Category: People

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On The Road

Gabe, Becky, and I rent a car in Sicily because the island is not too large and becomes very accessible with wheels. Before leaving Palermo on day one, we visit the Catacombs of The Capuchins and the Duomo di Monreale. Both are incredible experiences and both are very different. The Catacombs are full with well preserved human bodies still dressed in their finest clothes from several hundred years back. There are men, women, and children, all either lined up against the walls or stacked on top of each other. There are babies in carriages and families still together. Some still have skin, some still have hair, and some still frightening show an expression as we pass. The Catacombs are a chilling experience where the dead people seem too real. The next stop before leaving Palermo is Duomo di Monreale, a beautiful cathedral at the top of a hill overlooking all of Palermo. Becky, who has studied much about ancient architecture, reveals many of the intricacies of the church as we walk through it.

Palermo from above

On our way to Sciacca, where we will be spending our first two nights, we stop at Corleone, the home of many Mafia bosses from the Godfather’s Vito Corleone to real bosses such as Jack Dragna, Giuseppe Morello, Michele Navarra and others. We take a couple photos, grab a snack, I unsuccessfully try to find some suspenders because I seem to recall those from the movies, and we continue on our way.

Corleone

Our final stop of the day is Sciacca, pronounced like Chaka of Chaka Khan, the 10 time Grammy Award winning artist with hits such as “Tell Me Something Good” and “Sweet Thing”. But enough about Chaka. We find a nice bed and breakfast to stay at just outside the heart of the city. The owners are very friendly and full advice, and there is ample space for the three of us including a kitchen and a living room. For dinner, we make our way to a hidden pizza place not far from the bed and breakfast and we end our day enjoying three large pizza with fresh local ingredients.

The journey in the car between each stop shows off some of the expansive and empty landscapes still present within Sicily. There are mountains, valleys, greens, and browns in every direction. The island is beautiful, very warm, and still not overrun by tourists. Looking out the windows as we drive through the countryside is as enjoyable as any destination.

On the road in Sicily

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Sicilia: Good Food, Good Times

We will number three for the Sicily portion of our adventure. For the next many days, Becky, a friend of Gabe’s from Rome, will be joining us. The home of the mafia immediately begins with great food. We land in Palermo near the Northwest of the island, rent a car, and head off to the center of the city to find a restaurant Gabe remembers from visits past. At the Antica Focacceria S. Francesco in Palermo, we begin our culinary tour of Sicily. From panele to spleen sandwiches to deliciously fried arrancini to camponata to cannoli made with fresh ricotta, we commence our time on Italy’s oblong soccer ball with a feast.

Food in Sicily

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Back to Italy ’til The End

We get back to Rome, again. Our plane arrives late enough so that we miss the bus back to the center of town. Cheaper than taking the train is sharing a cab among four people, which means that I try to find another lucky two to join Gabe and me in a taxi. The first two I find probably assume that I’m trying to hit on them although I’m not, and in retrospect, I can see how that might happen. However, I feel like “would you like to share a cab with us into Rome’s center” is a weak pick up line. That said, by starting with this awkward question, we eventually get to talking while waiting a very long time for our luggage, and once the bags finally come, we split ways and I gear up to try again. Gabe and I walk outside and I find a couple sitting with their stuff and enjoying a cigarette. I approach them, and in my broken Italian, I ask if they want to share a taxi. We have success, and are on our way into Rome.

Rome at night

The taxi drops us all off somewhere between our two apartments and because of the nice heat and humidity of Rome, Gabe and I work up a shvitz on our way back to Sam’s apartment. We are greeted by some delicious dishes that Sam has been working on for his culinary school final. Dinner is served with some of Sam’s “house wine”, which may or may not come in a bag, but nonetheless is perfect for the occasion (and much better than bags o’ wine I might find stateside). Post dinner, we head out for some gelato (of course!), and to a mojito bar that Gabe and Sam frequent regularly. With strong mojitos in hand, we venture down to the Tiber River.

Now in its tenth year, the commotion near the river known as Lungo Il Tevere Roma offers bars, clubs, snack stations, and of course souvenir shops. There is live music everywhere and access is easy and free. In short, we end up spending a bit too much time here and enjoy a fun welcome back into Italy.

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A Miscalculation

A perfect storm of small miscalculations leads to a wonderful twenty-four hours in Geneva. Our layover, if you can call it that, is just long enough to be awkward, the weather is to include thunderstorms and heavy rain, and Geneva may be one of the most expensive cities in all of Europe. However, having said all that, luck is on our side. A friend of Gabe’s friend lives in Geneva and is willing to host us for the evening. She and her family live in a beautifully refurbished farm house just outside the city center. As Gabe and I are nearing the house, we are not clear as to where we are heading and especially when we leave what looks like the main residential areas of Geneva, but eventually we get to the driveway of a farm and just hope that we are in the right place. The exterior of the house, although clearly well kept still resembles the humble farm house from times past, but the interior of the house is fabulously modern, thoughtfully decorated, and very comfortable.

Near the farm house in Geneva

Immediately after arriving, we enjoy a nice dinner outside in the backyard. (Maybe the heavy rain forecast was incorrect.) We get to know the family better, taste some delicious swiss chocolate, and eventually hear what seems like a very powerful storm from the comforts of our beds. The next morning, we wake up to clear skies, an espresso, orange juice, and cereal. Gabe and I make sure to wake early in order to say goodbye and thank you one more time before our host leaves for work. After breakfast, we spend the rest of the morning walking around the farm and the nearby area. We find sports fields to complement the wheat fields, and fancy cars to complement the sheep. Thanks to Fiona, our wonderful host, our stay in Geneva will now be another highlight of our adventure around Europe.

Chess in the park

We leave the house a little before noon and walk into Geneva’s old town. Upon strolling through a park on the south side of the old town, we find almost life size chess boards and distract ourselves playing games for several hours. As it is Friday afternoon, we find many others, including business men in suits and mothers and fathers with their children enjoying an afternoon playing chess in the park. We eventually continue on through the old town and find Geneva’s symbolic and beautiful lake. Because we are not yet interested in purchasing a swiss watch or opening a new bank account, after finding the lake, we make our way back to the train station and then to the airport. Although short, Geneva is very memorable.

Geneva Lake

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Days of Many Steps

All over Europe, but in particular Prague, Gabe and I walk, walk, and walk some more. We also take our share of metros, trams, and buses, but walking is a great way to see any city. In Prague, we are staying about a three to four kilometer walk out of the Old Town, Stare Mesto, and from there, it is probably another kilometer to the famous Charles Bridge, which is a couple kilometers from the Prague Castle, Prazsky hrad. Although no single stage of our journey seems like a large commitment after walking to and from the castle, our feet are a little sore. And this does not include the walk to the USA Embassy to show our support on the 4th of July, the walk to the club and back the night before, the meander around the Jewish quarter, the stroll around town during the walking tour, and the train station adventure.

Near the Charles Bridge at night

We need to find the train station in order to purchase tickets for our overnight train to Budapest the following day. And to find the station, Gabe and I think that we are being smart by looking at a map, finding the largest collection of tracks, and heading in that direction. We find many railroad tracks just northeast of the city, and although the weather is drizzly, we put on our raincoats and start walking. We get near the tracks, start looking for signs or large train-station-looking buildings. We find nothing. Eventually, we again pull out the map, and find another slightly smaller although still large collection of railroad tracks. Luckily, we are able to see the comedy in the situation and laugh even as we continue to have to walk through the rain. When we near the second grouping of tracks, we again do not see many signs, but at least we see a building that could pass as a train station. We walk in and it is darker and gloomier than we had expected. We maze through the station until finding a ticket counter. There is one window open that reads “International Tickets” above it and we reserve two seats on a train. After about 20 minutes of fiddling with my credit card, the man behind the counter finally gets it to work, we get our tickets, and we ask from where the train will be leaving. He lets us know that the train will be leaving from a station about 100m down the road. We are a little confused and decide it is best to explore this other train station now rather than tomorrow night. We get to this other station, which again is not very well marked, we enter, and we are presented with something more like we had expected. There are convenient stores, more ticket counters, escalators, and a level of cleanliness much greater than that from our first station.

In other words, between walking all over town, walking to Prague nightlife, and walking to the wrong train station, we calculate that we probably covered about the distance of a marathon in 48 hours in Prague.

Prague's famous clock

From inside Prague Castle

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Friend or Foe

We are in Prague for about two minutes before Gabe notices someone across the bus (which takes us the long distance of about 100m from plane to airport terminal) that is wearing a Cal Bears sweatshirt. We are discussing which baggage carousel is ours when Gabe loudly enough declares that we need not worry because we are following a Cal Bear. That gets their attention, and we soon get to chatting as we wait patiently for our baggage. Unfortunately or fortunately, it does not take long for the conversation to devolve into me spouting some Big Game statistics. For example: Cal gave up more points to us last year (48) than they had in their five previous games that year at home in Memorial Stadium. In addition, the Bears were only a last minute, trick play away from matching the largest one-sided loss in this rivalry’s history dating back to 1930 when Stanford beat Cal 41-0. After getting Big Game talk out of our system, we again became more cordial and ask the usual questions of where each other is from, how long we are traveling for, etc. And before we know it, our baggage comes, we exchange contact information, and we part ways.

After Amsterdam and a day of travel, Gabe and I feel a little tired and decide that tonight is a good night to take it easy, get a couple beers at a corner store, change into comfortable cards, put on some grooveshark.com tunes, and play cards. We get to the stage of playing cards, when the computer rings with the modern equivalent tone to AOL’s “You’ve got mail.” We check, and it’s Tracy and Christina from the airport asking to see if we’re planning on going out tonight. We unabashedly admit to our current state of beers, pajamas and cards, but are also open to evening activity suggestions. They proceed to describe Karlovy Lazne, which is advertised as the largest club in central Europe. We research what comprises central Europe and several sources, including the very reputable Wikipedia, describe it as Austria, Czech Republic, Germany, Hungary, Liechtenstein, Poland, Slovakia, Slovenia, and Switzerland. The biggest club of all these countries might be worth exploring, so Gabe and I rally, put our faces back on, and walk across Prague. Karlovy Lazne is five stories tall, and each story plays a different genre of music. We enjoy the oldies (which is now music from the 1990’s) and the pop music floors. The beers are inexpensive, the music fun, and the company good. It is easy to call our first night in Prague a success.

The timing then works perfectly that when we arrive back at our apartment, I call California where my extended family has gathered to celebrate my Grandma’s birthday! It is wonderful to hear everyone’s voices before I go to bed.

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Amsterdam’s Tolerant Culture

Amsterdam has a very tolerant culture.  During our walking tour of the city, Gabe and I learned more about the red light district and how a regulated and taxed sex industry can exist within a relatively clean and safe environment.  On a related topic, we also met tourists in Amsterdam who were concerned over a possible marijuana ban.  Although we are not included in this group, many travel to Amsterdam primarily (if not only) for its loose laws and drug availability.  As this seemed to be a pressing issue, I found a relevant article on BBC’s travel blog from a couple months back on April 8, 2011.

Travelwise: Marijuana tourism ban in Amsterdam?
By Suemedha Sood

This winter, the European Union gave Dutch authorities the power to ban coffee shops from selling cannabis to tourists. This decision by the European Court of Justice was prompted by a push from the right-leaning Dutch government. But the Netherlands have been threatening to make pot illegal for tourists for years. Could this ruling really change decades of policy?

Certainly not in Amsterdam, said Richard Cowan, an American and the CFO of the biotech company Cannabis Science Inc, who recently relocated there. “It will never work in Amsterdam. The police are opposed to it, because it would cause a big increase in poly-drug street dealing.”

In Amsterdam, the lord mayor, the city council, and (unsurprisingly) the tourist board all oppose the effort. In certain small border towns, Cowan says, it’s possible that authorities may enforce a ban, but only with local agreement.

Marijuana already lives in a legal grey area in the Netherlands. Although technically illegal, it has been “tolerated” for more than 30 years, allowing it to be taxed and sold in coffee shops all over the country. So, the question arises, how do you ban something that’s already illegal? And how do you ban it only for certain consumers?

Logistically, anti-cannabis activists would like to see a “weed passport” introduced that would prevent foreigners from visiting coffee shops that sell pot. But Mario Lap, a drug policy advisor and director of the Drugtext Foundation in the Netherlands, believes that even in border towns, banning marijuana sales to non-nationals would be “counterproductive”.

“What is crucial in this is that it cannot be forced upon towns that do not want it,” Lap explained. “The whole drug [and] coffee shop policy is based on decision-making by local government [entities] called triangle committees.”

From a legal perspective, Lap said this push by the federal government is more symbolic than it is substantive. “[I]t is intended to provide for a tough image in order to [convince] the ultra right wing party to tolerate the right wing minority government.”

With so many tourists visiting the Netherlands specifically for its culture of “tolerance”, cities like Amsterdam would stand to lose a lot from the enforcement of a selective ban. “Supposedly 10% of the tourism is exclusively for cannabis,” said Cowan. “Another 40% [of tourists] visit the coffee shops… [and] a lot of other places would be badly hurt. There are a lot of ‘souvenir’ shops that would go out of business…”

Allen St Pierre, director of the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws (NORML) in the US, said there’s no pretence to cannabis tourism, either. He talks about “hash ferries” which bring people in from England, for instance. He also said that Dutch tourism organizations are closely following the situation surrounding marijuana in the US. If pot is legalized in California, Pierre says, Dutch businesses could lose American tourists during winter months.

Pierre pointed out that threats about cracking down on cannabis tourism are nothing new. According to NORML’s archives, he said, “The first time a Dutch government started making noises about tourists buying cannabis was in 1987. So this has been going on for more than 20 years.”

His feeling is that powerful Dutch businessmen will see to it that the lucrative marijuana industry will continue to thrive. “These men are rigid and they are not inclined to back down at all,” he said.

Legally, selective bans could raise fairness issues as well, since they not only discriminate against tourists but also foreigners living in the Netherlands. Cowan says this legal issue will be addressed when the Dutch Counsel of State rules on the constitutionality of the EU’s decision. “That ruling is due any day now,” he said.

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Anne Frank

A couple week ago, I was introduced to Kinsey II, a replacement kindle. I ordered one, had it shipped home, and then my mom kindly forwarded it along to meet me in Rome. That said, I again have been able to easily access literature. While in Amsterdam, I know that I will be visiting the Anne Frank House, and decide to reread her diary. Below are several quotes that had strong impacts on me.

“Our freedom was severely restricted by a series of anti-Jewish decrees: Jews were required to wear a yellow star; Jews were required to turn in their bicycles; Jews were forbidden to use streetcars; Jews were forbidden to ride in cars, even their won; Jews were required to do their shopping between 3 and 5 PM; Jews were required to frequent only Jewish-owned barbershops and beauty parlors; Jews were forbidden to be out on the streets between 8 P.M. And 6 A.M.; Jews were forbidden to go to theaters, movies or any other forms of entertainment; Jews were forbidden to use swimming pools, tennis courts, hockey fields or any other athletic fields; Jews were forbidden to go rowing; Jews were forbidden to take part in any athletic activity in public; Jews were forbidden to sit in their gardens or those of their friends after 8 P.M.; Jews were forbidden to visit Christians in their homes; Jews were required to attend Jewish schools, etc. You couldn’t do this and you couldn’t do that, but life went on. Jacque always said to me, ‘I don’t dare do anything anymore, ’cause I’m afraid it’s not allowed.’”

“I’ve reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, and I can’t do anything to change events anyway. I’ll just let matters take their course and concentrate on studying and hope that everything will be all right in the end.”

“The sun is shining, the sky is deep blue, there’s a magnificent breeze, and I’m longing—really longing—for everything: conversation, freedom, friends, being alone. I long … to cry! I feel as if I were about to explode. I know crying would help, but I can’t cry. I’m restless. I walk from one room to another, breathe through the crack in the window frame, feel my heart beating as if to say, ‘Fulfill my longing at last…’”

“Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.”

“I don’t think of all the misery but of all the beauty that still remains.”

“Is discord going to show itself while we are still fighting, is the Jew once again worth less than another? Oh, it is sad, very sad, that once more, for the umpteenth time, the old truth is confirmed: ‘What one Christian does is his own responsibility, what one Jew does is thrown back at all Jews.’”

The Anne Frank House is very well done. As we progress from room to room, there are exhibits on the walls that retell Anne’s story. Also on display is her original diary along with other writings from her time in hiding. The visit is a sobering experience, but one that is necessary.

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La Pizza

I sit down and am immediately overwhelmed by the selection of pizzas at La Pratolina, a beautiful hole-in-the-wall restaurant located at Via degli Scipioni, 248, Roma. To intensify matters more, the menu is written in Italian, but luckily I have Gabe and Sam nearby to translate. The rule of the game, however, is once I find something that looks delicious, I need to close my menu because otherwise I could be indecisive all night. Eventually my gaze falls on the Pizza Emiliana with its pesto di pistacchi, mozzarella, silano, mortadella di cinghiale. I am not entirely sure what it all means, but as I work my way through the ingredients asking Gabe and Sam about each, I think this might be the one for me. Sam then grabs my menu and declares that my dinner has been decided. The two of them then proceed to pick out the fried appetizers that we will sample before the pizzas arrive. I forget what appetizer is what, but I enjoy them all and try to save room for pizza. Also joining us for this Italian feast is Benny and Diego, friends of Gabe from work. The meal does not disappoint, I enjoy an incredible pizza with fresh Italian ingredients, and all this in a small homey Italian restaurant. The waiter recognizes Gabe and as a result we get a couple extras along with better service. Although all of this in itself would make for a great evening, the night continues back at Sam’s apartment for drinks and story telling followed by an adventure to outdoor bars by the river until some hour that is much too late given that Gabe and I have a flight to catch early the next morning.

On the subject of things that taste good, during the day, Gabe and I went to Sant Eustachio Il Caffe (www.santeustachioilcaffe.it) and try a true Italian espresso. Even on a day as hot as today, this coffee shop was a great stop.

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Gelati

Somehow, during my last visit a couple weeks ago, I managed to spend two nights in Rome without tasting gelato, and despite giving Gabe a hard time ever since, he did not allow Katherine or me to have Gelato outside of Italy. My first taste of Italian Gelato came our first night in Pisa from a small place called De Coltelli (www.decoltelli.it). The gelato was delicious, creamy, rich, naturally colored, and perfect on a warm evening. I still remember starting with pistachio and chocolate, and then going immediately back for strawberry and peach. I am someone with an ever-present sweet tooth and a constant craving for diary (despite being a bit lactose intolerant). Therefore, ice cream and gelato always seem like the perfect snack. In the “The Docle Vita Diaries”, Cathy Rogers and Jason Gibb describe Italian gelato.

“Why is ice cream so much nicer in Italy? I mean, isn’t it just milk and then stuff that you can get anywhere like nuts and chocolate? Is it, like the coffee, something to do with having fancy machines that just do the job better? Or is there something they’re hiding? Because you go into one of those awful British or American places and the ice cream is just horrid by comparison – vulgar, crude, not even tasting of what it’s mean to. The Italians aren’t averse to the odd horrid flavour – a bright blue one named after the Smurfs that tastes of nothing on earth, at least nothing this side of Belgium– but at least it seems they’re choosing to do it, rather than doing it because they don’t know better.”

Gelato from Pisa

As an American talking gelato, I feel obliged to at least briefly discuss some of the differences between gelato, ice cream, and sorbet. I will start with good ice cream, and by good ice cream, I mean the kind that doesn’t use condensed or powdered milk. Good ice cream is made with fresh cream, eggs, and natural flavors. Ice cream is also overrun, which means that air is whipped into it, and the more overrun an ice cream, the softer and lighter it will be. Some ice creams even have extra air added to it; however, these ice creams would no longer fit under my category of “good” ice cream. Gelato, on the other hand, holds a minimal amount of air, and this accounts for its high density. As far as differences in recipes go, gelato will usually include more egg yolks and milk, and a little less cream. The fat content of gelato, because of the reduction in cream, is less than that of ice cream; however, because it is less overrun, it still maintains that very rich and creamy taste. Finally, sorbets are just fruit, sugar, maybe some lemon juice, and water, the amount of which can control the intensity of the sorbet.

Gabe is taking me on a gelato tour of the best spots in Rome in between visiting his favorite churches, plazas, and vistas around the city. We have already begun this journey, and will continue it when we return to Rome before traveling to Sicilia. I will rate, rank, and record this avventura del gelato upon its completion.

“Italian ice creams tastes so good it almost manages to convince you that it’s good for you.” -Rogers and Gibb