And now to pack.
Today I packed up a box to send home of things unnecessary for the last 2 weeks. I can only imagine how much it will cost tomorrow. I've been going through my stuff, throwing things away like crazy. I guess I don't need my citronella candle that never worked or my little boy's white tees that I bought here for work that are already filthy. I could throw away my 56 ticket stubs to the Boboli gardens and if I want to be really frugal, the green and pink cat mask from the dollar store given to me on my birthday (or just hide it in my closet for the next resident). I even just found my self deleting probably hundreds of unneeded files in my "download" section of my computer as though that would lighten the load too. I stopped part way through. Because it won't.
It's starting to get sad, thinking about leaving. But exciting about traveling. And seeing home again. Yup, I'm getting bored of being able to leave breakable things laying out on tables which means, I even miss my kitty. But the last few days have been fun.
Yesterday we went to our morning internships and then skipped class and went to Venice. 1st of all, it was probably my best day at the shop yet. I was getting a little bummed, thinking the guys kind of resented me being there and thought I didn't know anything. They'd ask me a question and if I didn't understand, just kind of ignore me. So yesterday I just piped up and talked and talked and talked. Even though it was more than just a little broken they understood enough and they began commenting on my work more and telling me what things were etc. Just in time right? When I have 2 days left. (1 now). But still, it was nice.
We then trained up to Venice. I wouldn't say I had low expectations but they weren't sky high. People have told me such things as, "I was there for a weekend and that was definitely enough. I wouldn't have wanted longer," or "It's pretty but really dirty" etc. so I figured I was just going because it was a place I hadn't gone. Well, I thought it was gorgeous. And Clean! I don't know what everyone was talking about. Without any cars or streets it seems Way cleaner than Florence. And it is beautiful. It's almost like Disneyland. The buildings were so ornate and colorful and all of the Carnival masks were amazing. I was hardcore theatre-nerding out at all of the Commedia Dell'Arte masks. I really liked some paper mache masks but couldn't think of a safe way to take it home. There were too many heavy/ smashy things in my box to send home and I didn't have room to just carry it with me the rest of the trip. But they were still amazing to see. Anyway. It is delightful. Perhaps there isn't a whole lot to do, but it would be a good place to go relax for a while. I'm really glad I made it there.
And now for an immature moment. My Canadian friend Adrienne told us about a game called Bros Icing Bros the other day (I had never heard of it but I know it exists in the states too... but let me explain). The rules are basically- from time to time you hide a Smirnoff Ice somewhere where another person will accidently find it one day and when they do, they must immediately take a knee, put an arm in the air and chug it. Silly yes. But our dear friend Eric was iced good today. Good enough to write home about. We were eating lunch at a place called The Diner (yeah... we're in our last 2 days in Italy and we craved American breakfast that much... don't judge) and had just finished a belt busting meal. The waiter came to the table and placed the check down saying, "this is for you," then leaned toward Eric and said, "and this is for you." placing a lovely blood orange flavored Smirnoff Ice in front of him. Adrienne had brought it with her and asked the waiter to deliver it. Eric was shocked but had something up his sleeve. "Pretty good," he said, "but how's this for a block?" and pulled one from his pocket and placed it on the table. This meant Adrienne would now have to drink both. And yet she said, "oh but wait.. what is this?" pulling another one from a sock in her purse. Double block. How nerdy is this? Well, these two are hardcore and don't back down- so now it was time for Eric to chug, not one, but 3 sickly sweet, slightly alcoholic Smirnoff Ices. The waiter was cool about the game but said it'd have to be finished outside. Fair enough. So we waddle outside, stuffed to the gills with food, into the thunderstorm and downpour and in the middle of the sidewalk, under no cover, down on one knee, Eric chugged them. He had to take a break between two and three and another one half way through three, but he did it and even kept his food down. What a champ.
I know that's super mature, but I haven't laughed that hard in ages. Twas a sight to behold. Now go ice someone.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
a moment for foodies
This is entry is entirely devoted to tonight's amazing dinner experience.
Ahem:
Kim, a fellow South Seattle student, lives on the same block as a really adorable restaurant. It has several wide doors that open all the way up onto the street, a second floor with an iron railing and charming stone walls. We walk by it all the time and always say to each other, "let's eat there some day soon." A few weeks ago we got our internship placements and lo and behold... that was Kim's. "Now," I said, "we are going For Sure and you are getting us the hookups." And let me tell you, hookups are the way to go.
Since Monday's are Kim's night off and this is the last one of our our internships, this seemed like a fitting evening. So tonight, 6 of us from South accompanied Kim to her delightful little Osteria. The servers greeted her with obvious warmth and recognition and treated us the same. Our server turned out to be a character on every level. Sporting the only legit Italian afro I've ever seen, as well as a gaudy red and black apron with dancing people all over it and white framed goggle like glasses, he really didn't fit in with the surroundings at all, but couldn't have been more hilarious and great.
And now I'm going to straight up describe everything we ate because it was so wonderful.
For an appetizer afroman said, "I bring you an assortment" and brought us a platter of several Italian meats, toast with pate , bruschetta, and a delicious and olive oily flat bread. We asked for a recommendation on wine and they brought us a wonderful medium dry, slightly flowery white wine which was of course amazing. Our entrees were displayed beautifully, mine being marinated chicken with grilled assorted vegetables. Others included, thinly sliced pork in fig sauce (so. so good.), potato ravioli and beef in a some sort of magical sage sauce. And let's not forget a Bisteque Florentine- a dish famous in Florence, these steaks are cut literally 4 fingers thick, lightly grilled on each side, and taken off the grill when the middle is still dark red and bleeding. This is something I would normally never lay a hand on but being such a quintessential dish I ended up actually ordering it once before and it's really rather unbelievable. When we finished our deliciousness, and they asked if we wanted dessert, we respectfully declined and they respectfully filled our glasses with a dessert wine instead. When That was finished we asked for the check and he nodded, left the room, and came back with two Giant (and I mean giant) pastries which turned out to be some sort of chewy flat bread folded like a calzone and filled with Nutella and cream. As I gathered the buttons from my exploded pants we finally actually got the check. This- I might add- was not a cheap restaurant and for the amount of food we each consumed, we each should have owed at least 40 euro (euro mind you, not dollars) but in fact, we each owed only 25. Hookups. They're simply the way to go.
I had to quite literally drag myself home and was almost bummed to see the horse and carriage guys by the Duomo had turned in for the night or I just might have hailed one. If one of those guys down by the water front in Seattle on the rickshaw bikes had been around I definitely would have taken him up.
Now the food coma sets in.
Ahem:
Kim, a fellow South Seattle student, lives on the same block as a really adorable restaurant. It has several wide doors that open all the way up onto the street, a second floor with an iron railing and charming stone walls. We walk by it all the time and always say to each other, "let's eat there some day soon." A few weeks ago we got our internship placements and lo and behold... that was Kim's. "Now," I said, "we are going For Sure and you are getting us the hookups." And let me tell you, hookups are the way to go.
Since Monday's are Kim's night off and this is the last one of our our internships, this seemed like a fitting evening. So tonight, 6 of us from South accompanied Kim to her delightful little Osteria. The servers greeted her with obvious warmth and recognition and treated us the same. Our server turned out to be a character on every level. Sporting the only legit Italian afro I've ever seen, as well as a gaudy red and black apron with dancing people all over it and white framed goggle like glasses, he really didn't fit in with the surroundings at all, but couldn't have been more hilarious and great.
And now I'm going to straight up describe everything we ate because it was so wonderful.
For an appetizer afroman said, "I bring you an assortment" and brought us a platter of several Italian meats, toast with pate , bruschetta, and a delicious and olive oily flat bread. We asked for a recommendation on wine and they brought us a wonderful medium dry, slightly flowery white wine which was of course amazing. Our entrees were displayed beautifully, mine being marinated chicken with grilled assorted vegetables. Others included, thinly sliced pork in fig sauce (so. so good.), potato ravioli and beef in a some sort of magical sage sauce. And let's not forget a Bisteque Florentine- a dish famous in Florence, these steaks are cut literally 4 fingers thick, lightly grilled on each side, and taken off the grill when the middle is still dark red and bleeding. This is something I would normally never lay a hand on but being such a quintessential dish I ended up actually ordering it once before and it's really rather unbelievable. When we finished our deliciousness, and they asked if we wanted dessert, we respectfully declined and they respectfully filled our glasses with a dessert wine instead. When That was finished we asked for the check and he nodded, left the room, and came back with two Giant (and I mean giant) pastries which turned out to be some sort of chewy flat bread folded like a calzone and filled with Nutella and cream. As I gathered the buttons from my exploded pants we finally actually got the check. This- I might add- was not a cheap restaurant and for the amount of food we each consumed, we each should have owed at least 40 euro (euro mind you, not dollars) but in fact, we each owed only 25. Hookups. They're simply the way to go.
I had to quite literally drag myself home and was almost bummed to see the horse and carriage guys by the Duomo had turned in for the night or I just might have hailed one. If one of those guys down by the water front in Seattle on the rickshaw bikes had been around I definitely would have taken him up.
Now the food coma sets in.
the final countdown
We're only in Florence for 5 more days now which seems like absolutely nothing. We'll be here for another 2 weeks traveling after school, but Italia will no longer be home base. A strange thing is, to be honest, time didn't seem like it was going that quickly until I realized it was going quickly. ... If that makes sense. Days and weeks seemed to be going by at a rather regular pace but now that it's time to think about mailing stuff home, checking out of our house, and saying bye to new friends, yes, it has been quick.
This last weekend was fun filled and by fun filled I mean boringish. It wasn't horrible but it went from grand plans to plans that were "mehh." Originally it was: Sat- go back to Cinque Terre with a friend who hadn't yet been and Sun- go to Venice. It ended up like this: Sat- friend who'd never been found another friend to go to Cinque Terre so I opted out since I'd been before and was hoping for a day to finally sleep past 5am and get some chores done. Friend who was going to go slept through her train. I did chores, went to the Boboli gardens, and saw Toy Story 3 in 3d in Italian. (Even in Italian I laughed and cried and followed the movie quite well. Not because of my Italian skills.... sorry Francesca, but because of the brilliance of Pixar. A deaf and blind person would probably understand that movie) (exaggeration) Sun- go to train station early to get tickets to Venice, they're sold out until the late afternoon. Got a picnic lunch and went to the Boboli gardens again. Watched Dexter on Michelle's computer. Went to a pub for a bit.
The end. But our fight to get to Venice is not over yet (we tried another time a few weeks back and it was sold out too). We went TODAY to book a train for WEDNESDAY and this time succeeded. Hallelujah. 100 euro gondola rides, here we come (no exaggeration there). It'll be just like we're in the real live Venetian in Las Vegas.
Well... I am missing home a bit. I miss getting free water at restaurants/ at home. And I miss you- specifically. (No one else really though.) But when I leave I know I'll miss $1.50 wine. And unlimited free pastries. And other things.
Oh but I saw a pigeon that had been run over by a car today and I won't miss that. All the pigeons. Dead and alive. I miss uncaged chipmunks (did I mention they have them in pet stores here? Even if I did, I think it's fair to bring it up again).
Alright. TIme for a nap. And then I might just go hang out at the train station again. I've made it a habit of going there about everyday or two, and I'm definitely gonna miss that too.
This last weekend was fun filled and by fun filled I mean boringish. It wasn't horrible but it went from grand plans to plans that were "mehh." Originally it was: Sat- go back to Cinque Terre with a friend who hadn't yet been and Sun- go to Venice. It ended up like this: Sat- friend who'd never been found another friend to go to Cinque Terre so I opted out since I'd been before and was hoping for a day to finally sleep past 5am and get some chores done. Friend who was going to go slept through her train. I did chores, went to the Boboli gardens, and saw Toy Story 3 in 3d in Italian. (Even in Italian I laughed and cried and followed the movie quite well. Not because of my Italian skills.... sorry Francesca, but because of the brilliance of Pixar. A deaf and blind person would probably understand that movie) (exaggeration) Sun- go to train station early to get tickets to Venice, they're sold out until the late afternoon. Got a picnic lunch and went to the Boboli gardens again. Watched Dexter on Michelle's computer. Went to a pub for a bit.
The end. But our fight to get to Venice is not over yet (we tried another time a few weeks back and it was sold out too). We went TODAY to book a train for WEDNESDAY and this time succeeded. Hallelujah. 100 euro gondola rides, here we come (no exaggeration there). It'll be just like we're in the real live Venetian in Las Vegas.
Well... I am missing home a bit. I miss getting free water at restaurants/ at home. And I miss you- specifically. (No one else really though.) But when I leave I know I'll miss $1.50 wine. And unlimited free pastries. And other things.
Oh but I saw a pigeon that had been run over by a car today and I won't miss that. All the pigeons. Dead and alive. I miss uncaged chipmunks (did I mention they have them in pet stores here? Even if I did, I think it's fair to bring it up again).
Alright. TIme for a nap. And then I might just go hang out at the train station again. I've made it a habit of going there about everyday or two, and I'm definitely gonna miss that too.
Friday, July 30, 2010
a dark and stormy night
I'd finally gotten to bed a decent hour last night and was just falling asleep when I was abruptly awoken. I sat up extremely disoriented, not even sure which direction my bed was facing. And for the first few minutes I was awake, that was what I concerned myself with. Why, when woken suddenly, is that a concern at all and even more puzzling- why does it take preference over the bigger question "what the hell just woke me up?" Regardless, it did and for the next several seconds I sat on my bed trying to orient in my mind the pieces of furniture in my room. When I finally realized my door was to the right, I was able to actually listen. Someone was insistently ringing our doorbell. This is not an action that could go unnoticed because our doorbell just happens to sound like a cross between a old timey alarm clock, a school bell and a fire alarm, and the presser was pushing it with quite some vigor. I was a little uneasy since I knew it was definitely our apartment doorbell and not the buzzer from the street to the inside of the building. I knew this because about a week ago we came home to find the lock to our outside door completely gone. Now to get into our building you don't need a key, just a firm bump of the shoulder.
I sat still for a moment longer after it stopped trying to build a little courage to go check the peep hole. People have buzzed our door by accident before thinking our button was the light but this seemed way too deliberate. I didn't hear anyone else getting up and since my door being the closest to the main door, I decided to suck it up and go check. Then, straight out of a cheesy horror movie, I opened my door and at that very moment there was a strike of lightning and a giant crash of thunder just as my roommate also appeared at the end of the hallway. Seeing each other just as the lightening lit the room was truly terrifying and we both screamed so whoever was outside would be absolutely sure there was someone in the apartment and they were awake. And close. We tiptoed to the door and I apprehensively looked out. Well, we saw no one. Pretty anticlimactic yes, but in the amount of time it took us to get the balls to actually go to the door, even an angry mafia leader probably would have gotten bored and left.
And that got us right in the mood to go to the Serial Killer Museum today. It wasn't covered by our museum passes but we went anyway. Pretty disturbing, gruesome, cheesy (in the way any kind of reenactment is), and kind of fascinating. Complete with audio guide and mini videos at each little station, we learned about Ted Bundy, Jack the Ripper, Blue Beard, Charles Manson... etc. All the biggies.
And Then when we got home, I discovered my lovely friends had set up a mini surprise birthday party for me. It was a few days ago and we went to dinner but not everyone could come since some people had evening internships. But this late birthday had balloons, cake, toilet paper streamers, and candles that sparkled, smelled horrid and wouldn't blow out. It was pretty adorable.
Anyway- only one full week left and then off to travel all over the place for a few weeks. Sa-weet.
I sat still for a moment longer after it stopped trying to build a little courage to go check the peep hole. People have buzzed our door by accident before thinking our button was the light but this seemed way too deliberate. I didn't hear anyone else getting up and since my door being the closest to the main door, I decided to suck it up and go check. Then, straight out of a cheesy horror movie, I opened my door and at that very moment there was a strike of lightning and a giant crash of thunder just as my roommate also appeared at the end of the hallway. Seeing each other just as the lightening lit the room was truly terrifying and we both screamed so whoever was outside would be absolutely sure there was someone in the apartment and they were awake. And close. We tiptoed to the door and I apprehensively looked out. Well, we saw no one. Pretty anticlimactic yes, but in the amount of time it took us to get the balls to actually go to the door, even an angry mafia leader probably would have gotten bored and left.
And that got us right in the mood to go to the Serial Killer Museum today. It wasn't covered by our museum passes but we went anyway. Pretty disturbing, gruesome, cheesy (in the way any kind of reenactment is), and kind of fascinating. Complete with audio guide and mini videos at each little station, we learned about Ted Bundy, Jack the Ripper, Blue Beard, Charles Manson... etc. All the biggies.
And Then when we got home, I discovered my lovely friends had set up a mini surprise birthday party for me. It was a few days ago and we went to dinner but not everyone could come since some people had evening internships. But this late birthday had balloons, cake, toilet paper streamers, and candles that sparkled, smelled horrid and wouldn't blow out. It was pretty adorable.
Anyway- only one full week left and then off to travel all over the place for a few weeks. Sa-weet.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Wine Country
Saturday morning around 9ish, Kim, Ross and I made our way down to the car rental to pick up our accidentally fancy car. To explain- I had been pushing for a Tuscan countryside trip. One weekend I wanted to rent a car and drive around looking at sunflowers and drinking wine. A few of our friends were gone in Paris last weekend and with nothing else to do the 3 of us decided this would be the moment. We found a car rental place with an extremely accommodating staff- accept for the little fact that they didn't have the car we wanted. First they weren't entirely sure if they had it and had me leave my number with them so they could call me as soon as they found out. Well they ended up not having it, but they were so sweet we decided to take the more expensive car anyway. Even if they conned us into it... well so be it. It turned out this fancier car had a GPS which we found out was entirely crucial.
We began by spending a nice long morning driving back and forth and around the streets of Florence which proved to be something like the movie In the Mouth of Madness (every time you try to leave you end up back in the middle). Going the wrong way down one way streets doesn't even get you out- we really tried everything. (I wasn't driving. Just for the record).
We eventually got out though, the fates felt pity on us I suppose, and it was like a breath of fresh air. Florence's muggy damp heat immediately began fading away as soon as we started to enter the hills. It is hard to describe the countryside as being anything but exactly what you would expect it to look like; rolling green and yellow hills with scattered villas, farm houses, vineyards and those tall pine cone shaped trees. Just lovely. We didn't have any real destinations. Our hope was to pass through several of little towns in Chianti, do some wine tasting and eventually end up somewhere near Montepulciano and that is exactly what we did. There are numerous little towns in Chianti which take exactly 15 seconds to drive straight through so we stopped in a few to eat, or take pictures, or use a 25 cent bathroom where everything was constantly dripping wet from being sanitized after each use and sported an automatic toilet paper dispenser. I realized as we began to look at what seemed like hundreds of little wineries that I wasn't totally sure if you really could just drive up like you do in Oregon- but as we were nearing the end of the Chianti region we saw a sign saying "Wine Bar" and quickly swerved off the road. Quick decisions made by 3 indecisive people is tough but in this case it was something like,"Wine bar?" "Yes!" "Turn now!" And a great decision it was. Located on top of a small hill, the main building was an adorable old stone structure with a restaurant and free tastings. As we sat outside under ivy covered trellis, drinking incredible wines, looking over a stunning landscape, I thought very contently, "perfect." (The landscape and layout actually looked a lot like King Estates in Oregon, for those of you who have been there). This went on for a while because none of us wanted to leave. There was one other group of 3 people there and the bartender, otherwise it was empty. I couldn't have asked for something better.
Having no reserved lodgings we decided to head toward Montepultiano (once we finally dragged our butts away from heaven) and stay somewhere nearby. The drive down took another hourish, with Kim and Ross in the front battling with our GPS who would occasionally tell us to suddenly turn around, while I battled a bee in the back seat for what seemed like 20 minutes but was probably closer to 2. I ended up conquering while sitting on the floor, cowering behind the driver's seat with sunglasses cases on both hands but it was conquered it nonetheless. When we reached Montepulciano we found it to be a lovely old town that you can drive through but shouldn't. We'd found a cute hotel in our guidebook we wanted to check out and our GPS was leading us through streets about wide enough for 2 vespas to drive past each other but nothing wider, and what street space there was was packed with people. I felt like a movie star with everyone ogling at our car driving a 1/2 mph through the sea of people. We finally parked to check out the place we were looking for and though it was pretty cute we felt we could do better and the streets of Montepulciano were making us claustrophobic. With the second unanimous decision of the day we decided to get the hell out of the town and stay somewhere breathable.
Barely outside of town Kim suddenly said, "Hotel!" pointing to a sign on a hill, like a red Hollywood sign that read- "Hotel." As that was what we were looking for, we decided to investigate. We began our investigation by driving up a steep, curvy, gravel driveway exactly the width of our car with tall shrubs on either side that ended with an iron gate. Excited to try his hand at backing down such a road, since there was obviously nowhere to turn around, Ross inched us down, literally an inch at a time, running into the bushes here, bending the rearview mirrors back there, with the fresh smell of a grinding transmission to sooth us the whole way. By the bottom we were all convinced the real hotel was going to be really great and with our moods brightened we finally found the right driveway and headed up. We first passed what seemed to be a Broadway in the 20s themed restaurant that had once been something fancy and now was gutted and covered in plant life. This was also reassuring and we continued on up. We then came upon the actual building which we had to stare at for a few minutes to figure out if it was in the same situation as the restaurant or actually in operation. Obviously built in the 70s, this building also had sad feel of something once grand that lost it's grandeur. There appeared to be an addition to the building that was begun but never finished. A large open concrete structure was attached to one side but it seemed to have been a project abandoned. This didn't dissuade us a bit. We walked in and checked out the lobby (which now confirmed the 70s origin) toward the desk behind which stood an extremely sad and tired looking man and woman. The following was quite verbatim the conversation, "You looking for a room?" "Yes," "For 3?" "Yes please, if you have it." "We don't." We looked at each other, "Oh... well OK..." "Well we do. We have two. But they're bad." "...They're... they're bad?" What does it even mean when the hotel clerk says their room is bad. Haunted? A recent murder? These were the only things we could think of. "Well," they said, "we'll show you." He led us to two rooms and opened one door. They smelled a little musty (with a sales pitch like that they probably weren't used much) but other than that they were fine. "They don't have views, just construction. 90 euro for both together, breakfast included." He opened the other door and before we had a chance to say a thing headed back to his desk. We looked at each other. Breakfast included? 90 euro? A pool (which I forgot to mention but was a selling point for Ross from the beginning)? Haunted rooms? We were sold. We walked back down the halls that looked not unlike the shining, through a huge dining room with chandeliers and long orange curtains and said "we'll take it!" They seemed mildly surprised.
We went up to our new rooms and each spent a healthy 15 minutes opening our doors (the skinny keys would go straight through the keyhole and had to be finagled juuust right in order to work). Then we finally opened the blackout curtains to see our lack-of views. They weren't kidding. Kim and I had a nice view of a construction site and Ross... well Ross looked into that old abandoned concrete construction project. It's weird to have a window that looks into something as opposed to outside, let me tell you. And an old concrete skeleton with wheelbarrows and piles of brick that smells faintly of... unpleasantness is even odder. But hell, it had character. We left our stuff and checked out the surrounding area before heading to dinner. I've got to give the outside of the place credit. It wasn't in it's prime but it must have once been a sight to behold. The full name was Hotel Panoramic, and for good reason. Situated on the very top of a hill, it had an absolutely stunning view of the countryside from every angle. Montepulciano, an ancient hill city one direction, rolling hills and a large lake in another, vineyards all around. The pool area was actually very nice. It was outside, well maintained and right next to an olive grove also owned by the hotel. The olive grove was sprinkled with other trees including pears and plumbs and a foosball table. Yup. Right in the middle of the trees. Kim an I had an epic battle the next day which ended in a knock down drag out tie.
That evening we drove back to Montepulciano (and this time we parked the car and walked in). We stopped at a restaurant we'd seen the first time drove through with barrels of wine that must have been 15 ft tall. The dinner was superb, mine being homemade pasta which they brought out and then took the biggest truffle I've ever seen and grated a hefty mound on top. It was still reasonably priced and amazingly good. And of course the wine was delicious as well. That night we brought one more bottle home from the same restaurant and drank it outside on the patio, just above the other side of the red "Hotel" sign, which was a bright green "Panoramic" sign, looking over the scattered lights of Tuscany.
The next morning we were slow to leave. We ate a huge breakfast (which consisted mostly of about 9 different types of pie) and they told us although checkout was at 11, we could stay at the pool as long as we wanted, so we did just that. Finally we decided to get a move on but in a slightly different direction this time. We headed over to Cortona through what was obviously sunflower country. This is my favorite. The fields that from one direction look green, and from another are bright yellow from all their sunny little faces. In Cortona we once again ate a delicious meal (lots of good eating on this trip) and spent some time in an outdoor antique market. But the clouds were looking ominous for the first time in a long time and we were getting tired, so we finally decided to set our GPS toward Florence. Back in the car the rain finally set in but it wasn't until we were right at the top of a mountain that we experienced probably the closest lighting strike any of us had seen. It lit up the already light sky so entirely we couldn't even see where it was coming from and we felt the car rattle before we heard it which was about 1 second later. And with that, it was back home for us.
The rest I don't know because I was sleeping.
Besides the trip, I've been mostly just going to my internship and class everyday. My Italian seems to be having trouble improving but I think I've grown in my sign language. I am the Frutinni queen (little tiny fruit tarts essentially). They occasionally show me another thing or two but that is my go-to everyday responsibility. Also eating. That is also a responsibility. They make me eat some pastry for breakfast when I come in (which I don't argue with) but then continually hand me more pastries and sandwiches throughout my time there (which is two hours). I leave having eaten at least 3 huge pastries, one being a sandwich, each day. My pants remind me everyday these pastries aren't going unnoticed by my waistline and so for the first time today I respectfully declined an offer of food. Now, I'd already eaten pie before I left home (we made it last night and I was making sure it set) and a croissant when I got there. Giovanni asked if I wanted a panino. I said no thanks, I'd already eaten and he brought me one anyway. I said I was full and had eaten but he just continued looking at me saying "Mangi mangi!" but I was really very full. Finally, feeling I'd insulted them enough, I ate half of it. But nope- that's not enough. I got hell for it all day. Comments to the other chef like "well you have to eat 1 and 1/2 because she only ate half of hers." and every now and then it was nudged toward me as though in the 10 minutes after I'd eaten my 3 other meals of the day, I'd worked up an appetite. Finally, the other floater chef came in and said, "whose is this?" picked it up and ate it. Thank goodness. Don't get me wrong, they're absolutely delicious but one can only eat so many pastries between the hours of 6:30 and 7am.
I have learned.
We began by spending a nice long morning driving back and forth and around the streets of Florence which proved to be something like the movie In the Mouth of Madness (every time you try to leave you end up back in the middle). Going the wrong way down one way streets doesn't even get you out- we really tried everything. (I wasn't driving. Just for the record).
We eventually got out though, the fates felt pity on us I suppose, and it was like a breath of fresh air. Florence's muggy damp heat immediately began fading away as soon as we started to enter the hills. It is hard to describe the countryside as being anything but exactly what you would expect it to look like; rolling green and yellow hills with scattered villas, farm houses, vineyards and those tall pine cone shaped trees. Just lovely. We didn't have any real destinations. Our hope was to pass through several of little towns in Chianti, do some wine tasting and eventually end up somewhere near Montepulciano and that is exactly what we did. There are numerous little towns in Chianti which take exactly 15 seconds to drive straight through so we stopped in a few to eat, or take pictures, or use a 25 cent bathroom where everything was constantly dripping wet from being sanitized after each use and sported an automatic toilet paper dispenser. I realized as we began to look at what seemed like hundreds of little wineries that I wasn't totally sure if you really could just drive up like you do in Oregon- but as we were nearing the end of the Chianti region we saw a sign saying "Wine Bar" and quickly swerved off the road. Quick decisions made by 3 indecisive people is tough but in this case it was something like,"Wine bar?" "Yes!" "Turn now!" And a great decision it was. Located on top of a small hill, the main building was an adorable old stone structure with a restaurant and free tastings. As we sat outside under ivy covered trellis, drinking incredible wines, looking over a stunning landscape, I thought very contently, "perfect." (The landscape and layout actually looked a lot like King Estates in Oregon, for those of you who have been there). This went on for a while because none of us wanted to leave. There was one other group of 3 people there and the bartender, otherwise it was empty. I couldn't have asked for something better.
Having no reserved lodgings we decided to head toward Montepultiano (once we finally dragged our butts away from heaven) and stay somewhere nearby. The drive down took another hourish, with Kim and Ross in the front battling with our GPS who would occasionally tell us to suddenly turn around, while I battled a bee in the back seat for what seemed like 20 minutes but was probably closer to 2. I ended up conquering while sitting on the floor, cowering behind the driver's seat with sunglasses cases on both hands but it was conquered it nonetheless. When we reached Montepulciano we found it to be a lovely old town that you can drive through but shouldn't. We'd found a cute hotel in our guidebook we wanted to check out and our GPS was leading us through streets about wide enough for 2 vespas to drive past each other but nothing wider, and what street space there was was packed with people. I felt like a movie star with everyone ogling at our car driving a 1/2 mph through the sea of people. We finally parked to check out the place we were looking for and though it was pretty cute we felt we could do better and the streets of Montepulciano were making us claustrophobic. With the second unanimous decision of the day we decided to get the hell out of the town and stay somewhere breathable.
Barely outside of town Kim suddenly said, "Hotel!" pointing to a sign on a hill, like a red Hollywood sign that read- "Hotel." As that was what we were looking for, we decided to investigate. We began our investigation by driving up a steep, curvy, gravel driveway exactly the width of our car with tall shrubs on either side that ended with an iron gate. Excited to try his hand at backing down such a road, since there was obviously nowhere to turn around, Ross inched us down, literally an inch at a time, running into the bushes here, bending the rearview mirrors back there, with the fresh smell of a grinding transmission to sooth us the whole way. By the bottom we were all convinced the real hotel was going to be really great and with our moods brightened we finally found the right driveway and headed up. We first passed what seemed to be a Broadway in the 20s themed restaurant that had once been something fancy and now was gutted and covered in plant life. This was also reassuring and we continued on up. We then came upon the actual building which we had to stare at for a few minutes to figure out if it was in the same situation as the restaurant or actually in operation. Obviously built in the 70s, this building also had sad feel of something once grand that lost it's grandeur. There appeared to be an addition to the building that was begun but never finished. A large open concrete structure was attached to one side but it seemed to have been a project abandoned. This didn't dissuade us a bit. We walked in and checked out the lobby (which now confirmed the 70s origin) toward the desk behind which stood an extremely sad and tired looking man and woman. The following was quite verbatim the conversation, "You looking for a room?" "Yes," "For 3?" "Yes please, if you have it." "We don't." We looked at each other, "Oh... well OK..." "Well we do. We have two. But they're bad." "...They're... they're bad?" What does it even mean when the hotel clerk says their room is bad. Haunted? A recent murder? These were the only things we could think of. "Well," they said, "we'll show you." He led us to two rooms and opened one door. They smelled a little musty (with a sales pitch like that they probably weren't used much) but other than that they were fine. "They don't have views, just construction. 90 euro for both together, breakfast included." He opened the other door and before we had a chance to say a thing headed back to his desk. We looked at each other. Breakfast included? 90 euro? A pool (which I forgot to mention but was a selling point for Ross from the beginning)? Haunted rooms? We were sold. We walked back down the halls that looked not unlike the shining, through a huge dining room with chandeliers and long orange curtains and said "we'll take it!" They seemed mildly surprised.
We went up to our new rooms and each spent a healthy 15 minutes opening our doors (the skinny keys would go straight through the keyhole and had to be finagled juuust right in order to work). Then we finally opened the blackout curtains to see our lack-of views. They weren't kidding. Kim and I had a nice view of a construction site and Ross... well Ross looked into that old abandoned concrete construction project. It's weird to have a window that looks into something as opposed to outside, let me tell you. And an old concrete skeleton with wheelbarrows and piles of brick that smells faintly of... unpleasantness is even odder. But hell, it had character. We left our stuff and checked out the surrounding area before heading to dinner. I've got to give the outside of the place credit. It wasn't in it's prime but it must have once been a sight to behold. The full name was Hotel Panoramic, and for good reason. Situated on the very top of a hill, it had an absolutely stunning view of the countryside from every angle. Montepulciano, an ancient hill city one direction, rolling hills and a large lake in another, vineyards all around. The pool area was actually very nice. It was outside, well maintained and right next to an olive grove also owned by the hotel. The olive grove was sprinkled with other trees including pears and plumbs and a foosball table. Yup. Right in the middle of the trees. Kim an I had an epic battle the next day which ended in a knock down drag out tie.
That evening we drove back to Montepulciano (and this time we parked the car and walked in). We stopped at a restaurant we'd seen the first time drove through with barrels of wine that must have been 15 ft tall. The dinner was superb, mine being homemade pasta which they brought out and then took the biggest truffle I've ever seen and grated a hefty mound on top. It was still reasonably priced and amazingly good. And of course the wine was delicious as well. That night we brought one more bottle home from the same restaurant and drank it outside on the patio, just above the other side of the red "Hotel" sign, which was a bright green "Panoramic" sign, looking over the scattered lights of Tuscany.
The next morning we were slow to leave. We ate a huge breakfast (which consisted mostly of about 9 different types of pie) and they told us although checkout was at 11, we could stay at the pool as long as we wanted, so we did just that. Finally we decided to get a move on but in a slightly different direction this time. We headed over to Cortona through what was obviously sunflower country. This is my favorite. The fields that from one direction look green, and from another are bright yellow from all their sunny little faces. In Cortona we once again ate a delicious meal (lots of good eating on this trip) and spent some time in an outdoor antique market. But the clouds were looking ominous for the first time in a long time and we were getting tired, so we finally decided to set our GPS toward Florence. Back in the car the rain finally set in but it wasn't until we were right at the top of a mountain that we experienced probably the closest lighting strike any of us had seen. It lit up the already light sky so entirely we couldn't even see where it was coming from and we felt the car rattle before we heard it which was about 1 second later. And with that, it was back home for us.
The rest I don't know because I was sleeping.
Besides the trip, I've been mostly just going to my internship and class everyday. My Italian seems to be having trouble improving but I think I've grown in my sign language. I am the Frutinni queen (little tiny fruit tarts essentially). They occasionally show me another thing or two but that is my go-to everyday responsibility. Also eating. That is also a responsibility. They make me eat some pastry for breakfast when I come in (which I don't argue with) but then continually hand me more pastries and sandwiches throughout my time there (which is two hours). I leave having eaten at least 3 huge pastries, one being a sandwich, each day. My pants remind me everyday these pastries aren't going unnoticed by my waistline and so for the first time today I respectfully declined an offer of food. Now, I'd already eaten pie before I left home (we made it last night and I was making sure it set) and a croissant when I got there. Giovanni asked if I wanted a panino. I said no thanks, I'd already eaten and he brought me one anyway. I said I was full and had eaten but he just continued looking at me saying "Mangi mangi!" but I was really very full. Finally, feeling I'd insulted them enough, I ate half of it. But nope- that's not enough. I got hell for it all day. Comments to the other chef like "well you have to eat 1 and 1/2 because she only ate half of hers." and every now and then it was nudged toward me as though in the 10 minutes after I'd eaten my 3 other meals of the day, I'd worked up an appetite. Finally, the other floater chef came in and said, "whose is this?" picked it up and ate it. Thank goodness. Don't get me wrong, they're absolutely delicious but one can only eat so many pastries between the hours of 6:30 and 7am.
I have learned.
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Internship
I stood in front of the bakery with its closed/ gated front, sweating from my 30 minute walk, thinking- "how the hell am I going to get in there?" I met the owner of the shop I'm interning at once last week. I have her phone number but it was 6:15 am (by far the deadest I've ever seen the streets of Florence. Even in comparison to say 4 am) and she usually isn't there with the baking crew in the morning. Luckily at that moment a guy walked in front of me, put in his key and raised the gate. I walked up and said, "Ciao! Mi chiamo Adria. I'm the new intern here for the next few weeks." He smiled silently and then said, "...here?" "..Si." "Oh... OK. Upstairs."
I walked up stairs. There were a few levels. And a few half levels kind of Being John Malkovich style. So by "upstairs" I was already confused. I just decided I'd go all the way to the top. There were a few small kitchens and I walked in the first one I saw. 3 men were bustling around and I waltzed on in and introduced myself the same way as before. Again I got some silent stares. Finally one said, "you work here?" ".. er.... I think so." By this point I wasn't so sure anymore. "OK" He introduced himself, having a very ethnic African name I couldn't say even after repeating it aprox 7 times and then promptly forgot. He introduced me to the head pastry chef (Giovanni?) and didn't even bother with the other guy who was apparently an assistant. Neither of the other two spoke a lick of English. My one English speaker (ish) friend showed me where to put my bag, explained to the other guys sort of what I was doing there (although I don't really think any of them entirely understood) and promptly left to do something else. And there I was. Standing in the way of the work these guys were trying to do, complete with a language barrier about 2 feet thick. I'd like to add here, that when I first came in to the shop and met the lovely owner Joanne, she was the only person I met and she is actually British so of course spoke English. That put me in the comfy mind set that there was at least English to fall back on. This was not the case.
Now, for those of you who have never worked in a commercial kitchen or have ever just cooked with several people around- the worst thing you can do is be in the way. Unfortunately, since these guys couldn't ask me if I'd had any experience, or how long I'd been in pastry school (I tried to explain... but I think when I speak Italian they still think I'm speaking English at them) they couldn't explain anything or ask if I knew how to make things. I'm quite sure they assumed I knew nothing. So my problem was: I was in the way. I don't have a problem watching. It was actually fascinating to watch how quickly and smoothly they worked. A well oiled machine really. But I figured if staying out of the way was the most helpful thing I could do, I was gonna show them I could do it damn well. I tried to keep my reflexes sharp and move before I needed to be asked. So far so good.
At one point, Giovanni looked at me and said, "colazione?" (breakfast) and pointed to rolling racks full of croissants, turn overs and plenty of things they couldn't describe to me. "Si?" I asked, and he made a gesture to said take any of them. Gladly I did. It was some sort of laminated croissant type dough filled with pastry cream. Quite delicious. And that became a theme of the day. If I was standing doing nothing, (believe it or not, it happened once or twice) they'd say, "mangiare, mangiare" ("eat, eat") and push croissants and danishes at me from a pile of those misshapen and unsellable. Other times the cooks would come over from the other side with sandwiches that were shoved in my face (and holy cow one was this amazing salami one on focaccia with parmesan and sort of a cabbage salad) but you better believe I was taking all that was given to me. I guess, in a small way, I was doing my part.
Eventually, I did get my hands a little dirty- and not just from washing the dishes that I gladly snatched up as something to do. I was given the job of placing fruit on a few trays worth of adorable mini assorted fruit tarts and brushing them with apricot glaze. A job I've done countless times and so as he was showing me what apricot glaze was, I excitedly exclaimed, "capisco, capisco!" In other words- I understand this! I also tried to joke with them a little, implying it would look nice to put whole kiwis on top of tiny tarts, and at least got them to smile. Although I do think they thought I was "just that dumb" for a second before they saw I was joking. I did this partly because the main chef was another one of those giant biceps, I-could-mees-you-up type looking guys, and was trying to get on his good side. He definitely told his assistant what-was-what a few times in a tone I'd like to avoid hearing aimed at me, so I certainly tried my best to listen closely, seem always interested and smile sweetly like I thought the place was just the most charming thing I'd seen. I haven't been yelled at yet, partly because I haven't done much. But. Let's keep it that way. Oh, I also got to fill cannoili shells. And learned how to use what was pretty much a mini food elevator. I say that as opposed to saying a dumbwaiter because it had buttons just like an elevator and...now that I think about it, maybe that's still what a dumbwaiter is but I always picture them with the rope pully thing. Anyway. I used one of those.
Watching these guys work really was a kick though. I often understood what was going on even if their process was different than how I'd been taught, and trying to sound informed I'd sometimes point a dough and ask "cornetto?" (Italian croissant) or "pate a choux?" (batter used for eclairs etc). I just wanted them to know I'd seen this stuff before. The sanitation in the joint was pretty awesome. Chef Harris (for those of you who don't know him is exceptionally clean and a stickler for sanitation) would have loved it here. And by loved I mean passed out. Hands weren't washed, sweat was wiped off faces (though that couldn't be helped, I could feel it dripping down my back and stomach), and best of all, Giovanni smoked a good deal of the time. He stood at the sheeter (a large machine for rolling dough extremely thin) with one hand on the lever to operate it and the other holding a cigarette and tapping it in the ash tray on top of the machine, while practically leaning against a No Smoking sign. Other times he'd just set the cigarette on the work bench with the lit part hanging off the edge. He would smoke and then pick up ready-to-eat foods (how very Food Handler's Permit of me) with his bare hands and place them on trays- something we'd probably be kicked out of school at South for doing. This being said, don't think I thought poorly of this establishment. Quite the contrary. The products were lovely and delicious. I think this speaks more of Italian culture as a whole. Not that sanitation is not important at all but they certainly aren't germaphobs. As Chef Berger, our French chef at South, says in his explanation of the Tart Tartin (basically a french upside down apple pie) "it was invented by two French sisters who dropped pie on the floor. Now, in France we have the 30 minute rule, so they had time to think about what to do and finally they just picked it up and said 'Tart Tartin.' "
At the end of my shift I managed to butcher some Italian into the basic shape of, "I'll be here for three weeks, just a few hours each morning, I get in at 6:30 and the go to class." They seemed to understandish. There is the worry that I will get there tomorrow and not just Happen to arrive with someone else to open the door and be suck outside just to throw rocks at the top floor window and yell, "buongiorno!" over and over because I don't properly know anyone's name. It's a real possibility.
I walked up stairs. There were a few levels. And a few half levels kind of Being John Malkovich style. So by "upstairs" I was already confused. I just decided I'd go all the way to the top. There were a few small kitchens and I walked in the first one I saw. 3 men were bustling around and I waltzed on in and introduced myself the same way as before. Again I got some silent stares. Finally one said, "you work here?" ".. er.... I think so." By this point I wasn't so sure anymore. "OK" He introduced himself, having a very ethnic African name I couldn't say even after repeating it aprox 7 times and then promptly forgot. He introduced me to the head pastry chef (Giovanni?) and didn't even bother with the other guy who was apparently an assistant. Neither of the other two spoke a lick of English. My one English speaker (ish) friend showed me where to put my bag, explained to the other guys sort of what I was doing there (although I don't really think any of them entirely understood) and promptly left to do something else. And there I was. Standing in the way of the work these guys were trying to do, complete with a language barrier about 2 feet thick. I'd like to add here, that when I first came in to the shop and met the lovely owner Joanne, she was the only person I met and she is actually British so of course spoke English. That put me in the comfy mind set that there was at least English to fall back on. This was not the case.
Now, for those of you who have never worked in a commercial kitchen or have ever just cooked with several people around- the worst thing you can do is be in the way. Unfortunately, since these guys couldn't ask me if I'd had any experience, or how long I'd been in pastry school (I tried to explain... but I think when I speak Italian they still think I'm speaking English at them) they couldn't explain anything or ask if I knew how to make things. I'm quite sure they assumed I knew nothing. So my problem was: I was in the way. I don't have a problem watching. It was actually fascinating to watch how quickly and smoothly they worked. A well oiled machine really. But I figured if staying out of the way was the most helpful thing I could do, I was gonna show them I could do it damn well. I tried to keep my reflexes sharp and move before I needed to be asked. So far so good.
At one point, Giovanni looked at me and said, "colazione?" (breakfast) and pointed to rolling racks full of croissants, turn overs and plenty of things they couldn't describe to me. "Si?" I asked, and he made a gesture to said take any of them. Gladly I did. It was some sort of laminated croissant type dough filled with pastry cream. Quite delicious. And that became a theme of the day. If I was standing doing nothing, (believe it or not, it happened once or twice) they'd say, "mangiare, mangiare" ("eat, eat") and push croissants and danishes at me from a pile of those misshapen and unsellable. Other times the cooks would come over from the other side with sandwiches that were shoved in my face (and holy cow one was this amazing salami one on focaccia with parmesan and sort of a cabbage salad) but you better believe I was taking all that was given to me. I guess, in a small way, I was doing my part.
Eventually, I did get my hands a little dirty- and not just from washing the dishes that I gladly snatched up as something to do. I was given the job of placing fruit on a few trays worth of adorable mini assorted fruit tarts and brushing them with apricot glaze. A job I've done countless times and so as he was showing me what apricot glaze was, I excitedly exclaimed, "capisco, capisco!" In other words- I understand this! I also tried to joke with them a little, implying it would look nice to put whole kiwis on top of tiny tarts, and at least got them to smile. Although I do think they thought I was "just that dumb" for a second before they saw I was joking. I did this partly because the main chef was another one of those giant biceps, I-could-mees-you-up type looking guys, and was trying to get on his good side. He definitely told his assistant what-was-what a few times in a tone I'd like to avoid hearing aimed at me, so I certainly tried my best to listen closely, seem always interested and smile sweetly like I thought the place was just the most charming thing I'd seen. I haven't been yelled at yet, partly because I haven't done much. But. Let's keep it that way. Oh, I also got to fill cannoili shells. And learned how to use what was pretty much a mini food elevator. I say that as opposed to saying a dumbwaiter because it had buttons just like an elevator and...now that I think about it, maybe that's still what a dumbwaiter is but I always picture them with the rope pully thing. Anyway. I used one of those.
Watching these guys work really was a kick though. I often understood what was going on even if their process was different than how I'd been taught, and trying to sound informed I'd sometimes point a dough and ask "cornetto?" (Italian croissant) or "pate a choux?" (batter used for eclairs etc). I just wanted them to know I'd seen this stuff before. The sanitation in the joint was pretty awesome. Chef Harris (for those of you who don't know him is exceptionally clean and a stickler for sanitation) would have loved it here. And by loved I mean passed out. Hands weren't washed, sweat was wiped off faces (though that couldn't be helped, I could feel it dripping down my back and stomach), and best of all, Giovanni smoked a good deal of the time. He stood at the sheeter (a large machine for rolling dough extremely thin) with one hand on the lever to operate it and the other holding a cigarette and tapping it in the ash tray on top of the machine, while practically leaning against a No Smoking sign. Other times he'd just set the cigarette on the work bench with the lit part hanging off the edge. He would smoke and then pick up ready-to-eat foods (how very Food Handler's Permit of me) with his bare hands and place them on trays- something we'd probably be kicked out of school at South for doing. This being said, don't think I thought poorly of this establishment. Quite the contrary. The products were lovely and delicious. I think this speaks more of Italian culture as a whole. Not that sanitation is not important at all but they certainly aren't germaphobs. As Chef Berger, our French chef at South, says in his explanation of the Tart Tartin (basically a french upside down apple pie) "it was invented by two French sisters who dropped pie on the floor. Now, in France we have the 30 minute rule, so they had time to think about what to do and finally they just picked it up and said 'Tart Tartin.' "
At the end of my shift I managed to butcher some Italian into the basic shape of, "I'll be here for three weeks, just a few hours each morning, I get in at 6:30 and the go to class." They seemed to understandish. There is the worry that I will get there tomorrow and not just Happen to arrive with someone else to open the door and be suck outside just to throw rocks at the top floor window and yell, "buongiorno!" over and over because I don't properly know anyone's name. It's a real possibility.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Kos
We had it all planned out. It was Friday, our last day of finals and if Michelle, Kim and I finished our finals in under an hour and brought our stuff with us we could run and juust catch the bus that would take us to Milan so we could catch our early plane the next morning to Greece. We'd made this decision last minute to avoid the fact that the trains were striking on Friday. With little time to spare, we made it out of our finals in time and booked it to the bus stop but were a little confused to see just a few empty buses and a couple of bus drivers smoking and talking. We apprehensively showed them our printed out bus tickets and asked them where we should be. They looked quietly and then told us to catch that bus at the train station. So we ran there. We found a few buses lined up and one said to Milano. We showed the driver our printed tickets and he looked quietly and then said, "No, I have no idea what this is. This is not a ticket. This is not for this bus. We're leaving." Shut the door and left. That was the exact time our bus was supposed to leave and there is still debate on whether that was our bus or not but we ran over to the ticket office anyway to see what we could do. She also claimed to never have seen such a paper and at this point we were out of luck. We'd wasted some money and done a lot of running for nothing. Wherever this so-called "bus" was that we'd booked, it was surely gone by now and there were no others that left Friday night. We were forced to do what we'd been trying not to do, go hang out at the train station and wait for the strike to end.
The one upside of the extremely frequent strikes is there are some trains thats still run. We weren't sure that we wanted to risk it- hence the bus tickets- but we had no choice now but to hope that for some reason Milano bound buses were still running. We were in luck. To Milan was one of about 2 buses still running. This was both a relief as well as a slap in the face just Really emphasizing the fact that we didn't need those godforsaken bus tickets. But we weren't in a situation to complain, so when the train came we got on with our Eurail Passes and thanked our stars that at least this worked out for us. At that point a woman came by saying we were in here seats. Having a Eurail pass means you don't need to book seats and anyone sits wherever they want. We had noticed this train was nicer than most however, and now we were faced with the fact that a few trains do require reservations, we didn't have one and the train was about to leave. We walked back and forth a little, being careful to be as in-the-way and touristy looking as possible when we finally found the conductor, stepped off the train and explained our situation. He looked at our passes, and made a phone call. We waited. We looked around. We gave each other looks like "Does this call involve us or is he talking about something else and just happening to stand by us?" when finally he looked back and said, "10 Euros each." And we were on our way.
We didn't have much time to spend in Milano. It's a huge city, it was late-ish when we got in, we were tired and we needed to find a hostel. Michelle had written down a few so we thought we'd find one close to the train station and probably just relax. The first one we looked up on the map was relatively close so we went straight there. On the top floor, we made it up, sweaty and exhausted to have the two friendly Italian brothers who owned the place tell us they had no room for three. We started to get up, buuuut they had a room for 2 and a 4 person room with 1 bed left. We took it. Heck, we're not picky. As we made the arrangements and paid up, they noticed my last name and refused to speak to me in English anymore. With a name like that they said I had to speak Italian. One brother said, "to you, I speak only in Italian," to Michelle, "to you in Korean," and to blond, blue eyed Kim, "and to you.... I don't speak at all." The rest of our time in Milan was uneventful. We found a nice restaurant close by and sweated ourselves to sleep just to wake up at 4:45 am to catch a taxi to the train station, a shuttle to the bus (an hour) and then catch our Ryanair flight to Kos.
But then finally, we were in Kos. Why Have I Not Been To Greece Before? It was simply amazing. Kos was less of a hilly island with all white buildings and blue roofs but more a mixture of that and Hawaii. We rented a little blue car right by the airport and drove the 15 minutes to our town. (It takes about 40 min to drive the length of the entire island). When we got to our adorable little beach town of Tigaki we began looking for our hotel. They don't have hostels in such a little place but they do have some really cheap hotels. We drove through the entire town in about 1 minute and a half and didn't see it so we turned and went back. Still didn't see it. On the third time through we decided to pull into a parking lot of an unmarked building to turn around again when we noticed on the sign, we'd arrived. Not looking at all like a place that would cost only 17 euros per person a night, the Irina Beach Hotel looked to us like paradise. A big white building with blue columns, a big bar lounge area opening into a back patio/ pool area with a pool bar and steps leading down directly to the beach. And lets not forget that the first thing we saw when we walked in was a baby kitten running around that I promptly picked up, named Hercules and carried around the entire time. The staff was lovely (everyone in Greece speaks English. Everyone), and the little old British woman who was the bartender made us fancy drinks every day as we lounged by the pool and even gave us her signature uozo, sambuca and lemonade. Almost too good.
Our days consisted of waking up at some point (we were never actually quite sure what time it is. I'm pretty sure there isn't a clock on the entire island), having a lunch breakfast on the patio with a nice tequila sunrise to start the day, laying in the sun and chillin in the water for the rest of the day, and driving to one of the little towns to wander around and have dinner, and finishing up the evening with a bottle of wine on our balcony, playing with Hercules and once even smoking cigars. At one point we found ourselves in a grocery store buying cards, wine and cigars. Apparently after just about 2 days in Greece everyone starts to turn into little old men who hang out on the steps of churches doing those very things. If we'd stayed longer we would have fully transformed. I pretty much had to shave off my gray mustache when I got home.
We found a few cute little shops in which the owner was also the maker of everything in them. One made beautiful fancy white crocheted (?) table cloths, one of which I bought and the little old woman gave me a free little souvenir bell with Kos painted on it to go with it. Another sold mugs, plates and other pottery painted by the little woman working there, with pictures of gorgeous Greek island scenes. Lovely. And apparently the Greeks love to give things away for free. Besides the drinks and the bell, one day when we went to a little fruit stand to get some veggies, apparently the onion, tomatoes and cucumber we'd picked out would have cost so little she just told us to take them.
Oh and let's not forget the fact that the food was just ridiculous and Greek food being pretty much my favorite kind, I was in heaven. I could have just sat around eating that Tzatziki sauce with a spoon. And I did. And the Kalamata olives were like none I've ever had.
Long story short, if you're thinking of going to Greece, go. It is wonderful. Oh and the trip home was much less eventful then the trip there. It went off almost too smoothly. We kept expecting something to be late or canceled but it never was. And so, we were lucky.
The one upside of the extremely frequent strikes is there are some trains thats still run. We weren't sure that we wanted to risk it- hence the bus tickets- but we had no choice now but to hope that for some reason Milano bound buses were still running. We were in luck. To Milan was one of about 2 buses still running. This was both a relief as well as a slap in the face just Really emphasizing the fact that we didn't need those godforsaken bus tickets. But we weren't in a situation to complain, so when the train came we got on with our Eurail Passes and thanked our stars that at least this worked out for us. At that point a woman came by saying we were in here seats. Having a Eurail pass means you don't need to book seats and anyone sits wherever they want. We had noticed this train was nicer than most however, and now we were faced with the fact that a few trains do require reservations, we didn't have one and the train was about to leave. We walked back and forth a little, being careful to be as in-the-way and touristy looking as possible when we finally found the conductor, stepped off the train and explained our situation. He looked at our passes, and made a phone call. We waited. We looked around. We gave each other looks like "Does this call involve us or is he talking about something else and just happening to stand by us?" when finally he looked back and said, "10 Euros each." And we were on our way.
We didn't have much time to spend in Milano. It's a huge city, it was late-ish when we got in, we were tired and we needed to find a hostel. Michelle had written down a few so we thought we'd find one close to the train station and probably just relax. The first one we looked up on the map was relatively close so we went straight there. On the top floor, we made it up, sweaty and exhausted to have the two friendly Italian brothers who owned the place tell us they had no room for three. We started to get up, buuuut they had a room for 2 and a 4 person room with 1 bed left. We took it. Heck, we're not picky. As we made the arrangements and paid up, they noticed my last name and refused to speak to me in English anymore. With a name like that they said I had to speak Italian. One brother said, "to you, I speak only in Italian," to Michelle, "to you in Korean," and to blond, blue eyed Kim, "and to you.... I don't speak at all." The rest of our time in Milan was uneventful. We found a nice restaurant close by and sweated ourselves to sleep just to wake up at 4:45 am to catch a taxi to the train station, a shuttle to the bus (an hour) and then catch our Ryanair flight to Kos.
But then finally, we were in Kos. Why Have I Not Been To Greece Before? It was simply amazing. Kos was less of a hilly island with all white buildings and blue roofs but more a mixture of that and Hawaii. We rented a little blue car right by the airport and drove the 15 minutes to our town. (It takes about 40 min to drive the length of the entire island). When we got to our adorable little beach town of Tigaki we began looking for our hotel. They don't have hostels in such a little place but they do have some really cheap hotels. We drove through the entire town in about 1 minute and a half and didn't see it so we turned and went back. Still didn't see it. On the third time through we decided to pull into a parking lot of an unmarked building to turn around again when we noticed on the sign, we'd arrived. Not looking at all like a place that would cost only 17 euros per person a night, the Irina Beach Hotel looked to us like paradise. A big white building with blue columns, a big bar lounge area opening into a back patio/ pool area with a pool bar and steps leading down directly to the beach. And lets not forget that the first thing we saw when we walked in was a baby kitten running around that I promptly picked up, named Hercules and carried around the entire time. The staff was lovely (everyone in Greece speaks English. Everyone), and the little old British woman who was the bartender made us fancy drinks every day as we lounged by the pool and even gave us her signature uozo, sambuca and lemonade. Almost too good.
Our days consisted of waking up at some point (we were never actually quite sure what time it is. I'm pretty sure there isn't a clock on the entire island), having a lunch breakfast on the patio with a nice tequila sunrise to start the day, laying in the sun and chillin in the water for the rest of the day, and driving to one of the little towns to wander around and have dinner, and finishing up the evening with a bottle of wine on our balcony, playing with Hercules and once even smoking cigars. At one point we found ourselves in a grocery store buying cards, wine and cigars. Apparently after just about 2 days in Greece everyone starts to turn into little old men who hang out on the steps of churches doing those very things. If we'd stayed longer we would have fully transformed. I pretty much had to shave off my gray mustache when I got home.
We found a few cute little shops in which the owner was also the maker of everything in them. One made beautiful fancy white crocheted (?) table cloths, one of which I bought and the little old woman gave me a free little souvenir bell with Kos painted on it to go with it. Another sold mugs, plates and other pottery painted by the little woman working there, with pictures of gorgeous Greek island scenes. Lovely. And apparently the Greeks love to give things away for free. Besides the drinks and the bell, one day when we went to a little fruit stand to get some veggies, apparently the onion, tomatoes and cucumber we'd picked out would have cost so little she just told us to take them.
Oh and let's not forget the fact that the food was just ridiculous and Greek food being pretty much my favorite kind, I was in heaven. I could have just sat around eating that Tzatziki sauce with a spoon. And I did. And the Kalamata olives were like none I've ever had.
Long story short, if you're thinking of going to Greece, go. It is wonderful. Oh and the trip home was much less eventful then the trip there. It went off almost too smoothly. We kept expecting something to be late or canceled but it never was. And so, we were lucky.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)