> That's what we do in Venice. Everywhere we go, there is another canal, another boat ride. The city twists, turns and envelopes us in its water-born romance.
> We crossed the tourist-crowded street a block from our "Palazzehto" or small palace, buying a bottle of Prosecco on the way, and borded a gondola waiting at the stop. Our gondolier, Luca, meandered down the Grand Canal a short distance before turning up a smaller canal while we sipped our wine from small plastic glasses. Luca took the hint and grabbed a beer from a buddy as we passed a cafe. He tolds us that his family have been gondoliers for many generations. We floated serenely through the back canals and debarked back at our start point. We finished our wine on a dock watching the sunset, which takes a long time at this latitude.
>
> Our dinner was excellent and authentic. We dined on mussels and clams, several types of crustaceans somewhere between shrimp and crawfish (if you can imagine that), and cuttlefish cooked in its own ink. I promptly flicked this black concoction all over my shirt, leaving ink spots which may never come out. The next night we enjoyed a favorite resteraunt of our host. Spaghetti and clam sauce was followed by fried calamari, shrimp, and small, whole fish. All together interesting and delicious.
>
> Friday we met the rest of the tourists at San Marco square and had coffee drinks while listening to an orchestra play "Amore." We wandered and shopped and enjoyed pannini by a canal while accordian played in the background. We finished the day relaxing on our rooftop terrace.
>
>
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Living on an Italian vineyard
I wrote a blog a few days ago on the phone, but we have not been able to get on the internet for a while. I will publish that one when we get on WIFI, but for now, things will be out of order. Also, this keyboard seems to have no apostrophe, so I can not use contractions. Continuing:
We spent the last three days living in the Agritourismo on the Barbarani vineyards, a guest of our friend Niccolò and his family. Niccolò was an exchange student with my sister who lived in my bedroom for a couple of weeks 15 or so years ago. He and his family are amazing hosts and took great care of us.
We left Venice on the bullet train to Florance on Saturday June 25. We had a few hours to kill before our train left, which led us to wander around Venice and stumble on a large area of what seemed to be public housing. It was very clean and seemed to have less graphetti that the rest of the city. But I digress. The train was fast and comfortable, and we sat next to a girl traveling by herself from Guatamala. We did not know there was anyone in Guatamala well off enough to travel around Europe. I digress again. In Florance, we picked up our rental car and promptly got lost. At least we were on the right side of the road. Amidst flashing lights, a few horns, and lots of tailgating, we found our way to the interstate and headed down to Umbria, the region south of Tuscany. There we followed Niccolòs directions around a beautful lake along curvy mountain roads to the Agritourismo, a restored Umbrian farmhouse on their winery. We admired our view of vineyards and the lake, then headed into Orvieto to meet Niccolò for dinner.
Dinner was an Umbrian feast. Black truffles are in season, which means they find their way into every course of every meal. Fortunately, we love them. For those who do not know, like me, truffles are a tuber, like potatoes, and not a fungus, like mushrooms. They taste like very delicate, mild mushrooms, to me at least. We started with proscutto (ham, my spelling is awful), cheese, bruscetta with liver, bruscetta with some type of bean and meat paste, bruscetta with marinated pork cheek, bruscetta with lard, honey, and rosemary, and bruscetta with truffle spread. Sounds weird, but trust me, it was delicious. Anna followed with vegetable pasta and I enjoyed a perfectly cooked steak with olive oil and truffles. We enjoyed Barbarani Foresca wine, of course, and finished with tiramissu. On a side note, we have had tiramissu twice, and both times it was more custardy than cakey. The lady fingers were small and completely subsumed in the coffee custard. I like this style more than the kind you get in the US.
Our tour guide just arrived to take us on a tour of the castle and winery where we are staying in Tuscany. I will continue to fill in the blanks as we have the chance. For all to know, Anna is feeling better and is learning to drive stick!
We spent the last three days living in the Agritourismo on the Barbarani vineyards, a guest of our friend Niccolò and his family. Niccolò was an exchange student with my sister who lived in my bedroom for a couple of weeks 15 or so years ago. He and his family are amazing hosts and took great care of us.
We left Venice on the bullet train to Florance on Saturday June 25. We had a few hours to kill before our train left, which led us to wander around Venice and stumble on a large area of what seemed to be public housing. It was very clean and seemed to have less graphetti that the rest of the city. But I digress. The train was fast and comfortable, and we sat next to a girl traveling by herself from Guatamala. We did not know there was anyone in Guatamala well off enough to travel around Europe. I digress again. In Florance, we picked up our rental car and promptly got lost. At least we were on the right side of the road. Amidst flashing lights, a few horns, and lots of tailgating, we found our way to the interstate and headed down to Umbria, the region south of Tuscany. There we followed Niccolòs directions around a beautful lake along curvy mountain roads to the Agritourismo, a restored Umbrian farmhouse on their winery. We admired our view of vineyards and the lake, then headed into Orvieto to meet Niccolò for dinner.
Dinner was an Umbrian feast. Black truffles are in season, which means they find their way into every course of every meal. Fortunately, we love them. For those who do not know, like me, truffles are a tuber, like potatoes, and not a fungus, like mushrooms. They taste like very delicate, mild mushrooms, to me at least. We started with proscutto (ham, my spelling is awful), cheese, bruscetta with liver, bruscetta with some type of bean and meat paste, bruscetta with marinated pork cheek, bruscetta with lard, honey, and rosemary, and bruscetta with truffle spread. Sounds weird, but trust me, it was delicious. Anna followed with vegetable pasta and I enjoyed a perfectly cooked steak with olive oil and truffles. We enjoyed Barbarani Foresca wine, of course, and finished with tiramissu. On a side note, we have had tiramissu twice, and both times it was more custardy than cakey. The lady fingers were small and completely subsumed in the coffee custard. I like this style more than the kind you get in the US.
Our tour guide just arrived to take us on a tour of the castle and winery where we are staying in Tuscany. I will continue to fill in the blanks as we have the chance. For all to know, Anna is feeling better and is learning to drive stick!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Cheap paper napkins
Every resteraunt in Venice uses the same tiny thin squares of what feels like cheap notebook paper for napkins. This is especially unfortunate for Anna, who is using them to blow her nose quite frequently. It says something about our world that a cold Jimmy caught in Equador and Anna picked up in SC is now being passed to Italians. Fortunately, Anna feels better today.
We arrived in Munich at 2am our time, but first thing in the morning for them. I was well rested from my little airplane bed, but Anna had gotten to enjoy the other first class amenities, since her cold kept her awake. We found the train to the main station with help from the info desk and headed off to Venice. Our trip through the Alps was spectacular, with snow capped peaks and small picturesque towns. We booted some American college kids out of our seats (sorry sukas) and I napped off and on while Anna read. We ate in the dining car, which I do not recommend. We arrived in Venice at 6pm.
We stepped out of the train to cool air and salty smells. We boarded the water bus and headed off on the grand canal to our b&b. This small, family run hotel on the side canal has an elegant dining room full of lilys and a rooftop view of Venice. After a very long sleep, we spent today walking around the Jewish Ghetto, the first place to ever be referred to as such. We enjoyed a spritz (wine and campari) in a resteraunt overlooking the large bay surrounding the main city, and we are now back in our room changing for a gondolla ride and dinner. Bellisimo!
We arrived in Munich at 2am our time, but first thing in the morning for them. I was well rested from my little airplane bed, but Anna had gotten to enjoy the other first class amenities, since her cold kept her awake. We found the train to the main station with help from the info desk and headed off to Venice. Our trip through the Alps was spectacular, with snow capped peaks and small picturesque towns. We booted some American college kids out of our seats (sorry sukas) and I napped off and on while Anna read. We ate in the dining car, which I do not recommend. We arrived in Venice at 6pm.
We stepped out of the train to cool air and salty smells. We boarded the water bus and headed off on the grand canal to our b&b. This small, family run hotel on the side canal has an elegant dining room full of lilys and a rooftop view of Venice. After a very long sleep, we spent today walking around the Jewish Ghetto, the first place to ever be referred to as such. We enjoyed a spritz (wine and campari) in a resteraunt overlooking the large bay surrounding the main city, and we are now back in our room changing for a gondolla ride and dinner. Bellisimo!
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
On the planeiling
We just got on the plane to Europe. Much to our surprise, we turned left to the front of the plane for our seats and came face to face with a smiling flight attendant offering champagne. He escorted us to our fully reclining seats with individual live tv (hello UVA v USC baseball) and showed us how to operate the massage chair. Life as silver medallion is good today.
We just got off a week at Edisto beach with the Anderson family. Anderson beach weeks, unlike Goldston merit badge vacations, are all about maximum relaxing. Besides a couple of morning runs, we were rarely out of the house before noon. And why would we want to leave, when our nephew Orion was delighting us with his sly smile. We swam in the ocean and pool with him in his first time in the water. To add some action, the Watson family was also staying at the beach and invited us to share in the excitment of nine kids seven and under. They also took us sailing and spearheaded a darn ball tournament (in which anna and I battled for the title). All in all, it was a great week of sun and fun. Next stop Munich!
We just got off a week at Edisto beach with the Anderson family. Anderson beach weeks, unlike Goldston merit badge vacations, are all about maximum relaxing. Besides a couple of morning runs, we were rarely out of the house before noon. And why would we want to leave, when our nephew Orion was delighting us with his sly smile. We swam in the ocean and pool with him in his first time in the water. To add some action, the Watson family was also staying at the beach and invited us to share in the excitment of nine kids seven and under. They also took us sailing and spearheaded a darn ball tournament (in which anna and I battled for the title). All in all, it was a great week of sun and fun. Next stop Munich!
Friday, June 17, 2011
Back dated: Mississippi Blues and BBQ tour
Our adventure began on April 20, when Anna said her final goodbye to Bippo the Hippo, and we jumped in the Tacoma to head north on Highway 61. The blues highway from New Orleans to Memphis took us into the heart of the Mississippi delta, the former capital of the Cotton Kingdom and the cradle of the blues.
The blues is truly American music in its purest form; simple, emotive, beautiful in its strength. Every popular genre today owes something to the blues, and there isn't an American musician who can't sit down and knock out a 12 bar blues riff for his or her friends to play on. The blues is real, created by black sharecroppers in extreme poverty and oppression on wire strings nailed to old boards. In Mississippi, we learned that a guitar "can't play the blues unless its been in a pawn shop." The vocals cry out from pain and the lyrics speak of love, death, and working in the fields.
Sadly, the environment that created the blues still exists today. The poverty we saw in the Mississippi Delta rivaled that we've seen in any other part of the world. We drove through cotton fields and dying towns, with no industry besides the cotton gin, no stoplight, no school, not even a stop sign. People lived in run-down trailers and government housing. Every town of any size had train tracks running down the center, separating the old white downtown from the African-American area. It was easy to imagine B.B. King standing on the corner, whaling out his heart-broken songs.
I'll continue more details on this trip in another post.
The blues is truly American music in its purest form; simple, emotive, beautiful in its strength. Every popular genre today owes something to the blues, and there isn't an American musician who can't sit down and knock out a 12 bar blues riff for his or her friends to play on. The blues is real, created by black sharecroppers in extreme poverty and oppression on wire strings nailed to old boards. In Mississippi, we learned that a guitar "can't play the blues unless its been in a pawn shop." The vocals cry out from pain and the lyrics speak of love, death, and working in the fields.
Sadly, the environment that created the blues still exists today. The poverty we saw in the Mississippi Delta rivaled that we've seen in any other part of the world. We drove through cotton fields and dying towns, with no industry besides the cotton gin, no stoplight, no school, not even a stop sign. People lived in run-down trailers and government housing. Every town of any size had train tracks running down the center, separating the old white downtown from the African-American area. It was easy to imagine B.B. King standing on the corner, whaling out his heart-broken songs.
I'll continue more details on this trip in another post.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
I've been bobbing at the Inlet
We've been slack posting to our blog because we've been "relaxing" at Murrell's Inlet, SC. It's tough to blog when you are bobbing.
For those not experienced in bobbing, there are a few required items: a beer, preferably in a coozie; peanuts, boiled or parched in the shell; a flotation device, such as a noodle; a line to maintain one's position against the current (unless one is moving with the current); and a natural body of water too deep to touch bottom. One enters the water from a dock or the shore, submersing one's entire body below the surface, save the head, which is maintained above the surface the flotation device in order to consume the aforementioned beer and peanuts. One may reman in position using a line tied to the dock or boat, or drift with the tide or current. If the latter option is chosen, it is best to bring along shoes for the return trip over land.
Several expert bobbers joined Anna and me at King's Krest in Murrell's Inlet, SC, including Pops and Mops (my parents), Caroline and William Hartley (Jimmy was spreading the Good News in Equador), Uncle Gene, Aunt Doris B., and Bryant King, Aunt Mary C., Uncle Jim, and Catherine Sutherland, and Susie Peikert. It was the first time in many years that I was able to bob in such esteemed company. We also journeyed to the Waccamaw River, where we bobbed at Sandy Island. It was a wonderful family gathering. Thank you, Dadoo and Mamoo (my grandparents, who are now deceased).
In addition to bobbing, there was extensive boating and skiing. The refurbished Inlet Dolphin was able to pull Caroline up on one ski. The ScholarShip was a skiing machine, pulling Catherine up on slalom for the the first time in years, allowing Caroline and me to show off our double-ski tricks, getting Mops and Pops up on two, getting UNCLE GENE up on two for the first time in 15+ years, and training Anna to slalom for the first time. We're still working on that one.
The highlight of the week was talent night, where the family was joined by Roosevelt and Jan and Leon Rice. Through the evening of laughter and memories, the family shared jokes, a fashion show (Bryant hit Aunt Doris dead on), original poems, dance, and songs, and even dental work. We ended with Roosevelt leading us in a few rounds of "Amen".
I have been coming to King's Krest since before I was born, and my mother before me, and my grandfather before her. The venerable house has weathered hurricanes, motorcycle gangs, and generations of bobbers. William became the 4th generation to bathe in the sink on the eating porch. The pluff mud is in my veins, and now it is in Anna's. The family has done a fantastic job in recent years updating and repairing the vintage 1903 home, and it has never looked better. I hope and pray we can all come together and get creative with ways to sustain King's Krest so that 4 more generations can enjoy bobbing at the Inlet.
For those not experienced in bobbing, there are a few required items: a beer, preferably in a coozie; peanuts, boiled or parched in the shell; a flotation device, such as a noodle; a line to maintain one's position against the current (unless one is moving with the current); and a natural body of water too deep to touch bottom. One enters the water from a dock or the shore, submersing one's entire body below the surface, save the head, which is maintained above the surface the flotation device in order to consume the aforementioned beer and peanuts. One may reman in position using a line tied to the dock or boat, or drift with the tide or current. If the latter option is chosen, it is best to bring along shoes for the return trip over land.
Several expert bobbers joined Anna and me at King's Krest in Murrell's Inlet, SC, including Pops and Mops (my parents), Caroline and William Hartley (Jimmy was spreading the Good News in Equador), Uncle Gene, Aunt Doris B., and Bryant King, Aunt Mary C., Uncle Jim, and Catherine Sutherland, and Susie Peikert. It was the first time in many years that I was able to bob in such esteemed company. We also journeyed to the Waccamaw River, where we bobbed at Sandy Island. It was a wonderful family gathering. Thank you, Dadoo and Mamoo (my grandparents, who are now deceased).
In addition to bobbing, there was extensive boating and skiing. The refurbished Inlet Dolphin was able to pull Caroline up on one ski. The ScholarShip was a skiing machine, pulling Catherine up on slalom for the the first time in years, allowing Caroline and me to show off our double-ski tricks, getting Mops and Pops up on two, getting UNCLE GENE up on two for the first time in 15+ years, and training Anna to slalom for the first time. We're still working on that one.
The highlight of the week was talent night, where the family was joined by Roosevelt and Jan and Leon Rice. Through the evening of laughter and memories, the family shared jokes, a fashion show (Bryant hit Aunt Doris dead on), original poems, dance, and songs, and even dental work. We ended with Roosevelt leading us in a few rounds of "Amen".
I have been coming to King's Krest since before I was born, and my mother before me, and my grandfather before her. The venerable house has weathered hurricanes, motorcycle gangs, and generations of bobbers. William became the 4th generation to bathe in the sink on the eating porch. The pluff mud is in my veins, and now it is in Anna's. The family has done a fantastic job in recent years updating and repairing the vintage 1903 home, and it has never looked better. I hope and pray we can all come together and get creative with ways to sustain King's Krest so that 4 more generations can enjoy bobbing at the Inlet.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Monos, Sloths, and Toucans
The trifecta of Costa Rican animal watching. We found them all yesterday during three hours of hiking around Manuel Antonio. While others were shirtless in bathing suits and flipflops, we had on full adventure gear for our park experience, and it paid off. We tracked the squirrel, white-faced Capuchin, and howler monkees, three-toed sloths, and toucans. The howler monkees can be heard all over the park, including from our hotel room, belting out their barking growl. The capuchins came up close to visit us, one hanging from a tree only feet away from us. This park is like an outdoor zoo. After wearing ourselves out thoroughly, we returned to Lester at the swim up bar in the infinity pool for some well-deserved celebratory Imperial beer. Actually, I did that while Anna took a nap. Then she joined me for sunset.
Anna is teaching me lots of Spanish. Yesterday, I learned how to say, "Your rat-tail hairdo is ice cold."
Anna is teaching me lots of Spanish. Yesterday, I learned how to say, "Your rat-tail hairdo is ice cold."
Thursday, June 2, 2011
forgot one thing
On our way out of the park, we encountered a flooded path. Apparently the tide had come in and there was a river inbetween us and our car. Several local boatmen offered to take us across, stating that they would keep us safe from the crocadiles. Yeah right. Savy travelers that we are, we saved five dollars and plunged ahead in the knee deep water. Safely on the other side, we looked back to see a six foot croc lazing his way across the water. Whoops.
Birthday cont.
A bit of a struggle to use the Droid for this. Anyway, some racoons came on the beach to try to raid people's lunch, and a big black iguana paid us a visit. We headed home for some swim-up bar time. There we saw Richard, the retired Marine Seargent Major who now lives in Costa Rica with his 24 year old wife and teaches fly fishing. We had seen him earlier have two tequilas for breakfast, and he bought us a birthday round of Patron. He was like a character in a Jimmy Buffet song. We ate dinner in an old CIA cargo plane used for arms runs to the Nicuaguan Contras in the 80's.
Today we are going to see more monkeys.
Today we are going to see more monkeys.
Birthday Monkeys
I am sitting on our porch overlooking the Pacific ocean on one side and the rainforest of Manuel Antonio on the other and listening to the howler monkeys call to each other. They sound like the sand people from Star Wars. It may be the best view in town. This is a strange place, where we are in the mountains, but we can hear and see the ocean waves.
We had a leisuely morning for my birthday, enjoying our hotel and the view. We headed to the park to find monkeys, only to find that we left our cash in the hotel. Not too far, and only a little frustration and we were back at it. On the way to the park, guys stand in the road with whistles and signs to convince you that they are official parking. They gave each other away as dudes trying to make a buck when they started competing for my parking dollar. However, much like Jazz Fest parking, you pay someone to park so they will not break into or vandalize your car. The park is like a wild animal park. We saw squiril monkeys not 50 feet onto the trail and toucans a bit farther down. Soon we came on a pack of howler monkeys. A short walk led us to the beach, where we took a dip in the surprisingly warm Pacific. Unfortunately the waves got bigger quickly, and we nearly lost our shoes when a big set went far up the sand. I chased them down and got lucky..
We had a leisuely morning for my birthday, enjoying our hotel and the view. We headed to the park to find monkeys, only to find that we left our cash in the hotel. Not too far, and only a little frustration and we were back at it. On the way to the park, guys stand in the road with whistles and signs to convince you that they are official parking. They gave each other away as dudes trying to make a buck when they started competing for my parking dollar. However, much like Jazz Fest parking, you pay someone to park so they will not break into or vandalize your car. The park is like a wild animal park. We saw squiril monkeys not 50 feet onto the trail and toucans a bit farther down. Soon we came on a pack of howler monkeys. A short walk led us to the beach, where we took a dip in the surprisingly warm Pacific. Unfortunately the waves got bigger quickly, and we nearly lost our shoes when a big set went far up the sand. I chased them down and got lucky..
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