Spring Break: Genova, Roma and the Swiss Alps (Part 3 – Switzerland)

Posted on April 11, 2013 by liguriansun

On the morning of Wednesday April 3, we awoke in Rome for another yummy breakfast in our hotel, featuring fresh-baked cakes, breads, Nutella, cheeses, eggs, cereals, coffee, juice . . . plenty of options for a free hotel breakfast in a country where it is very common to just have some bread and coffee. The sun was making an appearance, brightening the room and our spirits.

I grabbed a few pieces of fruit for the journey, and we headed to the room for the final check out. Farewell Sacre Coure golden statue, the beautiful view from our 6th floor room.

View from our Rome hotel room – taken from my iphone.

Luckily, our hotel was just meters from the Roma Termini Train station, so it was easy to walk and board our train to Milan. It was a super high speed train that would whisk us to Milan in less than 3 hours, a journey that could take a very long time with regular trains. We paid dearly for the ticket, but with limited time and an ambitious itinerary, this was the way to go.

A bit of reading, a bit of napping, passing through gorgeous Tuscan rolling hills . . .Brendan tapped my knee to point out when we were in Florence. “You love this city, right?” I do like Florence, and was especially fond of my recent visit with Kat. Then before long, we were pulling into Milan’s Central Station where were transferred to a packed Swiss train for the Alps. It was so crowded, that even though I booked weeks in advance, we didn’t have seats next to each other — just across the aisle. No problem. Brendan was reading a good book, Umberto Eco’s Baudolino. I had a book for book club, Erik Larson’s Devil in the White City, but I just couldn’t get into that dark world of mystery and terror. I was craving more of light and fun travel writing. Anyway, I was sitting at a table with two Italian grandparents and their charming little granddaughter, coloring and chatting away. Grandpa was kind, and we spoke to each other with my limited Italian and his limited English. Very friendly. And Grandma made sure I was well fed throughout the journey with pizza, foccacia, and other snacks. It made me miss my own grandparents and my own family in general. They were from Recco, a local town nearby on the Ligurian Coast, bringing their granddaughter back to their son and daughter-in-law, who live in Frankfurt, Germany. Maybe she was visiting for Easter? The son was going to pick them up from Basel to lessen the amount of time the girl would have to spend on the train. But she was loving it at this point.

This train ride is one of the most scenic, starting just minutes after Milan. On a clear day, you can see the snow-capped peaks surrounding Milan. We glided right towards them, first stopping in a charming town called Stressa. Stressa is nestled along a lake, and seems like a charming and inviting escape near Milan, and ultimately not too far from Genova. I should go sometime during swimming season.

After Stressa, the mountains grew more dramatic, the lakes bluer, and soon we passed through some tunnels and popped out along Lake Thun, stopping in Spiez. I traveled this same route with my seniors in February for a snowy writer’s workshop perched in a hotel in Wengen, up in the Alpine Peaks of the Berner Oberland. When Brendan said he wanted to see alps, I knew we had to head to that region, and I could think of no better place than my favorite spot, Interlaken, nestled at the base of those peaks between two turquoise glacial lakes, Thun and Brienz.

The air was fresh, the vibe instantly awe-inspiring. We climbed into our last train for a short ride to Interlaken and exited in bright, relaxed spirits. It was sunny and slightly foggy, probably because of the snow-melt. We had arrived in the off-season, where skiers were squeezing in their last runs on the slopes while snow melted in the lower elevations. I clapped my hands with exhiliration and pure joy on my 10th visit to my favorite place in the world. Brendan’s hay fever and jet lag were both minimized and he instantly appreciated the stunning peace and beauty of the region. Even in the off season it was stunning, with both green grass and snow-capped peaks. “Are you happy?” he asked.

“Oh yes!”

The Jungfrau Region. Interlake is in the valley between the lakes.

The Jungfrau Region. Interlaken is in the valley between the lakes.

We took the short stroll to our hotel, which I had found along the River Aare, a blue green river connecting alpine, glacial Lake Brienz with the slightly warmer castle-strewn Lake Thun. I spent many days swimming in these lakes during summer visits. In my winter visit they were a steel gray, so I was glad to see them back to their vibrant blue.

View from our Swiss Hotel Room, over the River Aare with Jungfrau and paragliders in the background

View from the hotel window

The Beautiful River Aare

Our hotel was actually a few guest rooms above a restaurant. We had a view of the river and the high peaks beyond, including Jungfrau, the highest peak in the region, snow-capped even in August. We were extra lucky with our room because they upgraded us to a spacious suite, and the hotel staff couldn’t have been more friendly. Brendan was impressed with the Swiss Hospitality, and while I had grown to love it from all my other visits, I too was impressed and appreciative.

Jungfrau in the distance

We wandered through the city, touristy but in the good kind of way: friendly shops, adorable knick-knacks, snacks and chocolate, and paragliders floating through the sky in peaceful descent to the big green field in the center of town. Elderly couples strolled hand-in-hand, groups of tourists gazed up in awe, friends and families in good spirits. Switzerland is Peace, Love, and Happiness. Brendan later told me, “Your soul lives here.”

The difficult task of choosing from all the wonderful swiss chocolate.

After some shopping, we went for a walk to Lake Brienz. In this shoulder season, we had the whole trail almost to ourselves as we wandered through the woods, gazed at the majestic water, and passed my swans in Bonigen.

Bonigen

We continued along to Iseltwald, nearing the waterfall when, suddenly, the souls of my 1998 hiking boots literally split and fell apart. The rubber was that old. The boots were not worn away, but I guess that stuff doesn’t last forever.

In such a charming location, it didn’t affect me much at all as I hobbled along, but we decided to turn back, and boarded a bus for Interlaken back in Bonigen, continuing good, animated conversation and philosophy. Then we booked PARAGLIDING for tomorrow. My third time and Brendan’s first. We were going to fly.

That night, we went for dinner in the Happy Inn Lodge, a very special place for me because I stayed in this hostel my first time in Interlaken with my friend Anna the summer of 2001. We had always wanted to visit Switzerland, and spontaneously boarded a night train from Amsterdam when we were unable to get accommodation. We didn’t have sleeper cabins, so we sat in the seats all night and made friends, groggily rolling into town in complete silent awe along with our fellow passengers as the mountains revealed themselves to us. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen.

At the train station, we went to the hotel board, saw hotels with availability, picked up the phone, and the Happy Inn Lodge welcomed us. We stayed there, shared some drinks, and enjoyed a splendid stay, my first of many. While Brendan and I opted to stay in better accomodation, Happy Inn Lodge has good beer and food, and was perfect for a peaceful dinner, followed by a walk through town to the outskirts, where I checked on the dance club at the hostel Funny Farm. Closed tonight, but it would be open tomorrow (Thursday). Good Plan.

Back to the hostel where we watched some tv on NBC.com on the iPhone before drifting into mountain-air dreams.

On Thursday morning, we awoke for an absolutely delicious Swiss breakfast in the hotel, including homemade jam, fresh breads, farm fresh eggs, cappuccino, hot chocolate, whatever we wanted. Everything was fresh and flavorful, and again, the staff were super warm and friendly.

We prepared to fly, and a van came to pick us up, toting us to the top of a nearby mountain. I went paragliding that first time with Anna in 2001, and it was the most exhilirating experieince of my life to that date. It was summer. And it was summer when I went again with my friend Krista in 2006. Now in 2013, I went for my third flight in early spring. They suited us up in helmets and our seat, attached us to our instructors, and I snapped some photos of snowy mountains and the grass making her spring appearance.

Before long, Brendan was running down the hill then AIRBORNE. I was so exited for him because I can never forget that first time you are flying, feet dangling in the sky among the birds and trees.

Then I ran down the hill, and shortly after we were in the air, my instructor had me take the controls and allowed me to steer and fly a bit. “You’re ready now. It’s your third flight.” He explained that I could take flying lessons in Interlaken, spread out throughout the year, or in an intense two week course with several flights a day after some ground training. Once you are done, you can buy the equipment (used) for about 1200 CHF. “At that point, it’s a pretty free hobby.” Something to really think about. There is no feeling like it.

Brendan flying

The flights always feel too short because before long, I was spinning to the ground in dramatic dips and curves before a soft landing. Brendan gave me the thumbs up, clearly high from the adrenaline.

I was so excited to see him feeling better and truly enjoying the trip at this point. Yay Switzerland!

We packed our bags for the mountains. According to my iPhone, it was in the teens and 20s up in Murren and Wengen (two sides of the valley). I took him up to Wengen, where I was just visiting with my high school students in February. We hoped the roads would still be snow-covered for some tobogganing. We also packed our swimsuits, eager to use the spa at the Hotel Lauberhorn, where my dad and I stayed in the summer of 2011.

We took the train to Lautberbrunnen

then boarded the cog railway up the mountain to Wengen as Brendan gazed in awe. The alps are impressive from the valley and even flying. But we were going way up into them now, and the views were dramatic and ever-changing. When we exited the train, it was clear that the iPhone was wrong and the snow was melting, so we put our bags in the locker, stopped in the Coop where we found some Duff beer, yeah Duff, and went on a snowy/muddy hike up the mountain. We stopped at a bench on the edge of the woods to just be. It was the most peaceful, wonderful moment of the trip.

Then back down to Wengen where we enjoyed traditional Swiss food. We ordered fondue with herbs and rosti with eggs and cheese. A hearty mountain meal where I ate with both my father that summer and my students in the winter.

We were saddened to learn that the Victoria Lauberhorn was closed for the season (we missed it by a couple of days) so we couldn’t use the spa, to our dismay. We enjoyed a bit more of Wengen.

Then we took a train back down to the Lauterbrunnen Valley and had enough time to walk to the famous waterfall before our train to Interlaken. I thought with all the snow melt, it would be more impressive, but it was just a well-lit trickle.

In the summer, it’s a raging, rushing waterfall. However, it was still beautiful and impressive. Then back to town where we prepared to dance.

We walked to the disco club, which was quite empty when we entered. Brendan felt slightly uncomfortable and asked what I wanted to do. I said, “We are gonna dance.” We tore up that dance floor, and soon others joined us. It was a lovely, fun night followed by a nice starlit walk back to our hotel for another sweet mountain air sleep.

The next morning, we did not want to stress ourselves unnecessarily with an early train. We were woken up in the most swiss way possible. I heard a cacophony of metallic sound in the street. What was this? A bunch of metal wheels? A truck? I went to the window and saw the road filled with a parade of cows donning giant bells. They were heading somewhere. I had to wake Brendan up to see this special site. It truly made my day.

Back downstairs for another delicious breakfast, sad that we couldn’t stay another day or two. But we were lucky that we had a few hours to enjoy Interlaken before our train. I went to get my Jowissa watch fixed, and we rented a tandem bike, heading through town and back to Bonigen and my swans.

Tandem Bicycle

What a new, fun experience! The guy at the bike shop was super talkative, friendly and informative, and he gave me tips for my future visits, knowing I like to come so often. Apparently, there is a special camping hut in the back of the Lauterbrunnen Valley (below Wengen), where you can have a nice, peaceful time.

Time was unfortunately running short, so we had to return the bike and grab our bags from the hotel, where we passed the Cow Parade going back from whence they came this morning, perfect bookends to our final day in Switzerland. We grabbed sandwiches from the supermarket, then boarded our train back to Genoa. It was a wonderful stay and always sad to leave, but we had a fantastic time. Brendan said, “I don’t want to steal this as your favorite place . . . but I love it.” Yay Switzerland!

-written 27 June but posted in April for timeline purposes

-continued in Part 4

Spring Break: Genova, Roma and the Swiss Alps (Part 2 – Rome)

Posted on April 10, 2013 by liguriansun

Easter Monday, we woke early when it was still dark. Brendan’s hay fever had taken full hold, and I found some Aleve and Claritin to give him to help him breathe a bit better. However, it was a mostly sleepless night before we groggily got ready and headed for the bus to Brignole station. Off to Rome!

I was a bit apprehensive after checking the weather all week. Rome — usually sunny and beautiful in the spring, was showing a soggy forecast. All of Europe seemed to be stuck in unseasonably cold and rainy weather. My students and colleagues told me that it was usually possible to swim this time of year. I felt so guilty because I had told Brendan it would be a good time of year to visit. But all of this is part of travel.

I checked my transit ap to see when the next bus would arrive at our stop, growing a bit nervous because it looked like it would cut it close. “Should we take a cab?” I asked. “Whatever you think is best,” he said. I decided to take the risk. The bus dropped us off in plenty of time, we got to the platform, and as the sun began to rise, we saw our train was delayed. “Good thing we didn’t spring for the cab,” Brendan said.

Now we both felt like zombies. It was cold and quiet as we waited for our train, moods tense. I felt like I was on an episode of Amazing Race . . . these things happen. And with both of us tired from long workweeks, we both just needed some peace. I was hesitant to book such an early train, but this was just over 4 hours instead of 7 hours, and would give us more time in Rome.

Eventually we boarded, and napped our way along the Riviera and down the coast to Rome, pulling into the station around 1pm. It wasn’t raining. In fact, the sun was shining! Brendan was finding it impossible to breathe and still feeling epic jet lag, but we both knew we had to get out in the sunshine for some wandering before the downpours. We dropped our bags off at the hotel which was right by the train station, then saw the Colosseum, The Forum, and other iconic landmarks.

I had a Frommer’s Rome Travel Guide, but instead of trying to navigate to one of the suggestions, I figured we’d pop into one of the little cafes on a side street. The food was ok, but mediocre and didn’t impress me or my foodie friend. The price wasn’t too bad, but I knew that Brendan was waiting for some mind-blowing Italian food. Having been spoiled by years of Arthur Ave (Little Italy in the Bronx), featuring the best of all of Italy, he may have been expecting all of Italy to be like that. In addition, Rome is known for many things, but not necessarily their cuisine, especially for lunch.

We found a pharmacy where, hurrah! they gave Brendan some antihistimanes that helped him breathe with sweet relief. He took a long nap, then we wandered out again at dinner time, once again finding a disappointing dining experience. Mediocre and slightly expensive pizza. “It’s all pizza and pasta, everywhere,” he noted. Yeah . . .

Toting my takeaway Quattro Formaggio, we looked at the tourist map, trying to find the Ice Bar. The winding backstreets of Rome were quaint and a bit empty due to the holiday. If it wasn’t cold and rainy, it would have been more enjoyable but we weren’t really feeling the scene. We wandered into the Ice Bar, where we were the only folks. “Come back tomorrow, for open bar for 20 bucks. There will be a crowd,” they advised. Sounded good, so we left and tried a few other places, but couldn’t find a seat or a good scene. We eventually ended up sitting at the bar of an Irish Pub, talking to the Australian bar tender over Guinesses. We walked home past the ruins lit at night as Brendan entertained me with his comedy.

Tuesday 2 April, we got to sleep in a bit, waking up just in time to head to the free breakfast upstairs in a sunny room. There was good variety as we woke up and hoped the rain would hold off. We had “Skip the Line” tickets to the Vatican. For a nominal fee, you don’t have to stand in line for hours. Perfectly worth it.

We took the metro and arrived, wound our way through the halls filled with art, peeked out the window at a massive thunderstorm, and eventually found our way to the highlight of our visit, The Sistine Chapel. This was my third visit to Rome. Both other times, I had been on EF Tours. 1997 as a high school Junior and last year as a teacher, bringing my own students. in 1997, we were not able to get admission to the Sistine Chapel, which was a major disappointment. Last year, we did get to go, and I found it to be so moving and one of the most amazing works of art I had ever seen. This time, it actually brought tears to my eyes. It was less crowded than our Easter time visit last year, and I didn’t feel squished and pushed through the room while trying to look up and enjoy. I could really take it in and absorb the wonder as it was meant to be appreciated. Splendid.

The ceiling in one of the main galleries

Thunderstorm as viewed from one of the windows

Brendan identifies with Mercury and even uses the symbol for his brand, as seen on his shirt.

Upon our exit, I went into a little gift shop to get pink rosary beads for my great Aunt Minnie. We almost left the premises to get online for admission to St. Peter’s, which we had to do last year. That line was winding around the giant square. But first, “Let’s just pop into that pretty chapel,” I said, peeking through a door featuring lots of marble inside.

We walked in and Brendan immediately said, “Wow!” This was not some little chapel . . . it was St. Peter’s, and we had entered without a line.

St. Peter’s Basilica

We went straight to Michelangelo’s gorgeous Pieta, and I explained how someone had smashed it in the 70s, so it doesn’t have the original glow, even though it was carefully repaired. It’s still amazing.

The Pieta

We wandered around, and Brendan was excited because he got to “see a dead pope!” in one of the many tombs.

After some pictures and prayers, we exited into torrential rain. First I sent my parents and my friend Kat postcards with the Vatican postmark.

Welcome to the new pope.

Where to now? Rome is enjoyed by wandering, walking and soaking in the beauty — not by actually soaking. It was so disappointed because last Easter it rained a bit, but we had a sunny day that was just splendid. To stay dry, we hopped on the first tram we saw, and figured we’d go on an adventure, not knowing the destination. En Route, we skimmed Frommer’s for ideas for aperitivo later. We stopped for gelato and saw this:

Viagra Gelato! ha

Eventually, we made our way back to the hotel, cold and wet, and each had a warm bath trying to get our body temps back up. When we departed for dinner, we had plans to head to the Ice Bar, then the Disco after, so I took a small purse and no guidebook. We headed to Spagna, the neighborhood where the Spanish Steps are, and wandered in the rain until we found an amazing, trendy cafe with stadium seats for chairs.

The Spanish Steps

There were tiny snacks for aperitivo (that came out with our wine), then I ordered Ceasar Salad and Brendan got meatballs and some pasta. The meatballs were absolutely divine, and as much as I try not to eat lamb, we think there must have been some inside. “This is the pasta I’ve been waiting for!” Brendan exclaimed with pure joy, finally having found the Italian meal he’s been craving.

Next, off to the Ice Bar, touristy but fun. Again, we were the only ones there as they draped us in capes. Nobody looks good in a cape. We waddled into the icy room and settled into a little igloo, drinking our vodka mixed drinks out of ice glasses. While we waited for others to arrive, I noticed some glasses left behind and began smashing them like a disgruntled wife. Eventually, a bunch of college-aged kids arrived, and we made small talk. We each had 5 or 6 drinks, and there’s only so much time you can spend in the ice bar, so we waddled on out, but not before taking some photos that made us look like Bond villains.

Drunk on vodka, we were too beat and money conscious to spring for the disco, so headed for the hotel and Brendan wandered into a kebab shop for a late night delicious snack. Tomorrow we would depart Rome for the Swiss Alps!

We didn’t really get the best vibe from Rome or give it the best chance, but we saw it. I had visions of visiting the fountain of Trevi, Trastevere, drinks in piazzas, wandering along the Tiber, maybe even a boat cruise. The weather was a real damper. I felt bad and almost responsible, but Brendan reminded me to relax and that he was not mad. (Although clearly disappointed). Rome deserves another chance with more time and better weather, but we enjoyed our mini adventure. This is all part of travel, and overall, it was fun and we saw a lot. 🙂

Brendan’s been thinking about Rome for years.

Check out one of his many comics, Hannibal Goes to Rome.

-written 26 June but posted in April for timeline purposes
-continued in Part 3

Spring Break: Genova, Roma, and the Swiss Alps (part 1 – Genoa)

Posted on April 9, 2013 by liguriansun

One of my best friends, Brendan, has always wanted to visit Italy. When I got the job offer last January, he already started talking about his visit. We decided on Spring Break, so I could be the female Rick Steves, and take him around my beautiful local hood as well as Rome and the Alps, as he requested.

Our spring break began on Friday March 29, which gave me a day to chill and take the train to Milan. Brendan got the shortest and best airfare to Milan, arriving at 7am on Saturday March 30, Easter Eve. Since I was off and eager to enjoy the city, I said I’d meet him at the airport. I booked a single room at the Bio City hotel, an eco friendly, brand new hotel that was just before its official opening. At this point, I let out a big “Ahh” as I looked around the cozy room. The weather was not cooperating, with a chilly drizzle, but I was just glad that my much-needed vacation had started. For teachers, breaks always come just when you think you can’t handle another day. I checked the mini bar, and for reasonable prices, I saw natural soda and super yummy sesame seed bars, which I devoured while watching BBC news. I tweeted a couple of pictures and fell asleep knowing I had to wake early tomorrow to get to the bus for the airport.

Brendan walked through the gate, and I ran to give him a hug, amazed at how guys can pack all they need in a little carry on duffle bag. Well done. The weather was cloudy, but I was hoping the rain would hold off. We caught up on the bus ride, then by the time we arrived in the city, the rain turned into a downpour. Luckily, I still had the hotel room, so we had it for a few hours where I figured Brendan could take a nap and I could enjoy my free breakfast. As soon as he passed out, though, they started drilling. (They were still working on the hotel, so I knew this might happen). He managed to fall back asleep . . . until the belt sander came on. “We’ll find this funny later,” he said. But clearly not now. The poor guy was exhausted, having not slept on the plane. So I went outside and asked the guys if they could move, which they so kindly did.

At 11, Brendan was in a sound sleep but I had to rouse him for check out. “You said I could sleep,” he said like a school boy talking to his mom, wanting to go to school late. I know the feeling. I remember telling my mother, in my sleep, that “The lake is closed today,” when she tried to wake me up for my lifeguarding job and I knew I just couldn’t make it.

I felt so bad, but I had to get him, up. We checked out, and luckily they didn’t tack on a fee for bringing a second person into the single room. Then we had to brave the rain again. We originally considered the thermal spa, which I love and have posted about before here: My New New York . But it was not the weather for wandering or sightseeing, so we boarded a train for Genoa, gliding through the soggy landscape to Liguria.

2 hours later, we boarded a bus to my neighborhood as exhausted zombie Brendan said, “How much longer?” It might be initially more convenient to fly to Milan, but ultimately it’s a big pain in the butt, unfortunately. Once in my hood, we had to find food. As it was the day before Easter, nothing was open, so we walked through the hills for 10 minutes to Jungle Pizza, which is always open with its 100 varieties. But alas, even that was closed. Back to my apartment where I offered some of the food I had purchased and Brendan passed out into a deep sleep. I used this time to go on my second ever scooter ride!

The clouds cleared, the sun came out, and I enjoyed stunning views over the sea as I tried to keep steady and not tip over. Back at the apartment, I had to wake up Brendan again, afraid that if I didn’t he wouldn’t sleep the night. Arrival day is often very hard, especially when the weather is not helping. Starving, we walked down the hill to restaurants by the sea, looking for something open. He gave up meat for Lent, so we went for some pizza or pasta at 5 Maggio, a place I had enjoyed many times, along the sea by the monument. We shared pasta, cooked in foil in the brick oven, foccaccia formaggio and one other kind of pizza as well as creme brulee for dessert.

Brendan wanted to meet one of my friends, and I wasn’t sure who was in town but remembered that Robin was both in town and nearby. At 11pm, I called her then we showed up at her apartment (with its splendid castle view), and got her ready to go out dancing down by the sea. At that time, Brendan felt it was time to ditch his Lenten beard, so Robin lent him a disposable razor. And off we went.

The club was fun, and unlike some of the other ones further downtown, where guys like to come up and grab you while you are dancing, the people were older and a bit more chill — but the vibe and music were great. We even got free shots from the bartender because we were from NY! 🙂 We walked Robin home, then up the hill to my apartment where Brendan realized it was Easter, running to the fridge and tearing open the packages of cured meats I had bought for his arrival.

Easter Sunday bells rang at noon, but Brendan was still sleeping off his mega jet lag. He had tried to warn me it could get like this, but I had never seen jet lag this bad. Around 1:30, he woke up and we tossed the football-sized Easter egg that I bought for a charity fundraiser at school. It broke to reveal the gift inside — a boxed silver-toned bracelet. Not bad. Apparently, these chocolate eggs are very popular as Easter treats for kids.

Soon we went outside into the warm sunshine for one of the prettiest days of our trip. Buona Pasqua!

We piled onto my scooter for my third ride, and my first ride with a passenger. Once I mastered the weight balance, we took it nice and slow, heading straight to Nervi. It was Brendan’s first time on a scooter, and he was thrilled. Once we parked, we went for a walk along the gorgeous passageiatta — bright turquoise water, waves crashing into the jagged rocks, Portofino in the distance, and families and friends, tourists and locals strolling along for a Happy Easter. The vibe was perfect. The flowers were blooming, but unfortunately so was Brendan’s hay fever. We didn’t let it get in the way of our fun, though.

Happy Easter!

We did not have reservations for dinner and were worried about finding quality food on a day when so many locals head to the restaurants. Luckily, even though we were in Italy, both of us were craving sushi, so we planned for that. While we were waiting for the restaurant to open (Many places in Genoa open for dinner at 7:30 and close by 9 or 10 for a small dining window), we wandered through gorgeous Nervi, through a local park watching families with their dogs, bacci balls, and picnics. Then we found a little church on top of a hill and decided to see if there was an evening mass. We walked in sometime near the beginning, and enjoyed a special, beautiful Easter service.

The sun was starting to tinge the sky pink, promising an awesome sunset. I regret not heading back to the passegiatta because I know Brendan would have appreciated it, but we were already at the restaurant, where we enjoyed a lobster roll among some others. As Brendan gave up meat for Lent, he also gave up sushi, so this was a treat. And for me, who was growing quite sick of Italian food, I was happy for the change of pace.

Back to the scooter and home to prepare for tomorrow’s trip to Rome! The fastest train was at 7am, so it was gonna be another early morning for us. I popped Mad Men on Netflix, and we enjoyed a chill evening.

Here’s a small slideshow with more photos:

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–to be continued in Part 2 – Roma–

-written 26 June, but posted in April for timeline purposes

Whirlwind Weekend

Posted on March 4, 2013 by liguriansun

When I departed for Genoa, one of my best friends Kat was there at the airport to send me off along with my parents. Kat gave me lots of luck and hugs, and said “I’ll be there soon. I’m also good with postcards.”

Kat kept good on both promises, with postcards arriving frequently to brighten my day and a whirlwind weekend visit planned. In the fall, Kat called and said “I can’t get much time off from work, but I’m coming. Alitalia has good fares. How about March 1st?”

Kat arrived fresh from JFK on a Friday and departed on Monday morning, for a fantastic, fun-filled weekend adventure. What perfect timing. Work was at its most chaotic of the year, with International Baccalaureate assessments and paperwork due — super high stakes work. As this was my first time through it, there were a lot of nitty gritty details and stressful aspects (work to be redone, late work, formatting) that I didn’t anticipate. All of us IB teachers were like zombies walking through the day. Usually, Friday arrived and I was relaxed and peaceful with a light schedule, all classes completed by 11:30. When Kat arrived from the airport, I was in a meeting with a student, and didn’t even have a minute free to run down to the office to notify them of Kat’s arrival fresh from the Genova airport. Luckily, she met the director who asked around and found me. When I exited the classroom with my student, there was Kat’s smiling face. How can she look so awesome and fresh from an overnight flight? Amazing.

Originally, Kat said she was up for anything and just wanted to spend time with me. But this was her first time in Italy. She was also a Medieval Studies major (along with Spanish), so I knew she would appreciate a lot of the wonder of Siena and Florence. In the days before her departure, I said, “I have a crazy idea. Want to spend a night in Siena? It’s beautiful. Then we can visit Florence before heading home on Sunday.” When I saw that the train to Florence stopped in Pisa, we planned for that as well. 3 nights, 4 cities. And we did it!

I gave Kat a quick tour of the school, which she noted was beautiful. She also asked, “How do you like it with all the little kids?” As a group of 3-year-olds walked by in a neat little line like ducklings. “I love it. It always brightens my day,” I responded. The director had generously given us lunch tickets to enjoy a meal in the cafeteria. I had hallway duty upstairs for the first part, so Kat took the opportunity to meet many of my coworkers, noting that they were extremely sweet, friendly and positive. That truly is the vibe of our school.

I joined Kat when my duty was over, and she was in mid conversation about all the wonders of Siena. One coworker said, “You will eat well. This lunch food doesn’t count as your first Italian meal.” It’s ok for school food, but this is true.

I walked Kat down to my apartment, which is just minutes from the school, where she settled down for a short winter’s nap, and I went back to work until the end of the day.

Back to my apartment, I roused Kat as we prepared for an evening in Nervi, a nearby resort neighborhood along the sea — where I take all my guests on their first night much like the school brought me when I first arrived. There is no better welcome to Genoa and the Ligurian Coastal beauty.

We walked along the passegiata and walked into a quaint seaside restaurant called Chandra, with views of the waves crashing against the rocks. With a slightly Indian vibe, we enjoyed the quaint decor, snacked on the free snacks with our drinks, and then ordered our meal, featuring focaccine (friend dough filled with soft, yummy stracchino cheese). I had chicken tandoori and Kat had a pasta dish, I believe.

I’m showing off the beautiful new necklace Kat bought me at the Met as a hostess gift along with plenty of other practical and fun goodies and meals to spoil me.

We chatted, caught up, enjoyed the sea, and then enjoyed the live music as it began to play. With jet lag for Kat and general fatigue for me, though, we couldn’t last through more than a couple of songs. Back to Genoa for bed. A big day ahead of us on Saturday.

We were blessed with glorious spring-like weather that weekend, with temperatures climbing into the low 60s, a delightful break from the soggy 50s we had in the week leading up to her visit. Saturday morning we had breakfast, then headed into the city to see Genoa. I showed Kat the medieval center, the port, Columbus’s alleged birthplace, and we even had some time for boot shopping . . . while there were some good potential options, we didn’t find exactly what Kat was looking for but we enjoyed the browsing experience.

Back on a bus, we grabbed our overnight bags, then back on a bus for Brignole train station, then to Siena via Pisa. I slept most of the train ride, absolutely exhausted from work. Kat began her many postcards (I believe she sent 30 something). The sun was in that glorious golden hour, and with our latitude, it lingers longer than in other parts of the world. We consulted the map, and made a mad dash for the iconic slanted architecture.

It leans a bit more every year, and as I had not been since 2004, I could really feel like it was leaning noticeably more. After posing for the obligatory “let’s hold this thing up” pictures, we strolled back through town, past postcard shops and touristy knick knack pushers, back to the train and towards Tuscany and Siena.

At one random station, we stopped to get a snack and read the board for our connection. Our train was cancelled! Ahh, Italy . . .always full of frustrations. We had to sit in the station and wait a bit for the next train, but we were grateful there was a next train. We rolled into Siena a bit later than we anticipated, but glad to be there with fresh air and stars peeking out of the inky sky. Having not been there since 2002, I was very pleasantly surprised by the redo of the train station. Previously, you had to board a bus, grab a taxi, or walk up a very long hill to the city, with the station settled at the base of a big hill. But now, they have constructed an elaborate system of escalators and people movers that bring you easily and conveniently to the top of the hill, where you can then stroll through the medieval wall and right into town, all lit up in its serene romantic beauty.

We were tired from the travel, but captivated by the magic of the city. Siena is special, and I will always choose staying her over Florence. It’s a popular day trip place, but to stay allows you to experience the real magic when the tourist crowds disperse, and you can wander and enjoy in peace and serenity. Kat had articles from the New York Times Travel Section and she had a recommendation for a restaurant in the main square. We found it, and enjoyed an absolutely delicious meal with a view of City Hall. Then a short stroll just outside of town to our hotel, which we were so excited about. We chose a quaint b&b with 360 degree views of the hillside.

Upon arrival at our hotel, we experienced a bit of a snafu. They accidentally gave away our room to someone who arrived looking for a room. The person working the desk was not a regular, so she made a mistake. I was so exhausted and irritated by that point, but Kat works in hotels and knows this can happen. They rebooked us in a nearby hotel in the same area. We ended up with two single rooms, and the rooms were on the road instead of secluded like the other hotel. However, the quality was excellent as was the service. The original hotel was very apologetic and offered us discounts on future stays. So it’s all good — and these things are part of the travel adventure. I slept very well, and we awoke to a beautiful breakfast with views over the hills and valley in the bright sunshine. Delicious. No complaints. Another gorgeous day awaited us.

After some photos in the garden, we saw the civic museum with its famous mural. Kat educated and entertained me with her wealth of medieval knowledge, enhancing the experience. We then boarded a train to Florence and headed to the Duomo for a quick photo stop then straight for the Uffizi Gallery, where we had booked “Skip the line” tickets for a nominal fee. This was my 5th time in Florence, and I was finally getting to see the Uffizi. So much outstanding, famous and beautiful art to contemplate. We spent hours there soaking it all up, took some photos outside along the river, stopped for some yummy pizza, then back to the train. Yes, there was unfortunately a lot of clock-watching on my part to make sure we could do everything — and it wasn’t as laid back as I would have liked to be. But we made it happen, it was a great adventure, Kat was in awesome spirits, and I had a blast.

We rolled into Genoa that evening, and instead of going straight to sleep, I hung out in the living room with Kat for a sleepover style late-night chat.

Here is a slideshow of our adventure:

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Kat left for the airport 5:30 the next morning, with a stop in Paris long enough for her to enjoy the city then back to New York. What an amazing, fabulous adventure. Thanks for visiting!

“I’ll be back!” she said. I’m looking forward to our next adventure, whether it’s a weekend somewhere in Italy or Europe, or a longer break. We shall see. Until I post our next adventure, you may be interested in checking out Kat’s photography blog: http://hhphotogsummerstreets2013.tumblr.com

-written 26 June 2013 but posted in March for appropriate timeline

Belgium calls again!

Posted on February 6, 2013 by liguriansun

I have just returned from visit number 12 to Belgium! Che Fortuna!

Here’s how it all happened. I am teaching an International Baccalaureate (IB) course called Language A. (I teach it in English, but it is offered in dozens of languages). I already have training in Language and Literature, but it’s a different track for English than my school offers. I applied for funds through the professional development committee to go, originally for December in Oxford, but it’s a crazy time of year and I had already received some funding, so I applied again for spring semester. The soonest course was in Brussels, Belgium. So once again, back to one of my favorite countries.

As you may recall from my previous Belgium post My Magic Bruges , my heart lies in Flanders – the Flemish (Dutch dialect) speaking region north of Brussels. But while I may love Bruges the best, Brussels is certainly nice.

It was a whirlwind. I worked on Thursday, my crazy day, for four 80 minute classes, jetted home to get my bags and dash to the airport where I had to transfer in Rome, finally arriving in Belgium at midnight. Brussels airport is super convenient with a rail connection to Brussels Central, so I did that then groggily showed a taxi driver my hotel info and arrived at my hostel/hotel around 1am. Whew! Reception normally closes at 22:00, so I’m so glad I notified them in advance and someone waited for me. When I arrived, I soon learned that he was “going to sleep for three hours” because then he had to work again very early in the morning. Yikes.

I awoke the next morning to pouring rain as I had a yummy hotel breakfast – just some warm croissants and breads along with coffee and OJ. I was worried about my transport connections to the Management Conference Center, so I jetted out and on my way. I somehow got on the right tram, but in the wrong direction, with foggy windows and no signs to announce the stops, it was a collossall guessing game. Where am I? Where am I going? I dunno. Eventually I asked someone what stop we were at, then I learned I had gone the wrong way. I am not necessarily a shy person, but with certain things I’m painfully shy — asking strangers for directions – yeah, that’s tricky for me. Everyone was being super helpful, but they were also confused, too. The directions listed the wrong name for the tram stop, which thanks to google maps and some help from tram riders, we learned was Baili. Next, the website said, “once you get off at the stop, the Management Center is a short walk away.” No map, no indication of the direction. Nothing to help. Again, luckily I had a google maps printout with me as well, but that was not exactly correct. One woman said, “I worked at that stop for 20 years, and I have never heard of that place.” There was a lot of passing around of my documents, a lot of discussion and a lot of wishes for good luck. We had a while to go, so we chatted about books and how much she loves Faulkner. So friendly. Everyone was so kind, and I was so grateful.

Once I exited, I clung to my soggy paper and finally found my way. After a hard start, the day was lovely. My teacher was extremely warm, positive and helpful– an IB English A teacher in London. We had people in our class from all over the world: Russia, Netherlands, Turkey, Jordan, Poland, Italy, Switzerland, Slovakia . . .and all teaching in different languages. Very cool!

The information was extremely helpful for my coursework. We shared ideas, and it was all information my students and I desperately needed, so I soaked it up like a sponge and the days flew by. They provided us with coffee breaks after 90 minute sessions. Yummy treats, and then an absolutely delicious lunch buffet. The first day, there were cheese croquettes as an option! My favorite! And two different types. I just love how these are done in Belgium, fried perfectly crisp with a sumptuous filling. I need to write poetry about these cheese croquettes to do them justice. They also had a huge salad spread with smoked salmon, meats, tasty raisin and cranberry bread . . . I couldn’t stop eating, and even went for a second helping of croquettes. Even little glass bottles of coke. And one of the dessert options at the buffet was creme brulee. At a buffet!

At the end of a long yet productive day of coursework, I grabbed a fresh-made warm waffle with chocolate sauce, whipped cream and ice cream, then headed straight for a train to Ghent, where I’d meet up with Jasper, one of my Belgian friends I met in Bruges in the summer of 2001 — all those years ago. Both Jasper and Dave have become really good friends, and due to both my love for Europe and Belgium, I get to see them a lot.

Jasper met me at the station, and we walked around the very quiet streets of Ghent. It was Friday night — and unlike most university towns in America, the college kids go home. Virtually all of them. Ghent is a major university where most of the Flemish speaking college aged kids go to school. Both Jasper and Dave went there, and both of them now have their own apartments in the city like many young adults stay. Jasper walked me through a street that was like a mini Greenwich Village, if I wanted to stretch a bit. . .er, a lot. He kept calling Ghent the “New York of Flanders”

“Take a photo,” he said, “and post it as the New York of Flanders. And everyone will wonder — ooh, what is that city.” I laughed and turned on the sarcasm. Then he said, “No really, look at that tall building they are constructing.” He pointed to a solitary communist-style architecture apartment building that was clearly an eyesore on the gorgeous medieval landscape. “That makes it like New York, and this is my neighborhood. So I kind of live in New York. I’m a New Yorker.”

“So move to New York, ” I said.

“No, I can’t. My heart is here.”

And I hear that from so many Belgians. They often love to talk about and visit New York. They have a fondness for America, American things, and American people. (Do they like me for me or my country, hmmm?) Yet they wouldn’t want to leave their country. I can’t blame them. It’s a good , peaceful life. People are provided for. Overall, it’s calm. It’s a beautiful country with beautiful people and delicious food and beer. Yeah, I get it.

I had to get some fries. Though they try, they just can’t get them right in the “Belgian Fry Shops” of NYC. This night, I tried the Mammoet–sauce (mayonnaise, tomato, onion,glucose, garlic, soy) because I remember loving it out late in Ghent in November. To help me choose, the girl put four different sauces in a dish for me to dip a fry in to taste. Cool! I loved them all, but chose the Mammoet for this night.

Jasper had a water.

I refused to feel guilty devouring the fries as he counted calories and just ate his traditional one fry in sauce. I was in Belgium and I was determined to eat my way through it. As usual.

Afterwards, we went to a bar in a student neighborhood, where on a Friday night, there were only four other people, all around age 18. We had Leffe Blondes, then moved on to another bar for a cocktail. I had a mojito and Jasper had a Bloody Mary, mostly for the political reference. (He’s a history teacher). He kept making a face while drinking it, saying “I hate tomatoes, I should have known I wouldn’t have liked this.”

Um . . .yeah.

We had some good laughs, sharing memories over the years, and then I had to dash home to catch my train. Bummer. I’m usually here on holiday, where I can crash if I miss the train — no big deal. But my class was super important and super expensive for my school, so I wanted to make sure I got the most out of it.

I arrived back at Brussels Central and decided to walk to my hotel that night, through the Grand Place, past students, locals and tourists out for Friday night fun, and I got to my hotel around 1 am . . .again, and passed out exhausted. 7am rise the next day.

Another pleasant hotel breakfast, another amazing and informative day of class along with fabulous lunch (Turkey Cordon Blu), then I dashed to the train for a ride to BRUGES! I was so excited both Jasper and Dave agreed to meet me in Bruges this night so I could see it. 🙂 Jasper hopped on the train in Ghent, and Dave was already home in Bruges for the weekend, so he would drive over later.

As Jasper and I walked around Bruges, he was oohing and ahhing at everything: the quaint winding Medieval streets, the peace, the architecture. “I’m starting to appreciate my city like a tourist,” he said. “I see why you always want to stay here. I can really see it now. It’s special.”

We walked through the market square, passed the Belfry, then stopped in a fry shop where I indulged in bitterballen — fried balls filled with something delicious. Then I had a Kaas Kroqet. mmm. After, we had beers in a bar I visited several times before, including NYE 2010. When Dave arrived, we went to a bar on the T-Zand, the other big market in Bruges, with the fountain. I had a Brugse Zot (Bruges Fool) and a Kriek, followed by profiteroles. mmmm. Dave was distracted because he had a crazy girl stalking him and getting him and his friend in trouble with their girlfriends, so he was outside on the phone for much of it. But we understood. Then all too quickly, it was time to catch the train home. Jasper and I said farewell to Dave, boarded the train, and he departed in Ghent. I wanted to snooze, but Jasper said, “That’s not social!” So I stayed up to spend time with him before my next visit.

Back in Brussels late again, and again, I arrived at my hotel around 1am. Really exhausted now, but it’s all worth it.

The following morning, I rose early, ate breakfast, checked out and left my luggage, and darted to class for the last time. It was a super helpful conclusion. We said our farewells and had lunch at 12:30. I sat with my teacher and a woman who is an admin in Lebanon. I’m going to try to arrange a visit.

After, I strolled around a Brussels park a bit, at the stop called Parc on Tram Line 1 and 5. Then I got my luggage and headed for the airport an hour early. I wanted more fried food, but didn’t have the opportunity there. I did have the opportunity to purchase some Neuhaus cocoa powder for hot chocolate. mmm. To kill time, I had a nice Leffe Brown beer in the terminal and headed on a long journey home, transferring in Rome. I arrived in Genoa before 11:30, but by the time I waited for the air bus, switched to the local bus, and walked home, it was almost 1am . . .yet again.

The next day at work, after going, going, going — I was super exhausted. But I was also glowing because it was an awesome, productive and fun trip filled with much joy and a lot of food. I don’t know how this is possible, but I swear my pants already don’t fit. Worth it.

**Please note, there seems to be an issue with inserting a slideshow in WordPress. The button is no longer there. Any ideas? I inserted a gallery this time instead.

Sweet Home New York City

Posted on December 26, 2012 by liguriansun

I love my life in Italy; it’s a magical adventure filled with wonder, many discoveries, and lots of beauty. School is a full and fantastic busy, and I have fabulous colleagues. Yet . . . my home will always be NYC.

Getting here was quite an adventure. I departed on the morning of December 20th, eager for an evening arrival home. Mamma’s cooking, cuddling with my cats, and seeing friends — a cozy, chill welcome. Instead, my flight from Genoa was cancelled. I was at the airport with several colleagues who were taking the same connecting flight to Munich before departing for our various destinations across the US. As we waited, we saw one of my students, his sister and father. They were on their way to LA.

DELAYED. We stared at the board and I grew more and more nervous as my connection in Munich was just over an hour. First a half hour delay, then an hour delay. Then it disappeared off the monitor. This was how they informed us that our flight was cancelled. We followed my students’ father outside security as he explained that this happened last week with the same flight. Mechanical difficulties. My student said, ‘They were spinning the propellar for an hour, then gave up.”

After an hour online to rebook our tickets, wondering if they could find us seats during the Christmas rush, we finally had our new connections. I was going to Munich at 5, then to Frankfurt where I’d sleep in a hotel and fly out the next morning. 17 hour delay. During this process, several other coworkers popped into the airport for Ryan Air flights to England. When Ryan Air is the reliable flight, you know you’re in trouble.

I was sad because I was supposed to land in NYC at 6pm that night, and possibly go out to meet some friends. But instead, I passed out exhausted in a really nice hotel room with light snow outside in Munich. It looked like the bed was comfortable until I went onto it and almost bounced off a la Clark Griswold in European Vacation.

To the airport early in the AM. Lufthansa was full so they rebooked me on United and the woman was kind and upgraded me to premium economy extra legroom seat. I didn’t realize until I boarded the plane and learned that these seats usually cost an extra $179 each way. Finally a break. I slept most of the flight, read a bit, and then flew over Brookside Swim Club, my old summer hangout where I worked, taught swim lessons, and was head lifeguard for many years. Now I go as a patron. My parents live very close, so I tried to spot the house, but couldn’t find it. I did see my high school, then the NYC skyline. Oh, how could I ever leave this great city? Only for a place as magnificent as Italy. I swear, New Yorkers have to be darned choosy when we take a post overseas. And there’s no where else I’d rather live in the states.

Groggy and sleepy, I showered for a tea party with family friends, then showered again to go to a dinner party. Halfway through the appetizers, it was 3:45am on my clock. I didn’t make it to dinner and was in bed soon after. On my way out of the city, I met up with a friend for quick drink and a fun reunion. I mentioned something about going home on January 5th, and he said, “This is home. You are going to Italy on January 5th.” Ahh, yes.

The following day, I chilled, went for a haircut and enjoyed my cats. On the 23rd, my parents and I took a train into Manhattan to see the decorations, the windows, and go to the Bryan Park Christmas Markets, a tradition my mom and I have done since 2007. This year, Dad joined. It was a beautiful sunny day, and it hurt my heart to see places that were so everday to me, so splendid . . .and knowing that soon I have to leave again until the summer.

Christmas Eve, I met up with two great friends for lunch in Ho-Ho-Kus. Turkey and Brie. mmm. Turkey! My brother joined the fam for dinner that night, and then it began snowing! Soon after, I drove to Fordham to sing with choir alumni in the beautiful Midnight Mass, a tradition that I have been doing since 2002 after I graduated.

Christmas Day, I woke up to a sunny, cozy morning, nursed a big coffee (can’t do that in Italy, although the flavor is much better) and opened a handful of gifts. It was a modest Christmas, but that is good because how much can I carry back anyway? And I got some nice things, including a Chi flat iron to play with. Also, I have a nice check which I decided to use for Spring Break. I’m taking suggestions. Where shall I go? So exciting.

It was so wonderful to be with the family, with everyone I love. It is very strange to live abroad, with people who are fast acquaintances and buddies, but you are away from your true friends and family. Your coworkers become your surrogate family — but it’s just not the same. Permanent expat life is so tempting, but this is the hard side. Being away. I don’t think I can stay forever. But the reunion was so nice and filled me with a warm glow. Content. I am blessed.

Merry Christmas. Buon Natale a tutti!

Here is a slideshow of my pictures in America so far.

Flying over Brookside. By the time I got my camera out, a cloud was in the way, but it’s the oval below with the docks. Cute.

My high school

NYC skyline

1 World Trade Center with the newly added spire

Macy’s Herald Square

Bryant Park

Verona: Looking for Romeo under some balconies

Posted on November 16, 2012 by liguriansun

A few weeks ago, I planned a lazy, cozy PJ weekend spent dozing and catching up on movies. But when a couple of friends invited me to Verona, I couldn’t say no. A new city! Yay! Unlike Shakespeare, I was actually going to see Verona. Yup, he set his star crossed lovers in this quaint medieval city without ever setting foot in Italy at all. When I announced my departure on a Girls Night Out skype chat in NY (well, they were still up, and I was about to hop into the shower), they said “Have fun looking for Romeo.”

“Where do I find him?”

“Check under some balconies.”

Sleepy yet excited, I met my friends at that train station and we headed on over for our adventure. We were greeted with torrential rain upon our arrival – bummer. We walked to our quaint hotel, which was midway between the city center and the train station, and began exploring. Knowing nothing at all about Verona and having not even seen a guidebook, the city was a complete surprise. Quaint castle. Cool bridge from that castle with views over the river and the panorama of the city. Various lookouts filled with tourists and necking teens. This was definitely THE makeout spot for the Vernoese – wannabe Romeos charming the pants off their girls in that old fashioned lip lock we so often forget as we grow older and . . .anyway.

My friend kept saying, “I love my life! Seriously, I love my life.”

This was just a simple weekend trip for us. Yes, I love my life. We are so lucky. Even in the rain, we were blissfully happy, wandering, exploring, just being.

Strolling through town, it was apparent that not just the locals were inspired by Romeo. Many couples made it a kind of romantic pilgrimage to walk hand in hand in the streets that inspired the tragic love story. People do love this story. It came up in my 10th grade class, and all the girls swooned about how romantic and sweet the story is, and my snarky, sarcastic Korean student said “They die. It’s tragic. It’s horrible. Nobody wins.”

And I said, “Would you rather have that amazing love and then die or would you rather live a long life and never know love?”

The girls said “love and die,” the guys said “life!” hmmm.

After the bridge, we wandered in search of good food. We heard that the people are really nice here and that the food is splendid. We followed an amazing scent to a local restaurant where we learned that both rumors were true. Our waiter was nice, sweet, funny, and spoke English! Coming from non-touristy Genoa where almost nobody speaks it, this was a welcome treat. I ordered macronicini with pumpkin and pork. My friend ordered tortellini filled with a mix of meats. That sounded amazing and I went to switch and the waiter shouted an alarmed, “NO!”

Startled, I said, “Huh?”

“The macaronicini is amazing. You must have it. It’s my favorite.”

One friend switched her order and we were absolutely not disappointed. Apparently the tortellini was delicious too, but that pumpkin … mmmm, such hearty flavor. In Northern Italy, near the Sud Tirol, the food shows an interesting alpine influence. Italian cooking — so regional. Travel a hundred miles in any direction, and you’ve hit an entirely different style of cooking. Living in Genoa, all the restaurants (and even the shops) feature ligurian cuisine, food from the land — simple compositions that let the ingredients shine. But I get sick of the same thing over and over, and therefore love trying new cuisine! YUM!

It was cold and wet, so we met up with friends at a bar. They used to work with my colleague in China and are now at an international school in Albania. We traded teaching stories, planned a visit, enjoyed lots of vino, then strolled through town, down cobbled lanes, into an old church with a funky pendulum, past a market, and then into another bar next to the coliseum, where I had 4 more glasses of delicious vino and aperitivos. Chatting, enjoying, and relishing the evening. Afterwards, we were hungry for more food and ducked into what we thought was a chill restaurant. In our fleeces, with soggy hair, we didn’t exactly fit in with the packed crowd dolled up for date night, but we enjoyed our snug table by the open fire where the chefs cooked veggies and bread. I had a simple onion soup, thick and tasty, while gnoshing on bread. Then back to the hotel and to bed.

The weather got even colder the next day as the rain came down even heavier, so we decided to grab an earlier train home. But first, we grabbed a nice heated outdoor breakfast, featuring hot chocolate that was like melted candy bar … mmm… then we figured, hey why not . . . let’s go look for “Juliet’s House.” Of course Juliet is fictional, but they set up a balcony and a bronze statue of Juliet. Tourists rub her right breast for good luck in love and sex. That breast was worn shiny by all the . . . love? I touched it quickly for a photo with silent apologies to the bard for the huge disgrace that must have him turning in his grave . . . but I couldn’t help it. When in Verona . . .

The whole area, a little cove off a side street, has turned into a shrine for love. Couples attach locks to a grate, engraved with their names. Locks of Love. I wonder how many of those relationships outlasted the lock. I wonder how often someone comes over with clippers to ditch the locks. And in the archway leading to the whole scene, couples doodled their names, initials, and love messages to each other within hearts. The urge to mark, whether it’s a tree, a bathroom stall, or “Juliet’s” balcony. The urge to preserve when everything is ultimately transient.

It’s hard to think of Romeo and Juliet without thinking of this song:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0fiXkvsKpdk

Here are some pictures from our trip:

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