Wherever I go, there I am

Florence day 1-2

swinginggirl — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 05:47:00 GMT

Siena to Florence

On this morning we took the train back to Florence, leaving Siena and the best hotel we stayed in in Italy. Siena is not far from Florence, so we arrived with plenty of time to explore the city. Our hotel was right near the Duomo, which we could walk to in less than two minutes. The hotel itself was not fancy, and occupied a floor in an apartment building. This is something we’ve seen before in Italy, and I have decided that it’s because of the lack of space; too many tourists and nowhere to put them. The staff here were very friendly though, and the room was a decent size.

We dropped our bags off and took a walk to the Duomo. The outside of this building was amazing; black and white decoration with round windows, and a red dome on the basilica. It stands out in a country full of amazing churches. Inside the floor is decorated with black and white marble, in circular patterns that defy depth perception. In some ways this church is the opposite of Siena’s cathedral, with its opulent inside, and comparatively simple outside. It’s possible this was done on purpose, though I can’t be sure.

We had lunch near the Duomo, and then wandered to the square outside Ufizzi Gallery where you can see replicas of famous statues such as The David. I mentioned that I didn’t realize that The David was so big, which made us both chuckle. But my statement was true, of the whole statue at least. He towers above the square, his nonchalant stance and casual grace attracting throngs of onlookers (some who think this is the real statue). Though this replica was indeed very well done, it really didn’t compare to the real thing. I’ll get to that. From there we visited another piazza nearby that had a merry-go-round, which we photographed spinning filled with happy children.

By this time it was dark, so we meandered back through the streets filled with brightly lit shops, crowds of people and the smell of crepes. Italians, as I’ve mentioned, eat starting at 8pm, so they do their shopping in the afternoon between 4 and 8. This was the time window when you could be sure that shops would be open. We got a bit lost getting back to the hotel, but eventually we made it there, and went to bed.

Florence day 2

Breakfast at our Florence hotel was the usual croissants, cereal, yogurt, jams, fruit and cappuccino. Not as nice as some hotels, but not bad. Our plan for this day was to buy tickets for the Ufizzi Gallery for the following day, then walk to Ponte Veccio and up to the lookout at Piazzale Michelangelo. Florence is beautiful. Not like Siena, which was beautiful in a medieval, dark and mysterious way, Florence has a distinguished and old beauty. Despite its age, Florence exudes easy elegance, and a fresh air that mixes well with, and nestles in beside its oldness and tradition. I could live in Florence.

We walked across Ponte Veccio, the bridge covered in jewellery shops, art dealers and souvenir sellers. This bridge once was home to butcher shops, but a wealthy duke living on one side complained about the smell, and jewellers took over. The bridge itself looks like a pile of brightly coloured children’s blocks, stacked in such a way that they don’t tumble into the river. We crossed the bridge, stopping in the middle to take pictures of the Arno river, lined with bridges and stacked on one side with more colourful, narrow houses. We wandered slowly along the edge of the water, watching the scooters, pigeons, and people wandering with us. This side of the bridge was quieter, less hectic than the other side. Mom said she thought it felt more real, like more Italians live on this side. Perhaps she was right. We followed the road that led up to the Piazzale, veering off onto a steep path that took us up the rest of the way. The view from the top was a perfect panorama of the whole city. The Arno river in the foreground, striped with bridges, the red-brown roofs of the buildings, and the churches, especially the Duomo, dominating the horizon. It was extremely windy, and so the clouds moved fast and cast shadows on the Duomo, while the rest of the city was in sunlight. It was only a matter of time however, before the Duomo’s bright red roof was a beacon in the sunlight as well. That scene could have been from any time in history, if it weren’t for the cranes…

We walked back through town, on a street lined with leather dealers. I had said from the beginning that I wanted to buy a leather jacket from Italy, so we decided to have a look. We went into a shop called Gabi, where the owner was a middle-aged Italian man who was the friendliest man we met in Italy. He was extremely helpful, brutally honest, and hysterically funny. At one point he went on a rant about his teenage daughter, and how she was making him wish he never had children because she was spending all his money and rolling her eyes. It was really funny. I tried on about 10 jackets, narrowed it down to two, and bought one. I love it, and when I wear it I will always think of the guy who sold it to me. We called him Gabi afterwards, because we never did catch his name.

In our wanderings we came across a big line-up, which we soon realized was to see the actual David. We decided to try and get in as well, and went across the street to a little bookstore where you could buy advance entry tickets for three Euros more than the standard entry. I’m not sure why more people don’t do this, but it was beneficial to us that they don’t. We were only in line for about five minutes before we were shuffled inside. The real David is breathtaking. How anything so amazing could come from a chunk of marble I’ll never know. It really does look like perhaps David was trapped inside the marble and Michelangelo simply freed him from it. You can see muscle under skin, veins in his arms and hands, nails, if you look closely you can swear he’s breathing. He has perfect proportions, aside from being gigantic compared to a regular human. Seeing him was definitely a highlight.

By this time mom was beginning to catch a cold, and so we decided to have an early night, as we were spending the day in the gallery the next day. We had dinner in a restaurant near our hotel, which was absolutely delicious, but what made it great was our waiter. He was fantastic. He gave us free drinks at the end of our meal, a cocktail that he created himself which was refreshing and delicious. After our drinks, he asked us how everything was and this is what happened:

Waiter: how was your meal? Can I bring you something else?

Mom: I have a complaint.

(waiter’s face goes very pale and serious)

Waiter: what is it ma’am?

Mom: Well I can now never go home and eat regular food ever again…

(waiter gets down on one knee)

Waiter: Oh I’m so sorry, is there anythi….

Me: She’s joking, everything was wonderful.

Waiter: Ohhhhhh you’re killing me (clutches chest)

Mom used this joke a lot, and it usually got a similar response. I’m thinking the humour of it doesn’t translate well to people whose first language isn’t English. We always got a laugh out of their reactions to it though. After dinner we went back to the hotel and to bed.

Siena (all)

swinginggirl — Mon, 8 Apr 2013 05:10:00 GMT

On our second full day in Siena we had checked the weather, and because it was supposed to be nice we booked a wine tour. Our driver/tour guide Franco picked us up at our hotel and proceeded to wind his way through the centre of town and out the other side where we would pick up another couple. They were staying in a castle outside the city walls. Their names were Kate and Cord, from Los Angeles, and they were a lot of fun.

Franco was very informative and accommodating, and he took us up through vineyards on dirt roads so we could get a good view, and so he could pull over and show us the vines. At this time of year there are no grapes and the vines are cut down to a single stalk bent in the middle, and attached to a wire. In between the rows of vines Fava beans are planted to prevent erosion of the soil. The views from these fields were spectacular, like from a cheesy postcard you buy when you visit Tuscany, except when you actually see that Tuscany does, in fact, look like a postcard, it is hard to say it’s cheesy.

Franco took us to an old Monastery out in the middle of nowhere, where his parents had been married. It is still in use today. The frescoes at this monastery were in perfect condition, and they lined all the walls of the covered walkway around the courtyard. There was also a giant white statue at the entrance that someone Franco knew had carved.

I should mention that Franco’s driving was horrible. It made us all sick, and it was made worse when someone asked him a question. I think he had trouble speaking in English while trying to navigate the windy, and hilly roads of the countryside. Cord kept asking him things, and we all kept giving him dirty looks because Franco’s driving was just so terrible. It was a lot of break, gas, break, gas, break, gas, etc. I thought mom was going to hurl, but then Cord kindly offered her the front seat, and there were no more questions asked of Franco (while he was driving at least).

Our tour took us to the Montalcino region of Tuscany, where the signature wine is the Brunello. We opted for a different wine than Chianti, just to try something new. Brunello is not new however, and our first winery had been in the family for several generations. The owner of the winery started when he was 18, and hasn’t stopped. When we were there, he had just got off a plane from a sales tour of North America. This wine, called Collemattoni, could soon be available in the Fairmont Hotel Vancouver, though likely not for the price we paid. When I told him how much I thought it would be worth in the hotel restaurant, he just sighed and shook his head. He charges 10 Euros per bottle. It seems that everywhere in Tuscany has an amazing view, and this winery was no different; a stunning view of the patchwork valley in full sunlight.

From here we drove to a church built by Charlemagne (my ancestor), sitting in the middle of fields and fields of olive trees and vineyards. It looked as though the church was holding down a quilt, blowing in the breeze. The church itself was quite simple inside, but the stone it was built with glowed in the sunlight. Franco demonstrated by putting his cellphone up to it, because it was too late for the sun to come inside. Just from the phone’s light though, you could imagine how amazing it would be to see the whole church lit from within, a pink-golden glow. Franco drove us up the hill from the church to someone’s driveway where he said we would see an amazing view. He was right. We only hoped he knew the person whose driveway our rather large van was now blocking.

We had lunch in a small town, at a family run restaurant with delicious homemade pasta. Franco took us in the back to watch the woman make the noodles. It took her about a minute to stretch, boil, and sauce a plate of pasta for us all to try. It was so good. At the end of the meal Cord had some Grappa, and Kate warned that she now took no responsibility for his actions. He was fine, and they were really great company for the whole tour. In fact, we discovered our mutual love for the movie “French Kiss” and quoted lines from the movie the whole drive back to Siena. Franco thought it was great, albeit a little confusing.

The second winery we visited was called Capanna, and the owner of this winery was the kindest looking man any of us had every seen. He looked like the type of person you could just go up and hug. While Franco took us through the winery, the owner just leaned on the wall and smiled from ear to ear with a twinkle in his eye. I wish we could have talked to him directly instead of getting a broken translation from Franco. The wine at this winery was better than the last one, had won several awards, and was featured in a few magazines. The place itself was beautiful, with a comfortably dishevelled old house and vineyards dropping down into the valley. It was another example of the Tuscan lifestyle that we all know from movies and TV, but which turns out to be the truth.

Before heading back to Siena, we stopped in a small town to look at the view, as the town sat perched on a hilltop overlooking the green valley. Because it was evening, the sun cast long shadows on the couples walking along the wall, and the valley looked sleepy under a haze of wood smoke. It was a great end to a really fun day.

Like I said before, the drive home was hysterical. We were laughing til we cried, and Kate was just so excited to meet other people who knew lines from French Kiss as well. We were equally excited, as we had not met anyone outside family who knew the movie either. Cord said that Kate and mom and I must be soul mates. We exchanged emails, and perhaps we will reconnect someday in the future.

Siena day 3

This day was our “let’s keep this trip in perspective” day. In other words, we didn’t do much, and what we did do, wasn’t great. First of all, it rained. Second, we visited the civic museum which was ok, somewhat interesting, but not nearly as interesting as other sights we’ve seen. Third, I couldn’t find a birthday present that I’d wanted to get since we left Vancouver, the place that had them was closed every time we went past. Fourth, we had a really disgusting dinner of cheap bready pizza and soft drinks. By the time we got home we were both tired and cranky. Then I realized that this was our perspective day. We have been seeing amazing things, doing amazing things, and eating amazing things since we started this trip, and as such perhaps our appreciation for these things had started to wane. This day woke us up to the fact that we are on an amazing trip, and that we should be excited about the things we are doing because we will likely never do them again.

With this realization, we decided to stay in for the rest of the night, order wine and watch movies on mom’s iPhone. That’s what we did!

Sorrento to Siena

swinginggirl — Mon, 1 Apr 2013 06:13:00 GMT

Our last day in Sorrento, we actually had to add a day to our hotel stay just so we could see the town we were actually staying in. It poured rain. We decided to visit the intarsia museum (inlaid wood), as Sorrento is known for its extremely high quality inlaid wood. On the way to the museum, ducking under awnings to avoid the rain, we came across a shop selling all inlaid wood products. Everything in the store was handmade, and the business had been there for several generations. The woman working there spoke perfect English, and she told us that the art of handmade inlaid wood in Sorrento is dying due to mass produced products being brought in from China. She told us that there used to be a reputable inlaid wood academy in town, but it closed because there were no students. Perhaps this somewhat sad story was a ploy to get me to buy something, or perhaps it was the truth as similar things are happening in so many other places in the world, but whatever the real story is, I bought something. A music box, with cats on the front, that plays the song Memory from the musical Cats. They actually had to switch out the music so that I could have the box and the tune that I wanted. I didn’t ask them to do that, they just said they would (‘they’ being the woman and the young guy making things at the back of the shop).

The inlaid wood museum was interesting, if a bit creepy. We were practically the only people in the museum, and there were rooms full of ominous looking inlaid wood furniture. Plus, when you left a room the lights automatically shut off. The images created with tiny pieces of wood though, were something to marvel at. One of the many lost arts of things that take a long time to create. I remember in the documentary ‘It Might Get Loud”, Jack White said something like: “Art should be a struggle, it should make you work at it otherwise everyone would do it. That’s the problem with art these days; ease of use.” He is not wrong. Imagine if buildings still took 300 years to build? Or if artwork was commissioned just for you, instead of bought in Walmart? It boggles the mind to think how many things we’ve lost due to ease of use.

We left the museum and went into the first restaurant we saw, to get out of the rain. In Southern Italy it seems that most restaurants have sort of tented eating areas that I imagine get opened up in the hot summer months. This one was no different, and it had a cheesy beach feel, with shell/sand centerpieces on the tables. There weren’t too many people in the restaurant, a couple of tables, one Italian, and one British. A woman came in by herself after we had ordered, greeted all the staff like she knew them, and sat in a corner table puffing on an e-cigarette. She had an impressive amount of plastic surgery, and big poofy blonde hair. She was pretty amazing.

Our lunch at this restaurant was outstanding. One of the best meals we had in Italy. It was the antipasti and the dolce that really stood out. The dolce was pear ricotta with a ginger sauce and fresh berries. It was unbelievable. The antipasti was amazing too I just can’t remember exactly what was in it. I’ll post a picture.

That was really it for our last day in Sorrento, mom bought new boots to replace the shoes she brought that hurt her back, but otherwise it was a pretty quiet last day.

Our original plan on our travel day to Siena was to first visit the Pompei museum in Naples. This museum houses all the artefacts uncovered in the buried city. I have always wanted to see the buried bodies, as I think they are a very creepy and real connection to something that happened 2000 years ago. I like to be creeped out by such things. However, after an hour trolley ride from Sorrento to Naples, watching the quality of the housing deteriorate outside the window to the point of shantytowns lining the rail line, we decided that we would skip it and move straight on to Siena. Seeing those shantytowns, with plastic roofs and blankets for walls, made us both feel sad that such places exist in a country that is supposed to be developed. I suppose all developed nations experience some degree of poverty that tourists rarely see, but I’ve never seen anything like what we saw on the outskirts of Naples.

The city of Naples, as we had been warned, was extremely gritty and uncomfortable. Especially after seeing what we saw. We both felt that we needed to move on, despite reading that the city would grow on us and that the people of Naples were extremely friendly. We didn’t have time for the city to grow on us.

We took the train north to Siena instead, in the region of Tuscany. Siena is a beautiful medieval town sitting on a hill surrounded by vineyards and castles. It is the home of the Paleo, the annual horse race in Piazza del Campo, the shell-shaped plaza in the centre of the walled city. Every year each district enters a jockey and a horse to race around this oddly shaped plaza. It is a crazy, crowded, exciting gathering that I’m glad we missed. We would never have been able to do what we did had the Paleo been happening.

Our hotel in Siena was a lovely old residence-turned-hotel that had a back terrace overlooking the endless fields and villas, separated by the tall spear-shaped trees Tuscany is famous for. I never got tired of looking at that view. The woman at the front desk was the friendliest and most helpful front desk person we’d had so far, and the breakfast was one of the better ones.

On our first day in Siena, we decided to wander the town, see the cathedral and climb the MangiaTower. The morning threatened rain, but by the time we were climbing it was bright and sunny with a healthy gust of wind blowing fresh Tuscan air. The climb to the viewing platform was pretty tiring for two people who haven’t been doing much exercise (and have been eating a lot). We did make it, and the view was spectacular. I climbed up into the bell tower, which had an even steeper, more sketchy staircase and a even more amazing view. We stayed up there quite a while, just enjoying the amazing scenery: red brick houses with terra cotta roofs, nestled in the landscape in an almost fluid fashion. Beyond that were the green fields and tall trees we could see from our hotel terrace. We also could see the cathedral, as you always can in medieval Italian towns, white and black and standing out from the terra cotta like a jewel in the crown of Siena. The cathedral was our next stop. The stairway down the tower, the same one we climbed up, was now occupied by some people trying to climb and it was a challenge to pass by in the narrow stairwell. It was slightly awkward trying to manoeuvre around them without being at least slightly inappropriate.

We meandered to the cathedral and purchased a ticket that gained us entry to the basilica, the crypt, the museum, and the chapel. We started with the basilica, which from the outside was another amazing feat of architecture with impressive sculpture and marble and decoration stretching up to the clouds. What was really impressive about this cathedral though, was the inside. The entire inside of Siena cathedral, except for the roof and the floor, is black and white stripes. The columns, the walls where there aren’t paintings, the arches and even the bell tower outside are striped like a zebra. It’s like nothing else I’ve ever seen. The floor is decorated in black and white as well, and depicts different imagery such as the medieval cities of Italy, or a story of ancient Rome. All in black and white marble. It was pretty spectacular. The crypt was interesting, as it was from a different period, and as such the frescoes were not in good shape, and their heads were cut off where they built the cathedral on top. This happens several times in Italy that we have seen, where someone in one century builds something, and someone in another century builds over top of it. We have been told that in those days, the buildings were just considered ‘old’ and not ‘ancient’ or ‘sacred’ or ‘worth saving.’ Luckily there are still some remnants left of this part of history. The chapel was somewhat stripey, but mostly just elaborately painted with images that defied perspective so that you couldn’t look at them without wondering if they were a flat surface.

We went for dinner at a restaurant recommended to us by the woman at the front desk of our hotel, and it was again superb. We had gorgonzola ravioli and wild boar ragout, one of the few meals I actually remember what we ordered. Then it was off to bed, to prepare for the Tuscan wine tour the next day!

Pompei - Positano - Amalfi

swinginggirl — Sun, 24 Mar 2013 09:50:00 GMT

Pompei (the Italian spelling)

On our second full day in Sorrento, we didn’t stay in Sorrento either. Instead we took the little trolley train half an hour to Pompei. Yes, Pompei; the city buried in ash and preserved for 2000 years. The trolley trains are slow and a bit sketchy, and they run through some not so nice areas of the towns they stop in. The sides of them are covered in graffiti and the people on board are an interesting mix of scared looking tourists, teenagers, elderly women who talk to themselves, heavily perfumed middle aged women, and overweight men. I look at these overweight men and can’t help but wonder if they have any affiliation to the mob, though likely not if they are riding the trolley. We sat next to a mother and her daughter from Philly, and we exchanged travel stories. I’ve noticed that there are quite a few women my age traveling with their mothers, maybe it’s because it really is a good time to go with them, as they aren’t too old yet and we aren’t too burdened by responsibility. I’m not sure the reason, but as much as she drives me crazy, my mother is a great person to travel with. I think it is because we appreciate the same things when we travel, like history, wine and food.

We arrived at Pompei and the ruins were right across the street from the station so we didn’t have far to go. We were expecting rain on this day, but until we arrived at the ruins we had only seen sun. By the time we were inside, it was raining. Pompei is enormous, after all it is an entire city. We wanted to take a tour but it was outrageously expensive so we opted for the audio guide, which was horribly confusing. None of this really mattered once we got inside and started to wander the uneven stone streets that would likely have killed us had we been drunk.

Every doorway we peered into was a 2000 year old story. The front hallways still had their mosaic tile in different patterns and pictures; men fighting, a sleeping fawn, a fox, a clamshell pattern, or a floral pattern. Some of the walls still had their frescoes of different gods and goddesses, animals, trees, the faces of beautiful women, or just an elaborate pattern. There were columns and archways everywhere. At one point the rain really started to come down so we ducked into a doorway and came across the inside of a house, complete with courtyard garden, different rooms, frescoes, and the entire intact mosaic floor. Most of the doorways were gated off or undergoing renovations for the summer crowds, so we were lucky to have discovered this house. We stayed in there for quite a while admiring the very old marble, and the intricate mosaics. It’s impossible to believe that this work, and this home have not been lived in for 2000 years. In another doorway we found an old bakery, complete with brick ovens and stone grinders for making flour. On one side there was a stable where they discovered a completely preserved mule, likely used to work the flour grinder. Everywhere we turned was something amazing, and we only saw a small fraction of what was there to see. At the end, close to the exit there was a villa where they think wine was made. The columns here were decorated in geometric patterns, and the floor had coloured tile among the white mosaic. One room at the end had an almost perfectly preserved full mural covering its walls. If you followed it from left to right it told a story, in full colour and detail; a 2000 year old story.

We were in Pompei for probably 5 hours so when we left we were exhausted. We went back to Sorrento, and took a cab back to our hotel. Our cab driver was very friendly and was asking us what we were doing, to which we replied that we were hoping to visit Amalfi and Positano the next day. He told us that he would take us on a tour of those places in a private car. We thought that sounded great (albeit a bit sketchy), and he told us our driver Rafael would pick us up in the morning. Once back at our hotel, we asked our hotel front desk to recommend somewhere for dinner. He suggested Filipo’s, a place with shuttle service to and from the hotel. We were picked up and taken to a large trattoria where we had very good wine, delicious seafood and complimentary limoncello. Our waiter was very friendly, as we find most of them to be, and he was joking around with us. A man at another table kept giving him the evil eye, and when he went over the man whispered something into our waiter’s ear. Mom and I both all of a sudden wondered if this place was owned by the mob and there was about to be some sort of Godfather-kiss of death-shootout scene. It didn’t happen, but man that would have made a great story – if we survived.

Amalfi & Positano

We awoke to beautiful sunshine and went downstairs to breakfast. I’ve tried to reserve hotels that have free breakfast buffet, and as such our breakfasts have been similar throughout our entire trip: croissants, fruit, bread, yogurt, ham, cheese, mozzarella, coffee, cereal. This hotel had very nice coffee, and an unparalleled view.

Our driver showed up exactly at 10:30 like we had planned, and he was driving a Mercedes. We learned that Rafael was the son in law to our cab driver from the night before, and that as a weird coincidence he met his wife while working for her father (the cab driver), before realizing that she was his daughter. He told us that he went to her house for dinner to meet her parents, and there was his boss! Kind of a funny story. He was very friendly and made sure we stopped at all the places we asked, and also some that he knew about that we didn’t.

I can’t really explain what driving the Amalfi coast feels like. There is nothing else like it in the world. To say that it is breathtaking is an understatement, though it does take your breath away. The colour of the sky, the waves crashing, the gravity defying houses, the towering cliffs, the clear wind, and the soaring birds all just feel like paradise. I don’t know how anyone gets sick of living here. Rafael drove skilfully along the winding cliff roads and turned down into Positano, our first stop. We wandered the quiet white-washed streets, poking into shops filled with lemon paraphernalia: aprons, ceramics, soap, liquor, wine corks and candies. We eventually made it to the shoreline, where the houses piled up behind us like a wedding cake topped with whip cream clouds. All along the coast waves crashed against the rock and shot straight towards the sky. I tried to see if I could spot the Dread Pirate Roberts climbing one of the cliffs, but no such luck. We spent a lot of time just wandering the beach, admiring the surf and staring in disbelief at the pastel spirals of houses lit head on by the morning sunlight. We climbed back out to meet Rafael where we’d parked, and we headed on to Amalfi.

We stopped a few times on the road, first to visit a ceramic factory where we wandered the sales floor admiring the many beautiful hand painted patterns, and second to buy lemon slush from a stand on the side of the road. Rafael assured us it was the best lemon slush on the Amalfi Coast, and though I have no comparison, I’m inclined to agree. Rafael drove us down to the water’s edge so we could admire the cathedral, which he told us was ‘very good.’ On his word we climbed the steps toward the black and white striped arches, and into the church. Like most of the churches we have seen in Italy, the interior was grandiose and beautiful, but what was most amazing about this particular church was its crypt. Here, bright and ancient frescoes were intermingled with marble archways decorated with inlaid stone patterns. The frescoes had originally been covered in a renovation hundreds of years ago, but they have now been re-revealed. The mix of styles in the crypt is fascinating, made only more so by a Michelangelo sculpture (originally thought to have been done by an apprentice) dominating the centre of the room.

When we left the church the sun was shining, so we grabbed some calzones and sat on the steps leading to the beach. While we sat and ate, a speckled lizard wiggled its way onto the stairs near where we were sitting. He let me get close enough for a picture, eyeing every move I made, and then he wiggled away. After eating we wandered down the beach, watching the throngs of people catching buses, walking or hailing cabs to go for lunch. In Italy, shops are closed from around 1pm to 4pm while the merchants take their lunch. This is how important eating is in this country. Unlike the beach in Positano which was sandy, the Amalfi beach was covered in rounded stones mixed with terra cotta and ceramics with soft edges smoothed by the waves. Nestled among the smooth stones, I found these pieces of terra cotta and ceramic to be fascinating, almost magical. Some of them still had the paint on them from whatever they were, whenever they were. I took a handful of them with me, and I think they are one of my favourite things I’ve got in Italy. I love it when things tell a story.

We met up again with Rafael and started the long drive back to Sorrento. Rafael talked to us about the job situation in Italy, about growing up in a small town (something I can relate to), and about his dog Sheila (yes, Sheila) who he had recently lost. It was really cute when he started talking about her, and then had to stop because he was getting upset. He dropped us back at our hotel, and we spent the evening watching BBC’s coverage of the Pope’s first public appearance. It was strange to think that we had been there, in Vatican City, just over a week before. Then it was to bed, without dinner because we got distracted by the Pope. Until next time!

Sorrento - Capri

swinginggirl — Wed, 20 Mar 2013 07:35:00 GMT

Like Anthony Bourdain quotes in my very first entry, it is sometimes difficult to put into words exactly what it is you’re experiencing. Sorrento, and indeed all of what we’ve experienced in Southern Italy, will be just that – something I cannot aptly put into words. The town of Sorrento is built on a sheer cliff facing vast deep blue water and the city of Napoli on the distant shore. Mount Vesuvius, persistently concealed by clouds, still commands a presence across the water. When you walked onto the terrazzo of our hotel, there was nothing between you and sea air.

We decided on this day to take a walk through the town, and so we were dropped by our hotel shuttle in the midst of a bustling piazza. A gorgeous yellow church, reminiscent of those found in South America stood at one corner, while a line of touristy trattorias lined the other. There were little souvenir shops in the many side streets, filled with painted ceramics depicting the ever-present lemon. Lemon trees grow everywhere in the south, and they are thus an unofficial mascot, adorning almost every souvenir.

We made our way down to the waterfront, which was an ordeal because the town sits high up on a cliff face. We went down several flights of questionable stairs to a narrow road with rock face on either side. The ‘sidewalk’ was only about a foot wide. Though the sun was shining, it was windy and the shade was cool, and in the narrow ravine roadway, wind and shade were abundant. Luckily the road quickly opened to the ocean and the sun began to shine again. We had wanted to take a boat tour of Capri so we wandered toward the docks to see the prices. Looking back at Sorrento you could really get an idea of how insane it is. The hotels and houses sit flush with the rock, like an extension of the cliff face towering hundreds of feet above. Wind from the sea, whips in and rushes up the face, making the air a venerable playground for sea birds. From our hotel’s restaurant we could watch them soar past at breakneck speed, and drop to the waves below.

Because the day was so perfect, we decided to take the next boat to Capri in case the weather was bad the next day. There are a couple ways you can get to Capri; you can take the ferry which is the cheapest option, but also the slowest; you can take the super fancy cruise option and pay through the nose; or you can choose the fast boat that’s not super fancy. The third option is what we chose. These boats are sort of large speedboats with hideously upholstered seats lining the inside. We opted to sit outside and enjoy the spray as the boat hit the waves, and take some photos. We also ran into a mother, daughter, granddaughter trio that we had met earlier and taken a photo for. They were from Cornwall in the UK, though for some reason mom thought they were Australian. Mom and the mother chatted for most of the boat ride, while I watched the granddaughter lean over the side of the boat and get soaked every time a wave crashed by. Her mother wasn’t too impressed, but she thought it was fantastic.

From where we were on the boat you couldn’t really see what was ahead until it was right in front of you. Capri snuck up on us, and all of a sudden we were faced with something out of a fairytale. Misty mountains, green lush forest, white sun-baked houses speckling the hills, fishing boats floating in the harbour, and lemon trees adding yellow sparkle to everything.

We wandered the harbour and were greeted by a man trying to get us to come to his restaurant. We told him we weren’t hungry yet, so he gave us a map and told us the best places to visit while on Capri. I wanted to visit the blue grotto, but sadly it was closed due to rough seas. We promised we’d be back for lunch, and went to take the funicolare (cable car that takes you up to the top of the hill). The view from the top of the hill was indescribable. It was like a dreamscape of clouds and sun and white. We meandered through the streets taking photos, and looking in shops. A lot of the shops were closed for the season, as the season doesn’t really begin until April or May. I couldn’t imagine how busy and hot it would be in the summer, and I’m thankful that all we had to sacrifice to avoid tourist mayhem was a few sprinkles of rain and a few degrees Celsius. It also helped my bank account that the shops were closed, as I’d likely have brought home too many lemon souvenirs.

We went back down to the harbour and had lunch at the restaurant as we’d promised we would. The man was happy we’d returned. We have had some really exceptional customer service in Italy, the kind that makes you feel welcome, comfortable, and that you’re not an obnoxious tourist. We have also had some not so great service, but I take it with a grain of salt, having worked in retail. You don’t always know what kind of day that person has had, and because we are all human, you can’t expect everyone to be in a good mood all the time. Our lunch was really good, and was filled with fresh seafood and pasta. For dessert I ordered a sfogliatelle, which is a divine morsel of layered crispy filo-type pastry in a wavy pattern filled with lemon ricotta. Amazing.

By this time in the afternoon the sun had been covered by some ominous looking clouds and there was a mist of rain on the wind. My hair looked awesome. Our boat arrived just as the torrential rain started, and so we decided to stay indoors on the ride home. Neither of us had umbrellas at this point, so we hopped on a minibus to take us back up to Sorrento once the boat docked. We ran to the square to try and get a cab, but there were none to be found so we walked back to our hotel, tip toeing around cobblestone puddles. By the time we got back our feet were soaking wet, as we were both wearing Toms, the least waterproof shoes in the world. That night there was thunder and lightning overhead and the rain kept coming down so hard that it sounded like white noise outside the window. We went straight to bed, exhausted after an amazing day on the Isle of Capri.

Arrivederci Casa Gregorio!

swinginggirl — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 08:27:00 GMT

This day was our last full day at Casa Gregorio. When we got up for breakfast we all knew that it was coming to an end. Breakfast was, as always, delicious, and consisted of the usual frittatas, fresh melon, croissants, coffee, mystery green juice (which tasted like apple), pear juice (which we later discovered was actually banana and apple), biscotti, and a number of other biscuits that are too many to mention.

After breakfast we went into the kitchen (the old one, not the newly renovated one!) to learn how to make pizza dough. Our teacher was Ana, one of Gregory’s staff who has been with him basically since the beginning. She cooked a lot of our meals at Casa Gregorio, along with doing the housekeeping. She is a very sweet lady, though she spoke no English. We left the dough to rise and went out for a morning of shopping in the town of Frosinone. This town is the largest of the little hilltop towns in the area, and so has some fancier shops selling Italian leather goods and some name brands. I bought a handbag, and Dale and Jan bought really amazing shoes. Paolo and Patricio were there to help us, though some of their suggestions were a little off (Patricio pointed out a bag that had a panel of hot pink leopard print on the front…). When I went to pay for my bag the man behind the counter asked where I was from, and I said “Canada,” like you do. He replied, “which side?” in a sort of sarcastic tone as if to say, “Canada is big, be more specific.” I had to laugh because most people just smile and nod when you tell them you’re from Canada.

After a morning of shopping we went back to Casa Gregorio to make our pizza for lunch. We each got to make a pizza with the toppings of our choice, and cook it in the wood fired pizza oven. We were the first class to use the pizza oven as well, and it worked beautifully! The pizza goes in on a long paddle, and is placed next to the red glowing coals. It only took about 2 minutes to cook a pizza, as the oven is kept at above 700C. We ate so much pizza, although we were all thinking that the entire week had been boot camp training for the Friday night dinner. For this reason we all tried very hard to refrain, but it was pretty much a lost cause. We all laughed every time Gregory said “just a light lunch” or “it’s a light dinner,” because if he ever said “it’s a heavy dinner” we’d all run in the other direction.

Our afternoon was free time which we used to wander the town, run errands, and for me, write in my blog. It was also time to prepare ourselves for the night’s dinner at a local Farm Restaurant. This area has several of these types of restaurants, which use 70% locally sourced ingredients in their dishes. Apparently the percentage used to be 80, but it was thought that this was too unrealistic.

Up until this point we had been fairly lucky with the weather, as it is the end of winter. We had mostly sun, with a few sprinkles of rain. This night the rain came down in buckets, and we had to run inside the restaurant for fear of getting soaked through. The good thing about Italian weather is that it seems to vary, and to change quickly. I suppose this is only a good thing when it changes from rain to sun, and not the other way around…

Our dinner was not as enormous as we had feared it would be, as Gregory decided to change the format so that we weren’t on the verge of bursting at the end of the night. Instead of everyone ordering our own four course meal, we could choose one first plate (primi piatti) or one second plate (secondi piatti), instead of choosing both. The antipasti was ordered for us, as was the dolce (dessert), so we could choose one dish and either eat all of it ourselves or share with someone. Mom and I have since found that this sharing technique is very useful as it allows you to try more dishes without dying of fullness or breaking your pocketbook. It’s a good tip for anyone visiting Italy: order two antipasti, one primi piatti (usually pasta), one secondi piatti (usually a meat dish), one bottle of wine, and one dolce. Your bill will be EU50 or so, which is pretty average, and you won’t feel like you’re about to burst.

The night we visited the Farm Restaurant, it was pretty quiet for a Friday night. We figured it was because it was International Women’s day and all the women were at home enjoying a night in, or enjoying cooking dinner for their men (as mom said). The staff of the restaurant gave all us ladies little bouquets of flowers to take home which was really sweet. I kept the little vase my flowers came in, as I couldn’t take the flowers with me.

After dinner it was a mad dash back to the vans to avoid the rain, and back to Casa Gregorio for our last night. When we got back, the rain had stopped and from the top of the hill you could see all the lights from the distant hilltop towns shining in the distance.

Arrivederci Casa Gregorio!

Our last breakfast was bitter-sweet because it was familiarly delicious, but sad because it was the last one. We said our goodbyes and parted ways, and some went back to the airport, and Patricio dropped John and Susan and mom and I off at the Cassino train station. John and Susan went back to Rome for a few days, and mom and I headed south to Sorrento. It was a long journey with a lot of transfers, and we ended in Pompei where we decided to take a taxi the rest of the way. Sorrento is only about 25 minutes from Pompei, but not when there is a landslide on the only road leading there. A trip that should have taken 25 minutes took almost 2 hours and cost EU90. Our poor driver also couldn’t find our hotel because my confirmation had the wrong address. It was a bit funny because he started out very cheerful, and he put on cheesy “Italian” music (including “That’s Amore” and “O Sol Amio”), and he ended very rushed and with no music at all. Not that I blame him, nobody likes being stuck in traffic for two hours. On the plus side, we could watch the sun set next to Mount Vesuvius, on the only day it wasn’t shrouded in clouds. We did make it somewhat unscathed, and the view from the terrace of our hotel was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.

Casa Gregorio day 4 & 5

swinginggirl — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 08:18:00 GMT

Day 4 at Casa Gregorio began with a visit to a farm. As we stepped out of the vans we were met with the familiar smell of cow manure blowing on the wet breeze. I don’t mind the smell, it reminds me of being on Erin’s farm when I was young. I have nothing but fond memories attached to that rich farmy smell. This farm had cows and buffalo, and because it is March, there were babies! Baby cows are just so sweet. When we rounded the corner to see the buffalo we were surprised to find that they were water buffalo, not the big hairy beasts we know from movies about cowboys and Indians. They have shorter black hair and swooping horns that sit like a bad toupee on the tops of their heads. They were very curious about us, but they never came too close.

Inside the storefront we were shown how to make sausage by a lovely woman who is going to school to learn English. She tried to do the lesson herself without Gregory translating, and she did a great job, though she has a ways to go before becoming fluent. We tasted the cheese and the sausage, and we bought some of both. Every region of Italy has a particular way they make sausage, which means each region has a signature ingredient. In the Ciociaria region that ingredient is orange rind. It is added to the raw meat before being stuffed in the casing, and it makes the sausage taste unbelievably good; fresh and citrusy.

From there we visited Erzinio, a prosciutto factory. We wandered the little shop front sampling delicious meats and breads and cheeses, and picking up items for lunch before taking a tour of the factory. Mostly what we saw were legs of prosciutto drying, curing or being processed in various rooms, along with sausage making, and on a different floor, baking. Erzinio makes delicious almond cookies that are crunchy on the outside and chewy in the middle and that melt in your mouth. We also bought almond nougat that was divine. We stayed at Erzinio and had a picnic lunch up in their event hall. We had sandwiches made in the shop, plus pickled eggplant, amazing olives, truffle spread, crunchy bread, wine, and more ridiculously good cheese. Apparently there are very few Italian prosciutto factories that can ship to North America, and those that do have a monopoly. Parma ham is the one Gregory mentioned, and it’s one that I’ve seen at home. Of course, this doesn’t include prosciutto from Spain, which is also very good.

That night’s dinner was another cooking class, all about pasta. Gregory brought in a pasta maker named Pasqualina, a woman who spoke no English but who has been making pasta for her husband every night for something like 30 years. She was amazing. We all watched her in awe as she kneaded a massive pile of flour and egg into perfect smooth pasta dough. She then rolled it so thin you could make out her board’s wood-grain through it. At some points during the kneading process, Justino joined in to help her. We all thought this was so sweet, as it was a sign of respect for this woman who has spent her life mastering one thing. I think we were all glad she could pass on her wisdom to us. It will be a long time however, before I can touch a ball of dough and either exclaim “bella!” or shake my head and take over the kneading. Pasqualina also brought her own pastry board, and a metal scraper used to get the sticky egg and flour off the board. This scraper was her grandmothers, it was made by hand, and it was more than 100 years old. It really made me realize the importance of family, of transferring knowledge, and of being good at something you love.

Pasqualina also helped us make gnocchi, which is actually easier than I imagined it would be. The ingredients are largely the same as pasta, with the addition of potato. I couldn’t believe how well they turned out. For sauces we used some of the leftovers from antipasti night, including the grilled eggplant and zucchini (aubergine and courgette), which had been marinating all day in olive oil, garlic and basil. We also had pasta e fagioli, which is small ear shaped pastas (that we made), in a tomato sauce with beans; and another sauce which had pancetta in it. All of them were delicious, but the sauce made with the grilled vegetable leftovers was unbelievable. For dessert we had an Italian cream puff (called bigne), which nearly killed me because I was so full, but was absolutely outstanding.

This was the last night we had Chef Justino with us, so we all said goodbye and thanked him for being so wonderful. I am always amazed by the patience and energy of people who work hard all day, and then come and work in a setting where they have to be friendly and nice to people. Gregory told us that Justino works in his in-laws bake shop before he comes to Casa Gregorio. In other words, he has to deal with people all day long. Perhaps the experience is different in Italy, but in my experience helping others all day can really take a toll on your behaviour towards your fellow man. Justino was always pleasant, even when I poked fun at him about the frittata incident.

After lots of wine and good conversation, we were all off to bed. When Susan asked me later what cooking class was my favourite, I replied of course, with “pasta night!”

Casa Gregorio day 5

We were up a little later this rainy day and down to the local bar for breakfast. This was the first time I got to go to the bar for breakfast, as the other two times I couldn’t get it together fast enough to make it there. Bars in Italy are not like bars at home, they are coffee bars where you go in and stand at the counter to drink your espresso. At most of the ones we’ve been to, the price of the menu increases if you want to sit at a table, and there’s usually only one or two tables to choose from. I am a huge fan of this custom for a couple of reasons: first, because the drinks are espresso it takes no time to drink them, and you can be in and out in less than 10 minutes; and second, I can’t think of the last time I saw a to-go cup. Nobody takes their coffee to go, because it takes two seconds to stand at the bar and drink it. I haven’t seen a Starbucks since I’ve been here, and I have to say I don’t miss it. Despite Italy’s severe lack of recycling programmes, their garbage is not overflowing with those green and white cups that plague Vancouver.

We left the house later on this day because we went to a wine tasting, so it would have been too early for wine otherwise. I say it’s never too early for wine, but what do I know? The winery we visited was strictly organic, and they took their vines very seriously. Most wineries let several bunches of grapes grow per vine, maximizing output without compromising quality. This winery only let one or two bunches grow on each vine, saying that this technique ensures that every grape is good enough to be made into wine. Their output is small as a result, but the wine is extremely good. They make a Syrah Rose, which is so popular that they didn’t have any for us to sample. Mom bought two bottles, a red and a white, which we will drink before coming home.

After touring the winery, we went for lunch at an amazing restaurant that was once a wine cellar. The owners have kept a lot of the old wine-making tools including an old wine press that sat in a corner of the room. The whole room was painted stone, and there were arches spreading from the centre of the room. Everything was lit from below, which showed off the arches and gave the room a cozy antique feel. The restaurant was opened just for us, and we enjoyed the remarkable room almost as much as the food. I had ricotta ravioli with pancetta and broccoli rabbe, and grilled lamb. It was perfect. Paolo had a plate of rice for lunch, and because he spoke very little English we asked Gregory why he was only having rice. Gregory replied, “he gained weight over the winter so he’s on a diet.” We were all shocked because I think it was the first time we’d ever seen a 23 year old man on a diet, especially when there was so much good food around. Perhaps it was because of the good food that Paolo thought he needed to be on a diet. I think I know then how he feels.

Our cooking class for the night was hosted by Gregory himself, and was a lesson in meat cooking. We made grilled pork loin which we flattened, breaded, fried and baked with apple; and sausage with potato, red pepper, garlic and onion. It was a much easier class than the pasta, but it was still enjoyable. Because the meat portion of the class didn’t take much time, we had a second class with one of Gregory’s staff whose name I can’t remember (possibly Alessandra). In this lesson we learned the very difficult art of food sculpture. Alessandra showed us how to make flowers out of zucchini and carrot, and also how to carve a sunflower out of potato. My potato turned out alright, but my zucchini/carrot creation was a disaster. Everyone struggled with this task, and I’m just happy nobody lost a finger trying to carve carrot with a very sharp knife. I suppose I won’t give up my day job, whatever that is…

The meat dishes all turned out beautifully, and I will absolutely be trying them at home. By this point in our stay at Casa Gregorio, mom and I hit some sort of food wall. We could not finish anything that was put in front of us (except perhaps the ricotta pie). There had been so much food on this trip already, and I can’t say no to food, especially when it is of the calibre we were experiencing. That night I’m pretty sure I slipped into a food coma, albeit temporary, as I knew there would be lemon custard croissants at the breakfast table.

Casa Gregorio day 3

swinginggirl — Tue, 12 Mar 2013 07:04:00 GMT

So sorry for the delay, we have been traveling and going to bed early. Where was I? Oh yes! Casa Gregorio day 3.

We left the house early this day and went down to the local market to pick up some items for dinner that night. We also had a chance to wander the market which stretched several blocks and had clothes, shoes, housewares and food of all kinds. Gregory told us that in this area of Italy people don’t go to grocery stores, they come to the local market. Everything is fresh, and therefore has a relatively short shelf life, so if a person runs out of something before the next market day, they go to the next town’s market. The towns alternate market days so there is a market somewhere on every day of the week. It also allows people social time, and they will often meet friends and family at the market. What happened to this type of lifestyle in North America? We move far away from our families, and shop in massive buildings filled with things shipped from overseas. It all seems so impersonal, and I think it’s made us forget what’s important. We tend to focus on the daily struggle instead of the essential parts of life that make it worthwhile.

We left the market on our way to a buffalo farm to sample buffalo mozzarella (mozzarella di bufala). On the way there, Gregory told us that we were not allowed into the production area of this cheese factory because the Italian government will fine the producers 2500 Euros. This fine put another company out of business when visitors posted pictures of the factory on Facebook, which the Italian government saw and proceeded to fine the company 2500 Euros per visitor. As a result of this incident, no other factory will allow people into the production area. I’d say it’s perfectly understandable. The ladies at the store front brought out some buffalo mozzarella that was about 3 hours old. It was one of the best tasting things I’ve ever eaten. The cheese looks like what we call Bocconcini (which just means “little mouthful” in Italian – a vague description if I’ve ever heard one), but the outside is firm and the inside is liquidy with the texture of bread dough. I’m serious when I say it was one of the best things I’ve ever had and it makes me pretty sad that I’ll likely never have it exactly like that again.

From there we kept driving towards the ocean, but we stopped at an historic town where Fossanova Abbey is located. This was where St. Thomas Aquinas died in 1274. The church was old gothic style and the inside was cool and the stone had a slightly golden colour. The ceiling had the distinct rib cage-like construction which made you feel like you’re inside a massive animal. There were candles burning in the nave and the apses, and old frescoes lined some of the walls. Gothic style is my favourite architecture, perhaps because it is deceivingly complex. With the naked eye it appears very simple, as there is no marble, no statues, no colour, just Gothic arches and high vaulted ceilings. I love that it looks beautiful without bombarding your senses with a lot of grandiosity. All the colour I need is the blue sky and the oranges in the courtyard.

We then drove the Appian Way (the ancient road leading to Rome), on our way to the resort town of Terracina. The Appian Way is lined with Umbrella Pines, which grow seemingly everywhere in the Roman countryside. They are extremely tall trees with foliage only at the top. You can always see them on distant hillsides because they stick out above the other trees. The Appian Way is now paved at this section, and is very busy. Businesses line either side of the road and large trucks push their way down the narrow corridor. It never ceases to amaze me that this road, this way, has been here taking people in and out of Rome for hundreds of years.

In Terracina we did some quick shopping (I bought a really nice scarf), beneath the shadow of a massive rock outcrop that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. For lunch we went to a fishing co-op where catch from the morning could be auctioned off, but where it was also made into delicious dishes of gnocchi and risotto and calamari. They also had wine on tap, what a concept!

Back at Casa Gregorio we had the very first cooking class in the newly renovated kitchen. This night was antipasti night, so there was tons of food to cook: grilled vegetables, bruschetta, frittata, deep fried zucchini flower stuffed with cheese and anchovies, olives, mozzarella di bufala, foccacia, tomatoes with cheese and olive oil, breaded and fried eggplant, roasted red pepper, fresh sausage, buffalo ricotta and crusty bread. There was so much food, it was almost unbearable. The class was really fun, though poor Justino christened the new stove by accidentally dropping an entire frittata onto the element. He was so upset, even though it was because he was using a new pan/plate combination to flip it and the plate was too small. He swore it had never happened before, and we believed him. Plus, it makes for a good story in the inauguration of the new kitchen! Justino made an entirely new frittata from scratch to replace the one that was lost, and Dexter had the lost one for dinner. Everybody won!

I would just like to mention at this point that the people we’ve met at Casa Gregorio are a really great bunch, despite our differences in age and pathways. There was never a time that we wanted to avoid anyone, nobody dominated conversation, we all had interesting things to say, and the only quiet time among us was when we were eating something amazing (which happened very frequently). I found myself wanting to know more about these people, as they’ve undoubtedly lead fascinating lives. It always amazes me when people from different places can come together and get along in such an intimate setting without any prior knowledge of each other. I only hope that our group in Egypt is equally as wonderful.

Photos: Casa Gregorio

swinginggirl — Sat, 9 Mar 2013 04:47:00 GMT

Casa Gregorio day 2

swinginggirl — Sat, 9 Mar 2013 04:26:00 GMT

Our first night at Casa Gregorio we went to a pizzeria for dinner. It should have been a sign of things to come when Gregory ordered 12 different kinds of pizza including the best four cheese pizza I’ve ever tasted. There were also types with sausage, prosciutto, fresh tomato and arugula, grilled vegetables, potato, roasted peppers and so on and so on. Then for dessert we had dessert pizza which was pizza dough with apples, Nutella and powdered sugar. It’s to die for. Jan and I both had two slices, but only ate the Nutella off the second slice. When I get home I will start buying Nutella.

Our first full day was beautiful and sunny and perfect. We drove out to an olive farm to taste fresh olive oil. Driving through this countryside, almost every house has a field filled with olive trees, grape vines, sheep or goats. There is almost always a dog lying in the driveway, and someone in the field working. The houses are old, and some look like they are held together with two by four and wire, but they are unapologetic and beautiful to look at. Our host at the olive farm was named Vincenzo, and he is quite possibly the most gorgeous human being I’ve ever seen in real life (besides Trevor of course!). All of us ladies were having a little trouble. Gregory said it happens with every group, and that Vincenzo is completely oblivious to the whole thing. It’s mind boggling.

He let us taste his olive oil, and explained how to tell the freshness of the oil (you taste it like wine, and if there is a peppery after-taste that means it’s fresh). He also said that if you see green olive oil in August, it is dyed that colour because real oil turns colour over time, and would be yellow by the end of summer. Vincenzo also makes wine, and he took us out to his field and introduced us to his father who was there pruning and tending to the vines. Vincenzo seemed very proud of his father, who we could see was very knowledgeable about growing grapes. Later we had a lunch at Vincenzo’s house, that was simple and delicious, and consisted of bread and prosciutto, grilled vegetables in olive oil, bruscetta, frittata, garbanzo bean balls, bean soup, cheese, home made wine, and apple turnover for dessert. Vincenzo’s mother made the entire lunch, and she was very humble and sweet, even when we tried to thank her for the meal. The apple turnover was unbelievably good.

After leaving Vincenzo, we went and visited the old town of Arpino, where “Cicero’s Tower” is located, and there is a spectacular view of the surrounding hilltop towns. Arpino also has a very old arch, predating the Roman arch that is one of very few still standing. These towns are almost surreal in their quaintness, and I have to keep reminding myself that this is everyday life, and not a movie set for a period romance. I want to take pictures of everything. I walked up one of the streets where flower boxes lined the windows and the stone shone gold in the afternoon sunlight. It makes you wonder how much has really changed here in 500 years.

Later that afternoon, we had our first cooking class with our chef Justino. Justino is very sweet, and we all liked him immediately. We made several different pastries in this class that we would eat for dessert that night. None of them were difficult, and we had a lot of fun making them. We made biscotti, fruit tarts, Nutella cookies, and jam tarts. They were all delicious. For supper we had spinach and ricotta ravioli and grilled turkey cutlet buried under a pile of lemony, peppery arugula topped with tomatoes and parmesan.

During our stay, Gregory finished the new kitchen that will become the cooking class location. He and his staff worked til all hours getting it ready for our arrival so that it could be used by us. Our next class was the first in the new kitchen. But I’ll get into that in the next post…

Ciao for now!

Intro to Casa Gregorio, arrivederci Roma!

swinginggirl — Fri, 8 Mar 2013 02:58:00 GMT

Our last morning in Rome we went to the breakfast that came with our hotel. I sort of wished we’d taken advantage of this breakfast, as it was really good and the cook was very friendly and helpful. We then had to make our way out of Rome back to the airport where we would be picked up. On our way to the taxi station, I mentioned that we hadn’t seen many cats around Rome, and I had heard that there were supposed to be lots of them. Just as I said that I saw one, going down a flight of stairs into a cluster of ruins (I wasn’t lying about the random ancient ruins). We peered over the edge of the wall where the cat had gone down and spotted three more. They were all different; grey, black and white, orange; and all had tufts of hair sticking out, or a crooked tail. Some other people were watching them with us as we kept spotting more of them, and we discovered by way of explanatory plaque, that this group of ruins, blocked off from the public and from the street, was a stray cat sanctuary. Here, cats can come to lounge on ancient columns free from the stresses of stray cat life. I was glad to see that even the toughest cats, the gatto di Roma, have a place they can come to relax.

We were picked up at the airport by Mercedes vans, driven by Paolo and Patricio, which took us an hour and a half south of Rome. We were taken through rolling hills full of little farms, and the air was filled with smoke from burning olive branches. This time of year olive farmers are pruning their trees, so they burn the excess branches. In the van with us were Dale, a professor of nursing from southern California; and Alison, a technical writer for Google who also moonlights as a food photographer, from the Bay Area. In the other van were who we now call the New Yorkers – Jan and Marv, and Irma and Steve. They are retirees, and they live in Long Island. Later, we’d be joined by Susan and John from West Virginia. We were driven up a winding switchback road that seemed to drop off on both sides into endless green valleys of farms and olive trees and smoke. It took our breath away.

We pulled up to Casa Gregorio, our chins on the floor. Casa Gregorio sits in a village called Castro dei Volsci high up in the hilltops, with a population of only about 300. The town is ancient, with a church in the centre and stone houses piled around it. We would learn later that these little hilltop towns are common outside Rome, and were home to farming families while they worked the fields below. It was a way of protecting themselves from whatever, or whoever might have attacked Rome. Now, several of the buildings are empty and run-down, as the area was bombed in the second world war. Casa Gregorio is not one of the run-down buildings. We walked in the front door to a marble staircase with old photos lining the walls, and beautiful dark wood beams on the ceiling. Our host was there to meet us when we walked in.

Gregory, owner of Casa Gregorio is an Italian-American born in Michigan, whose family is originally from this region. He fell in love with this place, and left his successful interior design business in Florida to create Casa Gregorio. Its obvious coming here that Gregory has a flair and passion for design, as everything about this place has been chosen, styled and planned by him. There’s an eclectic mix of modern and old, perfectly balanced to be natural and completely relaxed. There is nothing stuffy or uncomfortable about this place. It’s like living in someone’s own home. Gregory welcomed all of us with espresso, and showed us all individually to our rooms. As soon as he closed the door, mom and I looked at each other and I said “well this is an upgrade!” It is quite an unbelievable place.

Gregory fed us lunch (the best meal we’ve had since arriving in Italy), which consisted of aged bread covered in olive oil, basil and tomatoes, and then topped with fresh ricotta and buffalo mozzarella. I nearly cried it was so good. We then took a tour of the town and Gregory showed us the church and the spectacular view from the top of the town. He brought his dog with us, a Shi Tzu named Dexter who is probably the sweetest, most laid back Shi Tzu I’ve ever met. He is just so adorable. While we were at the top of the town, wind blowing, sun setting, faint wood smoke rising from the valley, the church bell started to ring. I had trouble remembering that I wasn’t dreaming, that this place exists, and that we are here.

Roma Day 2!

swinginggirl — Mon, 4 Mar 2013 23:55:00 GMT

Hello again! I should mention that although I have only posted til day 2, we have been in Italy nearly 6 days. It takes me a while to write things, and the jet lag has limited my ability to stay awake. Fortunately where we are now is allowing me more relaxation time, but I’ll get to that! For now, day 2 of Roma!

First, I should mention something about our hotel. The hotel was called Little Queen, and I booked it before we left on Hotels.com. Our driver from the airport could not find it as it was located on a pedestrian only street. It was more like a B&B than a hotel, as we were greeted by a host named Vittorio who gave us espresso and showed us where to eat. Breakfast was included with the stay, though we only went on the last day. Vittorio was very kind, albeit a bit awkward. We were never quite sure about him. What was lovely about the hotel was the location. The door opened onto a gorgeous little street filled with art and book shops, and a local hair salon across. We were walking distance from all the major attractions, and from some delicious food. Despite his awkwardness, Vittorio was very accommodating, he even sent me an email concerned we couldn’t find where the breakfast was served when we didn’t show up.

We slept late on the second morning because of jet lag and wine. Once we were out of the hotel it was already after 9. We wandered down to the local market on Vittorio’s suggestion and meandered through stalls of fresh vegetables, fruit and preserves. Morning in Rome is cool and smells faintly of fresh croissants and gasoline. I am surprised by this, as most big cities weighted by the burden of history tend to smell old, with an occasional waft of sewage. It’s more than likely this has to do with the time of year, and I am glad to have visited Rome when it hasn’t been baked by the sun for months. It also makes me want to re-visit New York, Paris, Bangkok and London in the hopes of erasing memories of foul odours. Bangkok might be wishful thinking though, it’s always hot there.

Our morning wanderings took us down to the river where we could see the beautiful old buildings lining the banks, gulls and magpies dipping in the gusts of wind, and white trees bending over the sidewalk creating an arch for us to walk through. The river wasn’t all beautiful though, the water was high and brown, and the trees lining the banks were filled with plastic bags like Christmas decorations. Men were standing by the river fishing, though I don’t know what they could catch in that water. It started to rain as we crossed the pedestrian bridge to the other side of the river. The bridge was lined with statues and it pointed directly at a huge circular fortress. As soon as the rain started men selling umbrellas came toward us, and I wished I knew how to say “we’re from Vancouver, this is not umbrella rain” in Italian.

I love when the streets of a city are shiny from a light sprinkle of rain, everything has a slight reflection; like the city is sitting on old glass. By now we had arrived at The Vatican. We can see the dome of St. Peter’s Basilica dominating the road ahead, and Vatican Square is dotted with people. Nothing can prepare you for the size of St. Peter’s, it rises into the sky like a holy stone cliff and it is difficult to focus on it all at once. I remember this feeling, when Trevor and I were in Rouen Cathedral in France. We walked in on a Sunday evening after rain, and stepped back in time. The cathedral was filled with people, and a choir was singing hymns as old as the cathedral itself. We were both awestruck, not only by the towering walls and almost frightening archways, but also by the singing. Trevor whispered, now I know why people converted to Christianity. He wasn’t wrong, and in fact the amazing feat of Rouen Cathedral, St. Peter’s Basilica, and so many others was their ability to strike awe and fear into their onlookers. They were very, if not sadly, effective at gathering and converting the masses.

The inside of St. Peter’s is monolithic, ornate, spectacular. The floor was filled with people and yet you felt alone, looking up at cherub paintings and stained glass light. There were symbols and stone at every eye level, and Michelangelo’s La Pieta; a marble statue of Mary holding Jesus done with such skill you will swear you see her breathe. Amazing.

We then walked to the VaticanMuseum, which now houses the Sistine Chapel. The museum connects several Vatican chapels together, so when you enter you walk through hallway after hallway of gilded ceilings and ancient, huge, elaborate tapestries. It was difficult to walk because everyone was looking up. We shuffled our way through the halls and pushed our way into the Sistine Chapel. Again, the room was full of people all looking up, and it was quiet. Anyone who talked was yelled at by the guards. Anyone who took photos was asked to leave. All you could do was look, and that was ok with me. The Sistine Chapel is bigger than I imagined, and so impressive. The ceiling looks like it is alive, or that what’s above you is actually painted marble, not just paint. Together it all makes sense, and that in itself is a feat. The images move with each other, and they all stand for something. There is no filler. If only we could all say we did something this amazing lying down (Michelangelo painted most of the ceiling lying on his back).

After leaving the museum, we stopped for lunch and gelato – our first gelato in Rome. Although the gelato here is delicious, I feel like we might be spoiled in Vancouver, as to me it tastes just as good at home. Creamy, cold and perfect.

Our next stop was Trevi Fountain, and the Spanish Steps. We threw our coins into the fountain, meaning we will return to Rome at some point in our lives. The fountain itself is another ornate spectacle that is much bigger than I imagined. We also visited a piazza where a parade of teenage girls holding large banners chanted JUSTIN BEIBER, and two dancers drew crowds of spectators.

We made our way home and had dinner at a somewhat fancy restaurant recommended by Vittorio. I had my first deep fried zucchini flower filled with mozzarella and anchovies ala Eat, Pray, Love. I think I can die happy. Another amazing day in the EternalCity.

Ciao!

First day in Roma

swinginggirl — Mon, 4 Mar 2013 03:01:00 GMT

Well here we are! We have been here in Rome for 3 days, and I couldn’t tell you what my first impressions are of this city. Rome feels at once like a disaster of styles and time periods fighting with each other, and then like a crumbling empire that has been haphazardly put back together so many times you cannot tell which parts are from when. Our hotel is in the old part of town, where streets are as wide as alleyways and paved in cobblestone, and at any minute you could be run down by a scooter or stumble onto ancient ruins randomly jutting out from the block.

Rome is not a city of tourists, although there are plenty to be found. What I mean is that despite the mass crowds of picture-taking, map wielding foreigners, there are Romans living in Rome. They are proud of this crazy mess of a city, and it shows in their step. Perhaps because they are able to navigate the cobbled streets in six inch heels without breaking an ankle. We could barely do it in flat shoes.

Our first day here was spent at the Flavian Amphitheatre (also known as the Colosseum); a building that single-handedly defines Rome. It is the symbol of what this city has accomplished, endured and ultimately sacrificed. We went on two tours and were there for over four hours and we still came away wondering and wanting more.

Walking into the Colosseum, you are bombarded with history. You can imagine the stage covering the maze of cages and pulleys, of slaves and wild animals. You can hear the crowd cheering under the massive canvas sails. You can smell centuries of blood and sweat.

The Colosseum was built in 8 years. It was used to entertain Rome for over 500 years, using the exact same format: Gladiator fights, exotic animal hunts, and criminal sacrifice. Everything had a purpose, but the ultimate purpose was to show the people that Rome was in control. There is a saying in Rome that if the Colosseum falls, Rome falls. Although it has seen neglect, decay, earthquakes and war, the fact that it still stands is a great testament to Rome’s stamina.

Our tours were interesting, although the first was a bit of a rip-off. Our guide was an old curmudgeonly man with a sarcastic, almost cynical view of Rome’s history. He asked us if anyone was from England and a few people put up their hands. He then chuckled and said “well then you know a thing or two about being the greatest and smartest country in the world”. We laughed nervously, but I think his sarcasm was lost on most of the group. I’m pretty sure he was educated in England.

The second tour allowed us access to the recently uncovered lower levels, as well as the highest level. Our guide on this tour was much younger, and he struggled more with his English, but we decided later that he was more honestly proud of his Roman heritage than was our first guide.

The lower levels of the Colosseum were only uncovered in around 2009, and are great examples of history preserved, as they have been covered in dirt for a thousand years. Down there is damp, mossy and almost ghostly, although this isn’t surprising considering how many people and animals died there. We also walked out onto an area that has been recreated to look like the original stage. It’s quite a feeling to walk out there through a gaping roman arch, and imagine 75,000 people watching, as you march to your death. It takes your breath away, in much the same way I imagine people feel when they see the Rockies for the first time, though the Rockies were not built by man in less time than it takes to build a Skytrain line.

Later that evening, tired and awestruck we wandered to the Pantheon; one of my favourite pieces of architecture from my art history classes. Nestled low in the ground, and lit from below (as it was evening), the Pantheon seems to be the sturdiest building you’ve ever seen. This could be true as it is one of the oldest standing buildings in all of Rome. It is an amazing feat of architecture, and remains the largest unreinforced concrete dome ever constructed. The walls of the dome are 21ft thick at the base! I won’t go on and on about nerdy architecture, but know that this building has been in use continuously since Hadrian finished it in 126AD. People have been visiting the Pantheon for almost 2000 years. I can’t quite wrap my head around that.

For dinner we went to a somewhat cheesy restaurant in a piazza filled with expensive touristy restaurants, for the sole reason that we were hungry and Italians don’t eat til after 8. Despite the red and white checked table cloths and the overly friendly wait staff, the food was extremely good and the wine even better. We sat outside next to a heat lamp and watched the people meander through the piazza, expertly manoeuvring the cobblestones.

After dinner it was straight to our hotel with the green door, and straight to bed where we listened to the city night bustling away outside. Not a bad first day in Rome!

Photos: Roma!

swinginggirl — Fri, 1 Mar 2013 20:03:00 GMT

10 Days to go!

swinginggirl — Sun, 17 Feb 2013 12:43:00 GMT

“It’s an irritating reality that many places and events defy description. Angkor Wat and Machu Picchu, for instance, seem to demand silence, like a love affair you can never talk about. For a while after, you fumble for words, trying vainly to assemble a private narrative, an explanation, a comfortable way to frame where you’ve been and whats happened. In the end, you’re just happy you were there- with your eyes open- and lived to see it.”
― Anthony Bourdain

Here is the beginning of a blog. I hope to write in it. As the above quote so aptly puts, that may not be possible. In the end I'm the one who will experience and see, and I'm the only one who will know what that feels like. What I want to have though, is something to make me feel that way again in the future. To know again what it was like when I saw what I saw. If you are reading this, then I hope I do my experiences justice and that it makes you feel like you were there, or at the very least, want to be.

This adventure is the result of a decision, and a dream. People travel all the time, pulling their rolling luggage through airport after airport. This isn't what travel is for me, it is an experience. I love being in the airport, I love dragging my bags and camera around, getting sore shoulders. I could do it forever.

I blame my mother for my love of travel. She took me to Ireland when I was 13, and I fell in love with the rolling green hills, the mysterious stone fences and the music, lilting its way out of every pub and pore. She will be with me again on this trip, and again I hope this will be a great adventure filled with places I'll long to see again.

See you in Rome!