View from my bedroom window (Sant' Eufamia della Maiella)

Ah, the village. This is Peter's maternal grandparents village situated high up in the Abruzzo mountains. Basically, everyone in the town appears to be family. I know that this isn't quite true, but when every second person you meet is described as a "cucino" (cousin) you start to see a trend.

We had a lovely time visiting the family here and eating. Lots of eating and lots of talking. This isn't a quiet family :)

Some family photos...

[Peter says: lots of pics here. Flickr uploading is too slow. We will upload pics when we get back to the states. And one of my family members can feel free to print the very last picture and give to Giulio for his upcoming birthday]

Angelina, a nosey neighbor, at the local fountain - water straight from the mountain.

Kimberly with Aunt Antonietta, making pizelles.

Peter, towering over his Aunt Eufamia and Uncle Aldo.

Kimberly and Peter with (L-R) Aunt Elda, Aunt Pierina and Uncle Peter.

Uncle Bruno making fish.

Aunt Elda waiving to the camera.

Kimberly, looking normal sized, with (L-R) Aunt Elda, Uncle Bruno, and Uncle Peter.

Uncle Giulio working the land.

Aunt Antonietta (Middle) with 2 friends, on the Wall.

Kimberly with Aunt Antonietta, on the Wall.

Peter with Mario "Cipolla" - his wife Mary refused to let us take her picture.


Finally, this is Piero, who owns one of the last bars in this small town. He's holding a bottle (of whiskey, I believe) that my other Uncle Giulio drank on his last day in the village. The next morning, there was still a small glass left at the bottom, so Piero and his wife saved the bottle. If you zoom is on the label of the bottle, you may notice the date - 9/5/97 (I left the image big, so you can and I know, it looks like 87, but it's 97 And remember, in Europe, they reverse the day and month). They told me they had a little party last month because it was the 10 year anniversary since my Uncle Giulio left to move back to the US.

The Summer Solstice

So it's really hot over here; the day we left Rome, it was supposed to be around 40 degrees - CELSIUS (divide by 5, multiply by 9, add 32, and you get: 104 degrees Farenheit)!!! I don't know if it actually got that hot, but every day we were there, it felt at least that hot. And our second go around in Siena is more of the same.

At night, it actually cools down a few degress, but with the added humidity, it feels twice as bad.

It's not supposed this hot here, yet. Maybe August, but not June. I would blame Global Warming, but our President says that's a lie. So we suffer with long pants (required for churches) and lots of free water from the many fountains (actually potable, as well).

Additionally, it is almost the summer solstice, either today or tomorrow or the day after. This was reinforced to us at St Peter's Square in Rome.

In the middle of the square, there is a giant obelisk (above)

which is in the center of a perfect ellipse. As we were wandering around the square, we noticed stone markers for the 22nd day of each month in a straight line coming from the obelisk. After a few minutes, the light bulb went off: the square is a giant solar calendar, with the top of the obelisk marking the changing of the zodiac signs. A few minutes later, I realized it was almost the summer solstice, so the shadow would almost hit the first marker at around 1 pm (hour adjustment for daylight savings).

If only I had planned a little bit ahead, I could have been there on the solstice, which would have been totally cool. But this was good enough.

The worst thing was no one else seemed to care about this at all.
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As a side to the heat, we were planning on going to the Sistine Chapel on Monday morning. We even got up early to get there before it opened at 8:45. When we arrived on the bus, we saw a line that was at least half-a-mile long. Oh great. It turned out to be the line for tourist groups with reservations.

The line for individuals was twice as long.

Since it was already really really really really hot out at 830, we decided not to wait it out and went to St Peters Bascillica instead. Of course, it was beautiful, as was everything else in Rome.

Although a little frustrating that we couldn't get into the Sistine Chapel, Kimberly keeps reminding me that we will be back sometime in the future.

View from my bedroom window (Roma)

I actually didn't take this picture until the morning we were packing our bags and getting ready to leave Rome, after 6 days. The reason is, I didn't look OUT our window until that morning, when I remember that I had a series of posts going on and I should take the picture. And the reason of THAT is the heat wave. Currently, I could care less about the view and more about is there an air conditioner and does it work? The answer to those questions being yes, and sometimes. Our convent/hotel had an AC, but seemed to only turn it on from 4-6, both am and pm. But those were the magically cool hours.

Here you go, the view from my bedroom window in Rome.

The bane of my existence

Ah the beauty of the outdoors. Lush green countryside, beautiful trees, and blossoms everywhere. Do you know what I think when I see this? Crap. I need tissue.

Sigh. Allergies. Apparently I am allergic to Italy. This now adds it to Boston (terrible), San Diego (heavens no), and Portland (oh God, give me a new sinus system please). I suspect however, that I'm not suffering due to the general lushness of Italy.

No, no... it is THIS evil plant that does me in

Scotch Broom

We have seen this plant (which Peter refers to as Gorse) throughout Italy. In fact, when we got to Pompeii, we wandered through the indigeous garden area and found a small bush. "Oh" said I, "look how invasive this stuff is, it's even here in the botanical section." One of the group gently pointed out the sign beneath noting that scotch broom was found here during the pre-eruption days.

Apparently it's all Italy's fault!

Anyway, it has followed me throughout the trip. We found it in the village and now, here in Roma without many plants around, it's in my hotel.

When in Rome, eat Indian?

We've been eating a lot of Italian food on this trip. Shocking, no? I mean, it's not really Italian food as much as it's the-food-people-eat-here-cuz-duh-we're-in-Italy food. And the food, well, it's been amazing. From the seafood extravaganza Peter wrote about below to Zia Nanelle's homemade pasta (please note that the spelling of her name is my own invention, that's just what it sounds like when people say it). Zio Bruno made a fantastic feast of seafood salad (mussels, cute little octopus, squid, olives, peppers, and some other things)

linguini with clams and mussels

and then an ENTIRE trout-like fish (spigola maybe?) for each person.

So full all the time.

We've been eating and eating and eating for days. I don't think I've gained weight, but only because the intense eating has been balanced out by the hills, stairs, and cobblestone roads.

So, Peter and I arrived in Roma Thursday night. Dinner time drew near and we both looked at each other and quietly whispered "do you want to eat, I don't know, not Italian food?" Sighs of relief. Tonight was a night without pasta.

We walked past various promising places, the Chinese looked good, and scouted out an Ethiopian place a bit further away. In the end, though, we ended up at an Indian restaurant.

It was SO GOOD. Well, I'm not exactly sure it was the best Indian food I've had.... but last night, it completely hit the spot. It was spicy (most of our food has been rather mild) and contained multiple green vegetable (which we haven't seen in at least a week). FANTASTIC!

For lunch today, we decided to continue the anti-Italian food trend and stopped at a halal kebab and falafel place near the Termini train station. Falafel and kebab sandwiches, and not a bite of pasta!

And tonight, well, in a few minutes, after we leave this internet point, we're headed for Chinese. Right near the Trevi fountain.

Bella Roma indeed.

I am an Idiot Sometimes

Here's a good story to illustrate my point:

When Mom and Sissy were here, we went to visit a City called Sulmona. I spent many summers of my youth about 50 km away, but the only things I remember are that we went there to buy gold and they make confetti there, which, it turns out, I'm not that fond of. Turns out, its a beautiful little Italian city, where everyone walks throught the City center between 5 and 8, the food is good and cheap, and the people are friendly.

We stayed at the Hotel Italia, just off one of the many piazzas, which turned out to be a friendly place run by a super friendly father-son tandem.

While there, the first time, we took out a bunch of Euro's from the bank, so that we wouldn't have to keep going every couple days. However, we didn't want to carry all that money with us, so I had the brilliant idea of hiding it under the mattress. I figured we were so close to where my grandparents were from, I would use the same method of hiding my money.

As we left the room the first night, I said the fateful words: "Let's make sure we don't forget this."

Fast forward to Fano, our next destination. As I unpack to go for dinner, I ask Kimberly where the money is. She says I have it. I'm convinced she has it. Turns out neither of us have it.

I was in a full panic. I ripped apart both our bags. I called the Hotel Italia, but they couldn't find it. I sulked around beautiful downtown Fano. I was miserable. I just lost almost $1000 in Euros.

As I sulked in the City center, next to the fountain, Sissy came up to me: "Didn't you say something about putting the money under the mattress?" [lightbulbs popping]

Um, yes, yes I did!!! I frantically called the Hotel, trying my hardest to explain to them what happened, where it was. 10 minutes later, they called and found it. They were putting it in the family safe. A great weight lifted from my shoulders.
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On our way to Sant'Eufamia, we stopped at the Hotel Italia again, and we got our money. All of it was there; I think they may have even added a $100 bill. I tried to give them a reward, but they wouldn't take it, of course not.

We ended up eating a great dinner, buying fabulous pastries for the family in the Village, and getting picked up in Sulmona by an Uncle, rather than trying to navigate the bus system up the mountain.

Sulmona, as it turns out, is a pretty cool place.

quick fix

I added the picture to the post about the gas strike. Much better now. Enjoy again, if you would.

How I Spend My Days

Did you know that baby birds hatch from eggs?

FROM EGGS!!!!

Unbelievable that something so cute and tasty looking could come from something so boring looking and not-tasty. Anyways, while those two 'owners' of mine are out backpacking around Italy, I've found me a new hobby: watching these silly little birds have new chicks under the deck.

Sometimes Ben and Jerry like to come out and watch with me, but they're not as interested; they roll to their own beat.

This is so cool. I can't wait til they try to fly. Who knows what will happen then?!?!?!?!? Maybe they'll fly!?! Maybe they'll fall!?! Maybe we'll get a snack!?! Who knows. All I know is that the anticipation is killing me (Hm, maybe a new saying: 'Anticipation killed the cat.' I'll have to work on that one).

Back to that Ben and Jerry. Turns out they're not so bad. Once Tiger-stripe over here realized I wasn't going to be taking over, he chilled out. Jerry even caught a bird on the deck and brought it inside. He's got cat-like reflexes (hahahahahahahahahahahahaha - I am hysterical).

The woman who lives here came home. She said she saw those other two and they send their love. But she also told me they've been galavanting all over Europe with new and different cats, even threatening to replace me.

I'm not sure if I should believe her, but I'll be sure to give those 2 a good sniffing when they back. I kind of miss them.

Peace out.

Why travel sucks

I love to travel. I got bit by the travel bug back in college and have loved the adventure of seeing new places and meeting new people ever since.

However... the actual GETTING there part often sucks. Flights get delayed, airplane food sucks, someone throws up next to you or the bathrooms smell bad. It's just a pain. My dad always said he would work on building us a teleporter, you know, out of Star Trek. Alas, that was one project he couldn't complete and we are stuck traveling the old fashioned way.

Mom and Sissy left last Friday (June 8) from the Rome airport to head home. We dropped them and the rental car off about 9:30 that morning for their 1:00ish flight. Then we didn't hear from them for a few days.

These are their reports from the field:

Mom:

"We're finally home. We arrived at PDX at 4:12 on Saturday morning. ETA had been 10:30 Friday night. We spent 24 hours in airport lines, planes, JFK floor, JFK tarmac and finally in the air.The line at Rome was longgggg but we had time to get a panini at the autogrill before our flight. Little did we know that we'd get 2 meals and snacks on the flight. I think they feed you to keep you quiet. Had a great flight actually getting in 1/2 early to JFK. Flight was only half full so everyone got to spread out. Oh, we both got searched before we boarded the plane.Had to wait 45 minutes for a gate so we really hustled through the gates and customs only to get to the terminal and find that all flights were delayed due to weather. There were thunderstorms from Wisconsin down but the real problem was FAA computers had crashed earlier in the day. 4 gate changes - including back to one twice and we got on the plane at about 9:30 pm NY time rather than 6:30. No problem, just a short delay. We then sat on the tarmac for 3+ hours leaving sometime around 1 a.m. Got to "watch" a movie on the tarmac and tour the various runways and we both got some sleep. (Movie unfortunately was one that also played on the flight from Rome)."

Sissy:

"Our Rome to New York flight went smoothly. When we landed in New York visiblity was down to 3/4 of a mile. We cleared customs very quickly and found our gate where our plane was to take off at 6:35 pm EST. That's when the fun began. The flight departing from that gate to Atlanta had been delayed. We then found out that our flight was delayed until 8pm, then 8:44pm, then a gate change taking us from one end of the terminal to the other, then when we arrived at our new gate they knew nothing about our flight. Then they finally annouced another delay where we were to board at 9:14pm. Then we started the boarding process and everyone was very excited at this point. During all of this we learned 2 things that were causing these delays. The first was the FAA computers had gone down in Atlanta and caused a ripple effect of flights being canceled. There was also bad weather from the great lakes south to the gulf of mexico. So we boarded and thought we would be in the air shortly. That was definitely not the case, we spent the next 4 hours sitting on the runway and took off at 1:30am EST. We got to PDX at about 4am PST and was home just after 5am."

It turns out that they did indeed make it home, eventually. And we're still here in Italy. I know that we all had a few concerns about traveling together (I'm sure Peter must have wondered whether he was insane to travel with his wife, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law). And in the end? It went swimmingly. We worked out a system, we managed the crazy freeways, and saw some amazing parts of Italy. And we all took our first vacation in years. I think the consensus is that we'd even travel together again sometime! Hows that for sucess!

Itinery update

Well, we're still in Sant' Eufamia della Maiella, up in Abruzzo. This is Peter's grandparents' village. We have more stories to write and pictures to post, but as you might expect, the computer connection in a town of 170 residents isn't much. So for now, you'll just have to make do knowing that the little Italian I picked up has been of NO use here as the dialect is so completely different. Imagine, me, unable to talk. My family is laughing at the thought right now.

Anyway, once we get to more reliable computers there will be more stories and updates.

The agenda for the next while...

tomorrow Thursday June 14 we head down to Sulmona and catch the train back to Rome. Then we spend 4 nights in Rome seeing the sights. Monday... well who knows? maybe back up to Siena? Heading towards Milan? somewhere in that general direction.

We've got clean clothes (thanks Zia Nanelle) and a place to sleep. What else do we need!!

love you all.

The Empire Strikes...Again and Again

If you remember, the day before we arrived in Italy, the Italian Air Traffic Controllers were on strike for about 4 hours; the Alitalia flight attendants supported them by striking as well. The strike caused the cancellation of many flights; fortunately, ours was not one of them.

We are currently in Assissi, staying at a wonderful farm B&B (agriturismo in the local parlance) called Agriturismo Alla Madonna del Piatto. We took a cooking class, have a beautiful view, and have visited some wonderful small towns.

This morning, we were on our way to Torgiano, which has both a wine and an olive oil museum. Then on to Deruta and some beautiful ceramics. Then wine tasting. Our gas tank was almost empty, so we stopped at a couple gas stations, but they were both closed. 'No problem' we thought, 'we'll just stop on the highway.'

When we got to the gas station on the highway, we saw this sign:

Do you know what sciopero means? Take a wild guess.

Yup, a gas strike.

As you may imagine, we were in a panic. The strike doesn't end until Thursday night, when we are supposed to be on our way to Rome to drop off Mom and Sissy at the airport.

Kimberly was also awed that all the gas stations in the whole country, covering at least 5 different companies, would actually work together enough to have a nationwide strike. If you have been in Italy before, you can kind of understand why. I explained that Italians are united in their love of soccer, eating and drinking wine, and organized labor.

We started calling everyone we thought might have some info, which included 2 people: my father in Pratola and the agriturismo manager. We also grabbed some truck drivers at the rest stop and talked to them, kind of. They explained that there might, MIGHT, be an open station on the Autostrada, 60 km away. We had about 100 km of gas, so that was a stretch.

Finally, salvation arrived. Letitzia, the fabulous owner of the agriturissmo, called with good news. Her cleaning lady knew someone who owned a gas station and was willing to sell us gas. The only problem: we had to pose as her cousins.

We ended up pulling into a gas station, where I needed to go into the store and ask for 'Allesandro' and explain I was Laura's cousin. After an interesting look from the woman behind the counter, I was directed to an old man outside. He looked at me and turned to a younger guy, who then proceeded to fill our gas tank.

Two hours after we started, we finally began our day. The itinerary was shortened, but it was still great. The ceramics in Deruta are amazing. The views, as always are amazing.

So far, 2 weeks in Italy, 2 strikes. With Bush coming to Rome on Friday, it promises to be another eventful day (Mom and Sissy leaving that day, Kimberly and I sleeping in Rome that night).

And there's a rumor that the firefighters are going to strike on Friday, which will only add to the fun.

Bella Italia.

(15 June 2007 Edit: added photo and corrected inconsistency)

Quick Thoughts

I can't download photos on the computer I am currently on. Joy. Maybe one of these days we'll have free run of a functioning computer for a while and I will be able to download some good photos. But until then, sorry. You'll have to survive with the ones Kimberly has already uploaded.

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I wonder how Miles is doing. We met his Italian cousin in Sienna. Kimberly was cheating on Miles with him. We have pics, which you may see someday.

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Umbria is beautiful. There have been thunderstorms passing through, which are fun to watch from up on the hills. Assissi is also beautiful, and houses the Basilica of St. Francis, which is a site to behold on the side of the mountain.

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We took a cooking class at the agriturismo. We made risotto, rolled pork (like bresciola, but not at all), and Italian cookies. It was fantastic. We now know how to make no fuss risotto. Maybe we'll share some day.

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I think I spell Assissi wrong. I think its Assisi, but I don't have time to look right now. I'll change it later. I know I am spelling Siena wrong, as I think it's Sienna.

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I'm getting kicked out of the Internet Cafe. Joy.

Ciao.

View from my bedroom window (part 5)

Sienna.



It is purely by luck that we are here today in Sienna. We thought we were headed to our agriturismo villa tonight, but when we called to confirm figured out that we were a day early. This is the best mistake so far! We were FORCED to spend a day in Sienna, my so far favorite city in Italy (no offense to all of the lovely Italians in my family and their hometowns intended). Sienna is serene after the chaos of Florence, small and sweet and beautiful.



And this is the view from my bedroom window.

The View from Our Bathroom Window

Kimberly has been reporting on some of the beautiful views from our various bedrooms in Italy. But the best hotel view so far has to be this one:

This is the view you would see if you were sitting on the toilet in our room at our hotel in Siena.

Yup.

View from my bedroom window (part 4)

Ah Florence. So much beauty, art, and culture.

So many tourists.

This is the view from my bedroom window.

Not quite as inspiring, huh. We stayed on backpacker row... with all the college ages tourists and the drunks. Also the mosquitos. So, not the ideal-est of accomodations. But Maria and her husband (who spoke Spanish) made up for the noisy hordes. My Italian has improved by leaps and bounds and my Spanish is coming back too!

Treasure at Sea

The moral of the following story is: try new things. At least once, possibly twice.

As we were travelling north from Pratola Serra to Florence, we cut across the middle of the country and drove along the Adriatic Coast on Italy's east side. First we stopped in Sulmona, a city so close to my grandparents' village in Abruzzo that I almost felt bad that we didn't go visit (but Kimberly and I are going later in the trip, so I don't feel too bad). We then drove out to the coast to head north to tuscanny.

We were looking to stay on the coast somewhere kind of close to Florence, but read that Rimini was a party town (and we're taking it slow) and Ravenna has a lot of really cool stuff (and we only had one night to spend, not the 2 or 3 Ravenna seemed to require).

We ended up staying in Fano, a small, seaside port. It seems that Fano is a big spot with the Euro crowd (lots of German language pamphlets), but our American guidebook had very little information.

As we wandered the historic center, checking out the old fountains and piazzas, we started getting hungry. Since this was the closest we would get to the ocean on our trip, we decided to have some seafood. Fano had many options, but many seemed to be prohibitively expensive.

When we first walked past the Hosteria 500, we weren't convinced; it was empty and had no prices posted. After some investigation, Kimberly and Sissy saw that the prices were reasonable, so we were decided to give it a try.

At first, it was a quiet time. A little spumanti and fried artichokes, on the house, to start us off. We perused the menu, looking at some pasta with fish options that looked fine. We also were looking for some local wine, but had no idea what was good for the region.

We started by ordering just the pasta plates, with Mom getting convinced by the waiter\cook to have the special - the polenta with frutta di mare (fruits of the sea). Through some difficult Italian-English negotiations, we decided on a bottle of Bianchello del Metauro, as it turns out a lovely white wine. Then we were done ordering. Or so we thought.

The waiter would have none of this 'one course' ordering. He insisted that we must have an antipasti. Although we resisted at first, his Italian charm eventually broke us; I ordered an 'antipasto typico.'

As we sat sipping our wine, he brought the first plate of antipasti - frech anchovies in olive oil. Although we were all a little worried at first (anchovies don't have the best reputation in the states) we figured when would we be able to eat fresh anchovies again, right? And it turns out these little suckers were really tasty.

Well that was a good appetize...what's this? Um, beans are typical of the regi...oh, those aren't beans they're bombolini? What? Oh, bombolini are snails. Ok.

Well, when's the next time we're going to eat snails? A little picking, a little sucking, and down the hatch it goes...and...wow, not so bad. Let's try a couple more.

If you ever get to eat a snail, do it. By the end of the plate, Sissy was basically fighting us over the last few. They were that good.

Alright, antipasti is ove...more? Bruschetta? Fantastic. Beans? Wow. Random white fish with oil and herbs? Divine.

Popolo? Um, that looks like, um, tentacles. Is that, um, Octopus? Um, yes, yes it is.

I have to say, the octopus was fine, but not great. A little chewy. The dressing was very good though.

And finally, the antipasti ended. We were informed that the four of us ate antipasti for two. I'm not sure if that's true, because we could barely eat our main course. Spaghetti with fish sauce, Polenta with frutta di mare, gnocchi with radicchio and porcini in a cream sauce, and pisatelle with a white fish sauce all went half eaten (well, I finished my gnochhi; those were like little pillows of wonderful).

Really, the antipasti was the star of the show. And could've been eaten alone.

We've eaten a lot of good foo on this trip so far, but those little snails will certainly hold a place in my heart for many years to come.

View from my bedroom window (part 3)

Perhaps you're seeing a trend here? This is the view from my bedroom in Fano, on the Adriatic coast. We stopped by on our way to Florence. It was pretty quiet, although the summer looks to be crazy; private beaches, umbrellas, and tourist info in German everywhere.

We were lucky, though and caught Fano before the tourists arrived. We didnàt spend long, as we were on our way north, but it was nice to be on the coast and see some water (it was also significantly cooler than in Pratola Serra...). Iàll let Peter tell the story of our delightful dinner here.

The food in Italy

Ah Italian food. So delightful. I'm far from tired of the different pastas, pizzas, salumi, gelato, and other tasty things we're finding to eat.





However- I had never seen this before.




This is patate e wurst pizza. Aka hotdog and french fry pizza. Isn't that what you think of when you think of Italian food? No? Me neither. I don't think it was Peter's best decision either.

The view from my bedroom window (part 2)

Ah Italy....

This is the view from my bedroom window in Sulmona, Italy. We stayed at Hotel Italia ( a good name if there ever was one) and were awestruck by the beauty of this little town. Sulmona is mostly known for confetti, which are also common at weddings, including ours! We had a beautiful stay in Sulmona, and luckily PEter and I will get to stop by another time as his gradparents village is nearby and weàll stop in to see some more family after Mom and Sissy leave.

This beautiful building was our hotel, and we plan on stopping by again in a few weeks!

Damn Internet Cafes

So I'm trying to type a post in an internet cafe in Florence. Except the computer is slow. And the keyboard is hard, with all these wacky extra letters. And they close in 5 minutes, so they wouldnàt let me get a whole hour and I only got half an hour.

So, my hysterically funny post about eating seafood in Fano will have to wait until another day. This is all you're getting right now. (this letter: à is where the apostrophe is supposed to be. itàs really hard).

I am also trying to upload some photos to Flickr, but the computer is slow. And Iàm probably getting a virus.

Some pictures are up, mostly of food. But I need to go before the computer steals my camera. And my passwords.

We are all having a great time. Driving on the roads here is great, except when you,re in the Cities, then it is terible. I am not looking forward to dropping the car off in Rome. Right in the middle of the city. In the middle of the madness.

Later.

PS The market pictures are from Pratola Serra. The other pictures are from Pompeii

The Problem with Italy

Italy is a beatiful country. The hills are full of huge, old villas and monastaries that stand over well-manicured fields full of great things like grapes and kiwis and figs and tomatoes and olives and lemons and oranges and... The drivers are insane. The relatives are welcoming. The food is amazing. Kimberly and the Krew have been completly overwhelmed by the contained chaos of everything.

Italy also contains some of the most beautiful art in the world, in the form of sculptures, paintings, and architecture, and some of the most friendly people in the world. Well, mostly.

On Saturday, we decided to go visit the Reggia of Caserta, near Pratola Serra. [Caserta is in Southern Italy, close to Napoli, which is an important part for the story.] The guide books call the Reggia the "Versaille of Italy" and sing the praises of the English gardens. Once we got our tickets, we walked over to the bus area to take the 3 km ride to the garden entrance. This is where our story begins.

There was a 20-something guy selling tickets to the train and telling people to line up 'over there.' Two problems: (1) he wasn't so much selling tickets as smoking cigarettes and flirting with the young women in the general vicinity; and (2) Italians, unlike the English or the Americans, do not take well to queuing. The line for the bus wasn't so much a line as it was a horde. The first bus came and went, with our Hero-American-Family standing in the bus' dust, looking completely bewildered and scared. Those little old Italians are not as sweet as they look.

Having experienced this before, I decided I needed to act. As we were the last group pushed off the previous bus, we were first in line for the next bus. As the little Neapolitan women started to encroach upon and pass us, I made sure that we inched forward. As the Sicilian women stood in front of us, I politely explained to them (in my poorest Italian) that the line was behind us and we were actually in the front. [I absorbed enough evil eyes that I had an exorcism that evening. No joke.]

When the bus finally arrived, the contained chaos became uncontained. Old Italians were practically running over us and knocking the Krew down to get on the bus first. When the bus finally stopped rolling, it was actually only a few feet in front of me.

Although a few of the little women were too quick and got on before me, I put my plan in action. With one particulary nice woman and her very pleasant husband right behind me, I blocked the door with my rather large frame and arms. I then turned and told the Krew to get on the bus, blocking everyone else. A few jabs in the ribs and screams of indignation later, we were all on the bus, followed quickly by an angry mob. Fortunately, the heat of the bus lulled everyone to sleep and all their anger was directed back at the husbands, just as intended.

[The woman right behind Kimberly is the one who was jabbing me in the back. I wish I had a better picture, but I was afraid if I actually pointed the camera at her, she would spit on me.]

We spent the next few hours touring the 7 km of garden paths, seeing beautiful fountains, fake Roman ruins, tiny frogs, giant fish, and exotic trees, including a Redwood from the West of America and a Doug Fir from the Northwest of America. Just like home.

On the way back, we decided to walk the 3 km down to the palace. Although we will need to face the hordes of old Italian women again at some point, twice in the same day wasn't worth it.

My first morning in Italy

Ah Italy. We arrived last night, were chauffered by Zio Mimmo and Peter's Dad, and welcomed into a bustling house for dinner with Zia Nina and Zia Rita and her family. What a feast! I certainly won't starve in Italy, although I might gain 50 pounds. That could be a problem. Luckily, the towns are set in beautiful countryside, so walking will be a pleasure.

Peter and I woke up this morning to the church bells. The bells ring for each hour and for each quarter hour. This means lots of bells. It's beautiful now, but can you imagine the noise complaints if they tried this in the cities at home?

And, to top it all off, this is the view outside our bedroom window.

It's not so bad.... I can probably get used to this for a while....

Do you think the Middle has views like this?

...Ciao Italia

We have arrived in Pratola Serra, the hometown of my father's family. After a quick drive down the autostrada from Rome, we ate our bodies weight in food last night for dinner.

A few very Italian things that have happened so far:

We saw this on the plane as we were leaving Boston:

Italian Air Traffic Controllers Strike

Someone in Portland was joking that all three times he has come to Italy, some part of the travel sector is on strike. Luckily, this didn't affect us, as it was only for a few hours on Tuesday.

Then we saw:

Garbage a burning issue for Naples

Apparently in Naples, the trash dumps are full. So they are piling the trash on the streets and burning it. I can't wait to go see it.

I can't wait to see what happens next.

In memory

My father Phil

May 3, 1943-May 24 2006

We love you.

Goodbye USA...

Got Snuggles?

So apparently, they're gone. :( I haven't seen them in almost a week. Sorry if I'm a little sad today, but it's hard to type through the tears.

I guess they are on their way to Europe and will come back eventually. I guess I'm spending the next couple of months with my 'friends' Ben and Jerry. Some friends these guys are: the growling and hissing has calmed down, but now they knock over my food because they think it's funny. Ha Ha Ha, my stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

So sad.

Anyways, since Kimberly isn't here for the snuggling, I had to find someone new to steal snuggles from. I don't know who this guy is, but he seems sufficient for snuggling purposes, even though he is a Mets fan (I hope PEter doesn't get too mad about that).

Boston Adventures Part 2

My Boston trips have always involved eating. Marrying into a large Italian family, that kinda goes without saying. We eat, frequently and a lot.

One of my favorite places in Boston is an area called the North End. This is a very old part of town apparently dating from the 1600s. The buildings are old and brick, the streets run this way and that way, narrow and confusing. The roads are all cobblestone and brick, beautiful to look at and rough on the ankles. So many different groups of immigrants have lived in this neighborhood over the centuries, but it's been an Italian neighborhood for over 100 years.

My mother-in-law and her sisters were all born in the North End. It has family history (and family still live there). Most importantly, it has pizza, the soul food of Italians. As I have been informed by my dear husband, the quality of pizza is a very important consideration (and as he frequently points out, Portland's pizza generally sucks).

Some of our family is somehow related (don't ask me because the family relations are all too confusing for me to sort out, not to even consider remembering) to the family that runs Galleria Umberto, known in the family as Buckwheat's after the owner. Buckwheat makes pizza. You can get your pizza any way you want it, as long as you want it square and with cheese. None of those fancy dancy toppings. Cheese. You can also get panini (which are somehow ham and cheese sandwiches, but on pizza dough- seems to me that they're more like a calzone, but what do I know), pizzette (somehow the same thing with sauce and cheese baked inside), panzarotti (like a potato croquette- mashed potatoes with cheese in the middle, deep fried), arancini (rice balls stuffed with meat and peas and then deep fried), and calzones (you know what those are). Pizza cost $1.10 a slice, although Peter complained about the increase from the old days of 60 cents a slice.

This is simple, artery clogging food.

This is what we got.

You can see most of the food in this picture. We purchased 8 slices of pizza, 3 arancinis, 1 panzarotti, and 2 calzones (one spinach and cheese, and one just spinach). This was for 4 people. We also bought another arancini and 2 more calzones to bring home for my mother-in-law.

We ate almost all of it.

Here is Peter and his aunt exclaiming over the inadequate amount of food.











After this, we wandered around, had some interesting experiences with getting official documents translated into Italian (more later), and walked the streets until the rain got too annoying. And then, because we certainly hadn't eaten enough, we got dessert.

At this place- Modern Pastry














You might not be able to see in these photos, but there are absolutely no signs in this place. No prices, no names of things, no list of what they offer. They have a coffee machine in the corner, which implies that they sell coffee. They do, but nothing to let you know what they make. They even have other varieties of pastries in the back that they sell, but no mention of them in the front. You have to just know.

This time around, we got two cannolis (mmmmmm) and a slice of ricotta pie. (I also highly recommend their lobster tails (the pastry not the fish)). As we left, we discussed where we were going to take our treats. Peter mentioned that his grandfather's brother and wife might still be in town, up the street, so we walked over to their place. We popped in, Auntie Mary made us coffee, and Uncle Giulo peppered us with questions about our trip. They've lived in the same apartment in the North End for 52 years, since they returned from their honeymoon. It turns out that they will be in The Village in Italy about the time we're passing through, so Uncle Giulo has promised us a walk through the countryside and some potatoes.

It's sometimes bewildering to be surrounded by so much family, coming from a relatively small family like mine. But I wouldn't trade them in for anything.

_________________________
[PEter Edit: A couple quick things: (1) The problem with pizza in Portland is that people are worried about the toppings, rather than the important things, like crust and sauce (for Example A see The Flying Pie). And places with good pizza, like Ken's new pizza place or A Pizza Scholls, with good crust and simple toppings, are ridiculously expensive. Escape From New York (or Manhattan, whatever) on NW 23rd was good too. (2) My family is not related to the people that run Bacqui's (apparently, not Buckwheat, but that's how it's pronounced); my Aunt (not the one pictured) dated Buckwheat when they were young. My Uncle Giulio used to hang out with them too. (3) Kimberly added a link to Galleria Umberto's up there: check out the picture of the storefront. It's hidden in plain view. (4) The Unlce Giulio Kimberly met yesterday is actually Zio Giulio (pronounced Ti-Giulio) on my Grandfather's side, easily distinguishable from the other Uncle Giulio on my Grandmother's side.

Boston Adventures Part 1

Ah, Boston.

I've visited a few times now, and am slowly starting to figure out the parts of town I enjoy, the things I'd rather skip, and a vague sense of where things are. This trip I've already got to experience something new, something exciting, something Peter's been waiting for since we first met.

I went to my first Red Sox game at Fenway.

It was quite the adventure. To fully appreciate this story, you should know that I've never been a big sports fan. Just not my thing. In fact, it was something of a strike against Peter when we first met. But, he turns out to be a fine person even with the whole sports thing. And, when we decided to get married, the only prenuptial-sort-of-thing we had was the one sport rule. We agreed that Peter could pick any sport, any at all, that I would feign interest in. And then, I could openly disparage all other sporting activities.

Anyway, Peter picked baseball and the Red Sox and I've been watching baseball ever since. It's not half bad actually. I have Red Sox gear- a fancy baseball hat. I know players; I know some general rules. Not bad for me.

So... Peter's been searching for tickets ever since we decided to come back here on our way to Europe. Unfortunately, the Red Sox seem to be the hottest thing in town, and tickets are hard to come by. Peter found standing room only for the bargain basement price of $50 each! Eeek!

We were beginning to resign ourselves to no baseball when a friend came through and gave us noon tickets for the rainout make up game on Thursday.

It's crazy there. The banners, the people, the Red Sox gear. Here we are entering the park.







I got my first Fenway sausage. Note the size of this thing. Clearly bigger than my head. And I ate the WHOLE thing.

It stayed dry through the game which was lovely. There was a fabulous lady in front of us, yelling and talking the whole time. When her accent got too thick and we (or me) didn't understand, she slowed down and clearly enunciated, which was great too. The guys behind us had wicked accents that I spent half the game eavesdropping on, such that Peter got concerned he was going to get into a brawl. But, no worries, they were too drunk to notice.

The sun didn't really come out, it's been cold and rainy the entire time we've been here. Apparently a Nor'Easter is coming through (this translates to "really big storm" for those at home).

All in all, it was a fun time. I'll probably even go again sometime, since I'm good luck now as they've won every game since I attended. But, geesh, lower the beer prices already. $8 for a Sam Adams?

An Ode to Banana Man (The 262 Revisited)

After college, I moved into a house with four other guys in Inman Square in Cambridge; we were two guys from Boston and three guys from Connecticut. We were all the same age and starting our working careers. We lived across the street from the The Abbey Lounge, before it was renovated and still had those two seedy windows. We had good parties.

Our art work was pretty standard for a house occupied by five young 20-year olds: some beer posters, things we found on the subway or at yard sales, an Anna Kournikova poster.

One day, Basement Brian brought home Banana Man; he was working at a children’s theater at the time and someone there had given it to him. In the beginning, Banana Man was pretty simple, basically a banana with a face. The Banana Man hung on the wall for a couple years, overlooking the foosball table.

At some point, Rob decided to spice him up and added the hat, hair, bow-tie and tuxedo shirt.

Most importantly, he added those red lips.

After a couple years, the five of us started moving on. I went away for a couple months and subletted my room to Alfay. Then Basement Brian got married and moved out, making Alfay a permanent member of the house. Lew moved home and got married; he rented his room to his brother, Uncle Brian. Rob moved in with his girlfriend, I moved to Portland, Alfay moved out, and some other people moved in. Chad held down the fort for a few more years, being the one constant in the house from start to finish.

Once Basement Brian and Rob moved out and didn’t take Banana Man with them, sentiment turned against Banana Man and he was removed from the wall. When I moved out, I rescued Banana Man from the basement, carrying him across the country to the NorthWest.

Banana Man hung on my wall in Seattle for a year; then he hung in our bathroom in Portland for the last 2+ years, scaring countless small children, disconcerting Kimberly, intriguing others, but always providing a conversation starter.

We decided Banana Man wouldn’t come to the Middle with us; Kimberly isn’t a big fan of the Banana Man and we were running low on space. Last Friday, we had a going away party and gave Banana Man to a friend. She’ll be proudly displaying him in her office cube, until some future time when either I can reclaim him or he can be passed on to someone who appreciates a true piece of art.

Goodbye Banana Man. You’ll be missed.

We Were Overwhelmed There For a While

So ever since Kimberly defended her thesis last Thursday, we've been pretty crazy-busy. Mother's Day with Grandmama was fun. But most importantly, we packed up and moved our 2 bedroom house, moved our cat to a new home, and had an empty-house party. We're now in Boston, getting ready to go on a vacation.

We're about to unload some blog-alanche on you, as we have lots of good stuff built up. So get ready for some reading.

Guess Who's Back...

...It’s the M-I-L, E to the S,
The rockin' Russian Blue who loves you best

Hey there everyone, it’s been a while since I’ve checked in, and boy, have I had some crazy adventures. I’m a little discombobulated these days (how’s that for a big-cat word) (it took me about 30 seconds to type it though, damn paws without opposable thumbs), but we’ll get to that in a second.

So the best place to start is probably a few weeks back. I had been helping Kimberly with her thesis. She may have had all the “ideas” and done all the “typing,” but I basically wrote the thing for her: you know what they say, behind every good woman, is a cat. I’d have to agree whole-heartedly.

Then one day, these two decided to take me for a car ride. I try to tell them over and over again that I don’t want to go in the car: I wail incessantly, I throw up on the rug, I wake them at 5 a.m. They really need to learn Cat-alonian if this whole relationship is going to work out.

Anyways, they think they’re so slick, trying to trick me into getting into the Box, but I know what they’re doing. If there wasn’t two of them, I wouldn’t have gotten in, but they over-powered me. It’s not so much the car that’s the problem, it’s that dam Box, it keeps closing in on me. Once we were in the car, I really turned on the wailing and gave Kimberly the Puss-in-Boots eyes; I really turned it on. She eventually relented, and I was free to burrow under the seats. Ah the safety of darkness.

I figured we were heading down to that nice old woman’s house; I think they called her Grandmama. She was nice, giving me treats and lots of petting, kind of like a spa treatment. But no, we ended up at some strange house where everything was a little suspicious. There was a weird scent in the air. Once I got in, it was obvious: new friends.

Ben and Jerry seemed like nice enough cats, but they were not happy to see me. Hiss, growl, hiss hiss hiss. That Ben, he needs to chill out. Jerry seemed cool, but Ben was all freaking, so I couldn’t really get to know him.

I figured the best way to avoid showing him who was boss and giving him a swipe to the head was to hide under the couch for a while; I wouldn’t want to embarrass someone in their own house. But we all know I could have. I was happy when Kimberly got me out from the couch and gave me some treats. I was really happy when we left that place and the ominous, terrible smells of Ben and Jerry.

Things were back to normal at home for a while, as I settled back into my cycle of eating, sleeping, and whining. But boxes kept showing up and things slowly started disappearing. Something was up.

My fears were confirmed when they drugged me. Yup, my so-called caretakers gave me tranquilizers, and as far as I can tell, it was all a cruel joke. I almost fell off the window, couldn’t eat, and was constipated for days. Don’t get me wrong, the semi-comatose sleep and melting walls were pretty cool, but the hangover was killer. I still have no idea why they would do that to me. Maybe not enough wailing and whining?

When I finally recovered from my haze, half the house was missing and the boxes had grown and covered half the house. Now something was definitely up.

I tried laying low for a while until I could figure things out. I even cut back on the whining and increased the sleeping and eating. Then out of nowhere, we were back in the car again. They had grabbed my lead and harness, so I figured we were going outside for a nice afternoon of chewing on grass and vomiting on the bed. But they tricked me, again. I’m really gonna get them.

We ended up back at Ben and Jerry’s house – I could tell as soon as I smelled them. When I got inside, though, they were no where to be found. That was cool. I wandered around, checked out the scene, scratched the post for a while. This place wasn’t so bad; lots of space, lots of windows to look out, lots of dark hiding places.

Then out of nowhere was Jerry, all by himself. Cool. Hey buddy. He gave me the old submissive move, rolling onto his back and showing me his belly, sniffing my butt. Like I said, this Jerry is pretty cool. We’ve been getting along pretty well, sleeping and eating like old buddies.

But Ben, he’s one uptight cat. Hiss hiss hiss. Growl growl growl. All day long. I try to walk down the hall and get a little shut-eye – hiss. I need to use the litter box – growl. I understand it’s your place, I’m cool with that. It’s not like I want to live here. I just want to be friends, ok.

Well, Ben isn’t getting the message. I’ve had to slap him around a little bit the last couple days. And I feel bad about it, you know. It’s his house, his brother. But really, if you’re going to keep disrespecting me, I’m going to have to start laying down the law more often and show you how the food chain works. I don’t want it to go down this way – like I said, lets be friends, sniff a little butt together – but if I have to, I will give you a swipe.

I’ve actually been over here for a few days now, claiming my spaces, checking out the lay of the land. Kimberly and Peter were here the past couple nights; I guess we’re all moving to this place. That’s cool. They just left a little while ago, carrying some bags. It looks like they’re still moving some things around.

I can’t wait until they get home from work and we can snuggle. Just like old times.

Things I'll Miss About Oregon: Volume 9 [Our Aquarium Community]

Tonight, we passed our fish tank community on to their new caretakers, the Southerners.

Although the tank wasn't the same the last few months, what with most of the fish dieing off, both rapidly and of old age, it will be missed. It looks so sad in that picture, but I promise, it was really exciting. Really.

Someday, I think I'd like to get a big 50-gallon tank, maybe with a salt water community. But Kimberly keeps giving me a look. You know the look, you probably got it from your principal or mom once. The "NO" look. I don't think I'm getting the big tank anytime soon. :(

With Kimberly's thesis odyssey coming to an end and me quitting my job, who would have thought that the giving away of our aquarium would be the thing that makes it feel like this whole vacation and move might actually happen.

Done

A quick post here because I'm too sick of typing to write more.



I'm DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The thesis is DONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I defended it today. It's over and done. A few short hours of changes and printing and that's it.

I think my whole world will change.

Can I take a nap now?

Things I'll Miss About Oregon: Volume 8 [The Couv]

For the last year, I've been driving 20 miles across the Columbia River and heading north to Vancouver, WA for work. My last day was last Friday.

The Couv. Vantucky.

The Couv doesn't have the best reputation: it's the red-necked, meth-addicted stepchild of cool, hipster Portland. In reality, it's mostly a bedroom community for people who want to work the system: no income tax in Washington, no sales tax in Oregon. Me, I worked the system the wrong way.

Don't get me wrong, the Couv seems like a perfectly reasonable place to live. It's just a lot of suburban sprawl compared to Portland's dense city center. It probably gets an unnecessarily bad rap, especially when people perpetuate the stereotypes by calling it Vantucky.

Over the last year, I've resisted learning anything about the Couv, including the names of the streets near my office. I have found some decent eating places that I'll miss, like Patrick's Hawaiian, the Golden Tent Mongolian Grill, and the always popular all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet.

Most of all, though, I'll miss my work mates. My job was often insanely crazy; we even invented a new term for those really rough times: a cry-nap. But the crew of people we had was pretty great, often times making my life easier. I don't know if I'll ever go back to the same industry; I'm don't think I'll miss it if I don't. But I will miss the good people I've worked with.

Things I'll Miss About Oregon: Volume 6.2 [Things in The Forest ]

The plants that are native to Oregon are pretty spectacular. Lots of cool things grow in the forests hear, including tiger-lilies, dogwoods (that's one growing wild up there), and rhododendrons. In fact, there's a whole city named Rhododendron in Oregon.

Rhoddies are kind of the unofficial-official plant of this area (after Roses, which are kind of the official-official plant of the area, represented by this). I imagine it's because they're dormant 11 months of the year, then bloom in the spring to announce the end of the rainy season. Rhoddies are a harbinger of warmer, sunny days.

Usually, they aren't that spectacular: a boring green bush/shrub/tree. But right now, the rhoddies are exploding with their blooms. I imagine the Rhododendron Garden is looking amazing.


Pretty much everything here is blooming right now; the pollen is painful. The streets are covered, the car gets a fresh coat every morning. Although I can barely breath with the stuffed up nose and pounding headache, it is pretty beautiful here right now.

Credit: Dogwood photo from Jerry Greer, which I found randomly with Google Images and is a pretty awesome photo.

Things I'll Miss About Oregon: Volume 1.2 [Other people love Portland food]

In case you doubted my rave reviews of Portland food- see these links for national reviews of Portland restaurants!!


Voo Doo Donuts was reviewed by Jane and Michael Stern and also aired on the Splendid Table, an NPR radio food show (which you should definitely check out, 6 pm Sundays here in PDX)


The NY Times ran a review about Portland recently- 36 hours in Portland

So, really, when I tell you that there's some good food here- I'm not joking!