Sightseeing

OK, so here are some traditional sights of Copenhagen. I have to say that it is a very pretty city even in the dead of winter. It must be truly magical in the summertime.

Let's start off with the 100 year old, bronze and granite statue of the original Little Mermaid from Hans Christian Andersen's (not Disney's) fairy tale that guards the entrance to Copenhagen harbor.

And here's a picture of the two of us on Nyhavn. Say "Freeze".

 

Here's Michael proving that it's not all about gourmet meals here in Copenhagen. We hit the classic Danish hotdog stands more than once already to work our way through the selections.

 



And Macys Christmas windows have some steep competition when here in Copenhagen they decorate OUTSIDE the windows. This ambitious design features life size (well if you can call man-sized mice life size) figures roaming across the second through fifth stories of the building's façade all draped in a pretty curtain of lights.

 

Ho Ho Ho!
 

NOMA

OK, spoiler alert. If you do not care about food stop reading now.

Next, viewer discretion advised. This is not burgers and fries. Much of the food at NOMA is gathered in public parks, picked up at the beach, and often in various stages of decomposition (known in the gourmet vernacular as aged or fermented).

Note: Some marine creatures, insects and birds were harmed in the preparation of this meal.

The meal consisted of 11 appetizers, 7 entrees, 2 desserts and 3 sweets.
(apologies for the new phone and the resultant questionable focus on some of these).

First gooseberries and elderflowers in pine oil with lemon and Nordic Coconuts

 

Then Fried Reindeer Moss (the white part not the green as the folks next to us found out)



 

Black currant juice formed into balls with roses

 

Two Cheese crackers topped with rocket stems

 

Pickled and smoked quails eggs

 

Very Cold (frozen) monkfish liver slices with carmelized milk

 

Danish pancakes made with bee larvae instead of egg yolks, stuffed with greens and glazed with bits of grasshoppers

 

Chestnuts with trout roe 

 

Sea urchin on toast covered with crispy duck skin

 

Grilled (Burnt) Leeks (they open like a canoe and you eat what's inside)

 

Squid with green walnut shells and broccoli stems in a lovely ice bowl

 

Fresh Milk Curd with Blueberry preserves and tiny lemon thyme leaves

 

Onions and Pears with wood ants (the wee brown bits)

 

 Beets and fermented plums with aromatic herbs

 

Carmelized cauliflower steak and pine (not for eating) with cream and horseradish

 

Potatoes roasted in barley with a ball of bright yellow bleak roe

 

 

And just when we'd given up hope for meat, the real knife appeared for the aged wild duck with pickled pears and fried birch leaves on a sauce of kale

 

Then we went on to desserts apparently to be differentiated from the later sweets. Imagine our surprise when this Aronia berry gelee on ice cream made from seaweed (isn't it all? apparent no most ice cream is made from something extracted from seaweed) turned out to be the only fishy tasting item on the entire menu....ewwww....but it was pretty.

 

But then we were treated to this little trio of a cream infused with plum kernels (that tasted of amaretto) with sweetened mashed potatoes (not sweet potatoes) and a plum compote. 

 

Then for sweets...caramels made from sourdough bread with a mix of Icelandic yoghurt and Nordic cranberries topped off with elderflower salt

 



Very mild Ethiopian coffee and a classic danish (sorry I can't flip the image)

 

 

And FINALLY crispy fried pork skins coated in milk chocolate and blueberries!

 

Afterwards we toured the kitchens, met lots of young people from the United States working there (primarily as unpaid interns) and were not over full in the end. (Far less so than after Thanksgiving dinner.)

 

So, Merry Christmas to us!

 

When Climates Collide

Before I proceed with the lengthy process of documenting a 23 course, 3 hour lunch, I would like to put everyone’s minds at ease. I know that many of you were worrying about how we might survive in the Nordic environment. So far, so good. The only problem thus far is that Michael’s warm, hiking shoes apparently suffered from the tropical climate, as many of the souls/soles of ‘real’ shoes do and the glue has given way. He thought it odd that his right foot seemed colder than his left foot all day walking in the misty, overcast weather. Mystery solved.

 

Warped Time

Yes, I thought it was a bit challenging getting out of Cuba. Little did I know.

 

We left Anguilla around 11A on Tuesday heading to the airport in St. Maarten. Our plane coming in from New York was delayed so we were delayed leaving for New York. We only had about 75 minutes to clear immigration and customs, recheck bags and get to our London flight so we were a bit nervous. The pilot, however, made up the time and we got to the gate at JFK in plenty of time only to find no plane at the jetway. Our 7:30P departure was delayed until 8P. Then until 8:30P. Then until 9P. Finally we boarded. Then the pilot advised us that the cargo doors were still open. Oh wait, they were still open because we didn’t have all of the bags on board. Opps. Then he couldn’t communicate with the baggage guys coz somebody’s headset wasn’t working. Then they got a new headset. The we had to spend 40 minutes being de-iced.

Then finally we were in line for take off when the pilot informed us that two unruly passengers were going to need to be removed from the flight so we had to turn around and head back to the gate, have security remove the passengers, then have the baggage guys come back to find those passengers’ bags, and then we had to be refueled because we had screwed around for so long. In the end we left 5 hours late for London when our layover was only 4 hours to begin with.

Luckily Michael called American and got us on a later flight to Copenhagen. But even still by the time we got to the gate in Heathrow, the flight was already boarding. Just a lot of stress and very little sleep.

But we are here in Copenhagen now soaking up the Christmas spirit. I picked our hotel because we could get a room with a view of Tivoli Gardens and they did not disappoint.

 

Time Warp

Our last full day in Cuba was mostly a long bus ride back to Havana and then a lovely farewell dinner.

The next morning, we had a bit of a scare at the airport when just before it was due to depart our flight disappeared from the display board. Nobody knew why. There were no airline personnel on our side of the locked immigration doors and no way to find out what went wrong. After about 45 minutes trying to call the tour company in Washington state and the guide in Cuba (luckily somebody in the group had a global phone) we still had no idea what was going on. But at least all that effort took up time because then suddenly, still without notice, the plane landed, we boarded and off we went.

We expected a bit of attention upon arrival in the United States...at least someone verifying that we had not come back with the forbidden rum, coffee or cigars. But nobody batted an eye or asked a single question.

I think the hardest part of the trip was leaving our wonderful guide, Beatriz, behind. Whether she is free to admit it or not, I can't imagine that she doesn't realize the constraints of her life there and that makes me sad. As is usually the case in these situations, it's the people - not the ruler - who suffer. That's who we should think about when we consider lifting the embargo.

Meanwhile, we left this behind:

 

So that one day we were drinking Cuban Coffee and the next morning we were drinking French cappuccinos waiting for the ferry to take us home to British Anguilla. Now two days later we are off to Copenhagen and by Saturday we will be drinking tea with our British friends.

 

So in honor of the holiday season, I'll just say, "It's a Wonderful Life."

 

Santa Clara

Thursday morning we took a nice leisurely start to the day with a city tour of Cienfuegos. The town was founded by the French and you can see that in the older buildings. You definitely get that New Orleans kind of feel. There’s a cute little main square and a nicely restored local theatre. And most importantly, Michael and I managed to scoop up some sand to bring home for our collection.

Then we were off driving to Santa Clara. Tonight we attended a local block party that was arranged as a means for us to really interact with locals on an intimate level. We were expecting what we would consider a block party in the United States and had even been instructed to take some food and drink to the gathering. It turned out that this was really an opportunity to tell us about the Committees for the Defense of the Revolution which are comprised LITERALLY of the residents in one city block. In this case just under 100 people. This is a university town (there are four here) and with education being free in Cuba this is a highly educated population. Six doctors live on this little street along with professors and other professionals. And yet it is still a very simple life.

When we first heard the term ‘neighborhood watch’, we were thinking of the equivalent in the U.S. where you watch out for your neighbors to protect them from outside threats. However, this neighborhood watch apparently watches your neighbors for subversive threats to the government. Sort of a lower tech NSA. Everywhere in Cuba there are sign imploring Obama to pardon and return the five Cuban “spies” jailed in the USA to Cuba and that point was made again here as our delegation stood on a little, dark street at night with the neighborhood chanting “Free the Five, Free the Five”…. But just for an awkward minute. Then we all drank rum and chatted and had a good time.

The next morning we strolled around Santa Clara as Michael continued on his week-long search to find Cubilette (a dice game where you play poker hands with the dice). He had been unsuccessful thus far. Nobody had them. And then at one of the crafts places one of the guys said that they can’t sell them because they are for gambling and gambling is illegal (as if no one bets on the ubiquitous dominos!). Anyway, we had resorted to asking bartenders and suspicious-looking characters on the streets. Today Michael asked one guy on the corner who said no. But then another guy in the group called us back and offered to run home and get us some. So we made the entire delegation sit on the bus while we waited on the corner for his return. Finally, a taxi rounded the bend, a hand reached out of the moving bus and handed off the dice to the guy waiting with us as the taxi continued on its way without stopping. They aren’t the prettiest looking plastic cubilette dice in the world but at least we bought them in Cuba in a strangely covert transaction.

The Bay of Pigs

On Wednesday we headed out of Havana to the southern shore to the Bay of Pigs stopping along the way at the little village called Batey Soplillar. It is the site of a famous Christmas Eve dinner that Fidel Castro shared with two local, charcoal producing families the first year after the Revolution. So there’s a tiny, little museum set up there memorializing this event. It was a simple dinner with the families but it held great significance to the country as a demonstration of Castro’s commitment to the poor.

The Bay of Pigs museum was just a small little two room building chronically the 72 hours of the invasion and Cuba’s victory over the invading mercenaries. As is often the case, the result of the attempt ended up being the complete opposite of the intent. Whereas the United States’ backed invasion hoped to overthrow Castro and to weaken his support amongst the general populace, in fact, the invasion (and the victory) only made the people more resolute and determined to preserve their new government. Viva la Revolucion!

Wednesday night we stayed in the World Heritage Site town of Cienfuegos.  Dinner was on our own, so Michael and I and another couple took the opportunity to stretch our legs by walking along the boardwalk into town and ate a nice dinner at a rooftop restaurant all decked out with Christmas decorations.

Oh and if you ever wondered where maracas come from…apparently they grow on trees.

Cuban Lemonade Stand

During one of our stops in downtown Havana, we clamored off the bus to find this young woman sitting right on the sidewalk with her little table selling drinks. Not lemonade but rum, of course. Just selling shots on the sidewalk. Gotta love it.

 

Clinics and Cannons

Tuesday was also full of professional meetings. The first at the Latin American School of Medicine where every year Cuba educates thousands of doctors from over one hundred different countries including (quite surprisingly) the United States and then sends them back to their home countries to provide care to those in need. After lunch we visited one of Cuba’s third and highest level of care medical hospital/institutes. We didn’t really get to see anything by way of the physical facilities, but did have some interesting conversations with the doctors. In spite of caring for 1500 cases a day, they profess to have a staggeringly low number of complaints (10 a year) which they conclude is a credit to their strong focus on communication with both the patient and the patient’s family. I’m sure there is some of that and some difference in the culture in general, but the fact that the hospitals are owned by Castro's government must have some part also.

For dinner Tuesday night we went to the National Hotel in downtown Havana. First we had a drink at the bar where the walls are covered with montages of celebrities who visited the hotel grouped by decades. Everyone from Johnny Weismuller, Betty Grable and George Raft to Jimmy Buffett and Leonardo DiCaprio. Then after dinner we piled back onto the bus to travel via the tunnel under the harbor to the Morro Castle which was built around the turn of the 17^th century to defend the city against pirate attacks. Nowadays they hold a nightly ceremony to reenact the old cannon shot that used to signal that the gates of the city were closing to secure the area for the night.

Unfortunately it started raining, More unfortunately, in spite of the fact that I was the one who had sent out an email to all of the delegates encouraging them to bring an umbrella because you ‘just never know when a squall is gonna kick up’ in the Caribbean, I did not have my umbrella with me. Our tour guide, Beatriz, was apparently pretty surprised that we elected to go on out to the point to see the firing of the gun. At every dry spot, she would stop and ask if we were all continuing on. We would say, of course. She would seem surprised. And then we'd go a bit further. The rain was off and on and variably heavy, but it was a lovely view from up on top looking back to Havana. And, seriously, how many times do you think you are going to be in Havana? So rain or shine, we were watching the cannon shot.

Michael at the Homestead in Regla, Cuba

The Buena Vista Social Club

Se puede Bailar

Monday morning took us to Regla. To visit the church there where most
people go to learn about the Afro-Cuban culture and especially
Santeria, an animistic religion that is practiced by many Cubans and
to see the famous black Madonna holding the white baby Jesus in the
local church.
Michael and I were also excited about visiting this area for a more
personal reason. When I was researching family trees on Ancestry.com,
I found a few Cuban addresses for Michael's great-grandfather listed
on various boat manifests back in the day of the family's frequent
travels back and forth between Cuba and Florida. One of these was from
1915 and was in a town called Regla. As one might imagine, the street
numbers themselves have changed. There is still a Marti Street (pretty
much the main drag) but the numbers start on the water with Number 100
and the address we had was 10. However, the general consensus between
one of our guides and the curator of the little museum was that #10
would have been right there at the "Mother's Park" where women would
take their babies down by the water. So even if we don't know the
specific house, his family must have lived right in this little area.
Very cool.
The rest of the day was filled with professional meetings with the
Ministry of Health and the Tourism folks, but Monday night we ate at
El Tablado de Pancho and then went to enjoy the show by the world
famous Buena Vista Social Club. The Social Club is an organization
dedicated to the preservation of the music from back around the
1940's. Not only is the music old but the band includes several
performers who were also popular at that time. It was not only
entertaining but also inspiring to see these musical artists in their
70's and even 80's singing and dancing and clearly having a wonderful
still enjoying performing. And the flowing mojitos, cuba libres, and
conga lines didn't hurt either. A good time was had by all.

Back in the USofA

We are safely back in the United States. In spite of everyone's
worries that customs and or immigration would be a nightmare given
where we were, nobody cared at all.

Getting out of Cuba was a bit stressful..not because of immigration
issues. But because we were all in the departures lounge waiting for
our plane to arrive, watching the board, when all of a sudden our
flight disappeared. Didn't change to delayed. Just disappeared. So we
were stuck there in the lounge with not a single (apparent) airline
employee to tell us what was going on. Some broken Spanish exchanged
with broken English netted us only the impression that nobody else was
much concerned. Then again all the folks queried were working and
living in Havana so what did it matter to them. Rather like when it
rains on vacation and you ask if the sun is going to come out....sure
eventually. Same with the plane. They all trusted that the plane would
arrive....eventually.

So there was a wee bit of stress and some challenging phone calls
(luckily someone had a phone with coverage in Cuba) to the tour
operator etc trying to get information. Don't get me wrong. We
received absolutely no help and no answers but the attempt kept us
occupied long enough until the plane finally landed (without warning
or fanfare). And we were off about 90 minutes late.

Rather than rush right into the Admiral's Club for the 4 hour wait for
our departing flight to St. Maarten, we stopped at the Cuban
restaurant here in MIA. As it turns out, Cuban Cuban food is not quite
the same as American Cuban food....close but just not the same. Rather
like two species of sparrow that started out the same but then through
some act of nature became physically separated and evolved just a bit
differently from each other in their disparate environments.

Now, we are trying to catch up in emails in the airline lounge where
quite honestly the wifi speed isn't all the much better than in the
hotel in Havana. But it is free. So I will soldier on and try to catch
up on the trip.....see subsequent posts.

Hola Habana

That first day, once we were on the road again, we went to Revolution Square where Michael impressed our guide with his extensive, childhood knowledge of the key players and the history of the time of the Revolution. Past the Capitol Building. More monuments. Along the sea wall to lunch at a local restaurant started off with, of course, Mojitos. A little more driving out to the hotel in the Miramar area. A little orientation. And then finally time to relax before dinner.

The buildings in Cuba are just as promised – dilapidated and decaying. Don’t get me wrong. I live in the Caribbean. I realize how hard it is to maintain a building in this environment. And these buildings are a whole lot older than my house. So it is not surprising to me at all that they look the way that they do. Nevertheless, when we were driving to dinner the first night and the bus slowed down, even I looked out the window and thought, “THIS is where the restaurant is?”

We were eating at a paladar which is a privately owned restaurant. Post revolution, all businesses were government run (which I imagine is why the gas stations and markets and restaurants don’t have names but appear to simply be marked by the location – like “4^th and Main Gas” or “Downtown Market”). Anyway, some years ago the Cuban government apparently decided to insinuate a wee bit of capitalism into the economy by allowing private enterprise. Hence the paladars which are privately owned (a percentage of course which is still government owned) restaurants established in people’s residences. We ate that first night at a famous one called Paladar Guardia which is known for being the setting of a very successful movie called ‘Fresa y Chocolate’ (Strawberries and Chocolate. It reminded me a lot of a restaurant we went to in Brazil. We entered the building on the first floor into a huge courtyard and then climbed 3-4 long flights of stairs up to the restaurant passing water tanks and clotheslines and residents on the way to the dining rooms that are all small, very personal spaces since they used to be rooms in the residence.

Sunday morning we headed out on a walking of tour of Havana’s four main squares (Vieja, de la Catedral, de Armas and de San Francisco). Michael did manage to buy a cane for his collection from an elderly gentleman who actually wanted to be paid to have his picture taken but was willing to sell the cane instead (no doubt for a much better profit). We were supposed to visit the Fine Arts Museum showcasing Cuban artists’ works but a national day of mourning had been declared in honor of the passing of Nelson Mandela so that museum was closed.  So we substituted a visit to the Museum of the Revolution across the street where we saw lots of mementos from the glory days of Castro, Che Guevara and Cienfeugos including the preserved and highly-guarded boat that delivered the band of brothers from Mexico back to Cuba to start the fighting.

Sunday night was dinner ‘on our own’ so a few of us elected to catch a cab into Old Havana to stroll around and catch a bite. I have to say that I did not find the area as charming at night. But it was definitely good to get a feel for the night life of the city even if it was a bit subdued as a result of the day of mourning. We were on a mission to find Cuban sandwiches which seemed on the verge of certain failure when we finally found them at a little bar that reminded Michael of his grandfather’s bar in his old photos. They didn’t press the sandwiches like we expected but the bread was abundant and it was definitely a local’s place. So sandwiches and beer made for a perfect evening capped off with the requisite daiquiris at (presumably) one of Hemingway’s old hangouts, The Floridita.

A good day.

 

La Guardia Paladar

 

Day One - The Invasion

Day One. The Invasion.

(Aside: Internet access is as expected difficult and slow here. So I'll post a bit from time to time if I can but I won't really catch up and am not expecting to upload photos until I am back home. Meanwhile….)

Leading a group is never an easy undertaking. But getting checked in for a charter flight to Havana is another thing entirely. Mi amigo, Fabrizio, did not want to deal with everyone individually. So I found myself on the floor in the terminal at 5AM gathering together the required documents from each bleary-eyed delegate:  Passport, check. Visa, check. Travel affidavit, check. Airline ticket. Check.

Then a coffee break at the conveniently located Dunkin Donuts waiting for Fabrizio to call me back over to give me the return airline vouchers and another document requiring each delegate's signature. So commences the handing out of said documents to each delegate. Check. Then the gathering up again of the signed documents. Check.

Then each individual still had to check in at the counter to get their boarding pass and to check their bags so I helped the woman at the counter locate each person and get them through that process so they could go stand in line to wait again to be called in order to pay the $20 (take your bag to the airplane special fee) plus any charge for extra weight. (A total allowed weight of 44 lbs turns out to not be all that much.)

All in all checking in for the flight required 2 hours so that the 5A start for a 9A flight no longer seemed quite so insane. Plus, as an added benefit, if you need to attach faces to names of 20 new friends as quickly as possible, all of that handing out and collecting of documents turns out to be an extremely effective tool!

In the end, we all made it onto the plane for the short flight to Havana. I chatted in what I believe to have been reasonable Spanish to the wee, little old woman sitting next to me on the plane. (Do you live in Havana? My husband's mother was Cuban. He was in Havana when he was a tiny little boy but doesn't remember very much. And even, that it is interesting that in Miami everyone speaks Spanish and English but on the plane to Havana the woman (I don't know the word for flight attendant) only spoke in English.)

Anyway, they let us into Cuba. There's even a stamp (yet to be located) in the modern art project that is the mass of stamps in my added and added and added passport pages.

Of course, the first thing everyone sees when stepping outside for the first time in Cuba, which I think is because everyone is waiting to see them, are the classic, old cars that abound on this island. Granted they often sit next to a brand new Audi, but there is indeed an abundance of them everywhere you look. Some in seemingly pristine condition (at least on the outside) and some of them not so much. But clearly each and every one of them is treasured by its owner.

From the airport to lunch we mostly drove the streets of different neighborhoods in Havana. Looking at the gardens on our right or the hospital on our left. But barely 15 minutes into the drive, just as we entered an intersection PELIGROSO (a big roundabout), the bus died. Yup, really. I kid you not. The great thing about it was that it was so perfectly fitting. Here we are in a world where all those old vehicles are maintained with spit and duct tape, and our bus died. So our driver took off his shirt, neatly folded it and set it aside, pulled out a good-sized piece of cardboard that was conveniently stored on the bus, and set about fixing the bus. He located the problem as a break in the accelerator cable, spliced it together with lord knows what, tucked the cardboard away, donned his clean shirt again, and we were off in less time than it would take AAA to respond to your cell phone call in the States. It couldn't have been a more apropos start to the experience if it had been carefully orchestrated.

Ta Da! Twilight on the Duomo

Arrivederci!
Ciao!

Last day

Yesterday was our last full day here. Today we travel by train to Bologna. Spend the night at the lovely airport Sheraton and then catch an early flight out on Wednesday morning.

Yesterday we continued on the trail of Dan Brown's novel and visited the Palazzo Vecchio. Never been there before. No doubt having the story of the book to pique our interest helped to make the visit more interesting, but it is an amazing place....previously a Medici palace so quite a showplace. The hall of the 500 featured in the book is enormous and the mask of Dante is pretty eerie (even if the placard allows that it is probably NOT an actual death mask cast after he died).

The other thing that made it fun was an extremely enthusiastic ticket taker who was clearly enthralled with the art and happy to be working there who gave us little insights and sent us off running to the map room because (whisper, whisper, whisper, shoo, shoo) some Italian celebrity was going to be filming something in the room adjacent to it so the map room would be inaccessible in short order. Her enthusiasm was truly contagious.

Then we actually did some buying (having only done shopping until that point). A lovely new purse (for me), some boots (for me again) and some belts (for both of us). And lots and lots more strolling around.

Then at twilight, we took a bottle of prosecco down to the piazza to catch the perfect light on the Duomo (photo to follow) and to toast a wonderful trip. The crowds of Friday and Saturday night have dissipated so it wasn't nearly as busy so it was nice to just sit and to sip and to shoot photos.

Then on our way to dinner, a couple commented to us as we passed by that the gelato shops are worth photographing as well (Michael has) and we got to talking. So in our requisite installment of 'it's a small world after all'....they live in Concord less than 2 miles from where we used to live, and they used to take their pets to Encina Veterinary Clinic (though they didn't see Michael). Just crazy.

Dinner was at a place recommended by the guy at the hotel desk last night. Acqua al Due. They apparently have franchises in Washington DC and San Diego so not exactly a just mom and pop local place but a very unique place with tasting dishes with five pastas and three desserts and excellent steaks in blueberry sauce or balsamic sauce. Crazy busy place with plates signed by celebrities (I only recognized John Cusack) all over the walls so a totally different dining experience than we've had so far and thus a fitting end to the trip.
 

Sunday is for Church

Sunday morning we woke early (I was feeling better thanks to some substantial medications) and headed to the Galleria dell'Accademia to visit David. Well, The David by Michelangelo. I've seen it now three times. This was four for Michael. David never lets you down. The sculpture is as breath-taking now as it was the first time. We left early, stopped for cappuccino on the way and then waited an hour for the doors to open. We sat for about 40 minutes sometimes marveling at the David and sometimes marveling at the people who often hardly give it a glance before just chatting on with their friends and strolling straight on through. First, why would you bother paying 11euros for a ticket to see pretty much just the David and then not look at the David? And secondly, in the presence of such beauty, how can your eyes at least not be drawn to it while you are chatting with your friends? Yet another unsolvable mystery.

The Accademia was followed by breakfast back at our perfectly situated hotel and then more strolling. We headed all the way over to the church at Santa Croce only to find it functioning as an actual church at 11A on a Sunday morning and thus closed to tourists. Who'd have thunk it?

So more strolling. More eating. More strolling and back there in the afternoon to visit the tombs and memorials of Michelangelo and Dante, Marconi and Galileo and friends.

Then more strolling and more eating and more strolling. And then, determined tourists that we are, we forced ourselves back outside after it really got dark (which isn't until nearly 10P in this part of the world so that's a hard transition for us equatorial types) to get some photos of the Duomo at night.

 

Alive and in Florence

Yes, we are still alive. We were walking around Florence last night when a single young woman passed us on the street talking on her cellphone. She told whoever was on the other end of the connection that she just thought she should let someone know where she was. I thought I ought to do the same.

I know I haven't posted since we left Todi. Apologies. The day we spent driving from Todi to Florence via Montalcino and Monteriggioni was very nice. We'd been to both places before so it was just a question of stopping by on our way. Nothing too exciting. Returning the car to Hertz was no big deal. Remember we were still waiting to make sure that someone here would credit us back for the ridiculously expensive taxi fare from Terni to Orvieto and they did with no problems.

Our hotel is steps from the Duomo, we can hear the bells toll in the campanile, and if I lean out the window I can even see the top of the campanile. Yet when we close the windows it is quiet as can be in here. So that first night we just settled in and strolled around.

Saturday morning we took advantage of the only day predicted to be rain free and set out to the Boboli Gardens. We both read Dan Brown's new mystery, Inferno, while in Todi and much of it is set in Florence including a daring escape through Boboli Gardens. So we retraced what we could remember of the sequence of events. It's a strenuous stroll up and down and up and down and I was catching some horrible achy flu so once we were done we came back to rest and then just did some shopping and gelato eating and basic bumming around.

But speaking of mysteries and symbolism, how about this little sign? 

It appears in showers here next to that wee, flimsy, slippery looking cord mounted six feet up in the air. So, what nature of shower-related emergency might you have that would be serious enough for you to seek the assistance of strangers (in your presumed nakedness) but that would also still leave you standing up and capable of grasping that little cord in order to summon them?

Sadly, I might have asked Dan Brown himself. Apparently he was here in Florence last Wednesday to promote his book, but I missed him by just that much.

New Friends

Well, today we leave Todi. We head out this morning. The last couple of days the fog has rolled in early in the morning and settled in the valley so as I sit here writing on the balcony below me it looks like an ocean dotted with little green islands as the tips of the hills reach up through the mist. The swallows are out flying slaloms in the blue sky above. It's just beautiful.

Yesterday was just like this. So we stayed close to home. Lorenza was not in the coffee shop so we went to sit out in the piazza instead and had our cappuccino and people watched. Then we strolled around some. Stuck our heads into some stores and ultimately wound our way around to our garden terrace at the Pizzeria Cavour restaurant for lunch. Elisa, the very cheery, extremely trim, young waitress who waited on us on our very first night was there. She always seemed happy to see us after that so we were glad that she was there. Still trying to work on my Italian I told her that it was our last day in Todi (appropriately polite sad boo-boo face given as response) but that we wanted to thank her very much for all of her help. I told her that everything at the restaurant was always perfect. Grazie mille. She asked where we were staying. I told her where and asked if she knew the owner of the apartment. She said she did. She asked where we were going went we left Todi. I told her Florence for four days and then back to our home. She asked where. I told her that we were Americans but that we live on an island in the ocean in the Caribbean. I know it doesn't sound like much, but the entire conversation WAS in Italian. So I was feeling pretty good about myself.

Anyway, a couple of beers, a maxi salad for Michael and a tuna and cannellini bean salad for me and a lovely time sitting out on the terrace. When we were leaving we passed her on the stairs and thanked her again. I went to shake her hand. She did the kiss-kiss cheek thing and turned to Michael for the same. Then she looked at me and said something to the effect of, "Lei ha facce bocca?" I looked confused. So she said it again. So my minds trying to translate the Italian....but bocca is Spanish? ok go back to facce....fare is to do? Is she asking, as my French friends do, if I 'make a face' at her? (which would be a bad thing.) Meanwhile, I hear Michael saying, "Yes, yes, of course." So I'm really confused. What they heck? How can he understand her?

Well of course he could because Michael prides himself on the fact that he doesn't speak foreign languages. He just speaks English with the appropriate foreign accent. And sure enough (god damn him) that means he DID understand her because she was asking if I have face-a-bocca.....i.e. face-a-booka....i.e. FACEBOOK. Damn it. So now I am facebook friends with Elisa seen below with us outside the restaurant. Ciao for now.

 

The Duomo

Could post 20. Will post 2. The second one is for you, Amber. I believe that is the sky you and your father enjoyed every damn day you were here. I hope you appreciated it. Coz it only took me three weeks to find it.

 

Adorable Ovieto Streets

What can I say?

 

Torno Subito

I'll be back. No doubt about it in spite of the fact that it is raining right now and it doesn't bother me one bit. Why? Because in the last two days we've finally enjoyed the true potential of being back in Italy and of being in Todi in general. Lord knows it hasn't been easy but we knew what it should have been and we have confirmed now what it can be and the full potential is phenomenal.

We got up this morning and went to have coffee with our favorite barista, Lorenza. She's so sweet. Always happy. Totally animated. And even had a conversation in part English and part Italian about Michael's tattoos. (She has a tiny one on her ankle. She didn't take offense at his risqué naked lady tattoo. And I think we managed to convey the appropriate meaning of "Breathe in. Breathe out. Move on." since I was sure that looking up the word "move" in her dictionary was not going to impart the appropriate subtlety.)

Then we strolled around town and while we were looking in the window of a real estate office, Mary (the viola player we met yesterday) came jogging by and stopped and laughed at how we were clearly hooked. Then she tried to get us to have more coffee? or lunch? or a day trip tomorrow to the Roman waterfall outside Terni? And gave us her contact number in case we need any help finding a place.

Then we went back to Orvieto. Now if you remember last week when we went on our anniversary we were thrilled to have nice weather. Well, compared to today last week was downright bleak. So, I'm going to simply let some images speak for themselves. There's just six of them but I'll post them in a few groups so it's not one big entry.

To start, here's Lorenza and me and then some poppies that apparently went crazy when the weather warmed up.

 

 

 

 

 

Oz

The Poppies!!
Today was finally exactly what we came here expecting and have spent the last three weeks hoping for. In spite of weather forecasts to the contrary, the weather is divine. Puffy white clouds, clear blue skies, cool breezes and warm sunshine. We are in heaven.

After a quick run to the grocery store for provisions for our last few days in Todi along with some take-home items (pastas, truffles and Cynar aperitif) we did a little driving around to catch lovely views back to Todi and to find the perfect poppies to photograph (in spite of the carabinieri chasing us along one time).

Then back to Todi for lunch out in il giardino again. We knew it was gonna be perfect when we saw that they strung out the shade cloth over the tables today. Seriously, shade cloth! Can you believe it!?! It was exquisite.

And in addition to enjoying the weather and relishing the temperature and taking in the view, we met a group of very interesting women. I don't think I mentioned the other night when we stopped into the hand painted scarf shop and met the owner who's husband is some sort of diplomat so she's lived in and taught art for 4 years in Papua New Guinea, she's lived for years in Luan Prabang, Laos and even in Bhutan. Just an interesting person to chat with.

Well today, the four women at the next table have in common that they all own homes here in Todi but one is a Bulgarian physicist who used to teach at Princeton and worked for pharmaceutical companies in San Francisco. Another grew up in Wisconsin but hasn't lived in the States in 40 years as she married an 'uber Swede' (beats me) and used to play viola in the symphony in Cologne, Germany. The other is from New Zealand but we didn't get any other info. And the fourth taught French and Italian for 40 years and hails from Westchester, Pennsylvania right near the large animal facility for the University of Pennsylvania Veterinary School.

Of course, they insisted that the weather lately was been extremely unusual, acknowledged that it has been abysmal, and apologized for it profusely. Then they were ready to put us in touch with someone they know who has a house for sale. Not quite yet! But thanks.

Monday

Today when we went to have cappuccino at Lorenza's place, we asked her if there is a restaurant in Todi where we could get an 'American breakfast' of eggs, ham etc. Not that we don't adore her cornetti, but we have started missing our protein breakfasts. Apparently, however, there is no such place. I guess it's bad enough that we actually sit down to drink our coffee and to linger over our rolls since most all Italians just stop in, stand at the bar, gulp down their coffee, finish off their pastry in three bites and Ciao, they are on their way.

Since the housekeeper was coming today, we needed to go somewhere in spite of a questionable weather forecast, so we decided to head out towards Montefalco since the drive along that ridge was so pretty when we were wine tasting last week. It was overcast this morning so the views were not as photogenic but they are still striking. To compare wine growing areas, the Napa Valley in California is gorgeous too but that's a relatively narrow valley while Tuscany and Umbria go on forever

and ever

and ever.

Anyway we drove out to Montefalco and then headed into the little town square. Pretty quiet on a rainy morning but we stopped into the local version of a Starbucks - in as much as they had couches and overstuffed chairs for sitting in when I just told you that Italians don't sit to drink coffee. But we had another cappuccino because it's also a quirky reality here in Italy that it often costs less to buy a cappuccino in order to use the establishment's toilet than it costs to just use a toilet elsewhere. I.E. it can cost more to 'dispose' of your cappuccino than it costs to buy a cappuccino. So we enjoyed another round in the cozy warmth of the coffee shop and counted our blessings that we weren't one of the bikers we saw in the piazza or in the large, damp and bedraggled group we passed on our way into town who were touring Italy on Vespas! (Bet that sounded like a great idea at the time.)

Then as we were heading back to Todi for lunch, the sun came out. So we parked the car and high-tailed it up the hill to our little favorite restaurant to see if the garden terrace was open for lunch. And it was. And the sun was shining. And it was warm and beautiful. And just to prove it was ever so, we asked the folks from San Francisco who were eating at the next table to take our photo.

Look, Ma, no coats, no sweaters, no scarves, no hats, no layers!
(It rained later, of course, but I'm stopping here while I'm ahead.)