Home from Italy now for 2 months - as long as we were gone for.
It doesn't seem possible.
For my Italian fix, I have to settle for Montepulciano di Abruzzo (a region near Rieti) wine from Trader Joe's and the new Italian restaurant up the street with an Italian speaking waitstaff, but less than authentic Italian food.
And there is no comparison for Italian coffee. Can't find it. Anywhere. (Cafe Trieste in San Jose came VERY close. If you live near there, I envy you.)
I've moved over to Monday Musings at www.danahymom.blogspot.com where you can find more of my ramblings if ya'll are interested.
Ciao.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Monday, August 18, 2008
Summer Pictures
Pictures are up at Kodak share.
These are some of the summer highlights,
Enjoy!
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=14fuwi0r.4s2u9g17&x=0&y=z5nw36&localeid=en_US
(couldn't figure out how to make it link. You'll have to cut and paste into your browser...)
These are some of the summer highlights,
Enjoy!
http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=14fuwi0r.4s2u9g17&x=0&y=z5nw36&localeid=en_US
(couldn't figure out how to make it link. You'll have to cut and paste into your browser...)
Basta Italia
Our Italian adventure is almost done. Brian had Friday off, due to the festiva and Ferreagosto – a celebration that used to last the whole month as decreed by Augustus, but now the Italians only celebrate for one day (which typically is then used as an excuse to make a 3 day weekend, thereby shutting everything down *again*) Colin and I drove around on Friday afternoon (during the riposo) to see if per chance the grocery store (known to be open at odd times) was open. No luck. In fact, EVERYTHING was closed. Creepily so. The town was a ghost town – and more so than usual during the riposo. Surprisingly the local McDonald’s was open (but really, are we so surprised with the far reaching prevalence of American capitalism?) Lucky for us too, as we depleted almost all our food for lunch. If not for McDonalds, we were each eating one hard-boiled egg with a teaspoon of cooked spinach “on the side” for dinner. One thing to say about ferreagosto: driving in the twilight zone of an empty Italian town is a piece of cake.
So it was off to Mickey D’s for dinner – the kids were ecstatic. And I didn’t really mind the chicken sandwich – since I never got into cooking chicken in Italy: couldn’t get past the packaged whole chicken, neck, head, feet and all thing.
Saturday morning – our last morning to sleep in, and my last morning cappuccino at the bar. I was more than a little sad about this. I did manage to see the couple that I had met a few weeks earlier. They wished me goodbye and best wishes – with the double cheek kiss thing. Very sweet actually. I said goodbye to the barrista, after communicating that we were leaving for good, and not just going on vacation again. “Italia fini” I said to her. “Basta Italia?” she replies, which I think translates into “enough of Italy”
Sadly, not enough. Can anyone really get enough of Italia? I thought I had enough at the beginning of our stay… when the parade of true Italian characters (not even conceivable to the most colorful author’s imagination) came traipsing through the apartment to help the poor American family with no hot water. Or when the heat outside was truly skin-melting. Or even when my ever sociable- self craved conversation with the over 5, 8, 12 and 14 set.
Due to the ferreagosto continuation, my internet café proprietor friends took the weekend off, as did the people from Paldo’s pizzeria. Our landlords and my friend Cindy were also all gone – so I didn’t get to exchange goodbyes and thanks for all their help over the past 2 months. I feel slightly unfinished about not saying goodbye. I like to have closure. I’m sure we’ll try and contact some of them over the next few weeks. Reimbursement for the apartment costs is resting on our landlords ability to produce a receipt for Uncle Baxter to approve: I imagine a few more calls to them using my “Engliano” will be in my future.
Brian did not get the green light to come back immediately to Rieti. [The good news to this is that we get to have him home for more than the originally planned 5 days] Which meant packing everything up. And cleaning out the apartment. A small Heculean task. [Hmm, what exactly might that be? Hercules fighting like an old blind lion? Or just a 2 headed monster instead of a 3 headed one?]
It felt like living life in rewind mode. Everything that was taken out, had to be put back. But we did most of it before trying to find a place to eat lunch on Saturday. Again: Nothing. Open. At least this time, the store was open, as was the pizzeria connected with it (Jackie and Brenda: no pictures…very disappointed in myself) so we had our final pizza.
At 5:00 we went over to one of Brian’s co-worker’s houses for some dinner. He and his family hosted us for some snacks and a game of American football (we brought the football) We had been joined by another co-worker (who used to play American football in Italy – see the book “Playing for Pizza” by John Grisham for a description of American football in Italy) who was anxious to play with Brian and the boys. They were joined by the host – who needed instructions on the game- and a variety of children. Our four were joined by 5 other girls (all under age 8) and 2 little cousins. Our host lives on a lovely piece of land in Rieti. A multi-familied building – but all the families are related. I was treated to a little tour of the gardens. They grow grapes and make their own wine [1000 liters a year] – we sampled some wine too. We saw their chickens, their rabbits, their cats and Argo the dog: clearly the ruler of the land. He enjoyed the football too – even trying to get it and take it away with him. We were informed that Argo eats everything.
E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Raw eggs. Grapes. Stems. Leaves. Pigeons. No small children yet though – so Ed was safe.
During the game, one of the brother-in-laws came home with his family (probably from the beach since that’s where everyone else in Italy went this weekend) and he turned out to be the property manager for our apartment who we met the first week in Italy when we signed the papers. Crazy, crazy small world.
We were also treated to meeting our hosts’ parents - who live there too and work the farm/gardens in their retirement(a family affair.) Warm and beautiful people. Very kind and very interested in how we liked living in Rieti – their family has been there for generations. When I shared how much I really liked Rieti, I earned the respect of Mama, who was quite generous in her assessment of the crazy American family with all the kids. Mama and Papa were busy putting tomatoes up for (I’m sure a fantastic) batch of sauces later. Just before they left for the evening, they tried to give us bountiful box of home-grown tomatoes, but since we were leaving in less than 12 hours, we couldn’t take any with us. We were all disappointed.
We thought we were going to get pizza and eat it outside on the porch with all the mosquitos, but it turned out that we were all to go down the road to a local restaurant. The history of the restaurant is quite scandelous: it was opened by the (rumored, but probably true) illegitimate son of Mussolini who then passed on the management to his son. *He* we met when our huge party of 16 showed up for dinner. We ate outdoors under the canopy of a huge tree. There was a park within the lawn of the place, so the little kids took off to play – all more comfortable with each other after a few hours of playing with Argo and blowing bubbles together. Julia and the other 8 year old girl became fast friends. I only wish we could have gotten them together earlier in the trip. Dinner was another Italian feast. Delicious antipasti and then pasta dishes for most of us. The Italian’s did the ordering for us (so much easier this way!!!) And since Brian’s coworkers speak English fluently, we were able to have some really good conversation with our food and wine. The other wives were not as fluent, so some translating was done, (when they weren’t checking on their girls on the playground.) The term “Baxter widow” was not lost on one of the other wives: she shares some of my own displeasure at the amount of time we spend alone with our kids – especially during shut-down. Although, I must add, this summer has been fantastic. We got to have Brian during shut-down and home every night at an early hour. AND we got to see him in the morning before we drove him to work… well, except Aidan, who slept in every day.
We ended the evening (too soon for all the kids) watching part of the lunar eclipse. Aidan tried to convince us that he wanted to stay up and watch the whole thing – until 2 am. We quickly shot that down, reminding him that we had to leave the house at 6 am to make our plane.
Goodbyes, Ciaos and more cheek kissing closed a most pleasant evening and also our stay in Italia.
And now we’re on a plane. Colin and I are in business class. It’s his birthday today. He wasn’t too pleased with the day at first, but he’s been fed hamburgers and chocolate, and can watch a variety of movies on demand – so he’s better now. I agree that it’s a bummer of a way to spend a birthday (which I have experienced on an angst-filled flight back from Chicago…but that’s a whole ‘nother chapter.) On the plus side, he gets an extra 9 hours to celebrate.
There is a song on Italian radio (RTL…Cento-due-cinque) right now named, “Ciao… Arrivederci” It’s been humming through my head for a few days. Of course just the title of it has been humming through – because I don’t do the words to songs thing (because I’m too busy listening to the music. The accordian is really an under-appreciated instrument. You think I’m joking. I’m not. ) But the title alone will do as an ending. Yep. That’ll do.
Ciao.
Arrivederci.
Ready or not, here we come…..
home.
So it was off to Mickey D’s for dinner – the kids were ecstatic. And I didn’t really mind the chicken sandwich – since I never got into cooking chicken in Italy: couldn’t get past the packaged whole chicken, neck, head, feet and all thing.
Saturday morning – our last morning to sleep in, and my last morning cappuccino at the bar. I was more than a little sad about this. I did manage to see the couple that I had met a few weeks earlier. They wished me goodbye and best wishes – with the double cheek kiss thing. Very sweet actually. I said goodbye to the barrista, after communicating that we were leaving for good, and not just going on vacation again. “Italia fini” I said to her. “Basta Italia?” she replies, which I think translates into “enough of Italy”
Sadly, not enough. Can anyone really get enough of Italia? I thought I had enough at the beginning of our stay… when the parade of true Italian characters (not even conceivable to the most colorful author’s imagination) came traipsing through the apartment to help the poor American family with no hot water. Or when the heat outside was truly skin-melting. Or even when my ever sociable- self craved conversation with the over 5, 8, 12 and 14 set.
Due to the ferreagosto continuation, my internet café proprietor friends took the weekend off, as did the people from Paldo’s pizzeria. Our landlords and my friend Cindy were also all gone – so I didn’t get to exchange goodbyes and thanks for all their help over the past 2 months. I feel slightly unfinished about not saying goodbye. I like to have closure. I’m sure we’ll try and contact some of them over the next few weeks. Reimbursement for the apartment costs is resting on our landlords ability to produce a receipt for Uncle Baxter to approve: I imagine a few more calls to them using my “Engliano” will be in my future.
Brian did not get the green light to come back immediately to Rieti. [The good news to this is that we get to have him home for more than the originally planned 5 days] Which meant packing everything up. And cleaning out the apartment. A small Heculean task. [Hmm, what exactly might that be? Hercules fighting like an old blind lion? Or just a 2 headed monster instead of a 3 headed one?]
It felt like living life in rewind mode. Everything that was taken out, had to be put back. But we did most of it before trying to find a place to eat lunch on Saturday. Again: Nothing. Open. At least this time, the store was open, as was the pizzeria connected with it (Jackie and Brenda: no pictures…very disappointed in myself) so we had our final pizza.
At 5:00 we went over to one of Brian’s co-worker’s houses for some dinner. He and his family hosted us for some snacks and a game of American football (we brought the football) We had been joined by another co-worker (who used to play American football in Italy – see the book “Playing for Pizza” by John Grisham for a description of American football in Italy) who was anxious to play with Brian and the boys. They were joined by the host – who needed instructions on the game- and a variety of children. Our four were joined by 5 other girls (all under age 8) and 2 little cousins. Our host lives on a lovely piece of land in Rieti. A multi-familied building – but all the families are related. I was treated to a little tour of the gardens. They grow grapes and make their own wine [1000 liters a year] – we sampled some wine too. We saw their chickens, their rabbits, their cats and Argo the dog: clearly the ruler of the land. He enjoyed the football too – even trying to get it and take it away with him. We were informed that Argo eats everything.
E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. Raw eggs. Grapes. Stems. Leaves. Pigeons. No small children yet though – so Ed was safe.
During the game, one of the brother-in-laws came home with his family (probably from the beach since that’s where everyone else in Italy went this weekend) and he turned out to be the property manager for our apartment who we met the first week in Italy when we signed the papers. Crazy, crazy small world.
We were also treated to meeting our hosts’ parents - who live there too and work the farm/gardens in their retirement(a family affair.) Warm and beautiful people. Very kind and very interested in how we liked living in Rieti – their family has been there for generations. When I shared how much I really liked Rieti, I earned the respect of Mama, who was quite generous in her assessment of the crazy American family with all the kids. Mama and Papa were busy putting tomatoes up for (I’m sure a fantastic) batch of sauces later. Just before they left for the evening, they tried to give us bountiful box of home-grown tomatoes, but since we were leaving in less than 12 hours, we couldn’t take any with us. We were all disappointed.
We thought we were going to get pizza and eat it outside on the porch with all the mosquitos, but it turned out that we were all to go down the road to a local restaurant. The history of the restaurant is quite scandelous: it was opened by the (rumored, but probably true) illegitimate son of Mussolini who then passed on the management to his son. *He* we met when our huge party of 16 showed up for dinner. We ate outdoors under the canopy of a huge tree. There was a park within the lawn of the place, so the little kids took off to play – all more comfortable with each other after a few hours of playing with Argo and blowing bubbles together. Julia and the other 8 year old girl became fast friends. I only wish we could have gotten them together earlier in the trip. Dinner was another Italian feast. Delicious antipasti and then pasta dishes for most of us. The Italian’s did the ordering for us (so much easier this way!!!) And since Brian’s coworkers speak English fluently, we were able to have some really good conversation with our food and wine. The other wives were not as fluent, so some translating was done, (when they weren’t checking on their girls on the playground.) The term “Baxter widow” was not lost on one of the other wives: she shares some of my own displeasure at the amount of time we spend alone with our kids – especially during shut-down. Although, I must add, this summer has been fantastic. We got to have Brian during shut-down and home every night at an early hour. AND we got to see him in the morning before we drove him to work… well, except Aidan, who slept in every day.
We ended the evening (too soon for all the kids) watching part of the lunar eclipse. Aidan tried to convince us that he wanted to stay up and watch the whole thing – until 2 am. We quickly shot that down, reminding him that we had to leave the house at 6 am to make our plane.
Goodbyes, Ciaos and more cheek kissing closed a most pleasant evening and also our stay in Italia.
And now we’re on a plane. Colin and I are in business class. It’s his birthday today. He wasn’t too pleased with the day at first, but he’s been fed hamburgers and chocolate, and can watch a variety of movies on demand – so he’s better now. I agree that it’s a bummer of a way to spend a birthday (which I have experienced on an angst-filled flight back from Chicago…but that’s a whole ‘nother chapter.) On the plus side, he gets an extra 9 hours to celebrate.
There is a song on Italian radio (RTL…Cento-due-cinque) right now named, “Ciao… Arrivederci” It’s been humming through my head for a few days. Of course just the title of it has been humming through – because I don’t do the words to songs thing (because I’m too busy listening to the music. The accordian is really an under-appreciated instrument. You think I’m joking. I’m not. ) But the title alone will do as an ending. Yep. That’ll do.
Ciao.
Arrivederci.
Ready or not, here we come…..
home.
Friday, August 15, 2008
Unpacking the purse
I'm getting ready to pack. Well, sort of ready. I keep finding other things to do.
Like emptying out my purse - which does need to be done, doesn't it?
For anyone else interested (like that bridal shower game) here's what I have
accumulated over the last few weeks:
Outside pocket -
*Adult Biglietto d'ingresso (ticket) to the Rieti community pool - where we went yesterday to escape (or embrace) the heat. Swimwear update: Italians still love their speedos.
*ponytail holder - probably Julia's
*empty band-aid wrapper - most likely from Edwin.
*Claritin wrapper - for me and Colin
*pencil - stolen from the Vienna Marriott. They have pencils in the rooms. Not pens.
*list of West Ranch High School contacts and phone numbers looked up on the internet
for me to call and help arrange Colin's first day of school. Done this. Still have heard no word back from his counselor after 3 and 1/2 weeks of emails. Luckily, the other office staff is extremely friendly and helpful...
*keys to the apartment - but only the outside buliding door and one of the front door keys - which is one of the strangest looking keys I have ever had
Inside flap pocket -
*emery board from the Vienna Marriott
*5 used Paris Metro tickets
Interior zipper pockets -
*gum "Hollywood" brand sans sucres; probably bought at a French rest stop
*tic tacs: mint flavor
*Aidan's ipod - half charged, no earphones
*1 Euro coin
*part of a band aid wrapper
*lipstick - MaryKay "Suede"
*lip gloss from Target
*more Claritan wrappers
*receipt for our hotel stay at the All Seasons Republique in Paris
Main compartment -
*Keycard holder from the Vienna Marriott
*small map of Paris showing the location of our hotel: each child was given this business card
sized map and instructed to keep it on their persons in case they got seperated from us. Edwin and Julia - and maybe Colin - were the only ones who did it. Edwin thought it was cool to have something to put in his pocket (when he remembered to put his pants on the right way (and not backwards) so that he could actually reach his pockets)
*tour ticket to the Saltmine tour "Tour #33" which we were late for, and ended up on tour 35
*another receipt for the hotel stay in paris - from their computer, so it's a big piece of paper. There's no 8 1/2 by 11 paper here. That would be inches and they don't do the inch thing over here. So the paper is just a bit skinnier and longer. It's weird.
*notepad from the Vienna Marriott (yeah, we took lots of stuff from the room...) with a happy face drawn on it. Happy face was for the cute 4 1/2 year old little boy who sat next to our table the other night when Brian and I went to dinner without the kids at Tito's. Tito's has been around for 105 years. And of course, even in the small restaurant, the only child was put next to us. Uterus. is. a. kid. beacon...
*crinkled map of Rome from Avis
*kleenex
*receipt from the "Ipermercato" Leon from a grocery outing this week.
*receipt from Lungovelino Cafe (my internet place) for a cappuccino
*receipt from dinner on the drive back from Vienna to Rieti. Stopped for dinner in Italy, on the 12 hour drive home. Brian was VERY upset that we didn't jet over to Slovenia (a mere 1/2 hour away) so he could add another country to his list.
*3 kid tickets from the swimming pool yesterday: Ed was free
*my camera - which still works even though Brian dropped a dolop of whipped cream on it from one of the apfel strudels we had in Austria
*6 tickets to the Catacombs in Paris
*key card holder from the Villa Potenziani - where we stayed when we first got to Italy I have used it to hold the slip of paper with the calling card numbers and codes on it, in case I am near a payphone (not often) and want to call someone. I often want to call, but with the time difference, I don't often get the chance. I'm sure no one wants to hear from me at 2:00 am
*pocket sized city map of Vienna
*Purell hand sanitizer - not often used. Which is truly a miracle that we didn't have more illness among us for the amount of crud I'm sure we've all been handling...
*Ricola - bought at LAX on the return trip to Italy from my reunion
*my glasses - which I always seemed to forget when I needed them.
*the 6 euro pink! watch I bought in Paris - with a picture of the Eiffel tower on the face
*2 miniature salt shakers from the saltmine tour - the free gift at the end of tour
*hair clip
*another Paris metro ticket - we used all but 4 of the tickets we had purchased. We gave them to a homeless man at the entrance to the metro.
*lipstick - Marykay's "Gingerbread"
*lipgloss - that Julia hates to use because it has some mint flavor to it
*Always brand clean handiwipe
*3 tickets to the St. Stephen's bell tower in Vienna. Only Colin, Aidan and Julia went up.
*ziploc bag full of "medicine":
Benegryl
Band Aids -various sizes
Sleep Aids
Triple Antibiotic ointment
Hydrocortisone cream
Claritin
Alleve
So that's it. Not everything will go back in.
I need to find my wallet - a huge ommission to the purse.
And the passports.
And then I'll start to be ready to go.
Like emptying out my purse - which does need to be done, doesn't it?
For anyone else interested (like that bridal shower game) here's what I have
accumulated over the last few weeks:
Outside pocket -
*Adult Biglietto d'ingresso (ticket) to the Rieti community pool - where we went yesterday to escape (or embrace) the heat. Swimwear update: Italians still love their speedos.
*ponytail holder - probably Julia's
*empty band-aid wrapper - most likely from Edwin.
*Claritin wrapper - for me and Colin
*pencil - stolen from the Vienna Marriott. They have pencils in the rooms. Not pens.
*list of West Ranch High School contacts and phone numbers looked up on the internet
for me to call and help arrange Colin's first day of school. Done this. Still have heard no word back from his counselor after 3 and 1/2 weeks of emails. Luckily, the other office staff is extremely friendly and helpful...
*keys to the apartment - but only the outside buliding door and one of the front door keys - which is one of the strangest looking keys I have ever had
Inside flap pocket -
*emery board from the Vienna Marriott
*5 used Paris Metro tickets
Interior zipper pockets -
*gum "Hollywood" brand sans sucres; probably bought at a French rest stop
*tic tacs: mint flavor
*Aidan's ipod - half charged, no earphones
*1 Euro coin
*part of a band aid wrapper
*lipstick - MaryKay "Suede"
*lip gloss from Target
*more Claritan wrappers
*receipt for our hotel stay at the All Seasons Republique in Paris
Main compartment -
*Keycard holder from the Vienna Marriott
*small map of Paris showing the location of our hotel: each child was given this business card
sized map and instructed to keep it on their persons in case they got seperated from us. Edwin and Julia - and maybe Colin - were the only ones who did it. Edwin thought it was cool to have something to put in his pocket (when he remembered to put his pants on the right way (and not backwards) so that he could actually reach his pockets)
*tour ticket to the Saltmine tour "Tour #33" which we were late for, and ended up on tour 35
*another receipt for the hotel stay in paris - from their computer, so it's a big piece of paper. There's no 8 1/2 by 11 paper here. That would be inches and they don't do the inch thing over here. So the paper is just a bit skinnier and longer. It's weird.
*notepad from the Vienna Marriott (yeah, we took lots of stuff from the room...) with a happy face drawn on it. Happy face was for the cute 4 1/2 year old little boy who sat next to our table the other night when Brian and I went to dinner without the kids at Tito's. Tito's has been around for 105 years. And of course, even in the small restaurant, the only child was put next to us. Uterus. is. a. kid. beacon...
*crinkled map of Rome from Avis
*kleenex
*receipt from the "Ipermercato" Leon from a grocery outing this week.
*receipt from Lungovelino Cafe (my internet place) for a cappuccino
*receipt from dinner on the drive back from Vienna to Rieti. Stopped for dinner in Italy, on the 12 hour drive home. Brian was VERY upset that we didn't jet over to Slovenia (a mere 1/2 hour away) so he could add another country to his list.
*3 kid tickets from the swimming pool yesterday: Ed was free
*my camera - which still works even though Brian dropped a dolop of whipped cream on it from one of the apfel strudels we had in Austria
*6 tickets to the Catacombs in Paris
*key card holder from the Villa Potenziani - where we stayed when we first got to Italy I have used it to hold the slip of paper with the calling card numbers and codes on it, in case I am near a payphone (not often) and want to call someone. I often want to call, but with the time difference, I don't often get the chance. I'm sure no one wants to hear from me at 2:00 am
*pocket sized city map of Vienna
*Purell hand sanitizer - not often used. Which is truly a miracle that we didn't have more illness among us for the amount of crud I'm sure we've all been handling...
*Ricola - bought at LAX on the return trip to Italy from my reunion
*my glasses - which I always seemed to forget when I needed them.
*the 6 euro pink! watch I bought in Paris - with a picture of the Eiffel tower on the face
*2 miniature salt shakers from the saltmine tour - the free gift at the end of tour
*hair clip
*another Paris metro ticket - we used all but 4 of the tickets we had purchased. We gave them to a homeless man at the entrance to the metro.
*lipstick - Marykay's "Gingerbread"
*lipgloss - that Julia hates to use because it has some mint flavor to it
*Always brand clean handiwipe
*3 tickets to the St. Stephen's bell tower in Vienna. Only Colin, Aidan and Julia went up.
*ziploc bag full of "medicine":
Benegryl
Band Aids -various sizes
Sleep Aids
Triple Antibiotic ointment
Hydrocortisone cream
Claritin
Alleve
So that's it. Not everything will go back in.
I need to find my wallet - a huge ommission to the purse.
And the passports.
And then I'll start to be ready to go.
Sitting by the side of the road
OK - so I hope you all enjoyed the recent postings. I had to upload the text sitting on the side of a wall (in the shade, at least) behind the locked gates of the "shopping center." It's August 15th. Religious holiday. Assumption (Ascension?? some "a" thing) of Mary. (Mary? Someone holy.) So the town closes down. Again. Because Sunday, Thursday afternoons and 3 hours all the other afternoons isn't enough closure. I had purchased some wifi time for my computer at the internet cafe (so Colin and I can be on line at the same time) and thankfully their connection doesn't turn off to celebrate Mary going to heaven. So I'm (literally) sitting by the side of the road to finish the postings before I head back up to pack.
All. the. Stuff.
Which has to come home with us Sunday.
Because Brian might (probably) not be coming back here.
It will be a small miracle to get it all packed up and the apartment in decent (???) shape before we leave BEFORE the crack of dawn on Sunday morning.
Wish me luck...
All. the. Stuff.
Which has to come home with us Sunday.
Because Brian might (probably) not be coming back here.
It will be a small miracle to get it all packed up and the apartment in decent (???) shape before we leave BEFORE the crack of dawn on Sunday morning.
Wish me luck...
Attempts at cleaning
I tried to do some cleaning this morning. I didn’t want to leave the apartment a huge mess, in the (hopefully small) chance that Brian doesn’t come back to Rieti and gets the opportunity to clean the place up before we turn back the keys to the owners. So I got up early and swept three of the rooms before attempting to mop the floors. There is no mop as such, only mops for dusting, so I had to improvise. I used some old underwear that wasn’t coming home with us due to its pretty yucky (but fairly clean) state. I won’t mention who it belonged to previous to its incarnation as floor cleaner – but it wasn’t any of the girlie kind.
It worked fairly well, and we can now walk around (in those three rooms) without too much concern for blackened feet. I left the rag to soak in the washing tub, thinking that I would do more rooms when I returned from taking Brian to work and Julia “outfit” shopping this morning. We dropped Brian off at work – a nice ritual we have gotten back in the habit of. Way back at the beginning of our marriage, we shared one car, like we are doing this summer. I would take Brian to work (or the metro stop), and then pick him up at the end of the day. We did this for a little over 2 years. It’s been nice to revisit this summer. It’s not feasible to maintain when we are back in the land of big cars and long commutes.
The outfit shopping was a success; Julia was able to find “something Italian” to take back home to wear on the first day of school – AND it was on sale. The stores have great big sales to get rid of the summer stock before the new fall lines come in. Sadly, we couldn’t purchase any of the new fall stuff, as it was all pants and long sleeves – articles that won’t be worn in sunny Santa Clarita for a good three months.
We came back home and she went back to the apartment while I had my morning cup of cappuccino at the bar. Nicely caffeinated, I headed back home, expecting the early morning load of laundry to be finished and ready to switched. Instead, the front loading washing machine didn’t completely drain (as the tub was full of the cleaning rag.) It gushed water out of the door, effectively washing the bathroom floor and drenching everything else. So after the 10 or 15 minutes it took to clean all the water up (without the help of old towels, rags or paper towels like I would have used had I been at home – we had to be creative with newspapers that never got around to being thrown away) I had to re-start the washer with the semi-washed load. This is really going to throw off my timetable of getting the wash done before we leave.
I should have known better than to start cleaning the house.
It worked fairly well, and we can now walk around (in those three rooms) without too much concern for blackened feet. I left the rag to soak in the washing tub, thinking that I would do more rooms when I returned from taking Brian to work and Julia “outfit” shopping this morning. We dropped Brian off at work – a nice ritual we have gotten back in the habit of. Way back at the beginning of our marriage, we shared one car, like we are doing this summer. I would take Brian to work (or the metro stop), and then pick him up at the end of the day. We did this for a little over 2 years. It’s been nice to revisit this summer. It’s not feasible to maintain when we are back in the land of big cars and long commutes.
The outfit shopping was a success; Julia was able to find “something Italian” to take back home to wear on the first day of school – AND it was on sale. The stores have great big sales to get rid of the summer stock before the new fall lines come in. Sadly, we couldn’t purchase any of the new fall stuff, as it was all pants and long sleeves – articles that won’t be worn in sunny Santa Clarita for a good three months.
We came back home and she went back to the apartment while I had my morning cup of cappuccino at the bar. Nicely caffeinated, I headed back home, expecting the early morning load of laundry to be finished and ready to switched. Instead, the front loading washing machine didn’t completely drain (as the tub was full of the cleaning rag.) It gushed water out of the door, effectively washing the bathroom floor and drenching everything else. So after the 10 or 15 minutes it took to clean all the water up (without the help of old towels, rags or paper towels like I would have used had I been at home – we had to be creative with newspapers that never got around to being thrown away) I had to re-start the washer with the semi-washed load. This is really going to throw off my timetable of getting the wash done before we leave.
I should have known better than to start cleaning the house.
Exercise
Random thoughts on exercise
Three months ago, I was hauling my body out of bed every day at 4:30 AM to teach a boot camp class. Yep, teach the class as a fill-in for the instructor who was away for 2 weeks.
I was even working out twice a day a few times right before I left. That was before I came to Italy.
I have exercised for sole purpose of exercising exactly *ONE* time since I landed in Europe. Once. In two months. Yes, I have walked a ton. And climbed a million and one stairs. But no formal exercise. At all. And I have eaten everything I have wanted to eat since I arrived also.
So I guess it’s time to start heading back home. The clothes are fitting a bit more snugly. Back home to the diet and exercise. Again.
But I’m so glad I took a vacation from it all. It was all completely worth it.
Three months ago, I was hauling my body out of bed every day at 4:30 AM to teach a boot camp class. Yep, teach the class as a fill-in for the instructor who was away for 2 weeks.
I was even working out twice a day a few times right before I left. That was before I came to Italy.
I have exercised for sole purpose of exercising exactly *ONE* time since I landed in Europe. Once. In two months. Yes, I have walked a ton. And climbed a million and one stairs. But no formal exercise. At all. And I have eaten everything I have wanted to eat since I arrived also.
So I guess it’s time to start heading back home. The clothes are fitting a bit more snugly. Back home to the diet and exercise. Again.
But I’m so glad I took a vacation from it all. It was all completely worth it.
Laundry
I’m sitting in the living room of the apartment under one (of two) beautifully ornate chandeliers and surrounded by piles of laundry. Laundry that is “Italian dirty.” (definition: the kind of dirty that is so dirty that you can’t possibly wear that garment again without offending anyone.) I’m not sure I ever let our clothes get close to this dirty when back home– except maybe Edwin. And Colin. And maybe Aidan if he’s been near any kind of water/mud source. But still, we tend to wash our far less dirtier clothes more frequently at home. I’m not sure this is such a great practice, now that we’ve experienced a different style of living: “Does it smell? No? Then wear it AGAIN.”
Certainly, the laundry situation has been one of the biggest adjustments we’ve (I’ve) had over here. I have taken to washing what I can by hand, to save time and get through loads more quickly (if that’s possible at 2 hours each load to wash in the machine.) So the hand-washing thing isn’t so bad – many garments even “require” it on their labels. But I find that the water here is frighteningly cold. Like it’s been shipped in from a glacier in Antarctica. It’s surprising to me too, because it is so hot outside (which helps dry the clothes on the line more quickly, thank goodness.) My cold water at home is lukewarm in the summer. Not cold.
Not like the water here. I’m surprised it doesn’t come out in cubes. But then, we *are* in Italy: land among many of no ice. No ice in the drinks. No bags of ice in the grocery store. It’s strange really, when you think about it. It’s not a difficult commodity. Most places have refrigeration now. Water* is a basic element. Maybe I’ll come back and open up a store that stays open all day, is open on Sunday, and sells ice. And good coffee.
In the meantime, I’ll be doing laundry. Lots. Of. Laundry. Because the clothes are Italian Dirty. And we don’t really need to be bringing that kind of souvenir home.
*Freaky thing happened when I was editing this sentence. I went to add the word “water” and through a serious of misplaced fingers, wound up with the letter Omega in it’s place. (I would insert the “Omega” here, but I have no idea how I got it on the screen in the first place.) Life. Water. Alpha. Omega… weird…
Certainly, the laundry situation has been one of the biggest adjustments we’ve (I’ve) had over here. I have taken to washing what I can by hand, to save time and get through loads more quickly (if that’s possible at 2 hours each load to wash in the machine.) So the hand-washing thing isn’t so bad – many garments even “require” it on their labels. But I find that the water here is frighteningly cold. Like it’s been shipped in from a glacier in Antarctica. It’s surprising to me too, because it is so hot outside (which helps dry the clothes on the line more quickly, thank goodness.) My cold water at home is lukewarm in the summer. Not cold.
Not like the water here. I’m surprised it doesn’t come out in cubes. But then, we *are* in Italy: land among many of no ice. No ice in the drinks. No bags of ice in the grocery store. It’s strange really, when you think about it. It’s not a difficult commodity. Most places have refrigeration now. Water* is a basic element. Maybe I’ll come back and open up a store that stays open all day, is open on Sunday, and sells ice. And good coffee.
In the meantime, I’ll be doing laundry. Lots. Of. Laundry. Because the clothes are Italian Dirty. And we don’t really need to be bringing that kind of souvenir home.
*Freaky thing happened when I was editing this sentence. I went to add the word “water” and through a serious of misplaced fingers, wound up with the letter Omega in it’s place. (I would insert the “Omega” here, but I have no idea how I got it on the screen in the first place.) Life. Water. Alpha. Omega… weird…
Ed and the elevator
There is a fascination held by most children with regard to elevators. We’ve been in all types of elevators here on our trip: tiny, miniscule ones; rickety ones; lavish ones and even stinky ones. The main attraction with all elevators, it seems, is the button pushing. Elevators are magical devices that with a push of a few buttons, you are transported to a completely different place (never mind that they save your legs the extra work of multiple flights of stairs.) For this reason, Edwin loves to take the elevator in our apartment building. It’s a small elevator, big enough for only 4 (maybe 3) people. But the problem with our elevator is that the button to our floor (#3) is too high for him to reach. Which translates into someone having to pick him up to push the button… which he asks to do. Every. Time. Julia commented today “If only he were a centimeter taller, he could reach it.” A centimeter. Not an inch (like a normal American 8 ½ year old would probably say) but a centimeter. So he’s a centimeter off – and unlikely to achieve the necessary height before we leave. But I’m positive he’s hoping that he will grow enough by Saturday to be able to reach the button.
Olympic Coverage
Watching the Olympics in Italy is a lovely experience. There is pretty much constant coverage on one of the (very few) Italian channels. Commercials are kept to a minimum and news and other local information is segregated into 10 minute periods at the top of the hour.
There are no warm and fuzzy “background vignettes” on any of the athletes. We don’t get to see the town where they grew up, the mayor presenting them with any town awards, or find out their favorite color. We don’t even know who their families are. We get to watch (prepare yourself for this shocker…) more than just USA teams and individuals compete. The focus is on all of the teams – or whoever is in the important heats or finals – and most all of the sports. There are sports we’ve seen in competition that I never knew were even in the Olympics (they could be newer additions to these particular Olympics, but I doubt it…)
While we do get to see quite a bit of Michael Phelps (what’s he in, like 87,000 races now?) these games are not the Michael Phelps show here. There is a broad range of athletes and games shown and far less camera hogging by annoying commentators. We’ll be sad to leave Italy for many reasons: their sports reporting is just one of them.
[Edited to add: Maybe I misspoke. The last few days, we’ve been treated to mostly Italian athletes, and while not watching their touching life stories, we are getting replay after replay of the Italian gold medal winner events. Maybe it’s because the Italians weren’t winning before…]
There are no warm and fuzzy “background vignettes” on any of the athletes. We don’t get to see the town where they grew up, the mayor presenting them with any town awards, or find out their favorite color. We don’t even know who their families are. We get to watch (prepare yourself for this shocker…) more than just USA teams and individuals compete. The focus is on all of the teams – or whoever is in the important heats or finals – and most all of the sports. There are sports we’ve seen in competition that I never knew were even in the Olympics (they could be newer additions to these particular Olympics, but I doubt it…)
While we do get to see quite a bit of Michael Phelps (what’s he in, like 87,000 races now?) these games are not the Michael Phelps show here. There is a broad range of athletes and games shown and far less camera hogging by annoying commentators. We’ll be sad to leave Italy for many reasons: their sports reporting is just one of them.
[Edited to add: Maybe I misspoke. The last few days, we’ve been treated to mostly Italian athletes, and while not watching their touching life stories, we are getting replay after replay of the Italian gold medal winner events. Maybe it’s because the Italians weren’t winning before…]
School shopping in Italia
I took Julia out today for a little shopping on one of the main streets of Rieti. We were looking for some hair bands that she could take back with her to share with her friends at home. After finding them, we ventured into a few shops (the few that weren’t closed for vacation or “ferie”) because the 50%-70% off discount signs are too hard to resist. We found a few things for me, but nothing much in the way of kids clothes for Julia. On the walk home (via Paldo’s for a slice of pizza to share) I reasoned that we had done some shopping for her before we came. These clothes haven’t been worn to school yet as they were “saved for the trip” and she would have “new”er outfits that no one at home had seen yet.
To which she replied, “Yes, mom, but they wouldn’t be Italian.”
Hard to argue with that logic.
To which she replied, “Yes, mom, but they wouldn’t be Italian.”
Hard to argue with that logic.
Vienna
Brian had to be up and out early to the meeting(s) that brought us to Vienna. Originally, we were going to go straight home from Salzburg, but when the meeting in Vienna came up, we changed our plans and drove the few extra hours so Brian didn’t need to fly off to Austria right after coming back from vacation. We got 2 rooms, and because Brian needed to pay for the first one when he left, the maids decided to get an early start on the cleaning thereby waking me up. (That German punctuality…) So I (fairly quickly) got ready and hauled all our stuff to the kids’ room. Julia and Edwin were up – Colin and Aidan not so much. So the younger two were treated to breakfast out while the older two slugs stayed in bed. We found a nice café for breakfast and I got to have (sadly my only of the trip) Weiner Melange – a fantastic drink that rivals my friend the cappuccino in tastiness.
After a long walk to find some croissants for the brothers’ breakfast, I took the pleading younger 3 kids down to the pool for a quick swim. Back up to the room for showers and packing. Aidan bathed Edwin for me – mistake #1. Then Edwin got out of the tub (swan-dived more likely) - mistake #2. The result of these mistakes was another (very large) hole in Edwin’s lip. Which bled. Profusely. I was more than a little pissed off – thinking back to the first hole in the lip experience of having to spoon feed Edwin yogurt for days on end. After picking up some ice from the hotel machine and stealing a washcloth (that I offered at the desk to pay for, so technically, it wasn’t really stealing then was it?) we set off for an hour’s worth of sightseeing in the city center. We found St. Stephen’s church, and I sent the older 3 kids up the 343 spiral staircase stairs on their own while Ed and I enjoyed the shade (and washcloth full of ice) down below. We had a quick lunch – our last German meal… sadly – and then Brian picked us up at the hotel. Off to home we went and arrived 12 long, ugly hours later at 2:15 AM (Since, of course, Brian had *more* meetings back in Rieti on Tuesday morning, getting a hotel and breaking the drive up was not an option.)
Home felt good. Feels good. I’m so glad we decided to be back in Italy for a week before heading back to Santa Clarita.
So ended the EuroTour of 08. It was definitely an adventure.
The Hills *Are* Alive
Sunday morning. We wake up to another lovely breakfast at our host hotel and then the kids go off to their room to finish the end of the movie. I had told them the story that when I was a kid, The Sound of Music was on TV maybe once a year, and it was always a treat to see it. However, unlike my children who think 9:00 PM is an acceptable time (now) to start dinner, I always had to go to bed by 9:00 – ensuring missing the ending of the movie *every time.* Never got to see them escape – never knew that they had to escape. It always ended with the commercial break right after the wedding (as she marched down the aisle to “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria.” Does anyone else find that a bit of a strange song choice??”) But I had the soundtrack (record version of course, which none of my kids quite comprehend. Ed can’t even tell you what a videocassette is) that Hilary and I listened to quite frequently. Along with Grease and Bugsy Malone. So started my love of The Sound of Music. It was – and will continue to be always – a special event.
So we cleaned up the car, packed up the stuff and headed into Salzburg again – crossing the German/Austrian border for the umpteenth time in 2 days. We were early for our 2:30 tour, and Brian had some computer work to do. We found parking near the Mirabell gardens and headed up to find a place for the kids to play while Brian did work on his presentation and my blogwork. My ovarian “child-magnet” sense of direction prevailed and I found us just the spot. Shaded benches for computer work, and a “WICKED! – says Ed – playground. It wasn’t until after our tour that we learned that we were in the Mirabell palace gardens. Pretty cool.
We grabbed a quick hot dog and pretzel lunch – outside the bus stop for the bus “Sound of Music” tour – the one for wimpy tourists. The hearty tourists (us) went across the street and took the far more interesting bike “Sound of Music” tour. Since we had called the day before, the company arranged a special later tour for us, so we had the tour guide – lovely Finnish/English Miriam (not like the “awful” Aussie one)- all to ourselves. She got the bikes ready for us and after pulling one out for Edwin, I asked if there was much riding in town to be done. She replied yes, and it was then that we pulled Ed off his own bike and got him on the trail-along on Brian’s. – Edwin is not quite yet comfortable with the steering around people and braking thing. Neither is Colin, really, truth be told – and evidenced by the huge bruise on Brian’s calf from their collision.
Biked up and helmeted (well, the kids at least) we started off on the tour. We went over the bridge and through town. Up to the Abbey. Down the hill and over to the “lake” (where they all fall in during one scene of the movie) in front of the house and over to the gardens where the city of Salzburg has moved the “16 going on 17” gazebo to. Originally, the gazebo was built next to a private residence (now and maybe then too a seminary.) It was moved many times due to the huge crowds of tourists seeking the gazebo for pictures and singing the song while jumping over the benches. The people of Salzburg, apparently didn’t appreciate all the fuss over movie. In fact, Miriam pointed out that you’d be hard pressed to find someone from Salzburg (or Austria for that matter) who has actually seen the movie. It’s just non-issue to all those Austrians not currently employed by the Sound of Music tour industry.
The ride lasted about 3 hours with lots of stops and breaks in between. Every so often, Miriam would stop and point out some place in the movie and ask if the kids recognized it. At one point, during a longer stretch of riding, she handed out MP3 players with neck straps with the soundtrack cued up. We could listen to the music while riding down the streets of Salzburg, through the meadows and by the river, all with the Alps in view. FANTASTIC! A huge high point for me in the trip. Probably – not just one of – “my favorite thing” we’d done on the EuroTour. It was too cool. When we got to the garden with the gazebo (locked up now after one too many bones had been broken re-enacting the dance) we had a short break. Brian took the kids to the play area with the “cool zip-line” while Miriam and I took off to the café for a coffee (and ice-cream, but don’t tell the kids.) It was great having a conversation in English and we swapped stories for a bit. Then it was back to the bikes and the rest of the ride. It was a pretty straight shot back the rental spot that followed along the river. In total, we biked about 15 km (10 miles) so it was a great experience all in all. Bike ride. Sound of Music soundtrack. Movie trivia. All the makings of a fun afternoon.
We headed back to the car and made the 2 ½ trip to Vienna. We checked in to the ritzy Marriott where Brian always stays and then headed out for dinner. We got lucky (as it was Sunday and most things are closed) and ate in one of the restaurants Brian and I had found during our trip there in February. It was part self-service buffet, and the other part table service. We ordered a variety of foods and finished off with apple strudel. Delicious – as was the whole day.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Working in a Salt mine
Salzburg. Or close enough near it. We woke up in the family run (Expedia found) hotel to a very warm reception by the owners at breakfast where we were served coffee and hot chocolate by the wife. The rest of breakfast was buffet-style, but she served the hot beverages in lovely little tea and coffee pots. We sat at our table and enjoyed yogurt, hard-boiled eggs (Ed's FAVORITE: "with salt and pepper please, mommy." - which needed to be applied after every bite) lovely bread and cheese and of course a variety of cured ham slices. Which begs the question, what do all the Muslims eat on vacation in Europe?- or those keeping Kosher for that matter? Because (happily for me!) there is a plethora of pork products to be found at each and every meal, especially in Germany. No latkes here though like the ones we had the day before which, "aren't as good as Noli's," said Edwin and Aidan.
[NB. I am sitting in the internet cafe typing this entry. For the last 20 minutes, they have had one song on a loop playing over and over. It's some British folksy thing - perhaps brought back from the owners' recent vacation to Scotland. It's a nice sounding thing. The first 3 times or so. Now - not so much. A few of you will get the irony of my appreciation of this over-play. For those who don't: I have the "gift" of being able to listen to a song 100 times without learning the words. I tend to hone in on melodies and rhythem more than the lyrics. True to form, after hearing it so many times, I can only tell you one of the lines: "And it seems like... a room filled... with love." But she repeats it about 15 times during the song and now the song is -literally- on it's tenth go around.]
I had a chat with the owner when she asked what we were going to do for the day. She spoke amazing English - which wasn't too surprising given that English is THE international language. (And it feels like a room filled with love...) Examples of the internationality:
The postal worker in the Eiffel Tower post office speaking to the Italian tourist – both using English. The German hotel front desk worker speaking to the Middle Eastern tourist –both using English.
So the owner suggested that we could do the Saltmine as it was inside the mountain, and didn’t matter if it was raining. She also mentioned that The Sound of Music tour (another reason for going to Salzburg) was 4 hours long. I took this information back to the room where Edwin was “planning” the day with Brian. Edwin really wanted to have “his” day – but wasn’t really all that interested in the planning part – except when it came to planning ice cream breaks. This he *was* ready to do. We found the information we needed, powered up the (awful) GPS again and made our way across the Deutchland/Osterreich border and found one of three nearby saltmines.
We bought our ticket, and since we had to wait a bit for our tour number to be called, made our way over to the “Celtic Village” set into the hillside above the entrance. The Celtic tribes were the first people to mine the salt in this region. There were huts set up (sort of like the Native American village set-up in Jamestown, VA) to show visitors what life was like there 2000 years ago. There were people dressed up like the Celts to further enhance the experience and also to offer a craft making booth, and a snack stand complete with roasted sausages and beer (things that I’m not so sure were around 2000 years ago… but what do I know) Also in the village was a playground – mostly for Edwin’s size but that didn’t stop the bigger kids from killing time by getting dizzy on the spinning wheel. So in the on-again, off-again rain, the playground was fairly muddy. Aidan and Edwin were a mess by the time we started on the Saltmine tour.
With our tour number called, we made our way down to the changing area. 2 very efficient German/Austrian women were in charge of handing out protective overcoats and pants to the tourists. It’s at this point that I will point out the number of (unknown countries of origin) Muslim tourists. I’m guessing Middle Eastern, but I couldn’t really say. The women are beautiful and exotic looking with their traditional dress and headwear. The men? Look like typical tourists. And there are so many. Maybe their countries take the month of August off too, because I don’t remember seeing so many Muslim tourists before on my (3) trips to Europe. Or perhaps with the Euro being so high these days, there weren’t the numerous American tourists to overwhelm the tourist sights. Whatever the reason, it led to an interesting exchange at the changing area. Some pantomiming was involved. A gentleman was trying to ask how the women in his party (fully clad in skin covering black gowns and headscarves) were supposed to put on the required overcoats and pants. The German woman seemed to have *very little* patience for this dilemma – but mimed how they were to pull up the skirts/dresses and shove them into the pants. The women disappeared into the changing rooms (everyone else was putting clothes on out in the open) and came out a while later with the pants and coats on. [Yep, this is the kind of thing that interests me, so you get treated to it too… can’t you just hear the Disneyland dolls singing,”it’s a small world after all”?]
Off and down into the mine. We got on a little train that pulled us (quickly) into the mountain to start the tour. We were warned not to stand up unless we wanted a new haircut. We had maybe 50 people on our tour – a mixture of German, Italian and English speakers. Thankfully, our guide spoke all three (and I suspect more) languages. We were filled in on the history of the saltmine, which was mined up until 1989. We learned a lot about salt and the different mining techniques. But definitely the highlight of the tour was the 2 very long slides that we got to ride down. Brian and I thought that more of the tour would be slides, but it wasn’t. We had to make do with the two. On the second one though, you could go down twice if you were willing to run up the stairs to the top again. Which everyone did but me. There was a lot of walking involved and 4 short movies along the way. The movies explained part of the history of the saltmines and the wealth they provided for the various rulers over the years. Many of the famous buildings and palaces of Salzburg (even the city is named for the salt) were constructed using the profits that came from the mines.
The tour turned out to be a great hit with the kids. They really enjoyed sliding down the salt mines. After we came out, we were all starving so we hiked up the STEEP hill to a small village above the mine and found a restaurant for lunch. More sausages and potatoes – but also the very good Frittatensuppe, or “pancake soup:” broth with sliced up crepes in it. A HUGE hit with Edwin and all the kids alike. After having lunch, we made our way into the city of Salzburg to try and obtain a copy of The Sound of Music – since we had planned to do the bike tour the next day. After walking for quite a bit around very crowded streets, we finally found a copy at a gift shop. It was astronomically expensive. Only slightly less than my hospital bill was when Colin was born. But tired feet and whiny kids will make you do crazy things like pay too much for a DVD. We headed back to the hotel [meandering through small village towns: one complete with statue/fountain of the Virgin Mary with – and I have pictures that I made Brian pull the car over to get to *prove* it – water shooting out of her nipples. No, I am not even kidding] to watch the DVD – which, of course, the kids vehemently protested doing. (yeah, don’t get me started on this subject) They got their wish (for a while) as the over-priced DVD proved incompatible with both my computer and the portable DVD player we had brought with us. Brian figured out how to get it to play on his computer (hooray!) but by this time it was time for dinner. So we headed back into the small village to find dinner.
We found a relatively quiet place for dinner – and by this point we had seen enough menus in German (with English translations) that this German-only menu didn’t prove too difficult for us. We sort of knew what we liked by this point, and none of us was disappointed with our dinners. The 3 younger kids got to order off the “Kinder menu” and Colin ordered a ginormous plate of food: which the waitress (dressed again in traditional Bavarian garb) at first balked at, then took a look at him, and then approved the choice. More pancake soup and some other great food was ordered and eaten. As well as some great German beer – for the grownups. The kids by this point were used to only drinking water with their meals out, as soda and juice remained crazily high-priced throughout all of Europe.
While walking through Salzburg a few hours earlier, I noticed the large amounts of Austrians dressed in traditional (if subdued) Austrian clothing. It was about 6:00 at night and many couples looked like they were ready to go out either to eat or to the theater/opera/symphony. I was surprised how many (obviously non- tourist industry) people still wore some form of traditional dress. So I was not very surprised to see a gentleman walk into our restaurant in full Austrian- lederhosen garb. Hat, suspenders, short pants and all - the whole nine yards. Edwin, on the other hand, was completely surprised and expressed it (in the now quiet room) by using his best Irish whisper (read: yelling)
“HOLY SCHNIKEYS! Look at THAT guy!”
Which cracked everyone at our table right up. Especially Brian, who was not able to even try and keep a straight face. He recovered pretty quickly and asked Colin to take Ed outside to run around, since Edwin was done with dinner. Dinner was pretty much done for all of us at that point, so we, as graciously as possible, made our way out of the restaurant and back to the hotel to watch “The Sound of Music.” Which the kids liked.
High on a hill was a lonely castle
After a very long night of driving, some of it rather precarious in the rain too, we all slept in a bit in the very family friendly Novotel hotel rooms. We were back to a double (with a king) and a quad again, so the kids got their own room while we slept with the fan – which we schlepped from France - since the A/C wasn’t working. This made hotel number 4 or 5 with A/C that didn’t work. So we had a rather late start to the morning due to the late night arrival in Freiburg. We headed down to a HUGE breakfast spread (kids free) which we filled up on.
Switching from language to language is a bit discombobulating. We all got very used to hearing Italian, then had to pull out our meager French (which most people, by the way, did *not* appreciate) and then switched to German. The kids can count to six (more in Italian), and say: hello, goodbye, thank you, please, your welcome and “check, please” in 4 languages. They also know the proper greetings in the various languages and at what time of the day to use them. *My* personal favorite is the Austrian “Gruss got” (don’t know about the spelling, but that’s how it’s pronounced) which translates into “Good God” and differentiates them from the Germans (who don’t say it.)
After breakfast, the kids did some swimming with Brian at the hotel pool while I checked some email and putzed around the room, happy not to rush out and get to another tourist sight. It was getting a bit close to the check-out time, which I was more worried about than Brian. “Relax” he tells me. So I climb into the shower to get ready when there is a knock on the door. I climb out and peek around the room door to answer it and it’s the mini-bar guy checking on our refreshment status. He apologizes but it’s clear that he wants to do his job right then. Ten minutes later (shower still isn’t done) there is another knock at the door. It’s the A/C technicians here to fix the A/C. Because it’s 12:02 and check-out is at 12:00 and we are in Germany – home of efficiency and punctuality. We had forgotten this, as we’d spent the last 7 weeks in not-so-punctual Italy and France. So we scrambled out before someone *else* came knocking on the door. And my hair was only partly dried straight. It was a cloudy, rainy, cold day (“Ah, perfect weather, “ says Brian) and by the end of the day, my hair resembled Monica Gellar’s hair on her trip to Jamaica. It drew many (not so nice) comments from the family. Edwin says it’s “frizzante” which, in Italian, means carbonated.
Off to the car we went for our (LONG!!!!!) ride through southern Germany through the Black Forest to our destination of Fussen and the castle on the hill that Walt Disney used as his inspiration. Please don’t make me look up the name. It has 27 letters in it and is unpronounceable (German, don’t you know…) Let’s just call it the pretty castle on the hill. A word about driving through southern Germany: there is not Autostrade (major highway.) No toll road. No major thoroughfare. So it can take a while. Especially when every town seems to be hosting their local “festival” and every other tourist in the region is either in the car in front of you or on a bike riding next to you on the road.
That all being said, we arrived (in the rain) at the castle ticket office 20 minutes too late. We missed the last tour. We settled for eating dinner in a restaurant in (had the sun been out) the shadow of the castle. It was here that the kids started loving German cuisine. It is most definitely kid friendly. Sausages, potatoes, meat… the boys were *happy* campers. Julia and Ed ordered spaghetti Bolognese. Of course. We caught only a few minutes of the opening ceremonies of the Olympics before the wait staff turned off the TV in the back room where we were eating. The wait staff, by the way, was in typical Bavarian garb.
We hopped back in the car (me driving this time) to get to the German/Austrian border for our next hotel – a family run place. We arrived in the pouring rain (Brian driving now, since we *had* to switch on the side of the road… but I won’t treat you to *that* discussion…) and found our lovely rooms (no AC again but we had the fan!) The kids had a small apartment for their room, and Brian and I were in the main building. This trip has stretched my comfort level at sleeping away from my children. They are getting quite used to it, and I think that they have done very well being on their own – but never too far from Mom and Dad. Julia and Edwin had hit their limit sleeping with “the brothers” by now, since apparently, they saved their rough-housing for when they were out of earshot of the parents.
It was a long day in the car. But we made it across Germany with only some minor issues. If the kids *really need* to see the castle, I’ll take them back to Disneyland. Or maybe even Disneyworld.
Monday, August 11, 2008
Dem bones...
Thursday was our final day in the city of lights. It was Aidan’s day to plan and he mastered the art of the metro quite well. On the Paris metro, you need to know not just which line number and color you need, but also which direction to go toward. As most of our metro trips involved several changes, there was much to navigate. He got us to the catacombs with (relative) ease.
The catacomb entrance had a line (naturally) so we settled in using hand-held Yahtzee and the Herald Tribune to entertain ourselves. Naturally, there were stairs involved to get to the catacombs. (“If there was a stair, ‘yo, we climbed it…”) We were happy that the tunnels were lit up: a hundred years ago you had to hold candles to light the way. Yuck. The catacombs were very cool (literally) and a big hit with the kids. Once you got used to the piles of bones, they became less creepy. We did our best to model good tourist behavior – sadly, our fellow Americans in the catacombs were not so inclined. Loud and obnoxious they were…
After the tour and more stairs up to street level, we wandered across the street (and out of the rain) to a café for lunch – where we had a bit more luck with the menu and ordering. We happened to sit next to a lovely American family from Riverside, CA who we started chatting with part way through the meals. We had some things in common (AYSO, school issues, former jobs for Navy contractors) and since they had been in Paris for almost 3 weeks, they gave us some helpful hints on our ice-cream search near Notre Dame cathedral. So we exchanged business cards and parted ways. {Which reminds me… do you really need to be in business to carry business cards? I think I might have some made up for myself. Kind of a retro throw-back to the calling card days. They would be ever so helpful in just these kind of situations. I’m sure mine would have some kind of coffee cup motif. I’ll look into it…)
So off back again to Notre Dame (a bit of a full circle to the trip: beginnings and endings as it were) We were sidetracked by a summer storm and ducked into a souvenir shop to do the obvious shopping with the added benefit of escaping the rain. Edwin sat dutifully on the front step, watching over the umbrellas and just taking a rest. The shop-owners, noticing his extreme cuteness and feeling very sorry that he was sitting by his lonesome, kept trying to usher him further in the store. He replied that he was fine sitting out of the rain, literally under the rack of T-shirts. This garnered much sympathy from the male owner who would every so often give Ed a small toy from the multiple bins of toys on display. Edwin racked up quite a haul while we shopped for T-shirts. He walked away with what looked like half the store in his little hands.
We found the famous Berthillion ice cream, and ate it under awnings out of the rain. Luckily, the rain drove away most of the tourists briefly, so we didn’t have to wait in line. We hiked back to the carpark and made our way S.L.O.W.L.Y. out of Paris. We arrived in Frieburg after midnight and checked into a lovely large Novotel hotel.
It's Wednesday, we must be in Paris
”It’s Wednesday, [you’re American] so you must be in Paris” commented the Irish family waiting with us in Cinque Terre train station. She was referring to the penchant of Americans (although judging by the many other nationalities we’ve seen, I suspect it’s the penchant of others outside the grand ole U-S-of A) to do whirlwind tours of Europe with a different city a day. And I suppose, by our itinerary, she’s somewhat correct in describing our trip. Nevertheless, it was Wednesday and we were, indeed, in Paris.
Colin’s day of planning started out with a slight rearrangement of schedules: he had us going to the Eiffel Tower in the afternoon. I played the mom card (because who are we kidding when it comes to who’s really in charge) and “helpfully” declared that we would do the Eiffel Tower while we were all (relatively) fresh and not hot and tired yet. It proved to be a wise decision (no comment needed here…) as the crowds continued to grow later in the day.
We found one of the shorter lines to queue up in and happily discovered that it was the line to walk up. This excited the kids because they had been looking forward to climbing the Eiffel Tower ever since they heard we were going to Europe. Off we started, with few complaints and with relative ease – all of that precious bell tower/stair climbing and all… It was commented on again that people at home pay good money to climb stairs that go nowhere at the gym and we were getting the benefit of climbing (possibly) the world’s and most certainly Europe’s most famous structure in addition to the great workout. It was a beautiful and clear day too; a little on the warm side which came in to play later. Reaching the first level didn’t take long and we meandered around admiring the view. The most excitement was felt on looking for and finding the ferris wheel that the kids rode the day before. Up another level – this was a bit scarier climb for mom and for Edwin, but both soldiered on. The second level up had even better views. It was at this point that we decided to purchase extra tickets to take the elevator all the way to the top. The only person not wanting to go was Colin – because he thought it would take too long and eat into his careful schedule (the one that included internet time back at the hotel.) He was convinced to come up with us, given the argument that whether he came or not, *we* were still going, so he’d have to wait anyway.
And this is the point of the day that the heat of an August afternoon in Paris came into play. When in line for and riding on the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower, personal space is not really a priority. So you are treated to a rather pungent experience. It’s almost like being in a small classroom with 35 6th graders on an April day after the lunch recess. And I’d like to point out now that while very beautiful and refined a city Paris is, it doesn’t smell all that fantastic. Most of the time it smells like you are walking through an ashtray as the majority of smoking is done on the sidewalks outside of the buildings. And when I say majority, I mean majority – as I would probably be hard pressed to find one Parisian who doesn’t smoke. Then there are the general city smells common to all major cities that when warmed up by the summer sun, don’t lend to themselves toward the appealing. On the other hand, visually speaking, Paris is stunning. A grand dame of a city not crumbling away like Roma seems to be. Wide(er) streets than other cities; beautiful buildings and landscapes; gardens throughout. Yep, she is mighty purdy.
So on top of old Eiffel we all stood for awhile, admiring the views and then waiting (again) in line for the treat of a ride down. Back on level 2, Aidan and Julia asked to walk down to the bottom to try and beat the elevator. Upon hearing the “yes” they immediately took off with Brian in close pursuit. Aidan was a bit more overzealous than his sister and quickly got ahead of her on the stairs down, thereby leaving Julia scared and by herself on most of the trip down. Colin, Edwin and I arrived at the bottom slightly ahead of the other 3 and walked over to meet them, only to find Brian shaking his head, Julia in tears and Aidan in a time out. Yep, sounds about right for a Danahy family outing.
Off we went to find something to eat using the guidebook. And it’s at this point in the trip (well, one of many I confess) that I’m ready to pitch the guide book out the window and curse Rick Steves’ name. He has some great tips, but they don’t include eating out with children. His ideas of good/reasonably priced don’t really fly with the 5 and 8 year old set. We found ourselves in a Paris café trying to convince the kids that they really would like what we ordered for them. Yeah, not so much… French food is not for children. Unless you are eating crepes or croissants with chocolate filling.
The next item up on Colin’s list was the War Museum and Napoleon’s Tomb. He had planned the day out so we didn’t need much metro use – most everything was in walking distance of each other. The museum was *very* interesting: lots of armor (even Edwin sized!) weapons, and elaborate displays of French military activity is the last several centuries. We were able to get through the (HUGE) building at a good pace – only because we didn’t have Papa Paul with us – and Ed took a lovely little nap on my lap in the WWII exhibit. When it was time to move on, he faked being still asleep to insure that I would carry him (he even caught the eye of a museum guard who was in on the tricking of mommy.) Thanks only to Julia who a little later clued me in, Ed was quickly put down by a tired mommy. The kids (and same tired mommy) were plied with sweets at the cafeteria: theirs in the form of Coke flavored popsicles, mine in the form of a cappuccino. Colin and Brian hiked the final distance to see Napoleon’s Tomb while the rest of us contented ourselves with the large poster of it on the cafeteria wall.
This was the point in the day when we were all scheduled to go back to the hotel for Colin’s internet use. The little kids were tired (as were all of us really) but I persuaded Aidan to stay out with me and take in at least ONE art museum in Paris. He suggested the Louvre. I suggested the Rodin gardens around the corner. Less walking (and the late hour in the day) won out. We snuck in (fee-free due to the lateness) to the gardens but missed the museum (former home to Rodin and other artists.) No matter really as some of the most famous works are located in the garden. Aidan got to see “The Thinker,” “The Gates of Hell,” (FASCINATING) and the __________ of Calais” (can’t remember the name.) I’m glad that Aidan got to see some of this art – and he seemed to really enjoy it. We were due back at the hotel to meet up for dinner so I did some fancy talking (read: bossy talking) and convinced Aidan to try out the bus system with me. I was pretty tired of seeing Paris only by underground. As I kept reassuring Aidan, how lost could we really get? “We get on a bus, we go a little ways. If we need to, we can stop and find a metro or taxi. C’mon it’s an ADVENTURE!” We did, in fact, find our way home by bus – we were quite proud actually. It was crowded, a bit on the stinky side, but WAY more scenic than the metro. We even found a fountain dedicated to St. Michael while waiting for a bus transfer.
Dinner was back in the Republique neighborhood at a Subway’s. Again – Colin’s choice. It was fine by everyone else too (except, maybe, for Brian who hit his lifetime sandwich quota back in 1987.)
Then off to see the sun set atop the Arc de Triumphe More stairs. A great view. But a little on the quiet side – which our crew quickly changed. Especially when we lost Colin somewhere on the way up. Brian went down to find him and then called me (a big no-no the kids reminded me as they loudly pointed out the “no cell phone” signs posted) and we went down to join them.
The last stop of the night was a short walk down the Champs-Elysees so Julia could purchase a purse and some perfume. She had to put up with stinky sewer tours and lots of other stinky boy stuff - so she was entitled to some girly stuff.
So with her purchases and with our tired it was back to the hotel to rest for the night.
Art and The Other Notre Dame
Day one in Paris began with a surprisingly large (ish) breakfast in the hotel. There was a bit more than just the roll and hot coffee than I was expecting. Cheese, ham, cereal, variety of breads and yogurt – with coffee machine and orange juicer that of course had to be tried by Aidan. I’m sure I could write tomes on the subject of food in Europe, but I’ll limit myself to a few thoughts on what countries do best. The French do bread the best. Hands down. The croissants and baguettes in France compare to no others. The coffee? Not so great.
We decided to let each of the older 3 kids pick one day in Paris and plan the whole day for the family. Colin took the planning part very seriously down to times, schedules, metro stops and a chunk of time set aside for him to go to the internet café “while everyone else went back and stayed in the hotel.”
Julia’s day was Tuesday. She didn’t do much planning until the night before, and even then it was a bit sketchy. She got stuck with planning the things that Colin’s list didn’t get to. So off we went to “The Other Notre Dame” bright and early (ish) Tuesday AM. After figuring out how to buy tickets for the Metro and finding the right lines (a bit more tricky in Paris as they have a few more lines than Roma’s *3*) we made our way to Ile de la Cite. The day was lovely: a cooler change for us than most over here. We were met with lines to get in, but they moved very quickly – too quickly, in fact, to listen to the whole narrative about the front of the building provided by the guide book. Once inside, we noticed the difference between it and St. Peter’s in Rome: it’s darker and they don’t enforce the silence. We walked around – well, some of us did. Ed preferred to play hopscotch on the marble tiles. The side chapels looked a little like a basement or attic to me: places you put all the extra furniture and art that doesn’t quite fit in to the rest of the house. There were some small scale models at the back of the sanctuary that the kids enjoyed – but mostly, it’s just another church. Upon exiting the cathedral, we looked for the line to hike up the towers but found it to be way too long for antsy kids. And the number of tourists in the square in front of Notre Dame had doubled since we entered. There are way more tourists in Paris than we found in Roma: on the scale of Disneyland on a summer’s day. Paris was *packed.* So we missed going to the top of Notre Dame and seeing the gargoyles. They turned out to be the only stairs we did miss.
Julia’s next stop was Montmartre. She wanted to sit for a charcoal portrait and pay for it with her own money. We hiked (more stairs) our way up to the top of the hill (so named originally for the pagan “Mount of Mars” and then historically/politically/christianically spun to mean “Mount of Martyrs”) and after a pass by the Sacre Coure, found the wandering sketch artists accosting all means of tourists. It was now about 25 minutes after Ed declared that he had to go to the bathroom “right now,” so Brian found a bathroom in a pub/café for him- thereby necessitating a purchase at said pub/café. It was the most expensive potty break we have had so far. While all the boys sat and enjoyed their shared sodas, Julia went in search of a sketch artist. We found one and she sat (very prettily) for about 15 or 20 minutes while he sketched her in color charcoals (can charcoal be colored? Maybe it was pastels…) At one point it started to rain, so they quickly ran for cover so he could finish her picture – all done in the shade of the Sacre Coure. She was pleased with the result. We needed to buy a tube to put the portrait in – and of course there was a guy wandering around selling the tubes – what a corner on the market *that* guy has.
We walked a little farther on to where the “real” artists have little stands set up around a square surrounding café’s. After strolling through and looking at the portraits being sketched (very touristy, we know) Brian hinted that he would like to get one done of the two of us. A little background on this: over 10 years ago, Brian was in Paris on business and had a sketch done of himself and me (from a picture of me from our wedding.) It took a long time for the artist to do, but came out really well. That picture now graces the lost and found (probably trash) of some train station as it was mistakenly left on a train. A few years later, another portrait was done (using a different picture) and a different artist on a different trip to Paris by Brian. It was not as good as the first Brian says. So on THIS trip, he had his chance to rectify the situation by having both of us sit for a portrait. But what to do with the kids while we sat? Answer: Hot dogs and soda. We directed them to a café, got them a table for 4, and let them order and pay for themselves while we went and found an artist. We could keep an eye on them while we looked, as everything was in that small square. Brian found the woman he wanted, but as she was (arguably) the best, there was a line of people waiting for her. As our time was limited – even with French service, lunch only takes so long and then what to do with the kids? – we (I) chose someone else: a Frenchman who was very kind and kept telling me that it looked beautiful... not bad to listen to for half an hour of uncomfortable posing. He ended up sketching us one at a time, so we were able to switch off with the kids who finished their hot dogs lickity split as Junie B. would say.
Portrait done – I was pleased, Brian not as much – we continued walking around Montmarte a bit then down more stairs to check out the odiferous wonder “Sewer Tour.” Julia did not pick this, but we didn’t have another chance to do it, so she got stuck with it. It’s actually a pretty cool place, but there are parts that aren’t pleasant to smell. The coolest part of the tour (other than standing on grates over rushing drainage water and then actually using the bathroom *in* the Paris sewers) was watching the short video (in English) about different aspects of sewer history and maintenance. I would not want to live in Paris before about 1850; talk about your disgusting smells! Also we learned (because there were buttons involved on the video display, and it’s hard to keep a young boy away from pushing buttons…) that there is a special team of workers who are on call to retrieve lost items dropped down sewer drains and manholes. 911 sewer detail! FYI, they make about 3000 retrievals a year.
Off to the Tuileres Garden next to ride the Ferris Wheel. Sadly, we miscalculated the metro (this was actually an RER train line we were on) stop and had to walk quite a bit farther than tired legs wanted to go. We found the ginormous Ferris Wheel and Brian took the younger 3 kids up and around. Those of us who are tall height enjoyment challenged enjoyed cool beverages below in the shade. I actually stole away for a few quiet minutes to a café in the middle of the gardens for an over-priced (not as good as in Italy) cappuccino. (Side note: I have tried to get an answer from some Italians regarding the “you can’t drink a cappuccino in the afternoon” rule. The Jury is still out on the protocol of this. It could be that I keep asking the barristas and café owners who probably don’t care *what* I order, as long as I order something…) So I stick to my cappuccinos because they are tasty AND pretty.
After the Ferrris Wheel, the very tired kids suddenly got bursts of energy which they demonstrated by having races through the gardens. They had to race between the games of ball (bocci? boule?) being played all around them. We used the Louvre metro stop to get back to the hotel and this was the closest we got to the most famous museum in the world. We opted to have a relatively museum free trip to Paris. Since the kids did most of the planning, spending hours in art museums was not high on the list of priorities.
We went back to the hotel area because we had to pay for the car at the lot (safer than on the street, we figured, but silly since parking on the street is free in the month of August=when all of France and the rest of Europe are on vacation.) We found a kebab house around the Republique metro stop and had really yummy, fairly inexpensive large dinners in the diner. After we ate, we got back on the metro to head down to the Seine for the evening boat tour. The kids didn’t want to go, but this was the part of the trip that *I* wanted to do, so we found ourselves on a boat. We left at twilight (9:20) and got to watch the sun go down beyond the river and see Paris light up. The highlight (pun intended) was coming around the bend to see the Eiffel Tower sparkling in the dark. The city re-did the lighting of the Eiffel Tower for the millennium celebration, and it is truly spectacular. We all loved it. A sparkily (a word I used to try and describe the word “bling” to some Italians in the Cinque Terra) end to a long day.
Monday, August 4, 2008
It *is* easy being green
We had a lovely day today riding along the Voire Vert. We rode only a small portion of the 70+ km bike trail in the Burgandy region of France. After a quick breakfast at the local McDonald's (no egg mcmuffins over here people, only yogurt and regular muffins... and coffee with no cream) we found our way to one end of the Voire Vert (Green Way) and the bike rental place. The nice girl spoke no English, but with the help of the french-english dictionary we were able to rent 6 bikes, 4 helmets and 3 hours on the paved bike route through the wine country.
The big boys and Brian rode 27 km total while Edwin (on his very own bike!) Julia and I settled for 19 km. Not too shabby! The big boys and Brian went on and did this uphill climb to the longest "green" tunnel in the world (tunnel meant for walkers, roller bladers and bikers) at 1.5 km in length. The middle got down to a chilly 40 degrees. Though bats inhabit the tunnel, they didn't make an appearance to the boys. While they did this part of the ride, Julia and Edwin played at one of the playgrounds that dot the trail. Ed found more rocks (surprise!) and buried his legs in them.
It was a great morning spent - and worth the training that the kids and Brian do on their (almost) weekly bike rides to the mall at home.
For lunch we found a mall close by with a Walmart type store (nicer than the one in Italy, more expensive than the Walmart at home.) We found some shoes for Ed, as he has a tendency to wear his out quite quickly. Could be all that Fred Flintstone breaking he does on the bikes... We also found a fan for our stays in Germany and Austria, since we don't think that AC comes with the rooms. It's not like we had a lot of room to begin with in the car either. It just gets funnier and funnier a picture inside the car...
The trip to Paris was uneventful until we got right up to the city (where Aidan was first to spot the Eiffel tower.) Then insane, crazy traffic took hold of the city streets and motor ways. I have lived (and driven) in some of the most crowded cities in the world and I don't think I remember anything of this magnitude. It was awful. But eventually, we found the hotel which is fine. Not great, but no pit of despair and is blessedly air-conditioned (are you seeing a theme here?)
We had a long dinner tonight in the Republique (Hilary and Arden if you are reading, we are staying not far from that youth hostel we were in back in '91) We are split in 2 rooms of 3 people and Julia is with us tonight. "Mommy, are you going to be typing long - as late as last night?" Nope, I'm not. I'm off to bed too.
Paris awaits us in the morning.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Salad Welcome
We are north of Lyon, France in the Rhone River Valley region. I'm sure that means a lot more to some wine afficienados than it does to us. To us it means that the heat is abating and life is getting cooler. Yea! We spent the day travelling from Arles to Macon (I don't know how to get that thingy above the "a" in Macon. You'll just have to pretend it's there) through a short stop in Lyon. France (yes the whole country) takes vacation in August. We saw them all on the motorway. Thankfully, they were going the opposite direction - but their cars were just as packed as ours was (only theirs are smaller cars. But! we saw *2* American sized SUVs today on the road. Oh those crazy frenchies...)
We stopped in Lyon because we needed to eat and it's a pretty major city in France (third largest behind Marseilles and Paris.) Since we aren't getting to Normandie, I thought we could hit a few other WWII sights for Colin, since he has expressed interest in this era. Lyon is home to the Museum of French Resistance (just try to say that without the accent. It's impossible. Really.) and I also wanted to visit: must be all those viewings of the Val Kilmer classic "Top Secret." The kids were able to relate a bit, too, after we pointed out that the movie "Valient" covered the same thing.
We needed to eat, and of course, being Sunday, everything was closed. Except the movie theater. So we ate at the snack bar. Lucky for us, Lyon's movie theater serves quiche and fruit salad.
Off to the museum, and the kids were free (Hooray! I LOVE Lyon) so for 8 euro, we got 6 audioguides and about an hour's worth of info on the French resistance movement. It was all very interesting. Edwin enjoyed playing with the audioguide and listening to English. Aidan and Colin got the most out of the trip - Julia's tour was a bit abridged as I steered her away from some of the more intense internment camp details. There were life sized models of housed and basements where much of the movement took place and the whole exhibit was well lit and had both French and English information.
Back on the road we went after retrieving the car from it's spot in front of the museum that we didn't have to pay for because... the whole country is on vacation and parking metere don't require money for the month of August. The whole month. Because they are all on vacation. The land of taxes in surplus of 44 percent going to good use here...
On to Macon (see spelling note above) and check in to the hotel. I should say check out first, since I refuse to stay anywhere now without looking at the rooms first. And getting there during daylight is a must. The rooms are small, but have AC and are clean. The staff is truly French (read: rude) so after being refused dinner at the hotel restaurant because they were "full" we headed over to another restaurant around the corner. We are staying at an obvious rest stop off the highway as there are at least 5 hotel/motels within 2 blocks of each other (one being a Comfort Inn.) So we headed to the restaurant that caters to the traveller and it felt like an American place with a few exceptions: the biggest being the no english thing. The next was the "salad welcome." As soon as you sit down, they come up to your table and offer either a salad or plate of salami as a pre-first course snack. Kind of like the free bread deal in restaurants at home. It's a "welcome to the restaurant, here's a salad for you." On the menu it's even called the salade du bienvenue. And since the dressing was mayonnaise based (a horrible no-no in Italia) it was even a better welcome. On a curious note, marked on the bottle of Vittel mineral water was the sign of the French Resistance movement; Large V with the double cross inside it. We only noticed it because we had just seen it about 1000 times at the museum this afternoon. I have no idea what kind of significance it has to do with the water...maybe it's to free the world from the Coca Cola corporation or something. After the 3 course meal, (Brian had four; the first being a baked potato without the potato: some kind of cheese topped with onion, chives and creme fraiche) I took the 3 younger kids and walked them back to the hotel to burn off some energy. We ran into a large group of English people (from England) and had a lovely chat. They are headed south and can't wait to get somewhere warmer. We assured them that there is plenty of heat and sun waiting for them. We are headed north to Paris tomorrow and hoping for a break in the heat. We will be up early to see if we can rent bicycles for a short (I can only hope) journey on the Voire Vert before heading on to Paris. I am counting on some more salad welcomes along the way, because really, what kind of welcome would it be without some fresh greens drenched in dressing?
We stopped in Lyon because we needed to eat and it's a pretty major city in France (third largest behind Marseilles and Paris.) Since we aren't getting to Normandie, I thought we could hit a few other WWII sights for Colin, since he has expressed interest in this era. Lyon is home to the Museum of French Resistance (just try to say that without the accent. It's impossible. Really.) and I also wanted to visit: must be all those viewings of the Val Kilmer classic "Top Secret." The kids were able to relate a bit, too, after we pointed out that the movie "Valient" covered the same thing.
We needed to eat, and of course, being Sunday, everything was closed. Except the movie theater. So we ate at the snack bar. Lucky for us, Lyon's movie theater serves quiche and fruit salad.
Off to the museum, and the kids were free (Hooray! I LOVE Lyon) so for 8 euro, we got 6 audioguides and about an hour's worth of info on the French resistance movement. It was all very interesting. Edwin enjoyed playing with the audioguide and listening to English. Aidan and Colin got the most out of the trip - Julia's tour was a bit abridged as I steered her away from some of the more intense internment camp details. There were life sized models of housed and basements where much of the movement took place and the whole exhibit was well lit and had both French and English information.
Back on the road we went after retrieving the car from it's spot in front of the museum that we didn't have to pay for because... the whole country is on vacation and parking metere don't require money for the month of August. The whole month. Because they are all on vacation. The land of taxes in surplus of 44 percent going to good use here...
On to Macon (see spelling note above) and check in to the hotel. I should say check out first, since I refuse to stay anywhere now without looking at the rooms first. And getting there during daylight is a must. The rooms are small, but have AC and are clean. The staff is truly French (read: rude) so after being refused dinner at the hotel restaurant because they were "full" we headed over to another restaurant around the corner. We are staying at an obvious rest stop off the highway as there are at least 5 hotel/motels within 2 blocks of each other (one being a Comfort Inn.) So we headed to the restaurant that caters to the traveller and it felt like an American place with a few exceptions: the biggest being the no english thing. The next was the "salad welcome." As soon as you sit down, they come up to your table and offer either a salad or plate of salami as a pre-first course snack. Kind of like the free bread deal in restaurants at home. It's a "welcome to the restaurant, here's a salad for you." On the menu it's even called the salade du bienvenue. And since the dressing was mayonnaise based (a horrible no-no in Italia) it was even a better welcome. On a curious note, marked on the bottle of Vittel mineral water was the sign of the French Resistance movement; Large V with the double cross inside it. We only noticed it because we had just seen it about 1000 times at the museum this afternoon. I have no idea what kind of significance it has to do with the water...maybe it's to free the world from the Coca Cola corporation or something. After the 3 course meal, (Brian had four; the first being a baked potato without the potato: some kind of cheese topped with onion, chives and creme fraiche) I took the 3 younger kids and walked them back to the hotel to burn off some energy. We ran into a large group of English people (from England) and had a lovely chat. They are headed south and can't wait to get somewhere warmer. We assured them that there is plenty of heat and sun waiting for them. We are headed north to Paris tomorrow and hoping for a break in the heat. We will be up early to see if we can rent bicycles for a short (I can only hope) journey on the Voire Vert before heading on to Paris. I am counting on some more salad welcomes along the way, because really, what kind of welcome would it be without some fresh greens drenched in dressing?
Happy Endings in Provence
I am in a better place now. Both emotionally and physically. The experience at the "pit of dispair" threw me for a loop for a while, but we are all back on track.
Provence helped. Doing normal vacation things helped even more.
Spending the morning in Marseilles entailed first getting out of the hotel and then was followed up by closely watching our personal belongings (including but not limiteed to the small children) while we strolled through Marseilles harbor. Saturday morning fish market was in full swing - which left Aidan pinching his nose throughout the stroll and the other kids oohing and aahing over the various dead sea creatures. The swordfish heads were exceptionally remarkable - even Brian and I were impressed. We walked around the harbor down to the fort looking for the purported WWII monument. There was a museum, but dedicated to the deportation to the prison camps. The older boys and I stayed for a bit, but everything was in French.
Part of the reason for our Marseilles trip was to pay a bit of homage to my family history - my grandparents met in Marseilles 63 years ago while being transferred from one war theater to another. I'm certain that while some of the city looks the same, parts have definitly seen a change in these last years. We found ourselves at another playground on the water and enjoyed a small breeze off the water. Enjoying playgrounds has been one of the few contants of the trip to date. Every town and city has one (or more) and slides just never lose their appeal to a 5 and 8 year old. Teeter totters don't either, but we're staying off those for the duration.
Many cultures collide (and according to the tourbooks, not always peacefully) in this part of France. Traditional northern African dress was just as prevalent as nerdy American tourist garb.
Brian was pleased at the variety of food offered at the restaurants lining the harbor. Although the food is FANTASTIC in Italy, there is little variety where we are, so seeing Indian, Vietnamese, Chinese, Lebanese food places was very refreshing. Of course, as everyone was hot and hungry, we had to appeal to the lowest common denominator in our food pick, so we opeted for "Buffalo Bills" cafe. Apparantly it's a chain over here as we've seen more than one on our drive through southern France. (The decor is not the most Native American PC friendly either)
We then hit the road for Provence. We were guided to Arles - with no knowledge of the town or even the region for that matter. We found ourselves via our GPS in the middle of the old town and mistakingly wound up on a road we could not pass through. Backing up was necessary. Angry French drivers completed the picture for us as they had to back up too. So we pulled off to the side of some immensely old Roman ruin to plot our next piece of the journey. Thankfully, Brian's portable cell-phone modem worked, so we powered up the computer to find accomodation with less hazardous parking.
We were looking for somewhere safe, with clean rooms, Air Conditioning (note the capital A and C) and maybe even a pool for the kids.
We found that in the Best Western in Arles. We happily unloaded (and I'm not even kidding when I say we UNLOAD - words almost can't describe the picture we make unfolding ourselves and our STUFF out of the car) and made our way to 2 lovely, COLD!, adjoining bedrooms. I finally let out the breath I had been holding in since the night before. What a sigh of relief. The kids were antsy so I volunteered to take them to the pool on the roof. The very small, but very effective pool made it feel like a true vacation - like coming back to civilization. Sometimes, there is only so much unique and different a person can stand - and I had found my breaking point.
As a concession to seeing the town we were staying in, I persuaded the kids and Brian ("but it's so hot outside!") to take the 35 minute bus (shaped like a train) tour with "audio commentary in 8 languages simultaneosly!" Brian's curiosity was piqued at this promise - thinking he'd get to hear some tour guide rattle off in Japanese. Not to be - headphones are used. The tour was lovely for the main fact that it involved NO WALKING: a brief look at the major sights of town, with some interesting facts thrown in. Add in a great multi-linguist of a driver who got a kick out of Ed (I'm telling you, sometimes having that cute 5 year old is a big bonus) and chatted with us between some stops proved to be an entertaing evening. It was on the tour that we learned about the Arles and Van Gogh connection. (I know my sister is shaking her head right now...) For those (very few) of you who don't know, Van Gogh lived in Arles for a few years and was later hospitalized here. It was here that he cut off his ear after his huge fight with friend Gaugin (not quite sure if the 2 are connected as I have heard different opinions on the reasons he cut his ear off.) While I can see the beauty of the region, it was still a little too hot for me and this experience will probably change the way I see Van Gogh's paintings of this time.
We disembarked the train across the street from Paddy's Irish Pub - so you can guess where we went next... Sadly, no pub food and the bartender only spoke French, but there was quite a bit of English heard among the patrons.
Since we needed to feed the kids, we went and got them food at the mini-mart (OK, yes, it was the gas station. Hey, they're kids. They don't care where their pizza comes from) so Brian and I could go find a nice place to eat and have a meal alone. A really good meal we found, with amounts of food that seem impossible to actually finish all of. Of course, I noticed more painfully thin women (French this time) who were actually eating these huge courses too. I. just. don't. understand. it. The night was finished off back in the pub for a last Guinness. On the wall were these words: "Here's to a long life and a merry one, A quick death and an easy one, A pretty girl and an honest one, A cold pint... and another one!" So was the happy ending of a day that started not so happily
Provence helped. Doing normal vacation things helped even more.
Spending the morning in Marseilles entailed first getting out of the hotel and then was followed up by closely watching our personal belongings (including but not limiteed to the small children) while we strolled through Marseilles harbor. Saturday morning fish market was in full swing - which left Aidan pinching his nose throughout the stroll and the other kids oohing and aahing over the various dead sea creatures. The swordfish heads were exceptionally remarkable - even Brian and I were impressed. We walked around the harbor down to the fort looking for the purported WWII monument. There was a museum, but dedicated to the deportation to the prison camps. The older boys and I stayed for a bit, but everything was in French.
Part of the reason for our Marseilles trip was to pay a bit of homage to my family history - my grandparents met in Marseilles 63 years ago while being transferred from one war theater to another. I'm certain that while some of the city looks the same, parts have definitly seen a change in these last years. We found ourselves at another playground on the water and enjoyed a small breeze off the water. Enjoying playgrounds has been one of the few contants of the trip to date. Every town and city has one (or more) and slides just never lose their appeal to a 5 and 8 year old. Teeter totters don't either, but we're staying off those for the duration.
Many cultures collide (and according to the tourbooks, not always peacefully) in this part of France. Traditional northern African dress was just as prevalent as nerdy American tourist garb.
Brian was pleased at the variety of food offered at the restaurants lining the harbor. Although the food is FANTASTIC in Italy, there is little variety where we are, so seeing Indian, Vietnamese, Chinese, Lebanese food places was very refreshing. Of course, as everyone was hot and hungry, we had to appeal to the lowest common denominator in our food pick, so we opeted for "Buffalo Bills" cafe. Apparantly it's a chain over here as we've seen more than one on our drive through southern France. (The decor is not the most Native American PC friendly either)
We then hit the road for Provence. We were guided to Arles - with no knowledge of the town or even the region for that matter. We found ourselves via our GPS in the middle of the old town and mistakingly wound up on a road we could not pass through. Backing up was necessary. Angry French drivers completed the picture for us as they had to back up too. So we pulled off to the side of some immensely old Roman ruin to plot our next piece of the journey. Thankfully, Brian's portable cell-phone modem worked, so we powered up the computer to find accomodation with less hazardous parking.
We were looking for somewhere safe, with clean rooms, Air Conditioning (note the capital A and C) and maybe even a pool for the kids.
We found that in the Best Western in Arles. We happily unloaded (and I'm not even kidding when I say we UNLOAD - words almost can't describe the picture we make unfolding ourselves and our STUFF out of the car) and made our way to 2 lovely, COLD!, adjoining bedrooms. I finally let out the breath I had been holding in since the night before. What a sigh of relief. The kids were antsy so I volunteered to take them to the pool on the roof. The very small, but very effective pool made it feel like a true vacation - like coming back to civilization. Sometimes, there is only so much unique and different a person can stand - and I had found my breaking point.
As a concession to seeing the town we were staying in, I persuaded the kids and Brian ("but it's so hot outside!") to take the 35 minute bus (shaped like a train) tour with "audio commentary in 8 languages simultaneosly!" Brian's curiosity was piqued at this promise - thinking he'd get to hear some tour guide rattle off in Japanese. Not to be - headphones are used. The tour was lovely for the main fact that it involved NO WALKING: a brief look at the major sights of town, with some interesting facts thrown in. Add in a great multi-linguist of a driver who got a kick out of Ed (I'm telling you, sometimes having that cute 5 year old is a big bonus) and chatted with us between some stops proved to be an entertaing evening. It was on the tour that we learned about the Arles and Van Gogh connection. (I know my sister is shaking her head right now...) For those (very few) of you who don't know, Van Gogh lived in Arles for a few years and was later hospitalized here. It was here that he cut off his ear after his huge fight with friend Gaugin (not quite sure if the 2 are connected as I have heard different opinions on the reasons he cut his ear off.) While I can see the beauty of the region, it was still a little too hot for me and this experience will probably change the way I see Van Gogh's paintings of this time.
We disembarked the train across the street from Paddy's Irish Pub - so you can guess where we went next... Sadly, no pub food and the bartender only spoke French, but there was quite a bit of English heard among the patrons.
Since we needed to feed the kids, we went and got them food at the mini-mart (OK, yes, it was the gas station. Hey, they're kids. They don't care where their pizza comes from) so Brian and I could go find a nice place to eat and have a meal alone. A really good meal we found, with amounts of food that seem impossible to actually finish all of. Of course, I noticed more painfully thin women (French this time) who were actually eating these huge courses too. I. just. don't. understand. it. The night was finished off back in the pub for a last Guinness. On the wall were these words: "Here's to a long life and a merry one, A quick death and an easy one, A pretty girl and an honest one, A cold pint... and another one!" So was the happy ending of a day that started not so happily
Saturday, August 2, 2008
The Night from H.E. Double Hockeysticks
We were warned. A few times. By friends and by family. To be wary of Marseilles. We thought that by staying outside the city, and booking on Expedia we could avoid the perils of Marseilles. I'm typing this blog entry from Provence in a Best Western that we had not planned to stay in. We are here because of a REALLY BAD experience we had in Marseilles.
Our first mistake was trying to stay near Marseilles. We have booked really cheap hotels before with Expedia for this trip, and have had really good experiences. But not last night.
The place had a gated entry in a very shoddy part of town. But it was dark and late and the kids were DONE being in the car. And the place was already paid for (thanks Expedia.)
So we make our way in to find out it is completely booked, but we have a reservation and they give us connecting rooms. Which is good. The rooms are disgusting. Which is bad. Questionably clean. Mildewed, moldy and rusted bathrooms. No AC - which we are getting pretty used to at this point. But each room has one window (no screens of course) that opens in to the room that faces the outdoor hallway. As we walked to our rooms, I thought it strange that I was able to see in to other people's rooms so easily through the windows. And it's probably 90 degrees inside the rooms, so leaving the windows closed isn't really an option. We sort of settle in, with Ed in our room and the other 3 kids in the adjoining room. Brian had the foresight to move the computers over to the far side of the room away from the window; but honestly at this point I'm more worried about bedbugs (which there weren't any of) than anything else because 1) We're not in Marseilles, we're outside of it and 2) it's a gated hotel entrance.
We all go to bed and we all try to sleep. I wake up to someone trying to break into our room through the window and take the stuff off the table under it. I don't know what woke me up, but I saw the person and I automatically yelled/growled at him and he took off. My yelling woke Brian up and I jumped out of bed to see what was going on. I threw my clothes on and ran down to the office and hysterically started telling the "manager" what had happened. He took off running to our room to check it out for himself and after several minutes of not communicating in French I asked if he spoke Italian and we switched to that. It seems that there is a problem of local kids jumping the fence and breaking into the rooms. I am beyond upset at this point and I don't really know how I was able to communicate to him, but I did. I'm super worried about my kids and anything happening to them. He assured me that nothing would, and he would keep an eye on things for the rest of the night. He did advise us to move anything away from the windows. I replied that we were locking the windows. Yep, in the 90 degree heat.
After reassuring Colin and Aidan that everything was OK, Brian came back to bed and comforted me. I was pretty much FREAKING OUT and I was ready to get everyone up at this point and get in the car. But it was past midnight; Julia and Edwin were sleeping and we really didn't have anywhere else to go.
So we sucked it up. Sweated it out. Didn't get a lot of sleep. Packed up (after eating the free breakfast of course) and bailed. Tried to get our money back from f**cking Expedia, but c'est la vie, it probably won't happen.
So we found Arles. In Provence. A Best Western with AC and a pool.
What can I say, I'm a Best Western kind of gal. California and all that good stuff. More later about Provence....
Our first mistake was trying to stay near Marseilles. We have booked really cheap hotels before with Expedia for this trip, and have had really good experiences. But not last night.
The place had a gated entry in a very shoddy part of town. But it was dark and late and the kids were DONE being in the car. And the place was already paid for (thanks Expedia.)
So we make our way in to find out it is completely booked, but we have a reservation and they give us connecting rooms. Which is good. The rooms are disgusting. Which is bad. Questionably clean. Mildewed, moldy and rusted bathrooms. No AC - which we are getting pretty used to at this point. But each room has one window (no screens of course) that opens in to the room that faces the outdoor hallway. As we walked to our rooms, I thought it strange that I was able to see in to other people's rooms so easily through the windows. And it's probably 90 degrees inside the rooms, so leaving the windows closed isn't really an option. We sort of settle in, with Ed in our room and the other 3 kids in the adjoining room. Brian had the foresight to move the computers over to the far side of the room away from the window; but honestly at this point I'm more worried about bedbugs (which there weren't any of) than anything else because 1) We're not in Marseilles, we're outside of it and 2) it's a gated hotel entrance.
We all go to bed and we all try to sleep. I wake up to someone trying to break into our room through the window and take the stuff off the table under it. I don't know what woke me up, but I saw the person and I automatically yelled/growled at him and he took off. My yelling woke Brian up and I jumped out of bed to see what was going on. I threw my clothes on and ran down to the office and hysterically started telling the "manager" what had happened. He took off running to our room to check it out for himself and after several minutes of not communicating in French I asked if he spoke Italian and we switched to that. It seems that there is a problem of local kids jumping the fence and breaking into the rooms. I am beyond upset at this point and I don't really know how I was able to communicate to him, but I did. I'm super worried about my kids and anything happening to them. He assured me that nothing would, and he would keep an eye on things for the rest of the night. He did advise us to move anything away from the windows. I replied that we were locking the windows. Yep, in the 90 degree heat.
After reassuring Colin and Aidan that everything was OK, Brian came back to bed and comforted me. I was pretty much FREAKING OUT and I was ready to get everyone up at this point and get in the car. But it was past midnight; Julia and Edwin were sleeping and we really didn't have anywhere else to go.
So we sucked it up. Sweated it out. Didn't get a lot of sleep. Packed up (after eating the free breakfast of course) and bailed. Tried to get our money back from f**cking Expedia, but c'est la vie, it probably won't happen.
So we found Arles. In Provence. A Best Western with AC and a pool.
What can I say, I'm a Best Western kind of gal. California and all that good stuff. More later about Provence....
5 Guys Named Terre
So it's been a few days since we hit the road on Wednesday (not early) morning. Let me just preface this by saying that packing for a road trip for a family of six without a clothes dryer is challenging. Clothes can't just be washed at the last minute to get ready to pack: they need time to DRY. So packing was challenging. Then there's packing the car bit - what to bring to keep everyone occupied. And sure enough, even with all my planning, it still looks like we are sardined into the minivan.
So we got on the road in Italia and decided to stop in Collodi - home and birthplace of Pinocchio. Not! the Disney one. No. They don't like Walt in Collodi - seems he skewed the story a bit.
There is an overpriced park and lovely Villa Gardens that I will be posting pictures of. The kids enjoyed it. Well, most of them. Colin tolerated it. It was a very hot day - thereby confirming my theory that Tuscany is hotter than anywhere else in Italia.
Off then to the Cinque Terre - the backdoor wonder of the Italian Riveria. It's a wonder all right: a wonder I survived the drive, and I wasn't even driving. That drive alone will stop me from ever complaining about Brian's driving again. Harrowing doesn't begin to describe it. Death defying comes close. Sheer cliff drop offs, twisty and windy roads... Oh my goodness. And the horse that was stopped in the middle of the hairbend blind curve just iced that cake of a drive. It's no wonder that most (sane) people take the train in. It seriously left me wondering why on earth anyone would live in such a locale and choose to drive there constantly.
But we made it. And found our "landlord" (we rented rooms that she owns in 2 different bulidings.) When we had emailed her about parking, she responded (and I quote) "when here you will find a gate and a
boy or a girl who will tell you where will be possible to park your
car. Will be a place with a blu line." When Brian read this, he asked me, "what, are we on a scavenger hunt here?"
So we found close parking actually and moved the car the next day to the blu line, which we did find with her help :)
The Cinque Terra is a series of 5 (get it, *cinque*) rock towns on the Ligurian Sea. We stayed in the smallest town, Corniglia - the one in the middle. We had some nice rooms, but no AC which is normally not a problem unless your name is Aidan and you are horribly allergic to the mosquitos who really love only you so you can't sleep with the windows open. Aidan and I bunked together in a lovely room off of a smaller square in town. Right off the square. As in open the door to the room and you are in the square. With all of us coming and going, we had to be careful opening that door or else Corniglia was getting an eye full of us!
Brian and the other kids had a one bedroom small apartment with tiny cute kitchen included.
We spent the day taking the train to the various other 4 towns and then finally decided to get our beach stuff on and try out the beach. This required a few trips to and from the train station... below the town. 400 steps below the town. So we got quite a workout when the mini-bus wasn't running to and from the train station and the center of town. Once, Julia and Brian actually ran the entire way from the station and beat those of us who had taken the bus. It was quite awesome actually.
So the "beach" at Riomaggiore is technically a beach I guess because it is land next to the water. But there isn't any sand. Well, it might be sand SOMEDAY, but no time soon. It's all rocks. And not pebbles either. Big rocks. By the time we got down to the water, we were all so hot we didn't even care that there were far too many rocks. The water was beautiful, warm and clear. The rocks under the water were mostly slippery from some kind of moss/algae that will probably permanently be stained on some of our suits. But it was refreshing. There were clean water showers up on further rocks opposite the water. Two showers that Ed insisted we keep trying out. Which was fine by me as it was about 10,000 degrees outside. When not in the water, we tried to get as comfortable as possible laying on our towels (Winnie the Pooh, Dora the Explorer, and Princess towels... Aidan and Colin LOVE IT!) like the locals. This was a beach for the seriously hardy people. Not many wussy tourists here: they were all at Montarosso with sand and chairs and umbrellas.
Brian and Aidan took a break from swimming to jump off big rocks into the water, thankfully away from me so I didn't have to witness it. I was still delicate from the drive in. Then the big kids decided they wanted to kayak. Off they went to rent kayaks and pretty soon Edwin and I saw them come around the small marina into the bay. They said they saw schools of fish and even paddled into a cove and big cave beyond the beach.
After much sun and outdoor fun, we made our way to the largest of the towns, Vernazza, for dinner. We found a place we wanted to try the local specialty: pesto. The restaurant was full but for one table set for 5. Upon seeing the cuteness of Edwin, she made room for us at this table and proceeded to chat and smile with him all night long. He's a regular lady magnet that one. We can really get almost anything we might need as long as Ed is around.
It was a lovely day spent.
The next day we made our way with our "Grande Familia" - nickname given to us by a local shopkeeper in Corniglia - back into the car, navigated back to the Autostrade and went on to Monacco.
Monacoo traffic was crazy too, but in a completely different and expensive way. No more small - mini sized banged up cars... nope. Only the best of the best in one of the world's most expensive places. The kids were pretty amped from sitting all afternoon, so we spent most of our time in Monacco playing at the street carnival along the famous harbor. When not watching Ed crash his ATV into the side of the ring, or when not watching Julia jump up and down on the tethered trampoline, we could take in the sights of the ships and yachts. I kept listening for Robin Leach's voice to pop up over a loud speaker. We hiked up to the palace grounds and looked around a little bit, but didn't stay long. I think Brian got a very abbrieviated look at Monacco; I had seen most of it 17 years ago when I studied abroad and spent my Spring Break there visiting a friend.
We did see that for 140 euro you could rent a Ferrari for an hour and make the Monte Carlo Grand Prix circuit along the streets. Appealing, but not for that price.
Brian took the kids for crepes so I could sneak a peak at the casino. I didn't get far, as I wasn't thrilled about the cover charge to go in.
Then we bundled back in to make the 2 hour trip to Marseilles. Which proved to be the lowest of low points of the trip...
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Giorni: our journey
Giorni. The plural of Giorno: meaning day. So the vacation we are about to take for 12 giorni is truly a journey. Another adventure in a series of so many. We are looking forward to Brian being off work. Baxter is spiffing up the plant in time for shut-down and a visit from the big-wigs. Brian gets to skip shut-down and go on vacation. Many of you might realize the significance of the last statement. For those who don't: Brian usualy runs shut-down which means we don't get to see him for about a month everytime it happens (3 times last year.) So we are doing shut down IN STYLE: Cinque Terra, Pisa, Nice, Monaco, Marseilles, some other French towns, Paris, Black forest in Germany, Salzburg and Vienna. In 12 days. Dodieichi giorni. Con la machina. Con quatro filgli. Mama Mia!!!
Buon Viaggio.
Hope to connect with you on the road...
Buon Viaggio.
Hope to connect with you on the road...
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