Time’s almost up… and Tales from Madrid..









When I woke up this morning, for some reason I felt irritable. I think that the moving from hotel to hotel, packing and unpacking, living out of my backpack, and going..going..going..has finally caught up with me. Throughout our travels, I have gone through phases, where I feel more moody than others, but today is different. The constant bustle of the city is wearing and the weaving through the crowds has gotten increasingly more frustrating, especially when the sidewalks are so narrow, and the people are going every which way. They become easily distracted and fail to watch where they are going…and then, there are the weavers, the guys in their business attire, talking loudly on their cell phones, and walking all over the place. You start to pass them on the left, and then they saunter to the left, then you go the right..and again, they saunter to the right. I feel like I have grown a little impatient, always being boxed in between the masses and then shoved to the side. I think that we American’s in general have this sense of personal space that lacks in some other cultures. That bubble…that ‘me’ zone. Here and now, I am noticing more, the people standing just a bit too close in lines, and they have no qualms about just shoving right past you. And they stare. We have noticed numerous people like to look at our feet. Maybe it’s T’s brightly colored running shoes, or my open toed sandals and my lovely undecorated, slightly calloused feet. (What do you expect after walking all over Europe?) Whatever it may be, I have noticed time and time again, and certainly, it makes me wonder if I am wearing or doing something inappropriate, or is it just that I am not wearing the perfect coat of toe nail polish? Or perhaps, can it be simple shoe envy?

Walking around Madrid today, we came across an area on a street called Gran Via, which was quite reminiscent of being in NYC in Times Square or 5th Ave..or in San Francisco. For a moment, everything felt and looked familiar, as if we were back in the US, and it was really a good feeling. As much as I sometimes yearn to get away from home, at that moment, I felt as if I couldn’t wait to get back home.
I think being here in Madrid, it has been a little hard for us to get used to the whole eating-dinner-at-10pm thing. So many times, we would come across these great looking restaurants, only to find, that they didn’t even open for dinner until 9 or 10. We would walk away dejected, and because of this we probably missed out on some good meals. We just couldn’t wait that long! Instead, the meals that we have had have been mediocre at best. We have found ourselves a few decent Caprihanas, some good Gazpacho, grilled veggies and salmon, but most of the other food has been somewhat disappointing. I hate that feeling, of ordering something that sounds really good on the menu, and then being so let down when it comes and you taste it…and, it is …not that good. I almost want to contest sometimes, like… ‘do I have to actually pay for this? And, maybe you should be paying me to eat this instead?’ I hope that doesn’t sound arrogant, but it is such a let down for me. I love the act of dining out and eating. It is one of my favorite things to do, so when I have an experience like this, it really is a bummer. I think that since we have been in Madrid, I have actually lost the few pounds that I had gained over the 3 months of traveling, if you can believe that! I have even opted many times not to get dessert. (Of course, the chocolate chip cookie and brownie at Starbucks doesn’t count…but well, I did have some decent rice pudding..)

A lot of our sightseeing here has happened as part of a scavenger hunt of sorts. While traveling, T has been doing his fare share of reading…mostly large books on tech related things…XML, PHP, Java, HTML..and, along the way we have accumulated a good number of these books, not to mention a new bag to transport them all in. Here in Madrid, he made it his mission to find a few more, and so we spent some time looking for bookstores that carry computer related books(Libros Informaticas)…in English. (not easy to find, let me tell you…) This may sound like an interesting use of time, but it has been a great way to see the various areas of the city.

Since we have been here for a number of days, we have paced ourselves and done a cultural thing each day. Along with discovering much of the central part of the city, we have taken in the Reina Sofia Modern Art Museum (where the toilet incident occurred), a peaceful walk through the Retiro park..the Palacio Real and a Tour of the Plaza de Toros de Las Ventas (Bullring)…

Tomorrow, our last day, we plan to head out of town to Toledo..

I think after all of this city sightseeing, it will actually be nice to get back to our home in the small town that is Ithaca, NY…at least for a little while..

This was a popular entry on our family blog, so I have been requested to share it with you, my Whisk and Wander audience.... just so you are warned, the content of this entry may be rated PG-13 for grossness...

Toilet Talk:
A word, or maybe two on the horror of public restrooms....




One thing that I wanted to share, after using a number of public facilities in these last few months, from the ones on the trains in which the contents spill and splatter onto the railway below, (to the trains credit, it is FORBIDDEN to use these toilets when stopped at a station, for obvious reasons..thank god for that!) to the ones in public places, that are hardly ever cleaned (can you blame them?) and smell of……., well, you can fill in the blanks..

One thing I can never understand is why people don’t flush. If the option is there, is it that much of a hardship? I get so sick of seeing the wads of wet toilet paper in the bowl along with god knows what else, and then on top of that, seeing pieces of ‘debris’ on the seat.. yuk. The worst is when you see the person who exited before you, and you even make eye contact with them, before they casually look away.. and then you see the goodies they left you. It makes me want to turn around, catch them walking away after they just left their dirtied and soggy paper towels on the counter of the wash basin, and say, “WHY are you trying to punish me?”

Of course, today, this happened again. In the Museum of Modern Art. At this point, I just ignore it and go about my business. Pretend it isnt there…
And, like the good Samaritan that I am, I flushed when I was through…the thing is…only a dribble of water came forth instead of the usual forceful flow and I was left, in the stall, with a toilet full of soggy wads, and god knows what else. For a brief moment, I felt the horror of having to exit that very stall in plain view of the line of anxious women waiting their turn, pining for their fresh bowl.

I could picture it now, mingling amongst the Picasso masterpieces, the ladies pointing and in hushed tones..
‘Psss.. Estelle, she’s the one that didn’t flush..’

And then I realized, here was my chance for a little sweet, juicy revenge.
I walked out of that stall, head held high and looked the lucky woman in the eye.

I even smiled.

Near Albufeira..









First off, I want to specify that we didn’t actually stay in Albufeira..which would have changed my positive outlook on this area a great deal. We stayed just far enough away to be out of reach of all the cheese, cheese and cheese. And, for this, I was thankful. We stayed at a Sheraton Resort, so it was very nice, but this also meant that there were kids running rampant, at times. The resort wasn’t too crowded, so the amount of screaming could have been a lot worse. The location was absolutely gorgeous though, so I would definitely take the kids over the cheese of the town any day. The hotel was perched on these stunning ‘grand-canyon-esque’ cliffs. The contrasts of all the colors, between the reds, oranges and off whites of the cliffs..the wildflowers, the blue of the ocean and sky and the sand made for some really beautiful views. The beach was wide, and quite lengthy, which made it so perfect for taking walks, as well. After seeing this, I was stunned to see just how awful the town was. It was like Cancun on a smaller scale, and it seemed to cater to the many sunburned German… and English tourists by hosting a number of “Pig and Whistle” type Pubs, “serving Typical English Style Breakfast!” and “Football!”..there were many cheesy lit up neon, bars and restaurants “With Tourist Menu!” lining the main street as well as the kitschy cheap souvenir shops. Eeek. So, we had dinner in town the first night, then, we stayed the heck away! It was hard to believe that such serene unspoiled beauty actually existed just around the bend.

The weather wasn’t the most cooperative though, which was ok, but it is always a nice thing to read by the beach when it isn’t rainy, windy and somewhat brisk out. It wasn’t always this way. The weather was quite fickle, warm one minute, rainy and windy the next. My one attempt to sit by the pool and read, lasted all of 15 minutes, before I decided that I actually was not very warm or comfy as I sat shivering in my lounge chair. We spent our time, reading in the cozy bar, swimming, jacuzzing and (T)working out in the gym, (Me)walking on the beach, and (Me)getting a massage…and, we even ventured out one afternoon to the local shooting range, which was quite an experience as well…

We also ventured to Lagos, the sight of the first slave markets and Sagres, the most Southwesterly tip in Europe, also quite near to Africa. Sagres was a sleepy beach town, well, at least it was at 9 am when we arrived for breakfast. It was cute and the idea of standing on the edge of Europe, basically looking towards Africa, was kind of a cool notion, but, I wasn’t really blown away by it…
And Lagos, was the same way. While the old town was a little charming, there were a number of tourists and again, I wasn’t that blown away by it, either. Maybe it is that we have had the pleasure of seeing some really unique places, that had we seen these two towns early on, we may have felt differently. I recall saying this very thing about Siena, as well.

I definitely think that Portugal is a place that I would love to re-visit, but I think what I would really love about Portugal, next time around, is seeing the areas a little less traveled. I think that much of the Algarve (except the west coast, maybe?) was taken over tourists in the 60’s and 70’s and maybe the coastal towns that at one time were quaint have seen better days. There seem to be so many other areas of this country that have yet to be spoiled…and I think that is where I would head to next time. Of course, I would also take T back to Sintra and head back to Lisbon.. which were two unique and interesting places. I would visit the home and birthplace of the “Pastis de Nata”…a pastry shop in Belem, and see Evora, a town that also came highly recommended… ah, next time..

Sintra..










Sintra is considered ‘around’ Lisbon, but it was SO wonderful, and SO different from Lisbon that I figured it deserves it own, separate category. I only spent the day there, but it is definitely a place that I would go back to. It was like a medieval village in the hills, with so many trees and fragrant blooming flowers. It was a breath of fresh air, compared to Lisbon, which was at times a little smelly and quite polluted with dust. (or something else that was gritty in our teeth and throats) Out of the train station, I walked straight into the old town, or Sintra Villa. Here, there were many shops, cafes and cobble stone streets as well as the main Palacio Nacional de Sintra. My day’s agenda was to see the Castelo dos Mouros, a Moorish Castle up in the hills..and the Palacio Nacional da Pena, which is something that seems out of a fairy tale or a Colette Peters “Cakewalk” cookbook..a beautiful and whimsical castle of many colors and tiles and textures. I knew I had to see it when I saw the photos. I have discovered on this trip abroad, that I really enjoy seeing the Castellos/Palaces, Gardens and Ruins, much more so than the Museums. There is something about being outside but also being in an exhibit of a different sort. I am constantly amazed by the grandeur of some of these old castles, and I have really enjoyed wandering through the grounds and imagining what may have been taking place there many years ago.

I decided to burn off the many pastries that I have indulged in since we have been here in Portugal, and I took a scenic and long roundabout way up to the Castle and Palace. It was a peaceful forested road with many switch backs…all uphill. Along the way, I passed a few beautiful old mansions before I got to the Parque da Pena and the Castelo entrance.

Walking around the Castelo grounds, I felt like I was in the magical land of the Lord of the Rings. The castle was deep in a shaded overgrowth, in many places..as if the land and flora had almost engulfed the ruins yet the remaining castle walls were visible enough to be able to walk from room to room and to see the outer and inner walls. Then, as you walked up the stairs, above the treeline, you were treated to this spectacular view, of the Palace de Pena, the ocean in the distance, Sintra and beyond.

Then, I made the trek up to the Palace de Pena..not without stopping for another ‘Pastis De Nata’ (custard tart) on the way..

This palace was one of the most incredible that I have seen. I just loved the colors and all the different arch ways and tiled facades. It was such a feast for my eyes, and my camera. I kept finding yet another cool angle, the greatest contrast of colors, textures and shapes. The inside was equally as impressive. Filled with relics of time past, the rooms were set up to represent what they may have looked like back in the day.

I only wish that I had a little more time to explore Sintra further. I was also sad that T opted to stay back in Lisbon for the day. I really feel like he missed out on this outing..There was much more to be seen, like a Capuchin Monestary, hidden far in the woods as well as other parks and villas. I felt as I left on the train that day, that I was not finished with Sintra, and I will definitely be back, and next time, T is coming with me!

Lisboa and Around









I was prepared for the food in Portugal to be mediocre, as a few different people had warned us, but nobody prepared us for the delights that we would feast on for breakfast every morning. The Portuguese certainly know a thing or two about their pastries, and so, of course, I had to do my best to sample them. The town of Belem, near Lisbon, is supposedly where the ‘Pasteis De Nata’ was invented. This is basically a eggy custard baked in a mini puff pastry shell. The top is broiled slightly and garnished with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Both times that I indulged in this bite sized treat, (a little more guilt-free in this small size..), the custard was still warm and slightly oozy, the crust flaky and the sprinkling of cinnamon, perfect. The custard was a little like cream brulee, but with a much eggier and richer flavor. (I know, is this possble?)

Then, when we ventured to this one patisserie for breakfast each morning, we were both hooked on these other pastries: if you are familiar with a palmier, think of two of these..basically a carmelized sugary and folded puff pastry, sandwiched together, with a thick spread of eggy custard. I noticed that this custard adorns most pastries shown in the cases..which I thought might be a little bit of overkill, but then, I tasted it for myself. Yum.

The pastries weren’t the only good food experience we had here. On a bit of a splurge, we treated ourselves to dinner at ‘Eleven,’ the first restaurant in Lisbon to gain the prestige of a Michelin star. Dining here was as much about the experience as it was about the food. The overall experience and ambience, of course, makes the actual dining a much richer experience than just grabbing a quick in-and-out bite to eat somewhere. It was incredibly good. And the service, again, incredibly good. We were both very impressed with the food and all the added touches provided..like the two ‘amuse bouches’, and a dessert appetizer.. Even the trolley of cheeses, aperitifs and baskets of bread were presented in an orderly and almost overly polite fashion. It was almost like the waiters were introducing us to their beloved grandmother, when they would wheel the carts to our table, see us eyeing it, and present to us…each cheese, each aperitif and each type of bread getting a lengthy introduction. Then, they would change out our silverware frequently, and for each ‘amuse bouche’, a new miniature fork and/or knife would appear, just for a moment while we consumed the ‘mouth tease’, then, they would disappear, with our emptied plates, barely a moment later. There is something really nice about going to dinner, in wrinkled clothes that you have been carrying around in a dusty backpack for 3 months, and yet, here, we were treated like royalty, no matter how musty we may have smelled. It was a drastic difference from our experience in Bellagio, when we were basically shunned for ordering only one ‘primi piatti’ each.

Enough about the food, Lisbon in general was a lot of fun to wander around. It is definitely not sparkling clean and new, by any stretch, but the city has a certain appeal and character about it. Some areas reminded me a bit of San Francisco…(there is even a “Golden Gate” look alike..) Areas like the Bairro Alto seemed a little bit sketchy at first, kind of like the Mission, but they were dotted with cool boutiques and funky restaurants, not the mention the great wandering streets and interesting tiled houses. The Alfama, was also an interesting area. It is the oldest area in Lisbon, with a Moorish influence and great views over the city and water. There are also the Baixa and Chiado districts, where the heart of the shopping was, as well as a bunch of sidewalk cafes and more sweet smelling bakerys. What I loved about the city too, were the sidewalks and streets. They are all or mostly cobbled, with decorative black and white chunks of tile. They look painstakingly time consuming to lay and down and to upkeep, but it added so much character and charm to the city, to see these designs in the sidewalks all over town.

We did get out of town a couple times, to see the outlying areas of Estoril and Cascais.. We have a good good family friend in Estoril, so it was so refreshing to see her, a familiar face, after all this time being in Europe. She was kind enough to treat us to lunch by the sea, in which we had some really great seafood, and good fresh cheese…I think the highlight for me, aside from visiting Beth, was coming back to her flat after a long walk along the boardwalk to Cascais and back, and smelling freshly baked cinnamon, chocolate and raisin cookies, as we climbed the steps to her flat. There is something so comforting about freshly baked cookies and tea, and visiting with a good family friend, who is pretty much like family to me. It was definitely a highlight for me. Thanks for taking us in for the day, Beth! 

Bellagio, Lake Como..Italy







Yes.. I know what you are thinking…and the answer to your question is, NO, we did not see George Clooney…but, as we were being taxied from the train station along the windy roads, our cab driver thought it best to pull over…on the narrow road without a much of a shoulder, just to point out a white villa across the lake, which in fact, belongs to the star..

I have to admit, I was a bit curious, and T will admit, that he wasn’t in the least.

The ride from Como took about 35 minutes, and had we known at the time, that there was a cheaper, less woozy option, we would have opted for the 50 minute ferry. But we didn’t, and as the taxi pulled out of the station and I went to put my seat belt on, I noticed a foul smell in the car. A smell that is all too familiar, and tickles the back of my throat, prompting that ‘gag’ reaction. I happened to grab the top part of the belt to buckle in, and as I did, I located the source of the stench. Someone, possibly just days before, had actually vomited in the very seat in which I was riding, and the belt still had traces of the dried and crusty remnants.

I know.. Lovely, huh?

SO, instead of holding my breath for a half hour and turning away from the belt, I did what I know I should never have done, especially on a road such as this. I opted not to wear the belt. I know, life is far more important than a little gagging in the back of a Jaguar, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

And, this is how windy the road to Bellagio is.

It is funny, because as we were driving, and the taxi was nearing collision at each turn, I thought of my parents and the fact that they had actually braved these same roads, themselves, a year or two prior. Was it here, Dad, where you scraped the side of the rental car, trying to back down a narrow street? I am just glad that we opted to turn our car in when we did!
Anyway, we did get to Bellagio in one piece, and I was able to hold my crackers down, thank goodness.

We had a lovely room here, with a balcony over looking the lake and the mountains beyond, really a beautiful place. I think that Bellagio definitely caters to the well heeled, and it is quite touristy, but there was something nice about this town situated far enough outside Como to be enough of a pain for some to get to. It wasn’t too crowded in the late afternoons and evenings, although during the day, there was a little more traffic.

I have to say though, that I wasn’t as charmed by Bellagio, as I was by Chianti. It seems to thrive because of the tourists. There were outlying parts of the town, that seemed a little quieter and more village like, but in the central area, it was hard to find that small town charm beyond the facades of the glitzy stores and over priced waterfront cafes. And, we weren’t blown away by the food. I think we were so spoiled by the simplicity and the quality of the Tuscan food, and here, there were more of the heavier dishes. I actually went on a recommendation one night and ordered something called ‘Pizzacheri.’ I envisioned sort of a pizza like concoction, maybe more like a calzone? What I got was this spinach pasta prepared with cheese and maybe a few stray pieces of potato and a couple of green beans. It sounds ok, doesn’t it? Well, the pasta was LITERALLY drowning in oil, which in part was from the MASSIVE amounts of melted cheese. I honestly thought that had I consumed the whole dish at that moment, I would have had a heart attack. Really, it was that bad. And, I am one who doesn’t mind indulging in gut bombs every once in a while, but this was above and beyond. Yuk.
We did find a cute wine bar, housed in a cave just below street level. It was quite authentic, which was nice to find in this town. The menu was simple, just as it had been in Tuscany, offering just meats and cheeses..and, of course, wine.
On our last night, we found another place. It looked cute from the outside, and when we went in, we found all the other English speaking tourists. I am not saying that that is a bad thing, at all, but I notice that the restaurants filled with tourists and no locals, tend to be the worst ones, for some reason. As if the location is good enough to catch our eye, so the food and service can be appalling. Well, this was definitely the case here. At first, the waiters were overly interested in us. I think that they were putting on their machismo Italian suave act for us, and when we only ordered two plates of the Gnocchi with Asparagus and Prawns (which came with literally three tiny shrimp and two slivers of asparagus) and water instead of the 50Eu Steak and the most expensive Barolo, they decided that we weren’t worth the attention any longer and literally ignored us. We even had to ask for the check multiple times, at which they literally mocked us to our faces. It was really offensive and quite the turn off…oh well, no tip for them.

It was definitely nice to get up to Bellagio, and it was such a great bonus to have a waterfront balcony. I think that made all the difference in our experience here. After traveling so much, and being always on the move, it was really nice to just sit, and read..

Chianti, Italy










As Captain T and I peeled out of the Siena Hertz rental agency in our SmartCar, we felt as if we were wild and free, at last. Well, almost. We didn’t know exactly where we were heading, but thanks to the Hertz agent, we knew the general direction…

right, make a U turn…
straight, around the roundabout…
right, around the roundabout….
right over the bridge,
straight, around the roundabout…
and left to SR 222. towards Firenze.

T and I assumed the positions. Me, in Shotgun as the Navigator, and he as the Box Car (literally) Captain. As a team, we did pretty well in Greece, with only a few minor mix ups…but here, the driving and the navigating took a little more getting used to. Whenever we would get close to a turnoff, many times the town that we were aiming towards wasn’t shown on the sign. This meant a frenzied map consultation, as we grew nearer and nearer to the point of no return, with Captain T querying, “Which way? Which Way?...um, Navigator?” This was a bit stressful, indeed, especially when I couldn’t find the answer in time and made a fairly uneducated guess. (which was usually incorrect) In order to make an accurate decision, I learned that you need to consult the map clear ahead of any foreseen turnoffs, and find a larger town that is further in the same direction of the smaller town to which you are heading. Many times, the larger of the two would be the town depicted on the sign. It took me a day and some to figure this out, and in the meantime, we ended up completely heading the wrong direction once, twice or maybe, three times… and making a complete circle a couple times as well. Thank goodness for the wonderful scenery! After four days, I think that my navigation skills matched the skills of the Captain, who took quite a liking to hugging the curves on these windy and hilly roads.

We stayed in a place just outside Radda In Chianti, which literally opened up for the season the minute we arrived. We were the only guests, and on more than one occasion, we had dinner prepared solely for us, as well as breakfast. This was more than a welcome change from the last three places we had been and was just what we were looking for. We spent our days, zipping off in our SmartCar, checking out the Castles and Wineries, exploring the tiny hill top towns, discovering some hidden Osterias and eating our share of really good food. (and since T was driving, I was able to try some good wines as well..)

Some of the most basic food here has been our most favorite. One of my favorite things has been the Fagioli en’Olio, which is basically warmed White Beans with a drizzle of Olive Oil, Salt and Pepper. This is so basic, but it tastes so good. The bread is usually saltless, which makes sense when being served with salty cured meats, salami or toasted with shaved truffles, tomatoes, olive oil and garlic. Again, so good. And, the tomatoes are so good that just ordering ‘pomodori’ as a side dish is pure delight. They come, a pile of sweet and deep red, sliced with a drizzle of Olive Oil, Salt and Pepper. We have also had some really good Salami. The other day, I ordered a Tuscan plate and was able to sample some local meats, some Pecorino cheese, Bruschetta and Crostini Nero, a chopped liver spread atop toasted bread. I am usually one for loving most everything I consume, and I really wanted to love this…and I tried to.. but, I just couldn’t stomach it. I guess that I have never been much of an innards person. (although I did occasionally sample some good Fois Gras and Sweetbreads when working at Café Juanita..) T has had a few very memorable meals as well. A favorite has been a Penne Bolognese, with a meat sauce that was so good, I was begging for another “taste” and emitting sounds of pure bliss..

For dessert, Panna Cotta is quite big in these parts, as are the almond Macaroon cookies called Ricarelli and Amaretti, and the really hard ‘dipping’ Biscotti known as Cantuccini, which are usually served alongside a glass of Vin Santo.
I even bought a bottle of Vin Santo with that very intention in mind. I visualized us sitting on our porch in Bellagio, our next stop, with a view of Lake Como, dipping our Cantuccini into glasses of Vin Santo. This vision, unfortunately, was either left behind, by me, or stolen from us while we waited at the Florence train station. Some lucky A****** now has two nice bottles of wine with which to dip their Cantuccini, instead.

Damn that A*******.

I learned from this, two things:
While in a crowded train station lobby, looking at the departure board and waiting for the platform number to materialize next to your destination, keep your eyes on your stuff! I am just thankful that it wasn’t one of our more treasured bags. We were both so intent of finding the right platform in time before the train departed, that our focus was on the board…and not on our box of wine.

Also, at this point, we have been traveling for a little bit and have accumulated more than we need for baggage. At the time, we had 8 or 9 things that we were carrying between us. TOO MUCH. The excess was wine and food, which are wonderful things, but not worth losing something more valuable over.

Lesson learned.

Now, for the sake of cutting back our baggage, I must get back to eating up our food and drinking our remaining bottle of wine…on our veranda, looking out over Lake Como.

Siena, Italy








Letter to Siena, Italy

Ah, Siena…I wish I could say that we were blown away by the stunning beauty and charm of your fortressed hilltop town. I really wanted to be, and don’t get me wrong, you were beautiful and you did have your charms. I think had you been our first Italian experience, before Florence and Venice, maybe we would have been taken in more by your hilly maze-like streets, your impressive churches and your Tuscan country surroundings. Maybe then, we could have forgotten about all the wandering people who kept constantly bumping into us. I think that, by the time we reached you, our tolerance had diminished a bit, seeing as we had been battling the crowds, also, in both cities prior. And, we came to you expecting something more, a little peace. Siena, I am not saying that you let us down..and yes, I know it is not your fault….and yes, I do remember that line from the Pantene Shampoo commercial… “don’t hate me because I am beautiful..” I don’t hate you because YOU are beautiful, Siena, I just hate that EVERYONE else thinks so too… It would be a shame though, to see your beauty go unseen, so I will let it slide, this time..

Ok, so maybe I exaggerated, a tad. There may have been fewer tourists in Siena, maybe…but, in a town of 60,000, supposedly 20,000 are students; and I think most of which were out of class when we were making our way through town to the Campo and the other main areas of town.

I have nothing against students, really.. I actually enjoyed being in Bologna, another college town, where I thought that the students gave the town a nice, yet quiet, scholarly vibe. But, here, it just felt like the town was mobbed with young adults.

Loud, young adults.

It wasn’t so long ago that I was that young adult. So, I understand what it is like to be that age and want to impress and be seen. But, I had to laugh at some of the behavior and the styles. First of all, the guys seem to travel in large groups, many wearing their 80’s zippered sweat tops, their big wrap-around “Gucci” shades, their hair thoroughly gelled and jeans with a jeweled belt buckle, announcing the word, “RICH.” They walk with adolescent purpose and announce their arrival, quite loudly, everywhere and anywhere.
The girls are a little less boisterous, but they seem to emanate the same types of styles..the Gucci shades, the stiletto heels …the jeans advertising, with the same Jeweled embroidery on their booty’s… “RICH”..

T and I thought for a moment, that it would be funny to come up with some jeans with a word written in big letters with a black felt tip pen….or, in mockery, we could use 1 or 2karot jewels to spell it out.. “POOR”

Seeing this made me realize just how much of what is stylish has to do with the advertising of money and labels. I guess that I’d have to live under a rock not to know this. I even recall being a victim of it as well, in grade school, when I had to have Guess? Jeans, not the ‘so-uncool’ Palmetto Jeans with the similar triangle logo. I remember some kids used to rip the Palmetto label off their jeans, so all that was left was the mark of the triangle, and a new pair of “Guess?” jeans was born. I guess adults fall victim to this too. You see it everywhere, the flashy logos that spell money and status.. Gucci, Channel, Versace.. and you see the African’s everywhere here, selling the knockoffs. I sometimes wonder if there is any other reason for knockoffs than a way for adults to fall prey to the power of a label? Don’t get me wrong, I love bargain hunting as much as the next gal, but my choice, in case anyone is wondering, would be a understated, Kate Spade.

Anyway, back to Siena. I guess that the charm of the city was somewhat masked by the number of young and loud people filling the streets. Unfortunately, I think that we reached our limit here, and in a way, I feel sad, as if I couldn’t give this town a chance. Siena is really a beautiful place, in beautiful surroundings, with a rich history to boot. I tried desperately to get off the beaten path, to see the local fabric of the town, the locals behind the students…behind the storefronts.. what I was able to learn was that Siena seems like a tight knit community. Not a large town, it is split up into 17 ‘contrade’, each self governed, with its own church and museum. Each contrada has their own flag with different animal motif and is represented by a horse and jockey at the Palio, a raucous bareback race that takes place twice a year. The whole town essentially squeezes into the Campo in support of their horse, their rider, their contrada. I imagine that there are some tense rivalries, as some are known to play dirty and poison the competition’s horses and ambush the riders before the big event. Within each contrada, tight bonds and a sense of community is formed. This is then radiated throughout the whole of Siena, making for a comfortable feel. Despite all the outsiders in town, I could still sense this. Another redeeming quality about Siena is that the city tries to regulate air pollution by cutting the number of cars allowed within the fortress walls. Supposedly, you need some sort of permit to even drive within the city walls, and if you don’t, video cameras will find you and, well, fine you. According to one map I used, I noticed too that there are air pollution sensors throughout the city as well. When the light is green, the pollution is at a minimum…when red, you are in a polluted area. Interesting thing, the sensors also take into consideration noise pollution as well, of which there was plenty.

I imagine that Siena could be a good place to visit in the off season..but, I am still trying to figure out when that might be. The students are off during the summer, but that is when the tourists come, so maybe an ideal time would be in December or January, when the weather is at its worst and the students are away on holiday. Who knows, it could be that the Florence weekenders head to Siena at all times of the year, so maybe it is safe to say that Siena has been discovered, and for it, there is no turning back the clock.

The Postal Service.

This is a little story of two very different postal experiences. I know, it sounds thrilling doesn’t it? I just had to laugh at the striking differences between the Swiss and Italian systems and thought I would share.

While in Switzerland, we ventured to the Post quite a few times, as it was where we had to pay the rent, and also where we sent 6 large boxes westward before we set out on our travels.
Here, you walk in to a spacious lobby, where many items are sold; from cards, postcards and books, to computers and digital cameras, and of course, materials for shipping items. There are about 10 windows, each corresponding with the appropriate letter, A-J. There is also a separate info desk, where you can purchase things separately, without going to the window, which is used primarily for sending things. There is a box where you grab a ticket with a corresponding number. These numbers flash on a screen, in which a letter is shown next to it, and you walk to that corresponding window. Voila. Even for someone who isn’t German speaking, this was easy to figure out and quick.
Total: 15 minutes.

In Italy, the system is a bit different. You walk into a tiny lobby, in which there are people standing everywhere, so called ‘lines’ in every direction. There are 3 windows and when you are halfway in one line, lugging a huge box, you get yelled at. You are in the wrong line and are redirected by way of furious pantomime to the other line. So, you get into the other line, which is cramped and blocking the door. And, there are people coming in, and everyone is squeezing in..nice and tight. And there are only 3 windows, and the line isn’t moving. After 30 minutes, you make it up to the window. Your transaction takes a little time, since you are sending a box to the US and need to fill out the various forms. The people behind you get impatient. They start to push forward and a few even have the nerve to push you to the side, yelling inquiries to the woman behind the glass, who is still trying to help you. Then, they have the nerve to shove your paperwork aside, so they can push their papers in the view of the woman, who is still supposed to be helping you. She desperately tries to keep her cool, and tries to appease everyone by setting aside your papers briefly to get this other guy out of the way. This occurs at least twice more, where you are shoved aside, so someone of more importance can have their business taken care of. Your transaction takes upwards of 30 minutes,and when you are finished, you spend 3 minutes squeezing your way through the lines back out the door.
Total: 1 hour, 3 minutes spent in the post office.

Bologna, and a reunion..



On our last day in Florence, I headed to Bologna to meet a long lost friend. This reunion was a long time coming. Almost 14 years. My high school graduation is the last time I remember seeing her. But, we had drifted a while before then. This was always kind of a sad reality for me. Here we had been so close, then, for some reason, high school changed us both. We ended up on two different paths. Unfortunately, she took a wayward turn and had ended up in the less fortunate of situations, where, I had taken a different turn, which had led me to a good place.

I have some fond memories of Moni. It was Moni with whom I first discovered Hawaii, at age 12, and again at 13 and 14. I have a special place in my heart for Hawaii, and the memories of seeing and swimming in the aqua blue water for the first time with her are some of my fondest. In grade school, she and I had been two of a foursome. Ra, Moni, Cal, and Shan. We did everything together, and at times, we fought and took sides against each other: Me and Cal, against Moni and Shan…or, Me and Moni against Cal and Shan..only to make up minutes later.

One of my funniest memories of us was in 8th grade. We all snuck into the Gym when it was closed and jumped on the ‘Pro-Pit,’ this huge mushy foam mattress used for PE high jump activities. We were caught by our drill-sergeant-ex-Marine PE teacher, and he punished us by making us pick weeds in a field adjacent to school, for a week during lunch. We may have severed his trust, which had taken 3 years to gain, but I think we all bonded as a result..even though, at the time, another fight ensued in which we all pointed fingers at each other for even coming up with the idea. It makes me smile to think about those days. Everything seemed so innocent. The next year, we all split off to different high schools, but Moni ended up at my school a year later. By this time, I had already made some new friends and found it hard to incorporate her into my circle of friends. I tried to, but at this point, she had different interests than I did, and we just sort of drifted. In the past, I had always wondered whatever happened to her. I remember thinking that she hated me, and that I had somehow abandoned her in high school when she probably needed me the most. So, I was most surprised when I received an email from her, out of the blue before Christmas. As fate would have it, she was living in Italy, and I would be going there as well. I knew at this point that we would meet again.

I think what surprised me the most was that it felt so natural to see her again.. after so many years, and all that has taken place since the days in which we were close, so long ago. It felt as if we had never left. She has changed, but in some ways she is just the same, and that was comforting. She hit rock bottom at one point in the not so distant past, and she was able to put her life back together. I admire that. It is also scary and sad to think that had she not cleaned up, she might not have made it to see today…and then, she never would have contacted me, and I never would have known that we still had a friendship buried within us. But, she did; and for that, I am thankful.

Florence,Italy..








When I was here last, 8 years ago, one of my few memories, aside from the exhibitionist flashing H and I his ‘goods’ while we walked along a country road back to our hostel, was the exhaust and the noise, a nice leather bag that I bought, which was later stolen on a beach in Cadiz, Spain and…oh, I almost forgot…. David, and the Duomo..

This time, as T and I rolled into town, I remember wondering whether I would appreciate this city’s offerings more the second time around, now that I am a few years older and hopefully a little wiser. For Art History buffs, there is so much to see here..problem is, I never did A’ce those classes in college, let alone have a stellar attendance record in them. (hmm, maybe there is a possible link here?)

For some reason, The Science Museum featuring the Original Instruments of Galileo or the Cadaver Wax Museum seemed a little bit more up my alley. (We never did make it to these exhibits..) As was the case in Venice, I much preferred seeing the city from the outside with all of its grand architecture, while squeezing in a few churches and maybe an un-crowded museum or two.. I know, I know. That sounds horrible and so un-cultured of me, really, I am almost ashamed, but I think we both agreed that we wanted to try and stay a little bit off the beaten path, considering that the city was so crowded with large groups of Spring Breakers, Cars and Exhaust, which, at times, made maneuvering through any tight space, or any wide piazza for that matter, much more difficult. .

Good thing is, Florence may be almost as touristy as Venice, but the prices here were much more reasonable. We found much pleasure in dining at this simple deli style place, and were shocked (in a good way) at some of the prices we were paying for a full meal. 15$ for example, for a bottle of water, a toasted vegetable Panini sandwich, a good size shrimp salad with all the fixings, a side of veggies, and for dessert, a ricotta filled pastry called Sfoglitelli. We vowed to return there again for every meal for the rest of our trip.. The only trouble is, we never could find it again..

Instead, we found many piazzas, many Churches, the Duomo and the Central Market, outside of which, we screamed past stalls and stalls of leather, ‘Gucci’ bags, shoes, purses, belts, you name it..all being sold at the “Best Price, Lady!” What I really wanted to see was the food market inside, where we discovered that Tripe was more than abundant, as were hanging hunks of Salumi, bins and bins of Salted Cod and many bottles of Lemonciello and various Italian Wines. Of course, the huge wheels of Parmegiano Reggiano and the other varieties of cheeses were not hard for me to spot, and either was the Pastry counter, with its many varieties of Biscotti, including Cantucci (hard biscotti, almonds) and Brutti Ma Buoni (which means ‘ugly but good’), a type of crunchy macaroon.. along with Tuscan style(no salt) breads.

Of course, we also came across the Gelato. I refrained as best I could and only consumed it twice during our stay, one time topping a sugar cone, Torrone flavor…and the other, accompanying a lemon cake, Strawberry flavor. I am determined to get that texture down. The Strawberry was pretty memorable. It definitely wasn’t icy like a sorbet, nor was it creamy like an ice cream..it was simply something perfectly in between. I am guessing that some type of liquid sugar is added, to achieve that almost gooey look and texture. Yum.

In an effort to get above the noise, we also ventured to a garden above the city, which offered a nice escape and some nice views, if only for a little while. I also ventured out to another fortress and garden one day, solo, and on the way, I thought it best to turn down a stroll in the park with an Italian man who approached me, made friendly conversation and asked if I wanted company.

I think, aside from the bloodshot & dry eyes, itchy throats and congestion that T and I encountered upon arrival here, (we are still trying to determine whether this is mere coincidence or a result of the air pollution), we didn’t love Florence, but we didn’t hate it either. It certainly felt good to be back in a city that seems to function on more than just tourism, but it also felt like just that, a city; an exhaust ridden yet bustling, historic and quite picturesque, city.

Next, we head to the hills, for the fresh air, beautiful vistas, sunshine and good wine. It will be nice to breathe again and to put the Visine away.