just up the street. There happened to be a tasting put on by a local vintner. After tasting a few and chatting, we mentioned your names and though he seemed a bit buzzed, he was fairly certain that he knew of you or had met you both. Unfortunately, we lost his business card and couldn't tell you the name of the vinyard. Anyway, it is a small world!
There were so many more of your reccomendations that we were hopeful to try, but just didn't have the time. However, we will certainly retain all of your info and share it with our friends and anyone we meet traveling to lovely Vienna! We can't thank you enough for taking the time to forward all of that info to us and for welcoming us to your dinner in Berlin. It was such a pleasure to meet you both! We wish you the very best of luck in getting the rest of the plans finished for your wine bar. May it be a smashing success! If you ever find yourselves anywhere near our home, we would love to meet up or offer you a place to stay.
The very best,
- Andy and Marisa
......also:
We paid three euro a piece for the opera tickets- standing room nosebleed seats, where we could only see about 2/3 of the stage, but a great experience nonetheless.
We couchsurfed with Sebastian, Mathias's (from London/Innsbruck) twin brother for two nights after staying in hostel for the fist two. One night we stayed up chatting with he and his roommate, and the next day he gave us a walking tour of the city with his friend, it was great!
The MAK museum is a design museum. The exhibits range from contemporary fashion to dining room chairs from some period of Austrian history that we can't remember, to art deco sculpture, and everywhere in between. It was definitely a change from most of the museums that we have been visiting.
We went to an interesting museum that showcased the miracle of sound and had an array of engauging, interactive exhibits that demonstrated the many phenomina that occur when you experience sound and the ways in which you percieve it in your mind. We had lots of fun here. There were also a couple of floors dedicated to Austria's finest composers their respective surviving memoribilia.
Sophia and Stefan,
Wow! Where to begin...?
Thank you so very much for all of your wonderful information and reccomendations for Vienna. We wanted to let you know how helpful it was to us.
Our first night in town we ate at Zwölf-Apostelkeller. Andy had a (huge) pork schnitzle with potato salad and Marisa had some sort of vegetarian spatzle. We both enjoyed a 1/4 liter of Gruner Veltliner with our meal, and some Gurwerstreminer afterwards. Everything was delicious and very reasonalby priced. The ambiance was great, we loved the vaulted cielings.
We visited the MAK museum and afterwards ate at the attached restaurant. The museum was very interesting and the meal was great, too. Andy had a pasta with bacon, cabbage and chestnuts, while Marisa ordered a creamy onion soup and chestnut pancakes with chocolate rum ice cream for dessert. Again: amazing!
We visited St. Stephans Cathedral, although we didn't climb to the top, and took a ride on the Ferris wheel. We didn't make it to the Mozart Museum, but we did see one of his operas, Die Zauberflöte.
On our last night we had a fabulous dinner at Haas Beisl. The place was great and had a very "homey" atmoshphere. Our waiter was very nice and helpful in picking out our meal. Marisa particularly enjoyed all of the vegetarian options, and ended up choosing the zucchini/potato burgers in what we think was a saffron cream sauce. He told Andy that November was the time for goose in Austria, so he had that. It was delicious and came with two dumplings and rotkraut (cooked red cabbage) on the side. Truly a great meal all around!
After this meal we wandered up the street a bit to find a bottle of wine, and stopped into a wine store just up the street. There happened to be a tasting put on by a local vintner. After tasting a few and chatting, we mentioned your names and though he seemed a bit buzzed, he was fairly certain that he knew of you or had met you both. Unfortunately, we lost his business card and couldn't tell you the name of the vinyard. Anyway, it is a small world!
There were so many more of your reccomendations that we were hopeful to try, but just didn't have the time. However, we will certainly retain all of your info and share it with our friends and anyone we meet traveling to lovely Vienna! We can't thank you enough for taking the time to forward all of that info to us and for welcoming us to your dinner in Berlin. It was such a pleasure to meet you both! We wish you the very best of luck in getting the rest of the plans finished for your wine bar. May it be a smashing success! If you ever find yourselves anywhere near our home, we would love to meet up or offer you a place to stay.
The very best,
- Andy and Marisa
......also:
We paid three euro a piece for the opera tickets- standing room nosebleed seats, where we could only see about 2/3 of the stage, but a great experience nonetheless.
We couchsurfed with Sebastian, Mathias's (from London/Innsbruck) twin brother for two nights after staying in hostel for the fist two. One night we stayed up chatting with he and his roommate, and the next day he gave us a walking tour of the city with his friend, it was great!
The MAK museum is a design museum. The exhibits range from contemporary fashion to dining room chairs from some period of Austrian history that we can't remember, to art deco sculpture, and everywhere in between. It was definitely a change from most of the museums that we have been visiting.
We went to an interesting museum that showcased the miracle of sound and had an array of engauging, interactive exhibits that demonstrated the many phenomina that occur when you experience sound and the ways in which you percieve it in your mind. We had lots of fun here. There were also a couple of floors dedicated to Austria's finest composers their respective surviving memoribilia.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
The Cinque Terre
If anyone plans to visit the Cinque Terre, Italy's "secret" riviera between Genoa and Pisa, I highly suggest arriving on a bright, sunny day. It makes for a marvelous introduction to these five illustrious villages. It was a temperate 65 degrees when we began our train ride to the Cinque Terre. The sky was a nearly perfect cobalt blue, decorated with just enough wisps of white so that we couldn't say, "not a cloud in the sky," while keeping our integrity in tact. The sun was working overtime: it appeared to be blazing as if were a balmy day in July, not mid-November. Although, it is worth noting that the fiery rays came without the strangling heat that normally accompanies them.
Our moods matched the weather. This was possibly the most anticipated leg of our journey, and after the whirlwind that was Leonardo, we were already on a natural high, knowing that the distance between us and him was increasing exponentially by the moment. The weather remained constant for the entirety of our ride from Florence, but toward the end of the trip, we were enveloped by a dark tunnel that temporarily cut off our supply of sunlight. Several minutes later, and once our eyes had adjusted to the lack of natural light, we came careening out of the other side of a mountain and were instantly blinded by rays of light, even more fiery than before. Immediatly, we transposed ourselves to the opposite side of the train to survey the change in situation. We were now streaking dangerously across the edge of a seaside cliff, the blinding light a combination of the afternoon sun, perched perfectly at an angle where it could enter the windows of our train without reservation, and the reflection of it off of the poingently blue mediterranean. Never before had I been so drawn to actually stare directly at the sun. We were speechless. Just when we were able to focus our eyes on the sea, we were again engulfed by the darkness of a tunnel. The next twenty minutes we played a cruel game of cat and mouse, the ellusive sun toying with us all the way to our destination.***
Our destination was Vernazza, the fourth village in the Cinque Terre when headed northbound. Again without a host (there was a grand total of one couchsurfer between the five villages and he was somehow otherwise occupied), we set out to explore town and find a resting place for our packs. The first thing that was apparent to us upon unloading from the train was the lack of cars. There was only one road in Vernazza, and it was pedestrian only. Off of it, snaked several narrow and often steep cobblestone footpaths winding up into the surrounding hills, connecting the gelaterias and souvenier shops to the homes, "cameras" for rent, and eventually vineyards. At the end of the main street, which took all of four minutes to walk, we were met by crashing waves, so imposing that a rock wall had been built to subdue them. It began at a raised concrete terrace that during low tide remained mostly dry, and extended horizontally twenty meters into the sea, protecting the man-made cove. Here we found a wide assortment of people: there were college aged girls taking photo after photo of the crashing waves, local children chastizing thier pet dogs with the endless supply of soggy sticks that had washed ashore, a fellow backpacker writing in his journal, and a few hikers taking a break at the end of a strenuous day. We paused for a moment, taking in the scene, before making our way through the winding alleys to find our next temporary abode.
Up ten or fifteen steps between a shop that was closed for the season and a pizza counter, we found a sign reading, "CAMERA, ROOM, ZIMMER," or something to that effect. After ringing the bell, we heard a jostling above us and looked up. A woman appeared to be opening her shutters to hang her laundry to dry. She began speaking to us, asking in Italian if we needed a room. There, with us on the street, and her, three stories up, yelling out her window, we tried to settle on a fair price. What I'm sure was a good deal for the room she was offering, was too expensive for us, so we moved on, hoping not to offend her. This continued for the next 45 minutes: ringing the bell and haggling over a price via shouts from the second or third story window down to the level of the street and back. We finally found Elizabeta. She gave us the best price for a slightly smaller studio apartment than most were offering. Offer accepted and bags dropped, we headed out to explore.
We took a two minute train ride back the way we came, to Corniglia, the third town. Corniglia sits atop a cliff, the highest of the five villages. The train station alternately, is at sea level. The three hundred and sixty five stairs up to the town center are gradual but tiring for many. For those not up for the climb, a bus runs frequently between the station and the town center. In preparation for the five village hike, we opted for the stairs. The sun was dipping low by the time we reached the top, so we poked around town quickly before scouring the area for a spot to watch the sun set. We settled on a small patch of grass just over a gaurdrail into a vineyard. Afterwards we picked up ingredients for a picnic dinner and headed back to Vernazza, where we ate spicy soprasetta, pecorino romano, mixed local olives, fresh white anchovies with lemon and parsley, and a large piece of bread with a container of fresh pesto by the crashing waves. To help wash this delicious meal down we had a bottle of local Cinque Terre white wine. Before turning in for the night, we enjoyed one more glass of wine from the only bar in town. When I asked the friendly barkeep slash owner what time she closed, she couldn't give me a definite answer, "maybe 8:30.... but if you go for a walk and aren't finished, you can bring the glasses back tomorrow."
In the morning we awoke to grey skies and constant drizzle- not what we had anticipated for our hike. We had actually planned on being in the Cinque Terre the prior three days, but based on weather reports, switched it with Florence. We were pretty bummed, but decided to do what we could and make the best of it. This time we took the train back to the first town, Riomaggiore. The rain had more or less tapered off by the time we were there so we quickly hopped on the first of four hiking trails. The Via dell'Amore, or Path of Love, as it was named, turned out to not really be a hike, but more of a paved path from one town to the next. Despite the weather it was still beautiful, so we took our time. The next town was Manarola. This seemed to be slightly larger than the first, and we spent a little more time here, eating pesto foccaccia and chatting with a family from Indiana (or was it Iowa...) that we had seen yesterday on the train. Here, we noticed an interesting phenomenon: Rick Steves bonding. Actually, we first noted the ubiquity of "Rick Steves Italy," in just about every American traveler's hands that we came acorss, holding onto it like a bible. It was really amusing, though, when two of these travelers would run into each other, and then get instantly worked up over the fact that they were using the same travel guide. Sometimes they would just wave it at someone from a distance, and wait for a look of recognition and the jolly jig of excitement that would surely follow. Clearly, we are both fans of his as well, and may have even had a copy of "Europe Through the Back Door," on us as we observed these interactions, HOWEVER, we were not to about to go on about it in such a manner as to embarrass ourselves. Not surprisingly, this was not the last of Rick Steves in the Cinque Terre. Anyway, moving on to our hike... We had been forewarned that the second stretch was closed due to a mudslide, but were happy to hear that only a small section of it was actually roped off. We walked as far as we could, and could actually see the mudslide from where we were standing. It was pretty massive. The slide had not only wiped away a decent sized segment of the trail in its entirety, but also all of the vegetation from the top of the mountain down to the sea. Intrigued, we found a "secret" path that let us get even closer. We ended up hopping a fence and getting to be about 50 meters away before common sense told us not to push our luck. This path, though exciting, was actually just as easy as part one. Walking back to catch a train to Corniglia, eager to start on a more difficult and lengthy trail.
Because we had seen Corniglia the day before, we walked up the stairs and immediatly began our trek to Vernazza. We cut straight through town and followed signs to the far edge of town. The last sign before the trail started explained that until the railroad was built in the late 1800's, this was the only way to get between the villages. It was clear from the beginning that this would be more than just a nature walk. This trail followed the contours of the mountain, up and down, into crevices and over waterfalls, meandering through olive groves and wine vineyards, and even a few secluded homes (we actually went through someones archway, connecting their house to their garage). There were some long steep segments, but plenty of downhill action as well. We weren't actually gaining altitude to get to the next village. There were some amazing views of the Mediterranean, despite the clouds, but I'm sure it would be that much better in the sun. We will just have to return. Again, we were lucky to pack headlamps because this portion took longer than we anticipated, and by the time we made our final descent into Vernazza it was most definitely night. We cleaned up and then headed "into town"- about 45 stairs and another 30 steps- for some food. Vernazza is such a small town (population 600, and I am not forgetting a zero) that it would be impossible to not run into the same people over and over again. As we walked by the bar, the owner, who was chatting with a few friends out front, stopped a conversation she was having to wave to us and say , "hi." The family that we were chatting with in Manarola was eating dinner in the same restaurant, and we had also seen them on one of the trails. It's funny how in the Cinque Terre, even tourists are a tight-knit community. Dinner that night was again pesto-filled and delicious.
The hike on day three was probably the most challenging. We started early (for us), on the trail by ten. The weather that day was slightly better than the day before- clouds but thankfully no drizzle. I wore my bathing suit under my hiking clothes anyway, sure that today would be the day to swim in the Meditteranean. About halfway into our hike, a couple of Swedes whom we had met the day before caught up with us, and we ended up hiking most of the rest of that trail with them. The company that they worked for had recently merged with a French company, and as result they were living in France for a year. They had vowed to visit somewhere new every weekend they lived there, as so much more of Europe was accessible to them now. When we were about three quarters the way done with the hike, something amazing happened- the sun came out! The views that were beautiful before became stunning, and the warmth of the rays felt great. Looking up at the sky, we could tell that if we wanted to swim, we were on a tight schedule, the sun wouldn't last for too long. Reenergized, we picked up our speed and finished the last leg of the Cinque Terre as quickly as possible. The end of this turned out to be stairs- hundreds, maybe a thousand, stairs. It didn't bother us much, as we were headed down and feeling great (though hot and sweaty of course) due to the sun's recent appearance, but it did bother the hikers just starting out and heading in the opposite direction. We are VERY glad we hiked south to north. At last, Monterosso was in sight! We raced the sun to a vacant, pebbley beach with aqua blue water, dropped drawers (well, we were wearing bathing suits) and immediatly dove in. Amazing. Invigorating. Possibly the best moment of the trip - we were finally able to justify bringing our bathing suits, and we were able use them in the beautiful Mediterranean! It could only have been better if we were wrong about the weather and it stayed sunny all day, but as predicted, about two minutes after we jumped in, clouds settled in and stayed. This did not deter us from enjoying our own little beach for at least an hour or so and we stayed to snack on local clementines, apples, and some rolls we picked up at a bakery earlier that morning. For anyone else planning to do the entire hike, I would absolutly end with Monterosso. It is the only town with a real beach, and if you aren't ending with the stairs downhill, then you are starting with them UPHILL- not a fun introduction to the trail.
We spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know Monterosso and eventually getting an outlandish fine on the train for not having our railpasses on us (we are in the process of fighting it) and this derailed our day by a few hours. To brighten our moods, we decided to go out for dinner at a nice looking restaurant that we noted in Manorola the day before. While waiting for the train, we ran into Elizabeta and her husband, on their way to a nearby town to visit her sister. We started asking them about the local economy, and how long tourism has played such an important role it in. Without hesitation, Elizabeta told us 1995 is when it all changed. Someone named Rick Steves came to the town and wrote about it his travel guide about Italy. At this point her husband puts his hands together as if praying and looks up to the sky, letting out a cry of "Rick Steves!". We are not surprised by this, but we had been pretty curious to find out what everyone thought of this guy. It's good to know that they have embraced the changes in their community that they have seen take place so rapidly. Of course they don't speak for everyone, but the overall impression was definitely a positive one. As for our dinner, to start, Marisa enjoyed a nice wedge of Pecorino Romano and Andy, craving fresh seafood, opted for fried octopus. For the second course Marisa enjoyed a slice of pesto lasagna, and Andy stuck with the fish choosing a plate of mixed grilled fish which included more octopus, squid, swordfish, prawns, shrimp, and langostine (a smaller, lobster-like creature). It certainly did the trick and by the time we went home, we were relaxed and again soaking in every moment with pleasure. The next day we left the Cinque Terre for Rome (but not before running into Elizabeta and her husband one last time at the train station)!
***This paragraph was written while in the waiting room at a train station near the Amalfi Coast. It was us and a room full of homeless dudes, two of whom started beligerently fighting over a blanket right next to me. I was a little tense, and later we noted the strangely apocolyptic vibe that this paragraph had, but decided to keep it anyway, for posterity's sake.
Our moods matched the weather. This was possibly the most anticipated leg of our journey, and after the whirlwind that was Leonardo, we were already on a natural high, knowing that the distance between us and him was increasing exponentially by the moment. The weather remained constant for the entirety of our ride from Florence, but toward the end of the trip, we were enveloped by a dark tunnel that temporarily cut off our supply of sunlight. Several minutes later, and once our eyes had adjusted to the lack of natural light, we came careening out of the other side of a mountain and were instantly blinded by rays of light, even more fiery than before. Immediatly, we transposed ourselves to the opposite side of the train to survey the change in situation. We were now streaking dangerously across the edge of a seaside cliff, the blinding light a combination of the afternoon sun, perched perfectly at an angle where it could enter the windows of our train without reservation, and the reflection of it off of the poingently blue mediterranean. Never before had I been so drawn to actually stare directly at the sun. We were speechless. Just when we were able to focus our eyes on the sea, we were again engulfed by the darkness of a tunnel. The next twenty minutes we played a cruel game of cat and mouse, the ellusive sun toying with us all the way to our destination.***
Our destination was Vernazza, the fourth village in the Cinque Terre when headed northbound. Again without a host (there was a grand total of one couchsurfer between the five villages and he was somehow otherwise occupied), we set out to explore town and find a resting place for our packs. The first thing that was apparent to us upon unloading from the train was the lack of cars. There was only one road in Vernazza, and it was pedestrian only. Off of it, snaked several narrow and often steep cobblestone footpaths winding up into the surrounding hills, connecting the gelaterias and souvenier shops to the homes, "cameras" for rent, and eventually vineyards. At the end of the main street, which took all of four minutes to walk, we were met by crashing waves, so imposing that a rock wall had been built to subdue them. It began at a raised concrete terrace that during low tide remained mostly dry, and extended horizontally twenty meters into the sea, protecting the man-made cove. Here we found a wide assortment of people: there were college aged girls taking photo after photo of the crashing waves, local children chastizing thier pet dogs with the endless supply of soggy sticks that had washed ashore, a fellow backpacker writing in his journal, and a few hikers taking a break at the end of a strenuous day. We paused for a moment, taking in the scene, before making our way through the winding alleys to find our next temporary abode.
Up ten or fifteen steps between a shop that was closed for the season and a pizza counter, we found a sign reading, "CAMERA, ROOM, ZIMMER," or something to that effect. After ringing the bell, we heard a jostling above us and looked up. A woman appeared to be opening her shutters to hang her laundry to dry. She began speaking to us, asking in Italian if we needed a room. There, with us on the street, and her, three stories up, yelling out her window, we tried to settle on a fair price. What I'm sure was a good deal for the room she was offering, was too expensive for us, so we moved on, hoping not to offend her. This continued for the next 45 minutes: ringing the bell and haggling over a price via shouts from the second or third story window down to the level of the street and back. We finally found Elizabeta. She gave us the best price for a slightly smaller studio apartment than most were offering. Offer accepted and bags dropped, we headed out to explore.
We took a two minute train ride back the way we came, to Corniglia, the third town. Corniglia sits atop a cliff, the highest of the five villages. The train station alternately, is at sea level. The three hundred and sixty five stairs up to the town center are gradual but tiring for many. For those not up for the climb, a bus runs frequently between the station and the town center. In preparation for the five village hike, we opted for the stairs. The sun was dipping low by the time we reached the top, so we poked around town quickly before scouring the area for a spot to watch the sun set. We settled on a small patch of grass just over a gaurdrail into a vineyard. Afterwards we picked up ingredients for a picnic dinner and headed back to Vernazza, where we ate spicy soprasetta, pecorino romano, mixed local olives, fresh white anchovies with lemon and parsley, and a large piece of bread with a container of fresh pesto by the crashing waves. To help wash this delicious meal down we had a bottle of local Cinque Terre white wine. Before turning in for the night, we enjoyed one more glass of wine from the only bar in town. When I asked the friendly barkeep slash owner what time she closed, she couldn't give me a definite answer, "maybe 8:30.... but if you go for a walk and aren't finished, you can bring the glasses back tomorrow."
In the morning we awoke to grey skies and constant drizzle- not what we had anticipated for our hike. We had actually planned on being in the Cinque Terre the prior three days, but based on weather reports, switched it with Florence. We were pretty bummed, but decided to do what we could and make the best of it. This time we took the train back to the first town, Riomaggiore. The rain had more or less tapered off by the time we were there so we quickly hopped on the first of four hiking trails. The Via dell'Amore, or Path of Love, as it was named, turned out to not really be a hike, but more of a paved path from one town to the next. Despite the weather it was still beautiful, so we took our time. The next town was Manarola. This seemed to be slightly larger than the first, and we spent a little more time here, eating pesto foccaccia and chatting with a family from Indiana (or was it Iowa...) that we had seen yesterday on the train. Here, we noticed an interesting phenomenon: Rick Steves bonding. Actually, we first noted the ubiquity of "Rick Steves Italy," in just about every American traveler's hands that we came acorss, holding onto it like a bible. It was really amusing, though, when two of these travelers would run into each other, and then get instantly worked up over the fact that they were using the same travel guide. Sometimes they would just wave it at someone from a distance, and wait for a look of recognition and the jolly jig of excitement that would surely follow. Clearly, we are both fans of his as well, and may have even had a copy of "Europe Through the Back Door," on us as we observed these interactions, HOWEVER, we were not to about to go on about it in such a manner as to embarrass ourselves. Not surprisingly, this was not the last of Rick Steves in the Cinque Terre. Anyway, moving on to our hike... We had been forewarned that the second stretch was closed due to a mudslide, but were happy to hear that only a small section of it was actually roped off. We walked as far as we could, and could actually see the mudslide from where we were standing. It was pretty massive. The slide had not only wiped away a decent sized segment of the trail in its entirety, but also all of the vegetation from the top of the mountain down to the sea. Intrigued, we found a "secret" path that let us get even closer. We ended up hopping a fence and getting to be about 50 meters away before common sense told us not to push our luck. This path, though exciting, was actually just as easy as part one. Walking back to catch a train to Corniglia, eager to start on a more difficult and lengthy trail.
Because we had seen Corniglia the day before, we walked up the stairs and immediatly began our trek to Vernazza. We cut straight through town and followed signs to the far edge of town. The last sign before the trail started explained that until the railroad was built in the late 1800's, this was the only way to get between the villages. It was clear from the beginning that this would be more than just a nature walk. This trail followed the contours of the mountain, up and down, into crevices and over waterfalls, meandering through olive groves and wine vineyards, and even a few secluded homes (we actually went through someones archway, connecting their house to their garage). There were some long steep segments, but plenty of downhill action as well. We weren't actually gaining altitude to get to the next village. There were some amazing views of the Mediterranean, despite the clouds, but I'm sure it would be that much better in the sun. We will just have to return. Again, we were lucky to pack headlamps because this portion took longer than we anticipated, and by the time we made our final descent into Vernazza it was most definitely night. We cleaned up and then headed "into town"- about 45 stairs and another 30 steps- for some food. Vernazza is such a small town (population 600, and I am not forgetting a zero) that it would be impossible to not run into the same people over and over again. As we walked by the bar, the owner, who was chatting with a few friends out front, stopped a conversation she was having to wave to us and say , "hi." The family that we were chatting with in Manarola was eating dinner in the same restaurant, and we had also seen them on one of the trails. It's funny how in the Cinque Terre, even tourists are a tight-knit community. Dinner that night was again pesto-filled and delicious.
The hike on day three was probably the most challenging. We started early (for us), on the trail by ten. The weather that day was slightly better than the day before- clouds but thankfully no drizzle. I wore my bathing suit under my hiking clothes anyway, sure that today would be the day to swim in the Meditteranean. About halfway into our hike, a couple of Swedes whom we had met the day before caught up with us, and we ended up hiking most of the rest of that trail with them. The company that they worked for had recently merged with a French company, and as result they were living in France for a year. They had vowed to visit somewhere new every weekend they lived there, as so much more of Europe was accessible to them now. When we were about three quarters the way done with the hike, something amazing happened- the sun came out! The views that were beautiful before became stunning, and the warmth of the rays felt great. Looking up at the sky, we could tell that if we wanted to swim, we were on a tight schedule, the sun wouldn't last for too long. Reenergized, we picked up our speed and finished the last leg of the Cinque Terre as quickly as possible. The end of this turned out to be stairs- hundreds, maybe a thousand, stairs. It didn't bother us much, as we were headed down and feeling great (though hot and sweaty of course) due to the sun's recent appearance, but it did bother the hikers just starting out and heading in the opposite direction. We are VERY glad we hiked south to north. At last, Monterosso was in sight! We raced the sun to a vacant, pebbley beach with aqua blue water, dropped drawers (well, we were wearing bathing suits) and immediatly dove in. Amazing. Invigorating. Possibly the best moment of the trip - we were finally able to justify bringing our bathing suits, and we were able use them in the beautiful Mediterranean! It could only have been better if we were wrong about the weather and it stayed sunny all day, but as predicted, about two minutes after we jumped in, clouds settled in and stayed. This did not deter us from enjoying our own little beach for at least an hour or so and we stayed to snack on local clementines, apples, and some rolls we picked up at a bakery earlier that morning. For anyone else planning to do the entire hike, I would absolutly end with Monterosso. It is the only town with a real beach, and if you aren't ending with the stairs downhill, then you are starting with them UPHILL- not a fun introduction to the trail.
We spent the rest of the afternoon getting to know Monterosso and eventually getting an outlandish fine on the train for not having our railpasses on us (we are in the process of fighting it) and this derailed our day by a few hours. To brighten our moods, we decided to go out for dinner at a nice looking restaurant that we noted in Manorola the day before. While waiting for the train, we ran into Elizabeta and her husband, on their way to a nearby town to visit her sister. We started asking them about the local economy, and how long tourism has played such an important role it in. Without hesitation, Elizabeta told us 1995 is when it all changed. Someone named Rick Steves came to the town and wrote about it his travel guide about Italy. At this point her husband puts his hands together as if praying and looks up to the sky, letting out a cry of "Rick Steves!". We are not surprised by this, but we had been pretty curious to find out what everyone thought of this guy. It's good to know that they have embraced the changes in their community that they have seen take place so rapidly. Of course they don't speak for everyone, but the overall impression was definitely a positive one. As for our dinner, to start, Marisa enjoyed a nice wedge of Pecorino Romano and Andy, craving fresh seafood, opted for fried octopus. For the second course Marisa enjoyed a slice of pesto lasagna, and Andy stuck with the fish choosing a plate of mixed grilled fish which included more octopus, squid, swordfish, prawns, shrimp, and langostine (a smaller, lobster-like creature). It certainly did the trick and by the time we went home, we were relaxed and again soaking in every moment with pleasure. The next day we left the Cinque Terre for Rome (but not before running into Elizabeta and her husband one last time at the train station)!
***This paragraph was written while in the waiting room at a train station near the Amalfi Coast. It was us and a room full of homeless dudes, two of whom started beligerently fighting over a blanket right next to me. I was a little tense, and later we noted the strangely apocolyptic vibe that this paragraph had, but decided to keep it anyway, for posterity's sake.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Florence, Italy
Our time in Florence could have been very different. We had our first wierd couchsurfing experience here. After Venice we were very in need of a few cheap days, and feeling pretty desparate to find a host. Efforts to find a host had not been fruitful, so we posted an emergency request in the Florence group and hoped for the best. On the train, we got a message from Leonardo, telling us he could host for the first two nights. With great relief, we accepted his offer and made plans to meet. He told us what bus to take from the city center, and to tell the driver the name of his office building (something in Italian) so we could determine at which stop we should get off. Not necessarily the most logical way to meet someone, but happy to have found a place for the next few nights, we followed his instructions. This was actually foreshadowing for what was to come.
Normally we get very specific directions, i.e. "take line 4 in the direction of (insert name of last stop here), and get off at (insert name of stop). Call me when you pass (insert landmark) and I will come meet you." At this point, we are appreciative that we have somewhere to stay, and don't think twice. When we ask the driver where to get off, she doesn't know. A gentleman near the front of the bus says "copalignia", or at least that's what I hear. We start watching the message board, waiting for our stop. Meanwhile, Leonardo has texted us, wanting to know our status. We reply and he tells us we should be there in ten minutes. Twenty minutes later, we haven't seen our stop, and Leonardo is calling. Andy talks to him, but the bus is loud, Leo's English is not very good, and he has a very strong accent. Essentially, we gather no information. He calls back a few minutes later. Andy is frustrated, so Marisa takes the call. A lot more of the same ensues. He is definitely either saying to remain on the bus.... or DON'T remain on the bus, along with and a lot of other nonsensical strings of verbs and nouns. It is obvious at this point that Leo is very frustrated, but we try to remain polite and calm, apologising for inconviencing him. He demands to talk to Andy again. Now we have the attention of several local Florentines, one in particular who speaks far better English than Leo. (I will interject here that we are not holding it against him that his English is less than adequate. Clearly our Italian is far less than adequate. But, we weren't yelling/mumbling/talking very fast in our less than adequate Italian. In fact we were speaking in very loud, slow, clear and concise in simple English. AND we had asked him several times to text instead of calling, which would have been cheaper and probably comprehendible.) After telling this gentleman where we want to go, he consults his fellow Italians, and they determine we are on the wrong bus... but copalignia is coming up. We are so confused. The bus we are on runs in a loop, and at this point we have made a full revolution. Once back at the station one of the girls looks at me and points outside, saying, "copalignia," as if motioning for us to get off. We now gather that copalignia means end of the line. This is not helpful. A minute later, we recieve, finally, a text message from Leo, telling us the name of the stop we need to get off. I recognize it immediatly from our first revolution, and a few minutes later we arrive at the stop.
We thought our troubles were past. Once in the car, Leo explains that he needs to stop at a grocery store. Fine, no problem. After speaking with him for a few minutes during the car ride, we are overwhelmed. At first we thought he was the looney proffessor type- his office was at a University- but he explains that he is a manager of information technology for the engineering department. He doesn't stop talking, and very awkwardly jumps from one thought to another, thinking that we are with him all along. He gives us the "mmmm, you're supposed to be laughing now..." look (either that or the "I'M INSANE!!!" look, I'm still not sure), and speaks so fast that we can only pick up on half of it anyway. In the grocery store it became even more evident. Whether it was the way he dangled the cart from the corner behind him as he briskly walked, or how he lingered over Andy's shoulder as he tried to pick out cheese, one thing was clear: this guy was a little bit nuts. While we make our way through the grocery store he informes us that we would be cooking dinner that night, which would have been overwhelming anyway, but then he went on to say that he doesn't like lobster, or bread in his soup, and he's already had meat a few times this week, et cetera. Taken off gaurd, we scramble to try and think of what we could cook that would be suitable for everyone. At one point we were looking for chickpeas to make falafel, but Leo didn't understand "chickpea" or "garbanzo bean". This shouldn't have been a problem, as this is actually a word that I know how to say in Italian: "ceci". When he still didn't understand me, instead of just asking me to repeat myself, or speak slower, he just ignored me and turned to Andy for an explanation, giving him an obnoxious "what the hell is this this crazy woman saying" face. At this point, I walked away to pick out some vino, which we clearly needed in order to deal with this situation. A few minutes later, my choice in wine was also rejected, as it was only suitable to accompany red meat. We eventually settle on just making macaroni and cheese, but once we begin to look for the right cheeses to use, he hovers unconfortably close over our shoulders, circling around us like a moth around a bright light at night. Suddenly, we were experiencing clausterphbia in an enormous grocery store. And on and on continued our increasingly bizarre grocery shopping experience.
Once back at his place, we start boiling water for pasta. After a few minutes, it became evidant that WE were not in fact making dinner, Leo was, not pleased with our the idea of our version of pasta with cheese. Rather than explaining this to us, he just kind of took over, making his pasta quatro formaggi. As we were discussing what cheese to put in, he would interject saying, "no, no" making it clear that his recipe was to be followed. Dinner was awkward. Everything was awkward. It is worth mentionioning that his cooking was indeed excellent, preparing homemade tirimisu (using Marsala instead of a coffee or liquer) and a Tuscan style soup that were both terrific. We should also say that we are, as always, grateful to anyone who opens up their home to us and always accepting of different people, however this case was not one of a culture clash or a "bad fit"- it was social ineptness and lack of consideration in certain regards to people that are guests in one's home. There is so much more to say on this topic, so many more examples of where things went wrong/weird, but I would rather not think about it any longer. Our last night in Florence, we stayed in a hostel and celebrated our freedom from Leonardo.
Our first morning, we went to the Accedemia and saw Michelangelo's David. I was not expecting to be impressed, but it was amazing! I had no idea how big it was going to be, I had previously figured that it was life-size. We spent the better part of the morning sneaking behind pillars and poking up behind tour groups trying to take pictures, which was strictly forbidden and the rule enforced by several watch ladies around the room. The rest of the pieces in this Museum consisted of clay molds for other famous sculptures, and a vast array of religious paintings by notable artists. I can appreciate a fine brush stroke as much as anyone, but after a certain number of "Madonna and Child(s)," my mind started to drift elsewhere. A gentleman pulled us aside and asked us as we were coming down the stairs to leave, "oh, what's up there? anything good?" "More religious paintings," I answered rather bleakly. I think we were on the same page.
After the Accedemia, we considered going to the Uffizi, but decided we were museumed out for the day. We visited the "Duomo," the giant cathedral in Florence, next. This was actually very different from all of the other cathedrals that we had visited during this trip in a couple of ways. First, the colors on the outside were much more vibrant, which helped aleve the dreariness of the rainy day. Second, the inside had barely any seating, leaving most of the nave open for pedestrian traffic. The dome itself was a fresco of "The Last Judgment," elaborately detailing the final eternal home of both sinners and saints.
For lunch, we had an interesting theory. Looking at the map, we noted a grid of small streets in a neighborhood across the river, and thought based soley on that, that we could find a good meal in that part of town. I don't know if that strategy will work in every city, but it certainly paid off here. We had an amazing traditional Florentine style lunch in the basement of an old taven style building. The walls were several hundred year old bricks, arching into impressive high ceilings. There was a notation on the menu, explaining that because the restaurant used traditional old-fashioned Florentine cooking techniques, many of the dishes take quite some time to prepare. We took this as a good sign. Andy ate a perfectly executed roasted half chicken with roasted potatoes and Marisa enjoyed Crespelle alla Fiorentina, large homemade egg noodles stuffed with spinach and ricotta cheese, baked in the oven and finished with a creamy tomato sauce, delectable! We also enjoyed biscotti, small almond cookies, with vin santo, a sweet and strong dessert wine, for dessert. Although the biscotti can be quite dry on its own, when dipped in the vin santo, it's perfect! The other really great meal we had in Florence was at a restaurant called "La Messiera," which my parents reccommended and ate at while in Florence a couple years ago. Here, we sat at the table directly in front of the kitchen and were able to watch the chef prepare everything from cut-to-order T-Bone steaks Florentine style to punded out veal loin for veal Milinaise. When the restaurant became a little more crowded, we ended up with a few more people at our table. We shared fettunta, a tuscan garlic bread and ravioli stuffed cheese and spinach, topped with a terrific pomodoro sauce. Marisa ate Ribolitta, a traditional Tuscan soup made of vegetables, beans, bread, and stock. Despite being listed as a starter, it was very filling, and more than adequate as a main course. Andy enjoyed Veal Osso Bucco which was reportdly also very good.
With mixed impressions of Florence, we returned to our hostel to a blissfully quiet and unexciting abode, where we both got to chat with our families using skype. After having our fill of this Tuscan town, we prepared ourselves for one of our most anticipated stops of the trip - the Cinqua Terre villages of Italy, along the Mediterranean coast.
Normally we get very specific directions, i.e. "take line 4 in the direction of (insert name of last stop here), and get off at (insert name of stop). Call me when you pass (insert landmark) and I will come meet you." At this point, we are appreciative that we have somewhere to stay, and don't think twice. When we ask the driver where to get off, she doesn't know. A gentleman near the front of the bus says "copalignia", or at least that's what I hear. We start watching the message board, waiting for our stop. Meanwhile, Leonardo has texted us, wanting to know our status. We reply and he tells us we should be there in ten minutes. Twenty minutes later, we haven't seen our stop, and Leonardo is calling. Andy talks to him, but the bus is loud, Leo's English is not very good, and he has a very strong accent. Essentially, we gather no information. He calls back a few minutes later. Andy is frustrated, so Marisa takes the call. A lot more of the same ensues. He is definitely either saying to remain on the bus.... or DON'T remain on the bus, along with and a lot of other nonsensical strings of verbs and nouns. It is obvious at this point that Leo is very frustrated, but we try to remain polite and calm, apologising for inconviencing him. He demands to talk to Andy again. Now we have the attention of several local Florentines, one in particular who speaks far better English than Leo. (I will interject here that we are not holding it against him that his English is less than adequate. Clearly our Italian is far less than adequate. But, we weren't yelling/mumbling/talking very fast in our less than adequate Italian. In fact we were speaking in very loud, slow, clear and concise in simple English. AND we had asked him several times to text instead of calling, which would have been cheaper and probably comprehendible.) After telling this gentleman where we want to go, he consults his fellow Italians, and they determine we are on the wrong bus... but copalignia is coming up. We are so confused. The bus we are on runs in a loop, and at this point we have made a full revolution. Once back at the station one of the girls looks at me and points outside, saying, "copalignia," as if motioning for us to get off. We now gather that copalignia means end of the line. This is not helpful. A minute later, we recieve, finally, a text message from Leo, telling us the name of the stop we need to get off. I recognize it immediatly from our first revolution, and a few minutes later we arrive at the stop.
We thought our troubles were past. Once in the car, Leo explains that he needs to stop at a grocery store. Fine, no problem. After speaking with him for a few minutes during the car ride, we are overwhelmed. At first we thought he was the looney proffessor type- his office was at a University- but he explains that he is a manager of information technology for the engineering department. He doesn't stop talking, and very awkwardly jumps from one thought to another, thinking that we are with him all along. He gives us the "mmmm, you're supposed to be laughing now..." look (either that or the "I'M INSANE!!!" look, I'm still not sure), and speaks so fast that we can only pick up on half of it anyway. In the grocery store it became even more evident. Whether it was the way he dangled the cart from the corner behind him as he briskly walked, or how he lingered over Andy's shoulder as he tried to pick out cheese, one thing was clear: this guy was a little bit nuts. While we make our way through the grocery store he informes us that we would be cooking dinner that night, which would have been overwhelming anyway, but then he went on to say that he doesn't like lobster, or bread in his soup, and he's already had meat a few times this week, et cetera. Taken off gaurd, we scramble to try and think of what we could cook that would be suitable for everyone. At one point we were looking for chickpeas to make falafel, but Leo didn't understand "chickpea" or "garbanzo bean". This shouldn't have been a problem, as this is actually a word that I know how to say in Italian: "ceci". When he still didn't understand me, instead of just asking me to repeat myself, or speak slower, he just ignored me and turned to Andy for an explanation, giving him an obnoxious "what the hell is this this crazy woman saying" face. At this point, I walked away to pick out some vino, which we clearly needed in order to deal with this situation. A few minutes later, my choice in wine was also rejected, as it was only suitable to accompany red meat. We eventually settle on just making macaroni and cheese, but once we begin to look for the right cheeses to use, he hovers unconfortably close over our shoulders, circling around us like a moth around a bright light at night. Suddenly, we were experiencing clausterphbia in an enormous grocery store. And on and on continued our increasingly bizarre grocery shopping experience.
Once back at his place, we start boiling water for pasta. After a few minutes, it became evidant that WE were not in fact making dinner, Leo was, not pleased with our the idea of our version of pasta with cheese. Rather than explaining this to us, he just kind of took over, making his pasta quatro formaggi. As we were discussing what cheese to put in, he would interject saying, "no, no" making it clear that his recipe was to be followed. Dinner was awkward. Everything was awkward. It is worth mentionioning that his cooking was indeed excellent, preparing homemade tirimisu (using Marsala instead of a coffee or liquer) and a Tuscan style soup that were both terrific. We should also say that we are, as always, grateful to anyone who opens up their home to us and always accepting of different people, however this case was not one of a culture clash or a "bad fit"- it was social ineptness and lack of consideration in certain regards to people that are guests in one's home. There is so much more to say on this topic, so many more examples of where things went wrong/weird, but I would rather not think about it any longer. Our last night in Florence, we stayed in a hostel and celebrated our freedom from Leonardo.
Our first morning, we went to the Accedemia and saw Michelangelo's David. I was not expecting to be impressed, but it was amazing! I had no idea how big it was going to be, I had previously figured that it was life-size. We spent the better part of the morning sneaking behind pillars and poking up behind tour groups trying to take pictures, which was strictly forbidden and the rule enforced by several watch ladies around the room. The rest of the pieces in this Museum consisted of clay molds for other famous sculptures, and a vast array of religious paintings by notable artists. I can appreciate a fine brush stroke as much as anyone, but after a certain number of "Madonna and Child(s)," my mind started to drift elsewhere. A gentleman pulled us aside and asked us as we were coming down the stairs to leave, "oh, what's up there? anything good?" "More religious paintings," I answered rather bleakly. I think we were on the same page.
After the Accedemia, we considered going to the Uffizi, but decided we were museumed out for the day. We visited the "Duomo," the giant cathedral in Florence, next. This was actually very different from all of the other cathedrals that we had visited during this trip in a couple of ways. First, the colors on the outside were much more vibrant, which helped aleve the dreariness of the rainy day. Second, the inside had barely any seating, leaving most of the nave open for pedestrian traffic. The dome itself was a fresco of "The Last Judgment," elaborately detailing the final eternal home of both sinners and saints.
For lunch, we had an interesting theory. Looking at the map, we noted a grid of small streets in a neighborhood across the river, and thought based soley on that, that we could find a good meal in that part of town. I don't know if that strategy will work in every city, but it certainly paid off here. We had an amazing traditional Florentine style lunch in the basement of an old taven style building. The walls were several hundred year old bricks, arching into impressive high ceilings. There was a notation on the menu, explaining that because the restaurant used traditional old-fashioned Florentine cooking techniques, many of the dishes take quite some time to prepare. We took this as a good sign. Andy ate a perfectly executed roasted half chicken with roasted potatoes and Marisa enjoyed Crespelle alla Fiorentina, large homemade egg noodles stuffed with spinach and ricotta cheese, baked in the oven and finished with a creamy tomato sauce, delectable! We also enjoyed biscotti, small almond cookies, with vin santo, a sweet and strong dessert wine, for dessert. Although the biscotti can be quite dry on its own, when dipped in the vin santo, it's perfect! The other really great meal we had in Florence was at a restaurant called "La Messiera," which my parents reccommended and ate at while in Florence a couple years ago. Here, we sat at the table directly in front of the kitchen and were able to watch the chef prepare everything from cut-to-order T-Bone steaks Florentine style to punded out veal loin for veal Milinaise. When the restaurant became a little more crowded, we ended up with a few more people at our table. We shared fettunta, a tuscan garlic bread and ravioli stuffed cheese and spinach, topped with a terrific pomodoro sauce. Marisa ate Ribolitta, a traditional Tuscan soup made of vegetables, beans, bread, and stock. Despite being listed as a starter, it was very filling, and more than adequate as a main course. Andy enjoyed Veal Osso Bucco which was reportdly also very good.
With mixed impressions of Florence, we returned to our hostel to a blissfully quiet and unexciting abode, where we both got to chat with our families using skype. After having our fill of this Tuscan town, we prepared ourselves for one of our most anticipated stops of the trip - the Cinqua Terre villages of Italy, along the Mediterranean coast.
Dornbirn, Austria
***This post was not finished in time to have it in proper sequence - read it as after Innsbruck. Also, a post for Vienna, which followed Dornbirn, is soon to come.***
Carla and Mathias extended the offer for us to join them in their hometown, Dornbirn, over the long weekend. Dornbirn is located in the far western tip of Austria, bordered by Switzerland, Germany. Mathias' mother's birthday party was to be held on Saturday, and she told Mathias to bring along whomever he wanted. We opted to accept, excited to see their home and to experience a place that we knew nothing about. After a two and half hour train ride, we arrived in Dornbirn and walked two minutes to Mathias' home to meet his parents. We were welcomed warmly with wine, coffee, snacks, and delicious Swiss chocolates that Mathias so generously offered to share. After a short visit, we dropped our bags at Carla's house where we met her mother and would sleep while in Dornbirn. Afterwards, we went a friend's house where we drank some tasty Austrian beers while playing a drinking game with a unique set of cards made specifically for this game. We had a great time and shared lots of laughs and a few too many rounds of schnapps. On the way home we were all craving food, so we stopped at the only kebab shop still open by the train station. They were closing up and made us eat our food around the corner out of sight from other hungry potential partrons that may keep the night crew there even later. On our stroll home, Marisa explains here questionable sidways stumbling "I just like to walk horizonatlly when I'm having fun." Despite the time change the next morning came a bit early for everyone, but we had to make it to the open market in the city center to pick up various produce, snacks, cheeses, and meats for the birthday party later that day. While Mathias and Carla rounded up everything on the list, we tagged along and wandered around a bit, stopping for fresh baked breads for breakfast and sampling some delicious apple and grape juice that was pressed before your eyes - amazing. Despite being the 9th largest city in Austria, Dornbirn is a small sleepy town by American standards. It has an intimate feel to it, especially at the market -everyone seemed to know everyone, and the atmosphere was very friendly.
After the market Marisa and I made our way back to Carla's house to get a nap and a shower in before the party. Upon our arrival at the party, we sat down in the kitchen and admired the well composed hors' d'orves trays that Mathias and his mother had been working on. There were large spreads of speck, ham, smoked salmon, marinated olives, emantaller, boursin, breads, radishes, peppers, carrots, cucmbers, etc. As the guests arrived, we greeted them and introduced ourselves and by the time dinner was to start, there were about 14 of us including Mathias' twin brother Sebastian, older sister Angelica and her boyfriend, as well as a few friends and relatives. Immediately there is an interesting twist to an Austrian birthday, at least to this family's: the dinner begins with the birthday cake! Before we knew it we were humming along to an Austrian dialect version of "Happy Birthday," and promptly had a big slice of homemade chocolate mousse cake in front of us and a glass of chapagne in our hands. BIrthday presents were next, which included a comical yet endearing poem composed by Sebastian about the family coming together for Mom's birthday and two beautiful scrapbooks composed of pictures and momentos from the family's trip to India earlier this year. For the next several hours we lingered over wine or beers, eavesdropping on conversations, taking in all the animated facial expressions and gestures, trying to piece together stories, and then being filled in by Carla or Mathias on what silly point was being argued or which story was being recounted. At one point a joke was cracked about the shirt that Sebastian was wearing that day... and the day before, and the day before, saying that it was "self-cleaning". Sitting at the end of the table and at this point under the impression that very little English was understood, we VERY sarcastically joked, "haha, kind of like our underwear." This would later come back to haunt us as we were having a beer at the local pub with Angelica, Mathias and Sebastian's sister. It is key to remember that although we don't speak German, they understand English. Joke at your own risk. (I would like to clarify that our underwear is washed very regularly with soap and water.) By the end of dinner we enjoyed a little lemoncello and a mystery lime green digestif, and were invited back to lunch the next day at the house. We decided that night that we should get an early start on the day and drive out to Lake Constance.
Voralberg at this time of year is beautiful with firey foliage of reds, oranges, and yellows streaking across the trees, reminiscent of Vermont or Tenneesse in the height of Autumn, and with a similar elevation and landscape. Along Lake Constance is an outdoor opera house that which features a performance over the mild weather periods, with two years between each different opera. The set is magnificent, set about 100 feet into the lake with stadium seating just on land. There was a poster hung, with pictures from all of the previous sets, each one immaginative, enormous, and highly dynamic. The opera house has always been a popular destination for locals and regional residents, but it has enjoyed recent fame from a sequence shot for the latest James Bond: Quantum of Solace film. After admiring the lake and strolling along its perimeter, we returned to the car where we were whisked up a steep, twisting road. We arrived at a church perched atop a large hill with a commanding view of Lake Constance, the Alps, Dornbirn, and the surrounding villages and farms. We admired the view for a bit and then worked our way back to Dornbirn for lunch.
Lunch began with Leberspätzle, a brothy soup made of beef liver and spätzle (flour and water dough, boiled to pasta) and fresh chives, followed by a wonderful vegetarian Lasagna. For dessert we each had a plate of a pear poached in red wine until tender along side an amazing chestnut mousse. Afterwards we enjoyed strong esspresso and tea. We sat and chatted about what to do now, weighing our options for far too long. We finally settled on a hike, in which Sebastian volunteered to take us with his two friends from Bregenz, a town nearby. After changing into proper hiking attire, we took off for a mountain hike in the Alps.
Although neither of us couldn tell you the name of the mountain, it was about an hour away from Dornbirn. On the drive, we chatted with one of Sebastian's friends, who recently returned to Austia from a three month backpacking trip throughout the United States. She took the Greyhound bus from city to city (or sometimes small town). She was able to visit New York and Washington D.C. of course, but also a small island in Maine, reachable only by boat, and an Indian Reservation in South Dakota. It was an interesting conversation on both ends. We all had cases of the "travel bug" yet she had seen more of the United States than we have, and we've seen more of Europe than she has. The hike itself was great. As always, just to be outdoors and in the mountains was such a treat. Sebastian had hiked this trail many years ago and was excited to make it to the cave at the top. The trail was on par with a lot of hiking that we have done in New England, but at one point there was a small river that we had to traverse using steel cables tethered to boulders and gingerely planting our steps on mossy, slippery rocks, and finally leaping to the bank on the other side. It was intimidating to look at, but exciting, and not as difficult a manuever as we had originally thought. By the time we made it to the cave, darkness was setting in fast, so we retreated quickly, thankful for the headlamps and flashlights that we brought along.
Once back in Dornbirn we enjoyed a special saffron pasta that Carla's mom made for us, and then the five of us enjoyed a low-key night by the fire, exchanging stories and laughs in their backyard. We checked the train schedule for the next day and called it an early night.
Carla and Mathias extended the offer for us to join them in their hometown, Dornbirn, over the long weekend. Dornbirn is located in the far western tip of Austria, bordered by Switzerland, Germany. Mathias' mother's birthday party was to be held on Saturday, and she told Mathias to bring along whomever he wanted. We opted to accept, excited to see their home and to experience a place that we knew nothing about. After a two and half hour train ride, we arrived in Dornbirn and walked two minutes to Mathias' home to meet his parents. We were welcomed warmly with wine, coffee, snacks, and delicious Swiss chocolates that Mathias so generously offered to share. After a short visit, we dropped our bags at Carla's house where we met her mother and would sleep while in Dornbirn. Afterwards, we went a friend's house where we drank some tasty Austrian beers while playing a drinking game with a unique set of cards made specifically for this game. We had a great time and shared lots of laughs and a few too many rounds of schnapps. On the way home we were all craving food, so we stopped at the only kebab shop still open by the train station. They were closing up and made us eat our food around the corner out of sight from other hungry potential partrons that may keep the night crew there even later. On our stroll home, Marisa explains here questionable sidways stumbling "I just like to walk horizonatlly when I'm having fun." Despite the time change the next morning came a bit early for everyone, but we had to make it to the open market in the city center to pick up various produce, snacks, cheeses, and meats for the birthday party later that day. While Mathias and Carla rounded up everything on the list, we tagged along and wandered around a bit, stopping for fresh baked breads for breakfast and sampling some delicious apple and grape juice that was pressed before your eyes - amazing. Despite being the 9th largest city in Austria, Dornbirn is a small sleepy town by American standards. It has an intimate feel to it, especially at the market -everyone seemed to know everyone, and the atmosphere was very friendly.
After the market Marisa and I made our way back to Carla's house to get a nap and a shower in before the party. Upon our arrival at the party, we sat down in the kitchen and admired the well composed hors' d'orves trays that Mathias and his mother had been working on. There were large spreads of speck, ham, smoked salmon, marinated olives, emantaller, boursin, breads, radishes, peppers, carrots, cucmbers, etc. As the guests arrived, we greeted them and introduced ourselves and by the time dinner was to start, there were about 14 of us including Mathias' twin brother Sebastian, older sister Angelica and her boyfriend, as well as a few friends and relatives. Immediately there is an interesting twist to an Austrian birthday, at least to this family's: the dinner begins with the birthday cake! Before we knew it we were humming along to an Austrian dialect version of "Happy Birthday," and promptly had a big slice of homemade chocolate mousse cake in front of us and a glass of chapagne in our hands. BIrthday presents were next, which included a comical yet endearing poem composed by Sebastian about the family coming together for Mom's birthday and two beautiful scrapbooks composed of pictures and momentos from the family's trip to India earlier this year. For the next several hours we lingered over wine or beers, eavesdropping on conversations, taking in all the animated facial expressions and gestures, trying to piece together stories, and then being filled in by Carla or Mathias on what silly point was being argued or which story was being recounted. At one point a joke was cracked about the shirt that Sebastian was wearing that day... and the day before, and the day before, saying that it was "self-cleaning". Sitting at the end of the table and at this point under the impression that very little English was understood, we VERY sarcastically joked, "haha, kind of like our underwear." This would later come back to haunt us as we were having a beer at the local pub with Angelica, Mathias and Sebastian's sister. It is key to remember that although we don't speak German, they understand English. Joke at your own risk. (I would like to clarify that our underwear is washed very regularly with soap and water.) By the end of dinner we enjoyed a little lemoncello and a mystery lime green digestif, and were invited back to lunch the next day at the house. We decided that night that we should get an early start on the day and drive out to Lake Constance.
Voralberg at this time of year is beautiful with firey foliage of reds, oranges, and yellows streaking across the trees, reminiscent of Vermont or Tenneesse in the height of Autumn, and with a similar elevation and landscape. Along Lake Constance is an outdoor opera house that which features a performance over the mild weather periods, with two years between each different opera. The set is magnificent, set about 100 feet into the lake with stadium seating just on land. There was a poster hung, with pictures from all of the previous sets, each one immaginative, enormous, and highly dynamic. The opera house has always been a popular destination for locals and regional residents, but it has enjoyed recent fame from a sequence shot for the latest James Bond: Quantum of Solace film. After admiring the lake and strolling along its perimeter, we returned to the car where we were whisked up a steep, twisting road. We arrived at a church perched atop a large hill with a commanding view of Lake Constance, the Alps, Dornbirn, and the surrounding villages and farms. We admired the view for a bit and then worked our way back to Dornbirn for lunch.
Lunch began with Leberspätzle, a brothy soup made of beef liver and spätzle (flour and water dough, boiled to pasta) and fresh chives, followed by a wonderful vegetarian Lasagna. For dessert we each had a plate of a pear poached in red wine until tender along side an amazing chestnut mousse. Afterwards we enjoyed strong esspresso and tea. We sat and chatted about what to do now, weighing our options for far too long. We finally settled on a hike, in which Sebastian volunteered to take us with his two friends from Bregenz, a town nearby. After changing into proper hiking attire, we took off for a mountain hike in the Alps.
Although neither of us couldn tell you the name of the mountain, it was about an hour away from Dornbirn. On the drive, we chatted with one of Sebastian's friends, who recently returned to Austia from a three month backpacking trip throughout the United States. She took the Greyhound bus from city to city (or sometimes small town). She was able to visit New York and Washington D.C. of course, but also a small island in Maine, reachable only by boat, and an Indian Reservation in South Dakota. It was an interesting conversation on both ends. We all had cases of the "travel bug" yet she had seen more of the United States than we have, and we've seen more of Europe than she has. The hike itself was great. As always, just to be outdoors and in the mountains was such a treat. Sebastian had hiked this trail many years ago and was excited to make it to the cave at the top. The trail was on par with a lot of hiking that we have done in New England, but at one point there was a small river that we had to traverse using steel cables tethered to boulders and gingerely planting our steps on mossy, slippery rocks, and finally leaping to the bank on the other side. It was intimidating to look at, but exciting, and not as difficult a manuever as we had originally thought. By the time we made it to the cave, darkness was setting in fast, so we retreated quickly, thankful for the headlamps and flashlights that we brought along.
Once back in Dornbirn we enjoyed a special saffron pasta that Carla's mom made for us, and then the five of us enjoyed a low-key night by the fire, exchanging stories and laughs in their backyard. We checked the train schedule for the next day and called it an early night.
Monday, November 15, 2010
Venice
Venice, in a funny way, reminded us of Disney World. We took a train over a body of water to get there, and once we were "in" we didn't see or need a car the entire time we were there. Getting back on the train after three days had that same feeling of bleak disappointment and "really?? I'm really leaving??? Oh..." Venice was awesome. It was really nice, as Andy put it "to have a clue" and have a context in which to understand a city, even if it only of the food. So many of the places we go we aren't entirely prepared for what to expect in any capacity. With Venice though, we were. For those of you who don't know, we both work(ed) in a Venetian wine and cicchetti bar in Providence (Marisa for 3 years, and Andy for several months).
On day one, we walked around the city aimlessly for a few hours, following the ubiquitous signs for the Rialto and San Marco, seeing where we would end up. Eventually, we check into the Hotel Canada (I know, I know...) The room was small, more than we wanted to pay, and the only electrical outlet was in the bathroom (which at one point was down the hall- we switched rooms after the first night), but it did come with a free breakfast. After stashing our bags, I decided it was time for a shower. Although we have had the occasional bathroom problem, up until this point it has always involved the toilet (generally how to flush, it is NOT always cut and dry, and sometimes it takes quite a while to figure out). I suppose the problem with my shower also involved the toilet though... The bathroom was about 4' X 4', including the shower. The head poked out of the wall in front of the toilet, without a curtain or sliding door to separate you from the rest of the bathroom. After strategizing for a few minutes, I emptied the room of toilet paper, bath towels, hand towels- everything except the bathing essentials. I undressed and tossed my clothes out the sliding door to the bedroom; there was nowhere inside where they wouldn't get soaked. At last I was prepared. I turned on the "hot" water and stood in the opposite corner, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the icy stream of cold water, while waiting for it to warm up. It took almost ten minutes. Hours later, everything was still soaked. Finally clean, we headed out for some delicious and cheap food.
In Venice, snacking is almost a way of life and the cuisine centers around very small restaurants or wine bars called osterias. These osterias serve cicchetti, which are small plates of food for a just a few euro a piece and small pours of wine, called ombras. Many bars also served a "spritz," white wine mixed with campari or aperol (liquors made from orange bitters), and finished off with soda water. We found them delicious and refreshing, the perfect start to a night. The cicchetti can be found behind a glass case, each item with a hand written label explaining (in Italian) what the dish is. Venetians stop to snack and socialize before and after meals. Locals and tourists who have caught on to this visit several osteria's in one night, standing near the bar or out on the street, eating their snack and enjoying a small glass of wine while chatting with the owner, the barkeep, or other patrons. There were some items that seemed to be staples in every restaurant, such as polpettes (fried meatballs), anchovies, baccala (salt-cured cod) and bruschetta, but most places we visited also had one or two specialty items that we didn't see anywhere else. A few times we couldn't figure out what it was that we were eating. That first night was a complete experiment, hopping from one to the next, probably visiting five or six in total. It seemed to be the case that they stayed open until the food ran out, which across the board, happened at 9:00. Because of this, all of our nights in Venice were early ones, but we were okay with that. Essentially, we did the same "osteria crawl" every night, but with different restaurants. The third night we went out of our way to find a few places that the owners of Bacaro specifiacally reccommended to us from their time in Venice. Going out for cicchetti became what we looked forward to the most each day, it was exciting. There are only so many photos one can snap of a different canal, and only so many windows one can peer into and visually shop in, before it gets tiring and boring. The gondolas were of course appealing, but at 80 euro for fifty minutes, we decided that it just wasn't worth it. Veniece is best enjoyed with your legs and your senses, not your tour map and camera. It felt great to just slow down and stroll, wandering and just letting our intuitions (read:stomachs) guide us.
It was always interesting passing the "rose guy" between wine bars, demonstrating his persistence to sell us a rose while we come up with inventive ways to keep saying "no." At one point he would get so insistent that he somehow managed to put them in my hands. We started getting annoyed after the third one "offered" us a rose and started getting snappy with our comebacks. "Sorry, I'm saving my money for McDonalds." "We're brother and sister." Or sometimes, we would just put the flowers on the ground. When it rained, the "rose guy" turned into the "umbrella guy." This was easier for us, as we already had umbrellas.
Breakfast at the Hotel Canada consisted of several different breads with several different spreads. Along with orange juice and choice of tea or coffee, we each had a croissant, two small rolls, and this strange pre-toasted white bread which we have come across a fewl times earlier on this trip. To accompany our carbohydrate overload, there was jam, butter, nutella, and a soft spreadable cheese. We attempted to use all of these things every morning. After breakfast we explored Venice. We checked out the Piazza San Marco, and all of the impressive structures surrounding it. We watched the gondoliers paddling down the canals. We avoided pigeons (and unfortunatly saw a few rats). Speaking of pigeons, although most people have our reaction (duck and cover) to these gross birds, I am disgusted and sorry to report that there is a small minority who are amused by them, calling them over to land on their hands, arm, or even HEAD, in order to get that "perfect Venetian pigeon shot." I could go on but I won't. We had heard many people talking about how dirty and stinky the city was in general, but we didn't really find that to be true. There was a very slight smell, but it was only really perceptible if you were standing on a canal at low tide, and even then, not bothersome. As for the rumor of overwhelming filth, the only thing I found to be dirty was the pigeons, and let's be honest, I don't like birds anyway. But I digress.... we did go into a few shops selling handmade Venetian masks used during Carnival, which was pretty cool. We also went to Harry's Bar, the restaurant made famous for their trademark drink, the Bellini (they supposedly created it - peach puree and Prosecco sparking wine) and Beef Carpaccio (which they also did for the first time). A backpackers budget does not really encompass many five star restaurants (even for lunch- a burger was 34 euro), but we had our Bellinis at the bar before moving on.
Our last day in Venice, it rained. Though not too hard, at high tide the canals along the lower lying streets spilled over and flooded entire streets and squares. Though not as badly as it surely has been at other times, it was fun to see everyone trudging around in their galoshes or tourists learning to watch their step the hard way. The day we arrived, a group of city workers were taking down the platforms that everyone walks on in San Marco Square when it floods badly. I thought it might be fun to get in on that business, but we were not headed in that direction on our last day It was, however, very interesting trying to walk down a skinny little alley when everyone has an umbrella. It goes something like this: lift! squat! duck! lift! tilt! lift! squat! duck! lift! lift! We both got a few umbrellas to the face.
We left feeling like we do in most places: sad to leave, but glowing with the experience we've just had and excited for the next one. Next came Florence.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Innsbruck, Austria
After barely missing our Paris to Innsbruck train in the morning, we decided that our best option at that point was to book an overnight train from Paris to Munich and then catch an early train into Innsbruck the next morning. Recalling how uncomfortable the sleeper chairs were, we ponied up the extra ten euro for couchettes so we could actually lay down and put our heads on a pillow. We got a decent night's sleep despite being startled awake as young man was yelled at and promptly yanked out of a couchette that belonged to another man who paid for it. The ride from Bavaria to Innsbruck was lovely. We slowly climbed through the misty valleys nestled between rolling hills of countryside that gradually rose into snow covered mountains. We were quite excited to see Carla and Mathias again. After meeting new hosts every few days and going through the "getting comfortable with the new host(s) stage" repeatedly, it was a small luxury to reunite with two of the couchsurfers that we stayed with in London and particularly enjoyed our time with. We had directions copied down and set out to find our way to their flat from the train station. The first part of the directions were to find the Goldenes Dachl, "Golden Roof." Knowing nothing about this thing, except that everyone knows where it is and that it is THE tourist attraction in Innsbruck, we had conjured up images of a grand, shimmering dome mounted atop some prestigious building or church. In actuality, this golden roof turned out to be comically small and shaped like an awning of sorts and quickly became the butt of one of the many running jokes w/ our hosts. "Oh hey, have you heard about the golden roof? Oh yeah, isn't it really old? Yeah, that's amazing." Anyways, after locating this roof we made our way towards their flat, where we actually ran into them on the street corner. Mathias had class to attend and Carla tagged along to pick us up. We made our way to the flat, admiring the soaring alps that sourrounded the city on all sides. Later in the day, as Carla went to class and Mathias returned home, we planned a walk up to a restaurant with some delicious Austrian fare and hefeweizen with Mathias. Mathias and Andy both enjoyed the same dish, consisting of three varities of these ravioli-ish pockets of cheese, meat, and spinach with a brown butter sauce. Marisa settled on an item that was more or less spinach dough quinnels, with melted cheese on top garnished with cherry tomatoes and a cream sauce. As Carla arrived, between classes, we decided on dessert of pancakes cubed and dusted with sugar, and garnished with gooseberries - yum. Everything was quite tasty.
Next, we started up to a few steep walking paths that ran just above the city through some wooded areas and along some farmland. Eventually we made our way down to a pasture filled with sheep. Here, something truly amazing happed. Either these sheep knew Andy and could pronounce his name (AAANNNNNDDDYYYYYYY). Or - we witnessed a moment of Marisa's sanity suspended indefinitely as she pleaded to the sheep over and over, to say Andy's name again. This is debated to this day - you decide. We pet them and fed them for a while, enjoying the novelty of being near farmland. Satiated with this experience, we moved on and worked our way down toward the street that led to the flat. However, before reaching the city again we were interrupted by an 85 year old woman, who upon finding out that we were American, proceeded to poke and prod in her surprisingly decent English,"So, umm, yes, you must tell me, what do you think about Obama? I'm very interested in politics you know, even at my age." And so on and on it went. We responded truthfully and as best we could with rudimentary vocabulary so that we were understood, but it was obvious that Mathias' patience was running thin.. He did his best to break the conversation off, insisting that we muist move on, as we have dinner to prepare and repeatedly checking his watch as the woman struggled to finding the right word. A few minutes into our chat, her walking companion left her to continue on, and even when we told her that we really had to get back, she changed her direction as to properly finish the conversation.
Once back we relaxed for quite a while and then prepared ourselves for dinner. Mathias and Carla were kind enough to make us some traditional food for us as well as another couple that they invited over. Dinner centered around Kässpätzle, a pasta -like dish. It is made of flour and water into a batter, and then run through a cheese grater into boiling water, where it is cooked, scooped out and layered with a specific cheese mixture from Voralberg, Carla and Mathias home state/region. In addition, potato salad, lettuce, homemade apple sauce, and fried onions were served to accompany the Kässpätzle. Prior to the meal, we were warned not to over-stuff ourselves, as too much Kässpätzle will expand in your stomach and cause a stomach ache. As usual, our self control faultered, and we over did it, going back for seconds. Oh well, it was worth it.
The next day Mathias accompanied us on a casual walking tour of Innsbruck, providing us with inetesting commentary and history about various sights and such (including that GOLDEN ROOF, Wow!). We also did a bit of apparel shopping; Andy needed new shoes and Marisa found a nice skirt. The best part of the tour, however, was the tram-like ride that we took part way up the face of a mountain to a point where we enjoyed a terrific view of Innsbruck and its surrounding suburbs and towns. The sky was blue as ever, the air was crisp and refreshing so we decided that a little walk up into the woods was in order. After about and hours walk we decided that it was probly time to make our way back down into town, but not without a stop for coffee and hot chocolate at the tram station first.
Since we never got a chance to cook in London, and to return the favor of dinner the previous night, we thought that we should make our hosts dinner the second night. We settled on making a dinner of Cous-cous with sauted zuchini, onions, garlic, bell peppers. To accompany, we baked chicken and Marisa was inspried to try her hand at making falafel, while also baking a chocolate cake for desert. While enjoying the meal, Mathias decided that some classical music was in order for our meal, and put on a playlist of Bach, Motzart, and Wagner. Not to pat ourselves on the back too hard, but our hosts were quite satisfied and we must admit that dinner was pretty tasty, especially the trial falafel (we are looking forward to perfecting it and making it at home)! Once again, we went to sleep very, very full.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Paris
Would Parisians hate us because we're American? Are they all stuck up snobs who think there is no world worth living in outside of Paris? Will we love it here? Will we hate it here?? Will they make me cry?? These were the thoughts that were swirling uncontrollably in my head as we pulled in to Gare de Lyon, one of several major train stations in Paris. We had heard so many things about this city- wonderful things, terrible things, and unbelievable things- and now here we were, pulling into the station, overwhelmed by the possibilities that lay ahead of us.
In short, Paris met exactly 50% of our expectations. The half that fulfilled our expectations was the half that was encompassed by having a wonderful time, the beauty of the city itself, and all of the delicious and amazing food and wine that we would joyfully consume and imbibe. Where our expectations fell short of reality was in the people. We were hard put to find anyone turning their noses up at us. In the train station as we were trying to figure out how to work the ticket machine (a trying endeavor in every. single. city.) we were helped by two separate French gentlemen. The first just kindly let us know that if we were paying with cash, we needed to use the other ticket machine (and he was in front of us in line so it's not like he was just trying to move ahead faster). The second one helped us figure out the machine once we were in front of it. At that point we decided to keep track of our interactions in Paris. So far, it was 2-0. A few minutes later, we were meeting Jeremie, our host who lived just outside of the city, and that night he took us to a small gathering in someone's flat in downtown Paris (very small!!!) where we met several of his friends. After the first night, the score of our little game was close to 20-0. I will agree that Parisians DO love their city, but they know it and can jest about it. After talking with one girl for a few minutes, she stopped herself and said, "oh God, I'm being soooo typically Parisian right now, aren't I?" I hadn’t really noticed.
Two nights in Paris were spent with Jeremie and friends (the second night was a birthday party where we met 20-30 locals, all of them very pleasant and fun). He also showed us around the Montmartre area beforehand and we enjoyed the spectacular full moon from there. The other two nights were spent on our own. One night we climbed the Eiffel tower to the second level and then cooked food at home. The last night we ate at a little restaurant in the 4th arondissment. As far as museums we were able to visit the Louvre and the Pompidou, but despite multiple attempts, never quite made it to the Orsay :( One of our favorite things that we did in Paris was at the Notre Dame. After walking around inside for about a half hour, I told Andy that I NEEDED to hear the organs. We decided to check the schedule and see what time masses were. To our luck, it turned out that in a little over an hour there would actually be an organ concert. We busied ourselves for the next hour and came back to listen. It truly took our breath away. Hearing the enormous organs resonate throughout the huge gothic structure was amazing. At one point, the organs came to a rest and we had a few moments of silence until the next note was played, at which point the woman in front of us nearly jumped out of her seat and let out a small “yelp” that was immediately engulfed by the tsunami of sound waves coming from the back of the room.
Some other highlights, which we will hopefully expand on at some point:
-the Louvre: saw the Mona Lisa, Hamurabi’s Code, the Venus de Milo and much more
-the Pompidou: saw some cool modern art, lots of Picasso and Bacon, some really weird modern art, also amazing views from top floor
-dinner (creamy vegetable soup, escargot, duck confit, raisin/goat cheese/walnut crepes, cheese course, questionable tarte tatin)
-Eiffel tower: couldn’t have a glass of champagne at the restaurant, great views, full moon, sore thighs, one snobby b**** at a restaurant on the Seine who wouldn’t give us a menu.
-lunch @ Jade (ratatouille sandwiches, amazing)
-hilarious truth or dare game @ party + meeting a guy who had been to Orange Park (part of Jacksonville)
-missing our train being a good thing so that we could go back to Jeremie's and have him catch me breaking into his mailbox so I could get his key to get back in and get Andy’s shirts. Neighbors are totally sketched out by me.
-catacombs!!! Scary underground passageways lined with piles and piles of bones- remnants of 6 million people.
-walking along the Seine and having 2 separate people try to get us with their damn ring tricks
-Jeremie's tips regarding riding the metro (stand where all the paint has worn down, that’s where the doors will open)
-cold, dry grilled corn getting off the metro (thumbs down)
-Luxemburg Gardens
Monday, November 1, 2010
Drastic change in itinerary!
After looking at more train/ferry/bus/airplane timetables than we ever hope to look at again, we've made the decision to forego Croatia and Greece on this trip. It was a tough decision, as there are so many places in both countries that we both very badly want to visit, but it looks like if we want to get from one to the other it would involve at least 24 hours of train travel, most of which is not included in our passes, and then a minimum 16 hour ferry ride from Greece to Italy.
So a sad decision was made, but that just means we will be back in a few years. It also means we have a lot more time to spend in Italy, Spain, and Portugal (and possibly Morocco!).
Right now we are in Vienna, about to go out and explore the city. We'll be here for probably two more nights and then it looks like Venice has moved way way up in our itinerary!
So a sad decision was made, but that just means we will be back in a few years. It also means we have a lot more time to spend in Italy, Spain, and Portugal (and possibly Morocco!).
Right now we are in Vienna, about to go out and explore the city. We'll be here for probably two more nights and then it looks like Venice has moved way way up in our itinerary!
Roman Baths
Backtracking again.....
We were in Baden-Baden for just one day. Andy's father was able to trace their heritage back to the area around Baden-Baden and the Black Forest by several generations so we knew that we would have to stop by, at least briefly. The town is famous for its Roman baths- spas that use water naturally warmed by the earth instead of heated in thier facility. Although in the United States we go to spas to be relaxed and pampered, the original concept was that they have curative powers. At this point in the trip we may not have needed any curing, but we were certainly ready to soak in some naturally hot water.
The town had two baths, each run by the same company, but offering slightly different experiences. The first one would give you the authentic Roman bath experience: you are entirely nude throughout the 13 different stations, each in a different room with beautiful archways, domed and frescoed cielings, and Roman statues as decoration. The other option was slightly more contemporary. The same 13 traditional stations were available in a different atmosphere. The Roman architecture was substituted for what I call the "modern bathroom" look (think glass sinks that look like free-standing large glass bowls) and the dress is slightly more conservative- you wear a bathing suit.
After carefully weighing our options, we decided to shed our inhibitions (along with our clothes) and go for the authentic baths. Europeans always talk about what prudes we Americans are, so why not fight the stereotype? It turned out to be a great experience. We were there on a day that men and women were separated for all of the stations except one, a large "bath" under the giant dome, so we parted ways at the dressing rooms for the next few hours. At the first station, you shower in what appears to me to be a boys high school locker room shower, with several heads coming out from the wall in one communal area. After that you head to the saunas, the first one at an enjoyable temperature for about 10- 15 minutes, and the second for just a few minutes at a nearly unbearable heat. Then it's time for another shower before heading off to the steam room. Here, there was a sign explaining that this is the worlds only steam room that is 100% natural. Instead of pumping in hot steam, they use hot water, natural from the earth. It flows down the walls of the room, releasing steam as it fell. You can choose to sit at several different levels: the higher you go, the hotter the steam. You shower again, and then head to a series of pools (baths) of varying temperatures. The first one is the warmest at roughly 95 degrees F. It is followed by four more, each dropping by a few degrees until you reach the last one, a chilling 60 degree two second plunge. Next you are given a fresh hot towel and a few minutes to dry off, then showed to a room with lotions of many different scents to choose from. After lotioning up, you are shown to the "sleeping room". Here, you are wrapped like a cocoon in warm blankets on a tempurpedic-like bed, in a dark quiet room. You can stay for 5 minutes or an hour. The last station is the "relaxation room". After leaving the sleeping room, I wasn't quite sure that I could possibly be any more relaxed, but continued anyway and enjoyed a peppermint tea while reclined in a wooden lounge chair for the last few minutes of the session. We also chose to each add a 25 minute massage to the rotation, which rounded out the experience quite nicely.
We left feeling quite possibly more relaxed and clean than ever before.
For obvious reasons, we will not be adding pictures to this post.
We were in Baden-Baden for just one day. Andy's father was able to trace their heritage back to the area around Baden-Baden and the Black Forest by several generations so we knew that we would have to stop by, at least briefly. The town is famous for its Roman baths- spas that use water naturally warmed by the earth instead of heated in thier facility. Although in the United States we go to spas to be relaxed and pampered, the original concept was that they have curative powers. At this point in the trip we may not have needed any curing, but we were certainly ready to soak in some naturally hot water.
The town had two baths, each run by the same company, but offering slightly different experiences. The first one would give you the authentic Roman bath experience: you are entirely nude throughout the 13 different stations, each in a different room with beautiful archways, domed and frescoed cielings, and Roman statues as decoration. The other option was slightly more contemporary. The same 13 traditional stations were available in a different atmosphere. The Roman architecture was substituted for what I call the "modern bathroom" look (think glass sinks that look like free-standing large glass bowls) and the dress is slightly more conservative- you wear a bathing suit.
After carefully weighing our options, we decided to shed our inhibitions (along with our clothes) and go for the authentic baths. Europeans always talk about what prudes we Americans are, so why not fight the stereotype? It turned out to be a great experience. We were there on a day that men and women were separated for all of the stations except one, a large "bath" under the giant dome, so we parted ways at the dressing rooms for the next few hours. At the first station, you shower in what appears to me to be a boys high school locker room shower, with several heads coming out from the wall in one communal area. After that you head to the saunas, the first one at an enjoyable temperature for about 10- 15 minutes, and the second for just a few minutes at a nearly unbearable heat. Then it's time for another shower before heading off to the steam room. Here, there was a sign explaining that this is the worlds only steam room that is 100% natural. Instead of pumping in hot steam, they use hot water, natural from the earth. It flows down the walls of the room, releasing steam as it fell. You can choose to sit at several different levels: the higher you go, the hotter the steam. You shower again, and then head to a series of pools (baths) of varying temperatures. The first one is the warmest at roughly 95 degrees F. It is followed by four more, each dropping by a few degrees until you reach the last one, a chilling 60 degree two second plunge. Next you are given a fresh hot towel and a few minutes to dry off, then showed to a room with lotions of many different scents to choose from. After lotioning up, you are shown to the "sleeping room". Here, you are wrapped like a cocoon in warm blankets on a tempurpedic-like bed, in a dark quiet room. You can stay for 5 minutes or an hour. The last station is the "relaxation room". After leaving the sleeping room, I wasn't quite sure that I could possibly be any more relaxed, but continued anyway and enjoyed a peppermint tea while reclined in a wooden lounge chair for the last few minutes of the session. We also chose to each add a 25 minute massage to the rotation, which rounded out the experience quite nicely.
We left feeling quite possibly more relaxed and clean than ever before.
For obvious reasons, we will not be adding pictures to this post.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
Provence Days 3 and 4: Chateau Neuf de Pape and Vergeze
I didn't mention this in the previous post, but once we finally sat down with Melanie in the Italian cafe, I actually got a phone call from another woman, Annette, offering us a place to stay for the night. Amidst the chaos, I told her we that we had found a place for the night, but what about tomorrow? She said she would send us her information and we could call her if we'd like. We decided to call her the next day, but first it was finally time to taste some excellent French wine! Chateau Neuf de Pape was only about a 45 minute drive from Nimes, so after a morning of walking around the small town, we headed for the hills once again.
Obviously, neither one of us had ever visited a vineyard in France to taste wine. I had been to one in Rhode Island, and that is my only experience at a vineyard. We are, however, well practiced in "enjoying" formidable quantities in the comforts of our homes and favorite restaurants, and do appreciate wine enough to justify stepping foot into a vineyard. We found a nice vineyard (one of hundreds) and walked in... to a near empty room, with only one woman who worked there occupying it. After exchanging "Bonjours" Andy asked if she spoke English. "Non, je parle Francais" she said quite matter-of-factly as she shook her head. We struggled for a few minutes attempting to speak less than adequate French with a woman who spoke no English. After a few awkward moments, we ended up with two pours of red wine, and a woman staring kindly but intently at us over a wooden counter. We mumble a few compliments about the wine in french ("mmm... tres bon...."), and skim through our French phrasebook for a feeble attempt at small talk.
Although the wine was delicious, the experience was painfully awkward. We attempted to pay for our tasting and move on, as we couldn't afford to pay the 50 euro bottles, but the woman insisted that the tastes were free. We left feeling confused and lost. We supposed that all of the vineyards would be a similar experience, and we wanted something a little bit more... relaxing. We drove back to the town center, where there was a multitude of wine shops also giving tastings. One woman who we spoke with was half French and half American. She was able to break down the whole wine tasting experience for us. She explained that the vineyards give all of the shops free samples, in hopes that someone will taste them and then purchase several bottles. They do the same thing at the vineyards themselves. They know that for every tasting bottle that they open, they will sell a certain number of bottles in return. They always hope to make a sale, but it isn't considered offensive not to purchase. We visited several other shops for tastings (we were still too embarrassed to go to another vineyard) and at the last one, we purchased a bottle to share with our host that night.
The plan for meeting up with Annette was to drive to the train station in Vergeze, and call her when we were there. I will summarize that horrible driving experience: We get on the wrong highway. We get on the correct highway... but in the wrong direction. Finally we end up on the correct highway in the correct direction. Annette sends us a text saying not to eat, as she is making dinner. Once in Vergeze, we cannot find the train station, even after many back and forth phone calls with Annette, and to top it off our gas tank is on empty. We arrive over an hour later than planned, but at least we have a nice bottle of French wine in hand!
Despite our tardiness, we are greeted warmly by Annette and Francis, a good friend of hers who is staying with her. Annette is a German woman from Berlin who moved to the south of France in 1990, the year after the wall fell. For the most part, she spoke English very well, but we did occaisonally have some trouble. I wanted to ask her more about why she left exactly, but I wasn't able to procure many details. The most I could get was that she came "for the sun and the sea". Francis, on the other hand, spoke zero English, so it was always an interesting and fun experience to be in a room alone with him trying to have a conversation. It was a lot of pointing, thumbs up, and charades. Over dinner (pizza for an entree, and a pasta alfredo with baguette for the main course) and wine (we really won Francis over with the Chateau Neuf de Pape, it was great, he was so impressed), we chatted and made ourselves comfortable. Of course there was also a cheese course before the meal was through, and several pours of wine. Eventually conversation drifted to French cuisine, and Andy's time cooking and my time as a serever at Pot Au Feu arose. We rattled off the various traditional French dishes on the menu, much to their delight. Francis lit up and expressed his sincere love for the dish Pot Au Feu, while Annette set her mind upon Beef Bourgignone. Over the next half hour or so Annette and Francis lightheartedly quibbled over wich would be a better dish to prepare for us, should we stay for another night. With the promise of Annettes homemade Beef Bourgignone and Francis' tarte tatin for dessert the next day, we opted to stay one more night.
I should also mention the smoking, or more specifically, the chain smoking. Of course we had both heard that the French smoke much more profusley than Americans, but I was not quite prepared for this. Annette was very kind and asked us if we minded her smoking inside, as she knew that Americans didn't smoke like the French. Clearly we aren't used to indoor smoking, but we weren't about to ask the woman putting us up and cooking for us for the following two nights to change her habits, so we told her to go ahead. I was shocked by the quantities they smoked. They both had several before pizza, two before dinner, a few between the pasta and cheese courses, and a few before going to bed. They must have each been nearing an entire pack each in the three hours that we shared with them that first night.
Although we noted the beauty of her house when we arrived, the next morning with the light of day, it was far more apparent. The house itself is a 200 year old stone chateau with vines snaking up the walls on the exterior, and old wooden crossbeams inside. The windows have shutters that actually close and the kitchen has an old stone fireplace that was in use during much of our time there. We ate figs picked fresh from the tree in her yard, one of the many different things that she grows in her sprawling garden, which also included a sizeable patch of tomato plants, eggplant, an olive tree, lavender, basil, sage, parsley, mint, and surprisingly, even a few cannibis plants. The barn attached to the home was nearly as large as the house and held a pool table, a bar, a ping pong table, several couches, beds and chairs. Everything was rustic, beautiful, and practical.
We had planned to visit a national park that day, famous for white ponies and a beautiful coast, but our plans were upheaved when we couldn't find gas. As I mentioned earlier, we were on empty from the night before. We drove to the main road, but gas stations were few and far between and the ones that we did find all seemed to be out of "sans plomb" or "unleaded". They did all have "gazole," whatever that was. Perhaps our little fiat would be happy with either? We call our rental agency to find out. Gazole is diesel, and no, the Fiat would not be happy, they explain. We ditch our plans for the National Park and head back to Annette's. Annette and Francis are both very kind and helpful, taking us to a hidden station down a sidestreet, and even offering her car if we still wanted to go to the park. We decide to relax and lay low for the day instead.
Dinner that night was amazing. Yes, I ate it. Beef Bourgignone was my favorite French food before going vegetarian and when offered it in a woman's French chateau, I couldn't turn it down. Tarte tatin is an apple tart that is baked upside down, so that when you turn it over all the sugar has carmelized on "top". It is a traditional French dessert and was wonderful as well. This night was truly one of our most vivid and special experiences to have so far on this trip. That night, we went to sleep with our bellies full and smiles on our faces.
The next day it was off to Paris!
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