Third Time’s a Charm in Barcelona

Posted on March 18, 2014 by liguriansun

Barcelona wins me over more and more each time I visit. Actually, this blog could have been centered in Barcelona because the year before I accepted my job offer in Genoa, I had an opportunity to work there. In the end, I wasn’t ready to leave NYC — needed a year to prepare myself mentally, vest my pension, and some other logistical things. Sometimes I regret that decision but realize that my life here in Italy has been absolutely lovely so there is nothing to regret. Yet for much of my third visit to this vibrant, cosmopolitan yet distinctly Catalonian city, I kept wondering: “Why don’t I live here?”

* * *

I first visited Barcelona in 2003, a trip booked entirely on my credit card with plans to pay it off later. I don’t know what I was thinking because I was a grad student / lifeguard at that time. That was a bad plan, yet I have always had the travel bug. I met up with friends where I went to school in England, then headed to the Netherlands to meet up with a KLM flight attendant I met while traveling in Australia. Finally, I flew to Spain for the first time, playing the following song over and over on my disc man (I did not have an ipod until early 2005).

Go ahead – play it. It makes a soothing and appropriate background to the post. But not if you don’t want to . . . it would end up too much like the old myspace, then . . .

Spain was absolutely beautiful, but it was in the middle of a continental heat wave, with temperatures reaching 104 degrees each day. I spent most of my time in Internet cafes, blogging about my thoughts while I briefly emerged into the searing heat for a stroll or a sticky, stuffy metro ride. I got heat exhaustion while riding on upstairs an open-topped bus, and when I walked into one of the Gaudi buildings, the air conditioning made me gasp, and I dropped my SLR to the floor, the case popping open, exposing my film. I found time for a refreshing break in Montjuic, the setting of the 1992 Olympics which I remember well, and had some paella on Las Ramblas–but felt that, ultimately, I didn’t really experience Barcelona properly. I had to return.

My second visit, I accompanied four of my high school students from the Bronx on our school’s first trip to Europe, which I had coordinated. It was early spring in 2010, and a magical time in Barcelona, with sunshine and mild temperatures that invited long, wandering walks. We explored the coast, the medieval streets, saw the major sites, were entertained by flamenco dancers, and had a wonderful time. My students expressed their interest to move here one day–maybe for study abroad. We just had a couple of nights, and I knew I still didn’t know Barcelona. I had to return. She always had something to offer. Visiting Barcelona just once would be like visiting NYC just once for a couple of nights.

* * *

With Dad flying back at the end of our trip, I knew I’d have some time left in my vacation. I wanted to see Spain again and looked up airfare deals. The cheapest fare was to Barcelona and I figured that was perfect for just a few days. I made arrangements to meet up with my friend and fellow blogger Jessica at European Escapades, uniting at the hostel just off Las Rambles near Barceloneta and the beautiful beach.

I arrived on Halloween, not sure what to expect. Barcelona had an international crowd, so I figured there might be some parties. Jessica and I each packed our dirndls from Germany in case there were costume parties for the night. We met up, enjoyed some tapas, and wandered the medieval streets. It made me sad to see another seaside medieval city that was better cared for. Barcelona was open, warm, clean, inviting . . . very different from Genoa’s slightly gritty Medieval streets, small international scene, and overall closed perspective. Coming from NYC, provincial Genoa was a very refreshing, challenging, and authentic cultural experience. Yet I always felt like I don’t belong, craving more people my age, more international folks to mingle with, more things to do. Barcelona has that. As we wandered around, I used my high school Spanish here and there, and with all the time studying Italian, it had improved my Spanish listening skills. I was extremely comfortable here.

Exhausted in the evening, Jessica and I knew we wouldn’t make it to the Halloween parties advertised at the clubs, noting the general scene wasn’t that festive, although we did enjoy a couple of bars for tapas, and enjoyed singing along to the Ghostbusters theme song while being served by a Vampire in an Irish Bar here in Barcelona. We fell into a blissful slumber but were awakened way too early by a giant group of manga fans who were here for the convention. They were shouting in Spanish to each other very early. Eventually, I came out to ask the front desk to help silence them, which is something I have never done before. They did attempt, but shortly after the group was shouting and slamming doors again. The hostel was well reviewed but sometimes you can’t avoid these things, especially with thin walls. Jessica was especially disappointed because she was able to get single rooms in hotels for the price we paid here. Sadly, though, it was an expensive city over a holiday weekend (All Saints).

Jessica was open-minded and up for anything, not wanting me to have to see things I already saw on other visits. I mentioned I had always wanted to go out to Montserrat, a monastery in the mountains a short train ride outside of town. We enjoyed the ride, even with the holiday crowds, and emerged in the country for fresh air before boarding a cable car up the mountain and even fresher air in Montserrat.

before the cable car at the base of Montserrat

We posed for pictures, wandered around, hiked a bit further up the mountain, and enjoyed the peaceful, zen vibe in this spiritual center. Raised as a Catholic with many years of Jesuit education at Fordham University, it was extra special for me to be here as the area was founded by Jesuits. I felt connected to my faith and spirituality, at peace.

very unique crucifix

We enjoyed a simple yet delicious meal in the mountain air with splendid wine, played around for jumping sunset photos, and headed back to the city.

mountain laughter

When we arrived, we found our way to the museum, following the fountain light show featuring splendid colors and designs coordinated with the music. It was extra special because we hadn’t planned it. We didn’t read about it in a guidebook. We didn’t go out of our way to find it. We had no expectations. As I have noted in previous posts, expectations breed disappointment. It was all a pleasant surprise — one of those magical travel finds.

The fountains leading up to the museum

silhouettes

During the show, I ordered some churros and hot chocolate, dunking them in time to the music and lamenting their passing when they were all gone. Afterwards, a quick peek at La Sagrada Familia at night — a sight I had never seen up close– then back to the hotel where we sang along to “Holiday in Spain.”

The following day, we went up to Montjuic, enjoyed free entry to the museum (another surprise), and made our way down to the beach where we just chillaxed.

A woman approached me asking if I wanted a 5 euro foot massage. Just what I needed!

As the sun sank leaving her pastel trails, I once again found perfect peace. Next, we ate a fabulous meal of steak and black paella along the sea. Back at the hotel, we freshened up for a night out clubbing. As we strolled the winding, medieval streets, we had several offers to come to clubs for free. We went to one, and although it was kind of slow and empty, we had a great time, getting lost in the music. And despite my best efforts, I found myself getting wildly excited when “Blurred Lines” came on. That song just doesn’t leave your head, and I ended up humming or singing it the rest of the trip. Poor Jessica.

The next morning, Jessica and I had breakfast and Starbucks. (There is not a single Starbucks in Italy). We took our luggage with us. I left it at the train station while Jessica departed for her flight home. I opted for the cheaper, later flight which allowed me a bit more time in Barcelona although I risked missing the last train back to Milan.

I used the time to wander the streets, enjoyed mass at the stunning cathedral, and lazily made my way to the port for a meal at the buffet chain Fresco where I just happened to double check my EasyJet itinerary when I noticed I was wrong about my flight time back. The flight was leaving 45 minutes earlier than I thought. I sprinted across the port, into the metro, grabbed my bag and just missed the train to the airport. I had to wait a half hour for the next train and arrived at the airport with just enough time to sprint to the ticket counter. As my lungs burned, I kept reminding myself “Don’t give up now. If you don’t make it, you don’t get home tonight, you don’t get to work tomorrow. You are in major trouble and will lose a lot of money.” I arrived at the check-in desk where they said they just closed a minute ago. Noo! Why did I stop and walk slowly once I arrived? I said I was already checked in, so they let me go ahead, but they charged me extra to check my bag at the gate. Rushing through security with all my belongings, I made it to the plane at the tail end of the boarding line. Whew!

I arrived in MIlan with enough time to catch my train back to Genoa and back to work the next morning. What an amazing, sunny, beautiful vacation. This was the first time I ever had a fall break, and I loved it! It almost kinda made up for having to work on Thanksgiving.

Here are a few more photos:

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Oh Sicilia!

Posted on March 16, 2014 by liguriansun

Sicily was such an amazing surprise! It was the last stop on my heritage tour. I’m half Italian, quarter Irish and quarter Spanish, via Puerto Rico. In Italy, I’m from Piacenza and Sicily. This was the only place I hadn’t been. For that reason and because I heard so much about how beautiful it was, I wanted to go. At the end of October, I thought the weather would still be warm, sunny, and with the promise of swimming. Dad, however, was not too thrilled with the idea. He was going just to go, but didn’t really have high expectations.

After our weekend in Genoa, we boarded a very affordable flight (about 20 euros each with Volotea) to Palermo. The bright sunshine remained with us for the duration of the short flight, and then soon I could see a stunning, craggy coastline appear below us. As the sun was in that sublime glow of golden hour, it illuminated the terrain. After all my travels and all the beauty, I was in absolute silent awe as we slowly glided to the runway. I found myself taking photos even from the airport bus, because there it was — a beautiful mountain, right there. And the sky, the sunshine, the temperature…everything was perfetto.

Scenery on the drive from the airport

We picked up our rental car, and as Dad drove, we admired the rugged terrain–more like North Africa than Italy. Sicily was clearly her own place, and that’s exactly how she wants you to feel about her.

As we had just turned the clocks back, we lost daylight swiftly as the sun sank into the horizon casting a brief yet glorious pink glow across the shifting scenery, lingering just long enough for our arrival at the seaside hotel. The resort, perched at the edge of a cliff in Balestrate, overlooked a new marina with panoramic views of mountains and sea. This was paradise.

Sunset view from our room

As it was the end of October, we were in the off-season. Not peak time for tourists, but absolutely peak time for weather. The temperatures had cooled from the boiling summer highs, and as they receded so did the crowds. But for our entire stay, we had bright sunshine, a cobalt blue sky, and weather in the mid-70s, perfect enough for poolside lounging and a quick dip, and just splendid for runs along the beach.

Since it was the off-season, we got a great rate on the room. I remember emailing my father back and forth, deciding whether to stay in Palermo proper or somewhere along the coast. We browsed a few hotels, and then Dad found this. I wasn’t sure if it was ritzy or not, but the price and location seemed wonderful, especially since we had a rental car. We didn’t pay extra for a sea view, but we did get a bit of a view from our wonderful, newly renovated accommodation with ceramic tile floors, a balcony, and cozy amenities. Dad kept saying, “WOW!” as he pulled the car into the parking lot. He repeated the phrase throughout the journey as much as he mentioned the war in Germany.

The hotel was a splendid resort–not faded glory, but an expanding work in progress. We were two of only a few guests, so had space, peace, and felt like it was our own private villa at times, the staff there only for us. We had so many things we wanted to explore, yet the property itself beckoned for relaxation, whether at the pool, beach or spa.

We strolled through the tiny yet quaint town that night looking for dinner, but could not spot a restaurant. I thought it was hard to find somewhere to eat in Genoa . . . but this was a whole new level. Where do folks go? Mamma’s of course. Eventually we stumbled across a pizza parlor, walking inside to discover a spread similar to what we were used to in NYC, big pies with lots of topping choices as well as chicken rolls and calzones. Much of the New York Italian food must be influenced by Sicily as many of her immigrants came from here, including Dad’s maternal grandparents.

Sicilian influences for NYC pizza

I felt like I was in Pugsley’s, a favorite pizza joint by Fordham University and across the street from where I lived for many, many years in the Bronx. Sal was from Sicily before he came to America in the 60s and enjoyed Woodstock among his many adventures he shares with Fordham students and alumni. He always said: “Pizza is good, but love is it.”

<p><a href=”http://vimeo.com/21720884″>Pizza is Good, But Love is it: Pugsley Pizza</a> from <a href=”http://vimeo.com/vsw”>bob.sacha@journalism.cuny.edu</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a>.</p>

I felt at home as we sipped some beers and took a startlit stroll back to the hotel.

The next morning, I stepped out on the balcony to enjoy the sunrise and felt called to run. I hadn’t been able to run in years due to back injuries and problems. I just had to run here, so I laced my sneakers and headed along the coast, eventually finding my way to the super sandy beach below, littered only with wild stray dogs. It was a fantasy run, the beach all to myself, so I stopped for some yoga and stretching, enjoying the pure zen peace as the sun renewed my summer bronze. I made it back to the hotel, feeling invigorated and super excited that my back held up and that I had made room for an extra large breakfast spread. They had everything you could imagine for breakfast, including mini Sicilian pizzas, pastries, and even candy for your yogurt!

Post-run glow!

Breakfast in Eden

After lingering at the breakfast table, we changed into our swim suits to lounge by the pool for a few hours, grabbed lunch in town at another pizza place where the friendly owner kept calling dad “my brother” and me “my sister!” kissing us on the cheeks and exchanging long chitchat. Afterwards, armed with food for later (“you must get this for later, my brother!”) we hopped into the car. We set off to explore the Valley of the Temples, an ancient Greek site right here in Sicily. The drive inland stunned us with more rugged beauty, and we were grateful this road was here–financed by the European Union. Only a few years before, this trip would not have been possible via highway. We’d have to spend many more winding, uncomfortable hours on local, small roads. Instead, we were smoothly gliding along well-maintained roads with unparalleled views: ruins, castles on hilltops, farms, vineyards, hills..simple beauty.

In the Valley of the Temples, we were once again losing daylight, but we made it up to see some of the structures as the sun set.

To our delight, the ruins were spectacularly lit in the evening, creating a different and even more dramatic beauty under the stars.

As we drove home in the inky night, we were starving and found a little roadside pizzeria that was just opening as we arrived at 8pm. They were just firing up the oven, but we waited patiently and both ordered pizza littered with fresh seafood, including prawns in their shells. I was pleasantly shocked that my dad ate them, something he would never try at home.

Upon returning to our hotel, we nestled in for the night.

The next morning, I started the day with another great run. Afterwards we enjoyed a few hours at the hotel.

A perfect setting

lounging poolside

and a ride exploring along the coast. We passed many wild dogs, and I stopped to feed some. They barked,and their friends showed up shortly after. Then we found gigantic piles of garbage just outside the city, spotting dozens more wild dogs feeding there. Was there a garbage strike? Is this the way it always is? We explored some hill towns and then had a silly, scenic mountain drive back at night. Silly because although we wanted to follow the coast back home the way we came, the GPS somehow sent us inland and up and down the ridge of a mountain before dropping us off alongside a lake then back to Balestrate. Hours later, we were dizzy and tired, but glad we had a bit of an adventure and just enough time to visit the spa.

For our last day, it was time to finally see Palermo. We drove in. Yes. We had heard all the rumors of chaotic driving, but the two trains a day from Balestrate were sporadic and unpredictable in timing, so we thought this was the best solution. The ride to Palermo was easy, but once we got into the city center, we noticed absolute chaos. There were no traffic lights — it was a free-for-all similar to the way Rick Steves had explained traffic crossings in places such as Egypt. It was a novelty to see, but I wasn’t the one driving. Dad, white-kunckled and red-faced, finally navigated towards what seemed like the center, and we popped the car into a parking lot, finally freeing ourselves.

You can note the chaos we experienced in the above video.

Selecting a bit of everything at the buffet in the Palermo backstreets

more reminders of NYC Italian food

Dad in the homeland

We strolled a bit, found some traditional Sicilian buffet food, explored a few monuments, churches, and stores, pet a few stray cats, then back to the car for a chaotic drive home, hoping to avoid rush-hour traffic. We had just enough time to see the beach were I ran every day, enjoying the golden hour before sunset, a scene straight from a cologne ad.

My favorite picture of Dad!

See what I mean by cologne ad?

I wondered if I would like to teach in Palermo. Would it be too chaotic? Too bureaucratic? When I travel, I often try to imagine living in the place, but while it was interesting, I concluded Palermo was not for me and if I had to live somewhere in Sicily, I’d prefer Balestrate.

The next day, we flew to Milan. We were hoping to see Taormina and perhaps Mt. Etna, but Sicily is too large, too beautiful, and filled with too many treasures for a quick weekend snack. We had to devour more of her another time. I hoped to return soon. With the heritage tour “complete” I realized how incomplete travel always makes me feel. The more I see, the more I want to see. I don’t travel to check items off a list. I travel to make friends with a place or to revisit old friends. I just keep adding to my “want to see” list. Places may get checked, but they are rarely checked off the list.

Next stop: I would head to Barcelona to meet up with my friend Jessica while my father enjoyed a couple of nights in Milan, exploring Lake Como and visiting friends before heading home.

Here are some more photos from our trip:

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Weekend Warrior

Posted on February 13, 2014 by liguriansun

I have so many things to write about as I have been traveling every weekend for months. I’ve been to Sicily, Barcelona and Belgium . . . to the Italian Dolomites and Torino for Christmas markets, home to the USA for Christmas, skiing with a college friend on the Mattern, escorting 6 grade 12 students for a travel writing retreat in the Swiss Alps, free evenings in Milan at luxury hotels, strolling through soggy but beautiful Siena and Florence with a Fordham buddy, and relaxing in a spa in Aachen. This weekend, I head to visit family friends in Trieste and Vicenza, then my mother comes. During her three week visit, we will stay on a snowy Swiss Alp, head to our annual Dublin trip, then relax in Genoa while I go back to work. During that time, I hope to write a bit (there is so much to share!). And then, maybe . . .just maybe . . . I’ll take a few relaxing weekends to catch my breath. Stay tuned! It’s been amazing and I can’t wait to bring you along with me on my adventures.

A Weekend in Genoa

Posted on December 4, 2013 by liguriansun

When I first accepted my job offer in Genoa, I knew very little about the city other than salami and her seaside location near the 5 terre. A NYC colleague told me, “You have to see the movie with Colin Firth . . . it’s filmed in Genoa.”

Luckily, that movie happened to be streaming on Netflix, and I watched it over and over and over as I prepared for my departure. I was mesmerized by the medieval center, the stunning coastline, the scooters, and other aspects of the city. I couldn’t wait to immerse myself in La Superba!

Before my departure (as well as several times after) family and friends have shared this great NY Times Travel Article: 36 Hours in Genoa. I have hit many of these items, but a few remain (including the aquarium).

Anyways, with all of my crazy travels, weekends in Genoa are actually quite rare. I love exploring with a visitor, and this time it was with my Dad. Dad celebrated his 60th birthday just a couple of days after I left NY this summer. I was so sad to miss it, and I wanted to make it special. This visit was about seeing me, but also about seeing Europe and celebrating this milestone.

[important note: My parents are happily married of 37 years, but they do not travel together because of the cats. Ask me later . . .]

So, I came home from work and began preparing a special birthday dinner for Dad. I wrote a letter of recommendation for Fordham University for a student / daughter of my colleague. As a thank you, the mother gave me a jar of delicious homemade sauce.

I used that sauce to make some fresh pasta, and I whipped up one of my favorite treats: I take round focaccia (oily, crispy yum found only in Liguria . . . well, it’s only good here), and spread it with pesto (again, only good here). I slice tomatoes and bufala mozzarella (sometimes just regular fresh mozzarella), and spread on the focaccia followed by garlic powder and fresh ground pepper. I bake in the oven until it smells amazing and serve. It’s absolutely delicious.

I served these things for Dad along with salad and some beer. Then off to the city center for drinks with a bunch of my coworkers. Yet another fun al fresco night in Piazza del Erbe, the social center of Genoa.

The next morning, I made Dad coffee and French toast, drizzled with honey and sprinkled with cinnamon (can’t find maple syrup here). I finished the recommendation process for the student while Dad took a stroll down to the sea. Upon his return, we took the bus to the train station then transferred to the metro to the port. Genoa’s metro only has a few stops, but it’s convenient even if it doesn’t have any maps at the stations! Once down there, we visited the resident submarine at the sea museum.

Watch your head!

The museum was such a surprise. After a visit to the sub, we had an hour and a half to explore. We didn’t realize that we spent almost an hour on the first floor at the Columbus exhibit; as we finished that first floor, two workers came to tell us that we had to hurry as there were only 45 minutes left and 3 more floors to see.

World Traveler

Replicas of Columbus’s ships

It was well-layed out, interesting, engaging, and fun. The top floor featured a replica of a ship that immigrants would have taken to the USA and Ellis Island. I was retracing the steps of my great Grandfather who came from Podenzano (near Piacenza). He left the port of Genoa for Ellis Island!

My great grandparents came over in similar quarters

The museum closed before we got to finish, rushing a bit at the end, so I will certainly be back. What a wonderful suprrise!

Then to dinner along the port, in one of the most stunning settings — something I will miss dearly whenever I decide to move on from my life here in Genoa. We enjoyed absolutely fantastic appetizers (fried vegetables), a great meal and ambience.

pernod!

We had great conversation, and then dessert. I had pernod flambet — it was like absinthe and I couldn’t feel my lips. I was perfectly content as was Dad. What a nice life.

Back to my apartment and to sleep.

The next morning, we had cereal and coffee, then out for a scooter ride. I took Dad onto Corso Europa, the fastest highway I can go on with my 125 — then we wound our way up a local mountain before heading back. It was exhilarating. Come along for a ride with us:

Then back for our bags and to the Genoa airport for a quick flight on Volotea to Palermo, Sicily — where Dad’s maternal grandparents emigrated from!

Don’t Mention the War

Posted on December 2, 2013 by liguriansun

On the 18th of October, I flew to Cologne, Germany after work. That morning, my dad flew in from New York, had checked into the central hotel room, napped, and was waiting for me at the train station where he snapped this photo.

German efficiency is such a refreshing break and change of pace from Italian chaos. German trains are on time, they run as scheduled, and their transportation links can get you easily and reliably from all locations with minimal cost and fuss. It was just a few euros to take the train straight from the airport to Cologne city center, then a short stroll to our hotel on a cobbled lane.

“I wonder how much of this has been rebuilt,” mused Dad, looking around at all the buildings. “Ya know, after the war.”

“I know. Most of it, I think. They chose to rebuild in the old style, but it’s mostly post WWII construction.”

Throughout our short time in Cologne, Dad kept mentioning the war. He’s fascinated by WWII history, amazed at the horrors of the past and how Germany has worked to create a new, amazing, progressive, and overall pleasant country. But I told him, “Whatever you do, don’t mention the war.”

Dad knows what I mean. Maybe you do, too. If not, check out this scene featuring John Cleese in an episode of Fawlty Towers. Filmed in the 70s, it was definitely soon to be mentioning the war . . .

Dad upon my arrival

A full moon and a beautiful night — taken on my iphone

As my flight from Milan was delayed, I arrived later than anticipated and all the restaurants had stopped serving dinner. Dad waited for my arrival to eat, so we were starving but as with other trips to Germany in the past, we satisfied ourselves with a visit to a kebab shop. After stuffing ourselves with falafel and beer, I crawled into my bed and drifted off to a blissful sleep.

View from hotel room

We awoke Saturday morning to a delicious breakfast spread followed by a ride on the skyride (built in the 50s) which took across the Rhine towards a beautiful leafy park in its autumnal glory. We were looking for the spa, but weren’t sure exactly where to find it. Then as the skyride descended, I looked down and saw naked bodies sprawled in an outdoor pool and realized that we were right over it.

“It’s here!”

“Oh, right there.”

“Germany is so different . . . people could take pictures.”

“You’re just an anonymous body. . . do you not want to go now?”

“No, I’m cool with it.”

November travels coming soon!

Posted on November 4, 2013 by liguriansun

Oktoberfest Redo

Posted on October 24, 2013 by liguriansun

Here is my colleague’s take on Oktoberfest this year. I waited until I was done before reading her great summary. 🙂

EUROPEAN ESCAPADES

I love traveling. The ribbed bars of the escalator belt moving under my feet as I walk through the airport… The smells of mixed cuisines intermingling and tempting my tummy in the train station… The multitude of languages I hear around me on the S-Bahn (a man on the phone speaking American English, girls chatting in Castelian Spanish, a couple having a discussion in German). München. A true international city.

My second go-around at Oktoberfest was not as eventful as the last, but that’s a good thing! (See blog http://jeskarose.wordpress.com/2012/10/21/oktoberfest/ for last year’s story). This year was seamless in terms of travel connections. No delayed or missed planes or trains! Once again, the rain was disappointing but at least I was prepared. The cold was not as bad, and the wait outside was not as long.

We went in two tents this year, a pre-debauchery tent (King…

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Prost! Oktoberfest – Year 2

Posted on October 23, 2013 by liguriansun

in the famous and festive Hacker tent, one of Oktoberfest’s 12 main venues.

Ever since I was a kid, Oktoberfest has been a bucket list item. I crossed that off my list with last year’s trip as featured here on this blog. However, as it was my first time and a very busy weekend — I didn’t get the full experience. It was rainy and soggy. I was confused and unsure about what to do and where to go. How do you get in a tent? Any tent? We were unsuccessful on Saturday night, and tried to see the scene on Sunday around 10:30am. I was impressed and in awe of the festival atmosphere and how nearly EVERYONE was dressed in a dirndl or lederhosen. I didn’t want to drop 100 euros on one, especiallly in the cold, rainy weather. But, I vowed to return next year, and with a dirndl!

This year, I hemmed and hawed about booking. Did anyone want to go? Hotels were too expensive, with a 12-bed hostel room costing 160 euros! Airfare was insane. Then a week and half before the last weekend of Oktoberfest, I went to the train station and booked a night train. I hopped on booking.com and found an affordable single room in a hotel outside the city in Passing, located a short walk from regional and S-bahn connections to the city center. My colleague was staying with a friend 45 minutes away in Augsburg, and we arranged to meet up via WhatsApp.

On Friday October 4th, I darted quickly into the staff BBQ held in our school’s courtyard, then back to my apartment to change into jeggings and a comfy top for my night train. I strapped on my backpack, straddled my scooter, and was off for the train station. At 1am in Verona, I boarded my night train for Munich. But . . . it wasn’t so easy. I walked to the train as it approached the platform, but car 181 was not there. The conductor said, “Ah, 181? You must wait. It’s on the way.” Odd. Then a few minutes before the train was to depart, 181 arrived. A woman approached me and said, “It is a regular car. We don’t have any beds left.”

“But I booked a bed. I need to sleep.”

“I know but we don’t have it. It didn’t come.” This was a German train. I was used to this kind of chaos in Italy but was absolutely suprised to see this with the German rail system.

“I need to sleep. I’m going just for Saturday and it’s going to ruin my day.” I said it sweet and concerned.

“Ok, I’ll get to you in a minute,” she said. Meanwhile, fellow Italians in my same predicament started arguing with her.

“We must sleep!” They shouted.

“Don’t yell. I don’t have a bed for you.”

“With all these beds?” one man said, gesturing to the empty cabins visable as the curtains were drawn.

She pulled them into the cabin and they disappeared. Then she returned to guide me to a bed. They found a room for us, and someone was hustling to throw in sheets and pillows as they set up the beds (6 in a cabin). I was so insanely grateful not to be spending a sleepless and uncomfortable night in an upright coach seating. My friend Anna and I did that once, booking a last minute train trip from Amsterdam to Switzerland after unable to find accomodation there. They were out of beds, so we spent quite a sleepless night . . . and at one point, along with an American guy we met, we went into one of the compartments, pulled the curtains, and made sex noises to scare others away. It worked, and we were able to stretch out and get some sleep while others crowded in the hallway outside. Overall, it was not an experience I was keen to relive on my short weekend.

I curled up into a ball and started to fall asleep the minute the train started moving. Ever since I was a baby, I loved to fall asleep in moving vehicles. Even if I’m not tired, I will want to sleep on a train. And if I have a bed? Perfetto. The Italian gentlemen were chatting noisely to each other, snapping photos for facebook, but eventually they fell asleep. But then, we were interrupted. “Passports, passports!”

Wait, they are waking us up to check our passports as we enter Austria? But when I ride the train in the daytime, they don’t check anything!

Then an hour or so later. “Pardon the interruption. Is there a doctor on board?”

Then an hour or so later. “Tickets, tickets!” Yes, they woke us up to check our tickets instead of checking them as we boarded. UM!

Then an hour or so later. “Passports, passports!” as we entered Germany. Luckily, I fell asleep after each of these interruptions, but with each interruption, the Italians started chatting again. I lost a lot of sleep. Then of course, the signal in the morning that we were on time and rolling into Munich Central Station in 20 minutes.

Even at 6:30am when I exited the train, the station was coming to life with dirndl and lederhosen-clad folks in good spirits, awaiting a day of fun. Many people were even sleeping on the station floor, taking a break between last night’s festivities and the 10am opening of today’s tents. I freshened up at the restroom sink, hopped on the S-bahn to drop my bags off in Pasing, then returned to purchase an authentic dirndle across the street. As the old woman zipped me up, she said, “You look great!” Then she tied my apron knot on my left side, asking “Are you single? I hope you are,” she said pointing to my cleavage. “You will have a lot of fun tonight!” I later learned that you wear your knot on the left to indicate you are single. On the right if you are taken. Brilliant! But there was no equivalent for men with their lederhosen. Well, that’s not fair.

Oh, men are so darned sexy in those leather suspender pants. They are never washed, and they say they are better the older they are, after many days of wear, sweat and beer spills. Starting at 90 euros for the lederhosen alone, I was suprrised at how many men invested in them along with the gingham top and sometimes even special shoes and socks. Yet, I dropped 100 euros on my dirndl and 20 for the half shirt that goes underneath . . . if you’re gonna go all that way, dress the part. And the slightly cheaper train station ones were only a fraction of the quality of the authentic ones found across the street.

I felt at home, part of the scene in my Bavarian attire. I posted some pics on facebook and twitter, then sat down for a nice fruhstuck (breakfast) at a delicious restaurant in the train station. I was enjoying the food, the energy of the scene, and people watching. Then I headed for the fairgrounds, ducking into a small tent for lunch, where they let me in as a single, seating me with a random group of early 30 somethings. As often happens at Oktoberfest, we became fast friends, drinking, saying “Prost,” and sharing jokes and tales.

They were mostly Americans (New York and Chicago). And the guy next to me was from the Netherlands. One of the Americans said, “Did you ever have a bucket of ice thrown on you in the middle of sex?”

I laughed at the random intimacy and said, “No!” And he said, “It’s not fun. They did it to me last night.”

Then they asked what’s the secret to get in the tents? I explained that I only got in at 10am on Sunday last year, and that I had no idea how to get in but we had some German connections who were going to help us this year.

“They’ve got to accept money, right? Someone’s gotta be paid!” he said.

“I’m not sure that works,” I said. “Nothing worked last year. . . ” after a long pause, I added matter-of-factly, “That was a wasted blow job.”

The Indian-American Manhattanite in front of me said, “Aw, can we keep her?!”

Before long, my friend arrived at the fairgrounds, and I left the group to go meet up with her. We vowed to keep in touch, and they said they’d let me know when they were in Italy. (They are a bunch that loves to travel. This was their second year in a row at Oktoberfest).

My friend and her German friend arrived, and we walked around the fairground as it started to rain. Both of us set into panic mode, traumatized after last year’s cold, soggy experience. Tents were closed. We couldn’t get in anywhere . . . or so we thought. We ended up at a cute little dessert tent that looked like a fairy tale castle. We joined the short line as I pulled up the Oktoberfest pamphlet I downloaded on kindle for iphone. ” Oh, this tent has sweets and prosecco and wine,” I said. “But no beer.”

But it was cute, it was dry, it had alcohol and there was live music! We went in and had a blast.

We squished at a table, ordered our food including traditional kaiser schmarrn, and before long, we were dancing on the benches to the live music, featuring traditional German songs, Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline,” and modern hits such as “Blurred Lines.”

The energy was positive and reminded me of the vibe of a wedding. Good music, alcohol, food, strangers and old friends dancing and singing together — a positive carpe diem attitude. Let everything else go. “Eat drink and be merry for tomorrow we die.” I vowed to return to Oktoberfest annually if I could, even if I was in the States. I would make it happen. This was not a bucket list item. This was a new tradition!

This video does not adequately capture the mood because vibes are non-transferrable. But it can give you an idea:

After about four quick hours, we decided to leave the crowded tent and try getting into the Hacker tent. Hacker is one of the most popular tents, decorated with blue skies and filled with folks of all ages enjoying the Hacker-Pschor beer in the classic oversized glass Oktoberfest mugs. Earlier that day, we heard that there was a waitress we could pay Schuzen tent. We got our 25 euros ready, but the bosses were around, and she couldn’t take bribes. This time at Hacker, we knew someone else who knew someone else. His waitress friend got us all in, so we paid an extra 5 for our 10 euro beers as a thanks. Minutes later, I was invited to squish up, standing on the bench, dancing to “In the Mood” and ACDC’s “Back in Black” and all kinds of fun tunes. After every song, it seemed, the band had us sing the German drinking song “Ein prosit, ein prosit . . . ” After which we would all clink glasses and drink! A special wordless bond forms as you make eye contact with a stranger over your crashing mugs.

Another round of giant beers. More dancing. Then a stroll around the very, very crowded venue — so packed that sometimes we couldn’t even walk, ribs getting crushed, guys reaching out to flirt, couples kissing in the corners, everyone in great spirits. Back to the benches for more dancing and another beer.

Again, this video is just a peek at the scene in the Hacker tent.

For much of the night, I danced next to a woman in her early 60s who only spoke German, so I said “Dat is Gut!” Then a guy at the table behind us fell onto me as I collapsed onto my knees on the slippery table top. He offered to buy me a beer, but I had no need for another at that point. We met many more people — lots more singing, lots more dancing. Then the final song. Michael Jackson’s “Heal the world.” We all swayed back and forth in a dizzy, tipsy glowing happy mood. A local said, “They play this as the last song on Sunday night. Too bad you can’t be here tomorrow. When they close Oktoberfest, it’s very emotional.”

After 8.5 hours of beer, music, dancing and partying, I was happy and satisfied as I boarded the S-Bahn for Pasing and back to my hotel room. There were after parties, but I was done. I took a shower and crawled into my comfy bed for a blissful sleep. The next morning, I awoke to church bells, enjoyed a delicious breakfast spread, and headed back to central station. After buying a few of those traditional bavarian gingerbread cookies, I was on my train and headed for Genoa again. I napped, enjoyed the stunning scenery that rolled by, and had one of the best meals in all my travels: Austrian Kalbsbutterballn. Meat in butter. Yum! Oh, and nobody checked our passports at either border crossing.

I was so glad that I had the opportunity to go again and to live the great vibe under the tent. I’m grateful that my parents gifted me some money to help make my travels possible. In Italy, when a project such as a bridge, highway or rail network, is funded by the European Union, they post the EU flag along with an explanation of the project. My parents need to design a flag so I can post it along with all my pictures. Danke Schon!

Prost!

Without Reservations: Travels of an Independent Woman

Posted on September 15, 2013 by liguriansun

Back in Italy for year 2. Three weeks after landing, I’m getting settled back into my routine, learning to let go of home again, and moving forward. I had such a relaxing, restful summer with the people I love most, so it broke my heart to leave again. Yet Genoa welcomed me with sunshine and stunning views, and along with some wonderful people, she reminded me that this is home too.

My flight landed on the 25th of August, and I began work on Monday the 26th — a week preparing for our students with evenings swimming in the Mediterranean or scooting about with Stella. The next weekend, I was lucky enough to return to Venice as one of my best Fordham friends and her boyfriend were about to depart for a 2 week Adriatic cruise. We shared an apartment one vaporetto stop away from the train station, and enjoyed a delightful Friday night strolling the streets, searching for the most perfect restaurant while catching up. I was jealous of their upcoming cruise, but Kristen reminded me that I live in Italy. Even if I had to go to work on Monday, it was the start of a new school year at a job I love, a far cry from the chaos and stress of the life I left behind in the overcrowded schools as one of many frazzled and under appreciated NYC teachers. On Saturday the 31st, before they boarded the “People Mover” to their cruise, Kristen handed me her copy of Without Reservations, a book she mentioned over dinner in the US this summer. A woman leaves her job for about 9 months, to follow her dream of immersing in several European locales without reservations. She was going to avoid planning and to see what happens.

I began the book yesterday. The best and worst aspect of living alone far from home is Saturday morning. I wake up in my cozy, renovated apartment with its terra cotta and marble floors, exposed brick, and garden views. I wake up too early due to the ever present bells, birds, and scooters. I make some coffee. Maybe turn on Netflix or Apple TV. I check to see if I got any iMessages or texts on WhatsApp. Scroll through email. Scroll through my Twitter and Facebook feeds. And it’s only been 15 minutes. The weekend looms before me, all mine for whatever I want to do, whether that is nap on the couch, stare at the wall, or travel somewhere. But as exciting as independence is, it’s also lonely. We are wired for family. And I left mine in the States.

I went to move my scooter, but it was so beautiful and sunny that I couldn’t just go back inside after circling the block, so I rode along the coast. I hit a snag of traffic and tried something new . . . passing the huge line of cars, crossing into oncoming traffic cautiously, and relishing the true pure joy of owning a scooter. Winding high in the Ligurian Hills, with the Mediterranean to my right, glittering in the sun, I could smell flowers and fireplaces. I saw my reflection in the rearview mirror, and I was smiling. I paid a price for this, but what bliss! As I reached Recco, known for inventing delectable focaccia formaggio with its flaky crust and liquidy stracchino, I climbed high into the hills on unexplored little roads, treating myself to sublime views. I stopped Stella and was about to reach under the seat for my iPhone but realized I didn’t have it. I just stepped out for a minute . . . didn’t plan this. So, free from social networks, free from sharing the experience, I was able to fully immerse myself in it and enjoy in the moment. It felt more special and pure as a result.

I wound my way down the hill, past super fit bikers challenging their lycra-clad quads, and headed back home where I changed into a swimsuit to hit the beach before the good sun was gone. The pebbles were strewn with seaweed, providing a softer than usual bed. I fell asleep to the cadence of Italian voices. When I awoke, I practiced deciphering the sounds, realizing that I understand more than just snippets of conversation these days. “Watch me, watch me uncle!” “I can’t believe what she said.” “We had ravioli and prosciutto and [kisses fingers] it was delicious.” “Children, it’s time to go.” Real conversations.

I waded into the choppy water for a good workout. Instead of just swimming, I have been using the aqua-size skills I learned from Mom’s class at the Y. And since the salt water makes us more buoyant, I can do these exercises without the flotation belt. It’s fun, and I can do both cardio and strength training while enjoying the stunning scenery all around me. After a half hour of cross country skiing, reverse jacks, hamstring curls, etc . . .I swam back and towel dried. When I reached into my bag, I saw the book from Kristen, and as the sun turned into the Golden Hour, I began. Over a year later, I’m still in awe at where I am and what I am doing. The old me would have read this book with complete longing, traveling vicariously through the author. Now I read it as a companion to my own journeys.

I was drawn in right from the opening inscription:

There are years that ask questions and years that answer. -Zora Neal Hurston

This is my time for answering, I suppose. While I am temporarily rooted in Italy, I have the freedom to wander on weekends and breaks, or even after work. I have the mental space to reflect and allow my mind to wander. And after all the hard work of settling in last year and prepping for 5 different classes while learning the IB and catching up students who were behind . . . ahh . . . I have space and free time this year. It is wonderful, and I have earned it.

When Alice Steinbach left for Paris, a friend said “Cheers to a successful trip.”

What I didn’t say was that “success” was not something I was seeking from this venture. In fact, I was determined not to judge this trip, or its outcome, in terms of success or failure.

As I noted in previous posts, expectations breed disappointment. I am trying to take this adventure as it comes: the good and bad, the wild and relaxing, the painful pining and euphoric awe . . . filling my days with wonder and writing my story. I’m writing some of it here as I reflect along the way. But my mother reminded me, “Your story is not yet written.” Who knows what is next? All I know are my plans for class and the trips that I have booked. Sitting here on my couch, shipped from NYC, with my cozy favorite blanket and a bottle of Barbera del Monferrato vino . . . I relish my freedom and independence. I don’t want to live like this forever, and I won’t, so cogliere l’attimo. Back to my book.

Waldwick Girls in Italy – Genoa and the 5 Terre

Posted on July 18, 2013 by liguriansun

Living in Italy, I have many wonderful colleagues and friends. However, nothing can replace my best friends at home, friends who have become like family. In May, I was super lucky that two of those friends visited at the same time, ladies I’ve known for about 19 years. When Jen and Anna arrived, we called it “Waldwick Girls in Italy.” And that entire time, I felt at home and was filled with pure joy as I had the best of both worlds.

They arrived on Friday May 10th and flew back early morning on Tuesday May 14th for a quick Girls’ Getaway. I know Jen and Anna from the track team in high school, and since then we have had many, many adventures from road trips to meets at Princeton and Brown University to visiting Jen in California to traveling in Belgium and Switzerland with Anna. Now it was time for us to kick back, chillax’, catch up, eat up, and soak up some sun. Would the weather finally cooperate?

Upon their arrival, I escorted the girls to my apartment for a nap while I finished the workday. Afterwards, I went down to change for the volleyball tournament against the German School. They were our #1 fans, as we played.

I’m in the royal blue and tennis skirt

After a quick tour of the school, we met in the staff room for pizza, focaccia, salami, and of course prosecco. We had the opportunity to chat with the staff of the German School, all intimidating in their matching uniforms, then headed to the apartment to freshen up for dinner. The girls surprised me with many gifts. Anna brought a selection of tastes from home, including cheddar cheese! and ingredients for Thai and Tacos. Among other goodies I requested from home, Jen surprised me with a mortar and pestle so I wouldn’t have to make my guacamole with a bowl and shot glass.

tastes from home

After the goodies, we walked down to one of my favorite restaurants by the sea, facing the beach where I love to swim. This upscale place is a bit expensive yet worth it for the delicious quality.

After a super delicious dinner and delectable desserts, we walked towards Nervi, enjoying the fresh sea air and views, then back up to my apartment where we tucked ourselves in for a relaxing night.

On Saturday morning, we lazily awoke and convened in the kitchen for coffee and cheerful chatter. We didn’t preplan our train to Vernazza because there were many options, and we just wanted to rest. I put out a little breakfast spread for the ladies, then we were on our way to Nervi where we caught the train to the Cinque Terre.

After a beautiful hour and 20 minutes, we arrived in the Cinque Terre. The Five Lands — 5 small villages nestled in the mountains along the rocky coast, villages that have preserved their own unique culture due to their isolated location for many years. It is possible to hike between all five villages, although after the devastating flood of October 2011 there are still parts of the trail that are not yet open. It took more than six months to clear the earth that swamped the villages– destroying homes and businesses, bridges and the landscape. Yet with careful determination, 5 Terre was open for business last summer and was looking absolutely great for our visit this May. On his site, my travel idol Rick Steves explains the disaster and recovery efforts. He also provides much amazing information about the region. He may be the reason why the predominantly heard language in the 5 Terre is English, and most of those folks are toting his guidebooks. But these are my favorite type of traveler, so I don’t mind.

Vernazza before the flood:

The floodwaters rush through the charming town:

Rick Steves takes us to Vernazza 6 months after the flood:

When we arrived in town, we were happy to see that Vernazza was almost back to her old self, vibrant and restored. But it’s impossible to forget the floods, as a giant photo reminds visitors as they exit the train.

We walked up the main street to our charming B&B, where we checked into our quaint room, then proceeded to walk around, explore town, and enjoy a great lunch.

The main street’s looking good

Colorful umbrellas provide a stunning backdrop for lunchtime reverie

After a delicious meal, we hiked through town and then decided to stroll to enjoy the gorgeous views on the trail to Monterosso, where I stayed with my mother in April.

The following slideshow features highlights of our journey.

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At the conclusion of our awe-inspiring hike, which was also an amazing workout, we saw a line. People were queuing up for a limoncello and lemonade stand on a man’s farm, served fresh from the lemon trees. Anna and I enjoyed lemonade while Jen had limoncello. I had a sip and regret not buying any. I’ll have to go back. Luckily it’s so close that I can return. We made friends with the old man selling the lemonade, and he invited me to go on his boat one day when he’s in Genoa. I have his business card.

Jen snapped this photo of me talking at the stand

Jen enjoying her limoncello

Next, we completed the trail then to Monterosso.

Once in Monterosso, we took some photos

then I took the girls straight to Cantina di Miky where a fellow Waldwick Girl works, as mentioned in my previous Cinque Terre post. We enjoyed a delicious meal, then posed for a picture with Christine.

We had delicious food, and anna especially loved the fried stracchino and vowed to recreate it when she returned home. She even found a distributor for stracchino in the US. At the conclusion of our meal, we were happily buzzed and boarded a train for a quick ride back to Vernazza and our cozy hotel room.

I fell asleep before I even touched my book. Unfortunately, the girls had a bit of jet lag and were up a while. But we woke up happy the next morning and enjoyed breakfast at the restaurant downstairs run by twin brothers from Sicily. Sicilian breakfasts are very, very sweet. The guys entertained us, and I got another business card as I made more friends once they realized I lived locally. “Come back and visit soon. Watch TV, you will learn Italian,” they said as I left.

We had just enough time to hike the hills right in town for some gorgeous photos. Finally, the Cinque Terre under stunning blue skies. Splendid.

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On top of the world on a gorgeous day.

After a Siren photoshoot, we boarded the train for Genoa, where it was finally swimming weather. We enjoyed a couple of hours on my local beach before dinner.

perfect weather for my first dip of the season

Next, we explored Genoa’s Medieval Center, where I gave the girls some tips for tomorrow’s exploration as I would sadly be at work. Then we enjoyed a nice meal at the Porto Antico.

Photoshoot at Piazza de Ferrari

Waldwick Girls in Italy

Golden hour of sunshine at the Porto Antico

On Monday, Anna and Jen explored the Medieval Center on their own after a lazy start and a yummy breakfast at their hotel. (They stayed at a hotel the last two nights since I would be working and so they’d be more comfortable). I met up with them for some shopping at the COOP Supermarket, then chilled in the room a bit before boarding a bus to Nervi where we walked on the passegiata for more stunning views. We had an aperitivo on the passegiatta,

then concluded the evening with a meal at Halloween, a pizza place in the little port of Nervi.

Back to the hotel for vino and Girl Talk before I headed to my apartment for sweet dreams. The girls left very early the next morning, and I missed them right away. I was so grateful for such a wonderful and joyous mini-break! Thanks Jen and Anna!

Under the Ligurian Sun

My life and travels while living La Dolce Vita in Genoa, Italy.

Author Archives: liguriansun

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A Weekend in Genoa

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November travels coming soon!

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Prost! Oktoberfest – Year 2

Without Reservations: Travels of an Independent Woman

Waldwick Girls in Italy – Genoa and the 5 Terre