I’ve always been amazed by my father’s dad, even though I have very few memories spending time with him. My “Poppy” was a career photographer for National Geographic. He was born before the turn of the century (February 24, 1898… have you ever known anyone from the 1800’s?!) in a rural town in Delaware that even today only boasts a few hundred residents. He raised his family in Washington DC and got to travel the world for his work (long before traveling the world was something you actually did). These are all things that I find particularly fascinating and I have discovered we even have a few parallels in our lives. Except, he was a rather short man and I’m basically what you call basketball height (5’9″ is about the tallest you’ll see on the court, right?).
A scene along Lago di Maggiore
Of all those attributes, his long-standing career with National Geographic is probably the most interesting to me (and one I’m happy to brag about). On a whim one day (several years ago), my sister-in-law, Jessica googled his name and was surprised at the results. Over 400 of his images appeared on websites like art.com and others (I’m still researching how I can lay claim to the royalties… lawyers feel free to message me). Jessica conspired with Jen and they surprised me with an huge print of one of his 1950’s Washington DC images (I was living downtown at the time). Since Jen’s parents, Dominic and Diane had just purchased their condo in the Lake Como, Jessica and Diane also purchased one of his more famous 1950’s lake images in order to surprise me twice, as well as Jen. When the gifts were presented, my dad, beaming with pride ran out of the room for a moment and came back with the two original copies of National Geographic magazines that contained those exact images. I kept one magazine with my image at my home in Washington DC, and we took the other magazine to Dominic and Diane’s condo in Italy to be with the print that now hangs above our bed.
My grandfather’s photo that appeared in the August 1950 issue of National Geographic
I promise, there’s a reason I’m giving such a long account of my personal family history and it all ties back to my wonderful wife. Not only was she thoughtful enough to present me with this great present a few years ago, but she also had a fantastic idea for a day-trip when my parents came to visit, which they did recently.
Julia was all smiles when her “Pop-Pop” and Grandma got off the plane. My folks had been with us to Lake Como before, but this was the first time in warm weather. They were excited to see everything with new eyes, all over again.
“Benvenuto, Pop-pop and Grandma”
Julia shows them around Italy
We had a long, but flexible plan laid out. We went to a small nearby lake, Lago di Montorfano and had a picnic.
Julia splashes in Lago di Montorfono right by our house
Then she needed a little gelato to cool down
We went for a drive along Lake Como and visited one of our favorite towns, Menaggio.
Stefani and Sonny are all smiles in Menaggio
Julia wanted to tell Pop-Pop a secret
I think she told him to smile
Julia can’t hog all the kisses from Pop-pop and Grandma
She wanted to touch the water but would get startled at each little wave crash
We also took a day trip to Monza – a town famous for the Formula 1 races that are held in the streets each September.
In front of the chiesa (church)
Julia insisted on “petting” the lion
And of course, we visited downtown Como. On the day we were in Como, there was Fiat 500 rally in Piazza Cavour. Recently, I was telling some American friends about this gathering of miniature vehicles and describing the car as the “Fiat Cinquecento”. They were looking at me like they had no idea what I was talking about and I was getting more and more frustrated – “Come on… I know that you know what I’m talking about. They’ve been in the States for a long time now. The little car. The Cinquecento!” Finally, I realized that I had been saying “five hundred” in Italian and so it wasn’t making any sense to him!
Classic old Fiat 500’s
This guy had his 500 equipped right – barrels of wine attached to the roof!
Hey, even security needs a little vino!
Of all the day trips though, Jennifer had planned something that eclipsed them all. She had decided that we would find the exact spot where my grandfather captured his lake image and recreate the exact same photo. I thought this was a marvelous idea, but equated it to finding a needle in the haystack. I think my dad thought it was the best idea he had ever heard and didn’t doubt for a moment that we would find the location. Since we had the original magazine, we read the account of the photo described by my grandfather. He captioned the photo, Summer Villas in Tiny Ronco Flank the Shores of Europe’s Deepest Lake, Maggiore, Shared by Switzerland and Italy. So it turned out that the image was actually taken on the Swiss side of a lake that crosses the border of both Italy and Switzerland. We knew the lake – Maggiore and we knew the town – Ronco. Some quick time spent on google confirmed that Ronco was a small village and so I became confident that we could cover the shoreline by foot and car fairly easily.
Some sailboats in Ronco
On a clear day, we packed up the car and set out toward the northwest corner of Lake Maggiore. The journey would take about two hours crossing some beautiful countryside. When we arrived in Ronco, I cruised the shoreline for a while looking for anything that resembled the photo. Nothing stood out. That’s OK… no reason to panic. It was time for lunch anyways, so we stopped to reward ourselves with a wonderful lunch overlooking the beautiful lake.
“Cin-cin, Dad!”
A happy couple eating lunch that overlooks the lake
Julia makes a silly face while eating her pasta (and she also made a big mess)
After a leisurely lunch it was time to go back to work. Since we had covered the south side of the village and the car was already parked, I made the decision to go north by foot. We walked for a bit. Then we walked further. Finally, I spotted it. But it wasn’t right. So we pushed on. Everyone’s pace slowed. But I remained confident it was just around the bend. It was not. Eventually, the sidewalk ended and I was pretty sure we had left Ronco twenty minutes prior. Sadly, we turned back to the car, but not before stopping at a bar to talk to the locals. I asked the proprietor if he was familiar with the location of my image (I had printed a copy to take with me). With barely a glance, he said “sì, sì. Conosco quel posto. Questo è Ascona” (yes, yes I know that place. That is Ascona). Wait, what? Ascona – the town about 10 kilometers up the road? He couldn’t be right, could he?
Julia marches through Ascona on the hunt for Poppy’s spot
We piled back in the car and drove to Ascona, just a few minutes up the road. Immediately after we parked, we saw it – the exact spot where my grandfather snapped his photo over sixty years prior! I learned something about my Poppy that day. Even though he was an exceptional photographer, his attention to detail may not have been the best. We imagined him, hunched over his photography equipment and notepad, enjoying a leisurely lunch and wonderful vino. I pictured him scribbling a few notes about the Lake and then asking a waiter the name of the town, not bothering to care (or realize) that he was lunching in Ronco, a town close – but yet so far from Ascona.
This was the area of the shot – the houses were different colors, but they were all still there
We were thrilled to have found it, Poppy’s published error notwithstanding. We were also amazed at the beauty of Ascona, a charming town with roughly 5,500 inhabitants. We walked along the water’s bank, our eyes always gazing upward toward the mountains and homes that appeared in Poppy’s image. I was particularly pleased, but not altogether surprised to see that all the same homes were still intact (although a few additional homes and condo’s had sprung up over the years). My father and I plotted and planned and finally agreed on the frame of the image. I must have taken over 100 images before we were done. Really getting into the spirit, I made my mom and dad pose with me like the dockworkers did so many years ago. We walked further down the shore and then realized we had picked the wrong spot. I suppose my grandpa isn’t the only one entitled to a mistake.
I’m trying to line up the image
My father and I review my work to check for accuracy
I posed us all as the dockworkers and tourists in the photo
Three generations pose where the prior generation had been over sixty years prior
Julia was all hugs
After we discovered we had been shooting in the wrong spot, we re-set and shot again. This time, we were confident that we captured the exact same image. There was even a boat on the ramp, like in the original photo.
Re-framing the shot
We both agreed on the new spot
Posing as dock works again
The final product – this was the shot I chose to resemble the original
And the original again so you can compare how we did
We spent a little time walking around the town and then headed back to the car, pleased with a job well done.
Julia insisted on getting her feet wet
Playing with daddy
Campanile (bell tower) of Ascona
Restaurants line the pedestrian street along the lake
An old Castello (castle) turned into a modern day Inn
Flags of various European countries lay still on a windless day
An old church on the hillside
Boats in the harbor
I couldn’t believe that I stood within feet (perhaps even the exact same spot) that my grandfather did sixty three years prior. My grandfather passed away nearly thirty years ago – when I was five years old. I felt more connected to him at that very moment that I ever had before. I know it was a special day for me and I’m sure it was even more special for my own dad. I will always be grateful to my wife for suggesting that we embark on this journey together.
Channeling my inner Poppy in order to take good pictures
Jen and I recently went to Scotland with her family (HERE) and had a fabulous time exploring the Scottish Highlands. We saw Aberdeen and quite a bit of the Scottish countryside. Next on the agenda was a trip to the country’s capital, Edinburgh. The original plan was to make it a day-trip, but we felt that there was too much to see and do in just one day (not to mention a two hour drive each way), so we planned an overnight stay.
Country road in Ballater
These dry stone walls have been used as field boundaries for well over a thousand years in Scotland
We set out early in the morning from our cottage in the charming town of Ballater, and headed south (still on the wrong side of the road) toward Edinburgh. I was simply amazed to see how the landscape could change so quickly from one part of the country to the another (the colors went from a lush, fertile green to a more rustic, almost coarse landscape – beautiful in it’s own right).
A hilltop basking in the sun, near Ballater – in the Scottish Highlands
A sheep sits down for a rest
Booming commercial center near Ballater
There was a long and desolate stretch of road as the hills flattened and changed their colors
We paused at a scenic overlook to drink up the new landscape
Jen and her sister, Jessica are naturals in front of the camera
Since we opted for an overnight to Edinburgh, we weren’t as rushed to get there, freeing up time to see another glorious castle. Based on local feedback, countless websites and geographic convenience along our route, we chose to visit, Glamis Castle– often dubbed, “Scotland’s most beautiful castle”. The current home of the Earl and Countess of Strathmore and Kinghorne (yes, they really do live there; we could still smell the pleasant aroma of red cedar in the fireplace from the night before) began in the 11th century with much more humble beginnings. Set far in the woods within the town of Glamis, the current castle was once merely a hunting lodge nearly a thousand years ago. But changes in Royal titles, transfer of property, the ego of a few as well as some sordid stories of murders and love affairs transformed a simple hunting lodge into the massive castle it is today. There are legends of a ghost playing cards with the devil until dawn and myths of a monster strolling through the long corridors at night. The castle plays a prominent role in Shakespeare’s MacBeth when Duncan is murdered by MacBeth in Glamis Castle. And what proper castle would be without it’s Royal ties? Glamis Castle has boasted a direct link to the Royal Family in many ways, since 1372 (most recently, the childhood home of the Queen Mother).
Glamis Castle
Welcome to Glamis Castle
Julia went right up to knock on the front door
“Well, if no one is home… I’ll just use this as a back scratcher”
The lion’s are a symbol of the castle and appear in some form in every single room (except the chapel)
Interior photographs were strictly prohibited. Obviously, I couldn’t resist.
Billiards room
Someone’s bedroom – I was hanging back too far to listen so that I could get this shot. In retrospect, I see how dumb that was. I’ll just call it… the “guest bedroom”.
My favorite room – the trophy room where Earl Beardie plays cards with the devil each night (behind the wall to the left)
After the tour (I’ll have you know, I only got scolded for using my camera about four times), we were free to walk about the museums and gardens. First, we viewed a toy soldier exhibit and read more about the Royal history with the castle. Then we strolled around the castle, along the nature trail and into the Italian gardens.
Impressive toy soldier exhibit
Private gardens adjacent to the castle
More lions
Castle from the side – the lion protects this side
Jen’s parents, Dominic and Diane snuggling up
And smooching a bit
Julia felt right at home in the Italian gardens
One of the garden’s intricate gazebos
A beautiful hedge wall enclosed the magnificent gardens
A path covered by a canopy of trees interweaving their branches
View from the garden looking back toward the castle
A similar view with Julia (who would barely stand still long enough to take one quick shot)
A second gazebo framing the garden
A guardhouse stands alone from the castle
View from the road as we departed such a magical place
After we left the castle, we pushed the rest of the way toward Edinburgh, pausing only long enough to capture a few wonderful scenic photos. We arrived late in the afternoon and strolled around town. We stopped for souvenirs and found a perfect kilt for Julia. Jen’s father, Dominic suggested that it had been too long since our last whisky and so he purchased a few miniatures for us to enjoy as we took in the sights. I didn’t hesitate to jump on board – that’s why he’s the best father in law around!
We would pass fields that glowed almost a bright, neon yellow
This guy was sitting on the job
I regretted this photo-op. I think the booth was more commonly used as a toilet than a phone
Gothic tower surrounds the statue of Sir Walter Scott, completed in 1846
Bank of Scotland, Head Offices
Allan Ramsay statue stands in front of Edinburgh Castle
Who can resist images created from flowers?!
Edinburgh Castle overlooks the older and newer parts of the city
Part of the castle
Every city has pricey real estate – you’re looking at some of Edinburgh’s most expensive private residences
And again from a slightly different angle – the old city frames the backdrop
This looks like a good place for a “selfie” LOL, #lovescotland
And this looks like a good place for a serious sip of whisky
Jess took a little sip of her own
The Anderson Clan
After walking for a couple hours, we bent the tour towards the George Street – a pedestrian friendly street full of pubs and restaurants. We found one with tasty looking food, a good atmosphere and appeared to be baby-friendly. We picked correctly and had a wonderful meal. However, the best part was when we ordered the haggis. Julia simply could not get enough. She would scream for the waiter to leave her plate each time he tried to clear it, until she got every last morsel (for those that don’t know what haggis is… just google it).
Haggis and potatoes for the table to share and try (even Diane tried it… and liked it)!
Julia nearly finished the entire plate herself
The next day, we encountered a typical Scottish drizzle (perhaps a bit heavier than a drizzle). With only indoor options appealing to us, but still a lot of city to cover – we found ourselves at a crossroads. We discovered the perfect solution aboard one of the city’s “hop on-hop off” tour buses. We were covered and warm, but still got to see all the highlights of the city, explained to us by a charming tour guide (through a thick Scottish accent).
Scotland is a city divided essentially in two. There is the Old Town, composed of wonderfully narrow and intricately wound streets that exude more charm than you could imagine. The west side of the Old Town is dominated by the large and imposing Edinburgh Castle. Over time, as the city became more and more populated, Edinburgh became one of the world’s first cities to develop “high rises” with 11 and 12 story buildings built as early as the 16th century. At one point in the 18th century, the city decided to assess property taxes based on number of windows in a building, so many building owners bricked over most of their tenant’s windows. You can still see these tax-evading buildings as you drive through the city. As population reached an all-time high in the Old Town, trash became a problem. During the night, people would dump their trash and toilet refuse from their windows onto the streets below. It became well known which streets to avoid after a night drinking in the pubs, lest you wanted a shower of the worst kind.
When the population reached an unmanageable amount, city planners developed the New Town on the northern end of the city. A young, relatively unknown 27 year old, James Craig became the lucky architect for the new city. He did a wonderful job establishing a well-laid city that stood in stark contrast of the chaotic city just south. Edinburgh became divided by Princes Street. Take note, that it is Princes (one “s”) and not Princess Street as many people mistake. The King had two sons and named this important street after his two male heirs (plural for prince). When the New Town became developed in the 18th century, the city planners hoped and envisioned that the cities elite would immediately move to newer section. But no one did – no one wanted to move to what was essentially “the boonies”. So the city built some of the most elaborate and beautiful homes and actually paid the cities upper crust to move into the New Town.*
Below are some shots I snapped on our tour as the bus rolled at a rapid pace through this fascinating city.
*The interesting little tidbits I sprinkled in above, were all given to me from the tour director.
Royal Scottish Academy, featuring a magnificent collection of works by Scottish artists
A street scene in the old city
A closer view as we drove beneath part of Edinburgh Castle
After experiencing a wonderful tour and benefiting from a clearing sky, we elected to exercise the “hop-off” feature of our tour and headed around a bit by foot. We did a little shopping, a little walking and a little eating. Diane got a plaque with her Clan’s tartan for her new home in Maryland.
Julia plays with her nonno
Striking church door
Julia turned out to be a pretty decent make-shift hat during a drizzle
Edinburgh is a port town – you can se the water along the horizon
We wrapped up an amazing couple days in Edinburgh and set our courses back to Ballater. We travelled along a new route and got to experience even more of this wonderful country. A few of my favorite images from the drive are below.
This was absolutely stunning in person
Why did the sheep cross the road? So I could stop in wonderment that this was actually happening
He let me get about 10 feet away before he started telling me to back off
Our wonderful trip to Scotland had come to an end. So too had Jen’s family’s visit with us in Italy – sadly, we bid them arrivederci, cheerio, adeus and a good trip home.
No, I didn’t wear one myself, but only because we were already half-way through our trip before I came across a store that sold them. Real men also eat haggis (sheep’s heart, liver and lungs encased in it’s own stomach) – I did do that! Of course, so did my two-year old daughter… and she probably had more than all of us combined.
A scenic shot of the River Dee in the Scottish Highlands
Since living abroad, we’ve been able to get in touch with most of Jen’s roots. Her father is Italian (hence us living in Italy) and we’ve gone to many of the places where he has or had family. Since he grew up in Africa, we still have that left to do. Jen’s mother grew up in Ohio, and having crossed that off the list multiple times – it was time to go a bit further. Diane’s lineage is a mixture of Irish (we went to Dublin in March, HERE) and Scottish. Now, it was finally time to go to Scotland! And since Jen’s parents and sister were here visiting us, we would all embark on this adventure together.
Jen’s mom had reserved a private cottage exactly where I wanted to be… in the Scottish Highlands. There were a variety of reasons I was excited about this particular area of Scotland. The beauty of the countryside is well renowned. The area is an important part of the country’s and the world’s history. But I think there were two reasons more intriguing than all of that.
1) Many of the scenes from my all-time favorite movie, Braveheart were shot and took place in the Scottish Highlands.
2) Most of the world’s fine scotch is made in the Highlands.
I needed no better reason than those above to break out the scotch and watch Braveheart (for the umpteenth time) with Jen’s parents before we boarded our plane to Scotland. Jen’s eyes rolled as I screamed “FREEEEEDOM” along with Mel Gibson for the 1,000th time since we’ve been together.
After a short flight from Milan, we landed in Aberdeen, Scotland famished. We had one important task to tackle before we would allow ourselves to eat lunch… re-training our brains to drive on the wrong side of the road (that’s right to all you Brits, Aussies, Scots, etc. reading this blog… the wrong side). Jen’s father, Dominic and I each rented our own car and narrowly missed colliding into each other as we took a few practice laps around the parking lot. Five minutes later and confidence at 100% – our plan was fairly simple; we would spend the day touring Aberdeen before driving north to our cottage in Ballater, a charming town in the Royal Deeside. By the time we had parked our cars for lunch, it became apparent that none of us had packed properly for the Scottish weather. We ducked into a TKMaxx (I suppose it’s the Scottish cousin of TJMaxx) and bought jackets and warmer wears. I suppose it pays to read a few more blogs before traveling and arrive prepared.
Once we were warm and cozy, we walked around Aberdeen for a bit. We found a charming pub that fit the bill of exactly what we wanted. I scarcely glanced at the menu before ordering what I knew I would be the staple of my diet all week – fish n’ chips.
Old Blackfriars – the sign didn’t lie, it was Good Food indeed
My fish and chips, served with peas (although not mushy peas as tradition dictates, still delicious)
The “Belhaven Best Steak Pie” that Diane ordered
Julia found time to fit in a few slots
After lunch, we walked around Aberdeen a bit more and discovered truth to the nickname, the Grey City. Our group was weary and ready to shed our luggage. Additionally, we still had a two hour drive to Ballater, so our Aberdeen tour was cut a bit short. Headed due north and still on the wrong side of the road, we undertook one of my top 10 all-time favorite drives. The Scottish countryside was every bit as majestic as I would have imagined. We found Ballater, we found our cottage and then we found a great place for dinner later that evening. Unfortunately for Jen’s sister, Jessica – she had yet to find a wifi signal. Something those crazy, young kids need these days.
We wasted no time on our first full day in Scotland. The country is full of castles and Diane, knowing how much Jen and I love castles, was eager to share in the exploration of the country’s historic beauties. She had spent many fruitful hours researching a few castles to visit. Our first choice was somewhat local to our location, Balmoral Castle. This particular castle was an excellent choice, because of it’s direct and current ties to the Royal Family. It is the Queen’s personal residence each fall and has been used consistently by Royals since 1852. The castle is closed to public tours from August through October each year while the Queen takes up residence.
For posterity’s sake (and because I chuckle each time I think about it) I would be remiss not to mention a funny anecdote. When we purchased our tour tickets, I mentioned that my mother-in-law was of the Anderson Clan. The little old lady working in the shop proclaimed that “she knew many Anderson’s in her day and they were a bit like the Drummond’s… but nothing like the Cameron’s…” and on and on until she arrived at, “but watch out for those Macfie’s, they’re sheep stealing bastards, they are!” with more conviction than I would have expected from such a sweet little lady on such an otherwise innocent exchange. Sheep… stealing… bastards. That absolutely made my trip!
Balmoral Castle gates
The gatehouse and museum
Full view of the gatehouse
Julia prepares to go in the castle
But not without her audio guide
“I’m ready guys, let’s go!”
Balmoral castle from the main courtyard
I loved the turrets of the castle
Another angle
Part of the Queens garden – her bedroom overlooks a rose garden and then this beautiful, sunken garden
Julia was delighted to be in the Queen’s garden
She found such wonderment in the fountain as well
After a delightful tour of the castle (admittedly, it was more a tour of the grounds than the interior since the castle is still very much in use) – Jen, Jessica, Julia and I went for a stroll along the River Dee.
We took a stroll along the river
As well as the adjacent pathway through the woods
Beautiful scenery
The girls in the woods
I was so happy to be in such majestic outdoors
Julia was so happy, she broke out dancing
Sissies forever!
“What a day!”
At the end of the day, we checked in with the properties Event Manager to listen to all the activities available to us. They had some wonderful choices including fly-fishing, nature walks, bike tours and horseback riding. But the one that immediately caught the attention of me and Dominic was the whisky class, happening in a mere 30 minutes! I think we both half-expected the ladies to bow out and head back to the room, but we were pleasantly surprised when all three (Diane, Jen and Jess) told us they wanted to join in on the fun and spirits too.
All the whisky we got to taste
Whisky is as much a part of Scotland as cold weather, kilts or bagpipes. But let’s pause for a minute, because you may have a question.
“Greg, you referred to it earlier as scotch and now you’re calling it whisky. How come? Isn’t whisky different? And while we’re at it – how does bourbon play into all this… isn’t that in there somewhere? And is that stuff, rye invited to the party?”
If you already know the relationship between these spirits, please continue to the next section. If you’re curious – please read on. First, I called it scotch earlier to simplify things and use the commonly accepted American vernacular for this drink. Scotch, is in fact a whisky. So is bourbon. So is Tennessee whiskey and Irish whiskey (those would seem obvious) as well as the often forgotten rye. So, all these delicious brown drinks are considered whisky.
Dominic drinks with his new English pal
So what differentiates all these types of whisky’s and what’s with all the different names (but speed it up, would ya)?
Can’t promise to speed it up, but let’s continue. The differentiators are [mainly] their geography, the ingredients/process used and their spelling (notice the “e” comes and goes). Let’s start with geography. Whisky made in Scotland is, Scotch Whisky (even though we call it “scotch” they just call it “whisky” and laugh at anyone that calls it scotch. It would be like ordering an “American” when you really meant to order a “Budweiser”). If it’s made in Ireland, it will be an Irish Whiskey (think, Jameson). If it is made in that young country we call America, it will either be a Bourbon, Tennessee Whiskey or Rye. Bourbon is made (to my knowledge) exclusively in Kentucky while Tennessee Whiskey (think, Jack Daniel’s) is made exclusively in Tennessee. A few years ago I sought to unravel this web and found a blog that rumored the only difference between Tennessee whiskey and Bourbon was that the Tennessee folks didn’t want to claim the same name of anything made in Kentucky, and so Tennessee Whiskey was born (as I’m doing a little boning up for this piece, I’m learning that there is more to it). In any event, it turned out to be a wonderful marketing angle for Jack Daniel’s. Oh yeah, and then there’s Rye. It’s made in America and Canada, but as far as I’m concerned – it’s really only prevalent in Canada (think, Crown Royal). Rye is nice and all, but a bit forgettable at times (just like our nice neighbors from the north).
As far as the ingredients, they use malted barely on the more formal side of the pond, while us swashbuckling American’s distill from corn (heck, why not – we have a lot). Oh yeah, and that forgettable rye drink – you guessed it; it’s distilled from rye (although in Canada it doesn’t have to be… yeah, that makes a lot of sense, Canada!).
Our instructor, Gordon Muir pours some malted barley into my hand
OK, I’m afraid to ask… but I will anyway. Now that I know we’re discussing whisky from Scotland, what is the difference between a single malt and blended whisky? I really will fit this one into a nutshell (as I have a lot more typing left to do). A single malt is whisky that is all from the same distillery. The distillery will usually blend many different barrels to make their final product, but it will all be from the same distillery (think, Glenmorangie 18). A blended scotch whisky is the final product of whisky from two or more distilleries (think, Johnnie Walker – yes, all of them from Red to Blue). I didn’t know Johnnie Walker was a blend either (yeah, I’m talking to you), until my time in Scotland. If you want to read further on the subject, check out this guy’s blog – he does a far better job answering this particular question than me.
Me and my boy after a fun tasting
Since Scots call their drink simply by it’s proper name, whisky – henceforth so too shall I share in this fine tradition and proclaim, whisky whilst blogging about the great Scotland and forevermore (at least until I return home to the States – lest someone pour me a glass of Jim Beam, when I really meant Oban). Interesting fact that I learned while doing these whisky tastings (yes, a few more tastings were still to come). To add ice cubes to a nice glass of whisky is simply sacrilege and (I’m quoting my instructor here) “reserved for the Americans and those bourbons they call…pause for a chuckle… whiskey”. He went on to explain that the only good thing an American whiskey was good for is to mix with some of Scotland’s more inferior whisky’s to “liven them up a bit“. I spoke with a Scottish accent the rest of the class and hid the bald eagle that had previously been perched on my arm.
OK – whisky lesson over. WAKE back up!
Dominic walks Julia back home after the tasting
For those that endured a quick history on whisky and hoped for a more exciting adventure along the trip, I’m sorry but I may have to disappoint you. For those that skipped ahead as I offered you could do many paragraphs ago, I have accidentally mislead you. When I said to simply “skip down” I hadn’t yet consulted my photos, which chronologically catalogue our trip. So, you may be dismayed to learn that the whisky tasting only whet our whistles for a whiskey tour in an actual distillery. So you get… more whiskey photos! But before we did that, we went to go see the Falls of Feugh, explored some of the magical countryside and visited an intriguing suspension bridge.
The Falls of Feugh (pronounced almost like the naughty F word)
The Scottish-Irish crew
Scottish countryside – absolutely breathtaking
There were sheep everywhere
Dominic and I pause for a photo along the path to the suspension bridge
Father-daugher photo
My “artsy” shot with my muse
I felt like we were taking engagement photos
View from the bridge
The view from the other direction
Queen Elizabeth opened the bridge in 1988
A Scottish thistle (emblem of the Scottish nation) not quite in bloom
Digitalis Purpurea or Foxglove Flower
After all this time with nature, it was off to visit the Royal Lochnagar Distillery and see firsthand the process of how whisky is made. This particular distillery produces a relatively small amount of single-malt whisky each year. The distillery received it’s Royal Warrant in 1848 when the owner, John Begg invited Prince Albert to stop by for a drink. He offered him a sheep ride back to the neighboring Balmoral castle, since it wasn’t that far away (OK, I made that last part up).
The sign out front
They had Highland Cattle out front
The breed was developed in the Scottish Highlands and Western Isles
I couldn’t get enough of these guys
Apparently, neither could he
Fields in front of the distillery
I’ve never seen a more welcoming front door
Jessica stops to welcome us
A display of some of their finer whisky’s
If you want to buy a good whisky – just consult this group above, you can’t go wrong with any of them
I snuck all the following interior shots. We were not allowed to take photos inside the premises… but they didn’t realize I had a BLOG to write!!
On the left – peat (a wood burned to add smokey flavor), barley both natural and malted and an old scale
On the right – an old fashioned kiln that would be fed with peat
Copper pot still used during the distillation process
Barrels used during the aging process
The distillery always sets aside some of the best for a special whisky released in limited quantities
Our guide demonstrates how to property seal a barrel
Look at the mugs on these two – guess no one taught either of us how to smile
Water is a critical element in the process – this is the reserve that Royal Lochnagar uses
Another thing I learned – this is the “official” design of a proper whisky glass adopted somewhat recently
The next adventure within our Scotland trip was a pilgrimage to the capital, Edinburgh. Since I boiled 1,094 pictures from this trip into a mere 120 for this post – I think I’ll pause here and resume with a new post. Tune in again soon – plenty more fun to come!
It’s been a long time since I completed a blog post. So long, that for some reason – I’m a bit nervous (strange, my friends will tell you that I love to talk about myself). So I’ve been procrastinating. I have organized my DVD drawer. I carefully tended to the plants (I’ve discovered I love gardening…in small doses). And the past few days, I have been playing Mr. Mom while Jen is in California for work. I have done just about everything to avoid writing on the blog for the past month… and the only thing I’ve come to realize is that I now have a mountain of work ahead of me.
A mountain in Beaulieu-Sur-Mer, not completely unlike my mountain of work
It’s not that I’ve just been procrastinating. We’ve been busy. I mean, very busy. Albeit, busy doing more of the same (traveling, eating, drinking, etc.) – but still always experiencing something new. So, please grant me the excuse of allowing the experience to get in the way of the blog – just this one time! In the coming days and weeks, you will hear of our wonderful trip to visit our good friends in France; the visit from Jen’s family and the upcoming visit with my parents. I’ll toss in a few food posts and hopefully a feature on where we’ve been living (which has been in the pipeline since I started this blog). So let’s get this party started… no more delays. And so, it begins with a trip to France…
When I last left you, my sister and her family had come to visit. We had a short window between their departure and the arrival of our next guests, Jen’s parents and sister. The timing was perfect, because good friends of ours, Michel and Shirley arrived at their home in Sablet, France just days before this brief “window”. They had graciously invited us to their home and we both jumped at the chance to see France through their eyes. We decided to take the circuitous route, passing by the sea and staying overnight in a small town along the French Riviera before joining them in what could easily be called, vin de pays (wine country).
Scenery along the drive
The drive from our home to the French Riviera was only a few hours (we were pleased to learn this – we hope to embark on a repeat journey while we’re here). We first passed through a small portion of the Italian Riviera before crossing into France. The landscape was stunning – windy roads encased by a vast ocean on our left and coarse mountains to our right.
The plan was simple – stop by Monte Carlo, Monaco for a little while before continuing to Beaulieu-Sur-Mer, where we had made hotel reservations. My secret plan that I kept to myself was also simple. Take Jen and Julia to the world-famous Monte Carlo Casino and win thousands of dollars in mere moments while they both waited and applauded. Needless to say, when I presented that plan I was shot down. Strange, I always thought I could sell anything. Something about a baby in a Casino… blah, blah, blah.
View as we approached Monte Carlo
A gold yacht?! You may think “tacky”. I think “baaaallllleeerr!”
We had gotten our typical late-start from home and so by the time we got to Monte Carlo we did not have enough time to properly enjoy the city. We were hungry and eager to stretch our legs, so after a brief drive-through we pushed on to Beaulieu-Sur-Mer, vowing to come back when we had the time to really enjoy Monte Carlo (also, when I had my tuxedo so that I could do my best Bond impression).
I chose Beaulieu-Sur-Mer to stay overnight because Michel had recommended Villefranche-Sur-Mer, the neighboring town. I liked his recommendation based on the town’s size, proximity to Nice and Monaco, and hotel availability. It fit snugly into my travel plans and so I booked a nice seaside hotel with views of the ocean and mountain. It wasn’t until I arrived that I realized I actually booked in the neighboring town. Oh, well – c’est la vie (that’s life). It turned out to be a nice blessing, because “our” town was beautiful and couldn’t have made for a better overnight stay.
View of the marina from our balcony
View of the mountain from our balcony
Our pool that we didn’t have time to use
Same marina view at night – loved the night sky
Same mountain view at night
Upon checking in, we asked the young lady at the front desk where we should eat lunch. She stumbled over her answer and said that “maybe you could go to the marina, or maybe you could go into town” but she wasn’t quite sure which way either of those things were (FYI – the marina was literally across the street and town was ten minutes north by foot). I quickly dismissed her recommendations and we ventured off on our own (ever get that “this person has no idea” feeling before they’re even done talking?). Maybe it’s the language barrier you say? I hope not – she was from Southern California.
Jen and Julia in front of the marina across from our hotel
A different marina nearby
Making me wish I knew how to sail
We took off in the direction opposite of her suggestion and found ourselves in one beautiful setting after another. My camera flashed on Julia and the scenery like I was a photographer from the National Geographic (sadly, my pictures turned out to be of slightly lower quality). We made our way into the center of town and purchased a bottle of wine to enjoy on our balcony later that night. We ate a light snack in lieu of lunch and continued to explore on our own whilst waiting for our restaurant of choosing to open their doors for dinner. We found a Casino (a-ha!) and I was able to convince Jen that a few hands of blackjack were just what the doctor ordered! Julia was asleep in her carriage and it was just the angle I needed to close the deal. Sales record intact! Sadly, it was closed for renovation – a disappointing turn of events that cost me hundreds of euro’s (or saved me, depending on your view of gambling).
A park we passed
Kissing my baby
Wonder what that says, too bad it’s in French
Oh, it says “wet paint”!
Julia’s favorite flower is a rose
We found a casino! Too bad they were closed
Dusk sets in as we walked home after dinner
Street scenes in the evening
Boat scenes at night – we enjoyed walking past all the docked yachts
We ate a delicious dinner at, La Pignatelle, which I’ll feature in a separate piece on some of our favorite French dining experiences. Finally, we strolled home and enjoyed our balcony before turning in to bed.
The next day, we departed and headed for Michel and Shirley’s home – two hours north of our current location. We had coordinated our arrival for late afternoon, allowing enough time to travel the twenty minutes southwest into Nice, France for lunch and exploration. I parked in the center of town and we got out and enjoyed wandering from one end of Avenue Jean Medecin (Nice’s main street and shopping corridor) to the other. Since Nice is the fifth most populated city in France, a few hours would not be nearly enough to explore properly – but perhaps enough to get a bit of the local flavor.
Nice from afar
You can see the city is quite grand
We followed Avenue Jean Medecin all the way to it’s end, where it nearly intersects with the sea. We strolled through the markets they have set up (we were very impressed with the French markets throughout our entire time there) and ended up on the beach.
View from the Place Masséna
The Basilique Notre-Dame de Nice is the largest church in Nice
A market was set up besides open-air restaurants
“Can I pull this off?”
Beautiful array of flowers
Large selection of fresh vegetables
Aromatic spices available for purchase
As you may know about Nice, the beaches are not at all nice and sandy, but rather awash with large stones. It’s charming simply by it’s uniqueness and what’s better – Julia could have all the fun in the world without getting dirty!
Playing in the rocks…errr, playing on the beach
“Look at me!”
“I’m going to throw it”
“I really am…”
“Nah, just kidding – here you go”
Julia teaching me how to use the camera
Behind the scenes of our photo shoot
Mom and daughter having fun
After lunch on the beach (sandwiches on French bread – my pick, not Jens. I’d tell you a mini-battle raged over my selection of lunch, but Jen will be mad at me – so it never happened) we walked around a bit more before getting back in the car and departing for a few days with Michel and Shirley. So far, we were loving what France had to offer. Much more to come, stay tuned…
I have no proof that when my sister, Michelle came to visit with her husband and daughter (David and Elsa) that he was the tallest man in all of Italy… but I’d say there’s a good shot! When I picked them up at the airport, I simply looked for the tallest/shortest couple combo possible (he’s a hair over 6’8″ and she’s a modest 5’2″). I spotted them instantly and helped them get some caffeine before taking them home for our big Italian lunch.
David, Elsa and Michelle – he’s crouching down to make it in the frame
Julia’s younger cousin, Elsa was her newest obsession and she had been excited all week leading up to their visit. She would wake up every day and scroll to some of the video’s or pictures we had on our iPad and scream “ELSA!” When the real thing walked (or rather, crawled) through the door – she was like a kid on Christmas. She couldn’t stop hugging and kissing her. Although, she had an awkward way of pulling her in by the neck – so much so that we dubbed Julia the, “Scranton Strangler” (you “Office” fans will get the reference).
The girls all reunited – Julia just wanted to kiss Elsa all the time
“Is my cousin trying to strangle me?!”
Michelle and David have a high-paced, action-packed lifestyle in Chicago and they were looking forward to a couple weeks of unplugging from their demanding jobs that they both do so well. We were happy to accommodate and show them a slow-paced trip filled with lots of good food and wine. We spent a couple days in the area, taking it easy. We visited the local park with the girls, we walked around downtown Como, we drove through many of the smaller lake towns. I showed David my favorite 5k loop and we went running together nearly every morning. Michelle cracked up one day after her privacy was invaded by our little Julia, somewhere in the beginning stages of potty training. She barged in and saw Michelle on the “potty” and declared to her, “Michelle… potty… YAHHH!”
The girls playing at the park
Jules sporting a pose in Como
It was drizzling when we went to Menaggio
Getting close to the ducks
Elsa fell in love with Italian food – especially risotto
“Mom, why is Julia always all up on my grill?!”
The day we spent driving around the lake was not the most cooperative of days – the temperature was pleasant, but the views were impeded by a haze and a constant drizzle dampened our tour. We stopped for a coffee and a leg-strech in one of our favorite towns, Menaggio before two fussy babies told us it was time to get home. On our way back, the constant drizzle gave us a wonderful gift – a double rainbow! This was something I’d personally never seen and only heard about in the internet-sensation youtube video.
We pulled over and took about 10,000 photos. Below are my favorites.
You could really see both rainbows so clearly
The “inside” rainbow landed directly on Bellagio
All the girls
Family photo
David shooting the rainbow
The original plan for Michelle and David’s vacation was to spend a week with us and another week exploring another part of Europe. We convinced them that it was much easier to just stay with us, making our place the home-base. So a few days into the trip, they planned to go to Cinque Terre. Jen and I had plenty to keep us busy around the house so we sent them off exploring on their own.
Levanto (David’s photo)
Cinque Terre is a beautiful gem in the Italian Riveria. The area consists of five rural fishing villages (the name means, “five lands“) that are interconnected via a pedestrian walkway. I first discovered this not-so-well-known destination 10 years ago during a study abroad and instantly fell in love. Today, the popularity of the place has reached stratospheric heights and tourists from all over the world come to see the uniquely beautiful terrain. While the change in visitors has altered the local landscape and flavor, it does not deteriorate the beauty of the villages themselves. Michelle and David selected a beautiful B&B in a town just outside Cinque Terre, Levanto which offers beautiful panoramics of the area. They had such a lovely time that they extended their trip by an extra day to really soak it all up. I borrowed a few of David’s photos in order to post them.
Momma with her baby
Elsa, the little adventurer
When they returned from their road trip, we spent a few more days locally (the seemingly endless rain kept us close to home) before embarking on another trip, this time all together. The destination – Tuscany. The specific area – open ended. Tuscany is probably the most well known region in Italy. What many people don’t realize is that it’s quite large with a lot of wonderful places to see. What you can’t do is pick a bad area, so I was confident that my internet search would yield a choice that was at least suitable for us. I underestimated just how perfect a location we would discover. A search across many of my favorite websites for this type of thing (trip-advisor, booking.com, agriturismo.net, etc.) lead me to a B&B in the Chianti region of central Tuscany. Borgo Sicelle was the perfect place. The location (midway between Florence and Sienna) offered us a chance to embark on great day trips. The property (originally an old farmhouse, carefully renovated) allowed us to rent a small apartment with individual rooms and a kitchen. The owners (Franco and Silvia) were so hospitable that we had everything we could want and more (including pack-n-plays in each bedroom). I don’t usually use this blog as a forum to recommend places to eat, see or stay (at least not intentionally) – but I will in this case. If you find yourself in Tuscany, stay at Borgo Sicelle!
Borgo Sicelle from the road
Inside one of the courtyards, showing some of the apartments
Another apartment with their own outdoor tables
One view from the property – the large open patch is a vineyard
Directly across is a small trattoria (restaurant) and next door is a church
Our “front yard”… at least for a few days
The upper terrace
When we arrived, Franco gave us the lay of the land. He also gifted us a bottle of wine made by his brother-in-law (a Chianti, of course) and helped us get settled in by touring us around his amazing property (complete with several private apartments, infinity pool, multiple terraces, a playground, rec room and more). He also explained that many of the local restaurants were participating in a pseudo “restaurant-week” where they were offering pre-fix menu’s at discounted prices. Silvia helped us call and make a reservation at a restaurant, La Torre in Castellina in Chianti, one of the main villages in the area. We arrived on time for our 7:00pm reservation and didn’t leave until all six courses had been served and we’d had our grappa. It was close to 11:00pm by the time we got home and got the girls in bed.
Outside the restaurant
Night fell while we were inside
The Rocca of Castellina at night
Another angle of the Rocca
Julia was exhausted by the time we got home
The next day, we all took our coffee outside before setting out on an excursion Franco helped us script. We visited a few of the nearby villages, including a stopover for lunch in Volpaia – a medieval village that is as rich in history and beauty as it is in quality wine.
Coffee on our patio
Exploring Volpaia
We had a wonderful lunch here
After lunch Julia took a stroll
David tried to keep up
The girls had fun together
Julia calling out to the people below
Looking cool with mommy
A street scene in Volpaia
Another street
In the center of town
At the end of the day, we pulled together a nice selection of food (meats, cheeses, olives, sardines, etc.) and dined outside while the sun set behind us.
Rustic dinner we threw together to dine al fresco
About to sit down to dinner
The girls were quick to finish eating so they could play
We loved the sunset
The Tuscan hills came to life with such vibrant colors
The following day we went to Siena, a short 30 minute drive from our hotel. Siena was settled by the Etrucans between 900 – 400 BC. Today, it stands as one of the most visited locations in Italy. The city center has been named a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Besides the rich art, architecture, museums and cuisine – the city is famously known for Il Palio, a horserace held twice a year in the main square, Piazza del Campo.
Julia and Michelle made matching braids for the day
Inside Piazza del Campo
Teaching Julia how to use the camera
I took her for a walk in the piazza
Michelle with her hands full
Julia ate all of my mint gelatto
At the end of the day, we swung back by Castellina in Chianti to visit the Macellaio (butcher) and pick up some fresh fruit and vegetables. We had seen Franco using the BBQ the night before and David and I couldn’t get it out of our mind. Our first choice to grill… a big hunk of cinghiale (boar), a specialty of the Tuscan region. Unfortunately, the only boar he had in that day was in a salami (which we got – delicious). For the BBQ, we opted for another Tuscan speciality, bistecca (steak) and salsiccia (sausage). As David and I approached the grill, we admitted to each other that it had been a while since either of us had grilled using charcoal (hedging in case either of us made a critical error). We were further handicapped by the fact that the charcoal provided wasn’t the posh, self-burning American kind – but rather some hard-to-light wood variation. Finally, we both had the gnawing image of Franco’s perfect coals glowing like small pillows delivered straight from Hades the night before. We managed to get enough of a fire going to grill meat – our manhood was in tact and we delivered perfectly cooked steak and sausage to the family. Thousands of years of genetic programing proved to be successful.
The butcher wielding his tools
Julia helped us pick our fruit
We had some of the antipasti in front of our “house” before the grilling commenced
Salami (boar salami on the left) and bread
Jen helping us stoke the fire
Our steaks!
A finocchio (fennel) salad
We had learned that we were a “three-bottle” family
Eventually, our time in Chianti came to an end (even after extending an extra day) and we headed back to home to Como. Sadly, Michelle and David’s visit to Italy had also come to an end and we helped Michelle pack for her flight home the next day. What about David, you ask? Well, he must have liked us so much that he stayed an extra night and flew to London the day following day on a business trip. We were thrilled to host their little family, Julia loved having Elsa and we will always remember that trip to Tuscany as something truly special.
Another edition in the series that highlights differences between our native America and Italy. In the first post (HERE), I briefly touched on small things such as uniquely Italian keys while in Part II (HERE), I expanded the list to include differences in culinary habits, banking and shopping. Like a Hobbit collecting stories or a dragon stashing treasure, I have been storing many more of gems for a later blog post (I just finished re-reading The Hobbit… that may explain those metaphors).
Much like the last post in this series, I will try to organize these examinations of our culture differences in their family of origin. The previous post also exclusively featured cultural digressions that we determined to be more positive than what we grew up accustomed to seeing. Here, we take the gloves off and highlight the good, the bad and the ugly – tutti (all).
♠♣♥♦ ♠♣♥♦ ♠♣♥♦
DRIVING
Like in the US – cars, trucks and motorcycles are the most common form of transport. We have spent a lot of time ourselves in our beloved little car touring the country and so, naturally we noticed quite a few differences.
Where are all the traffic lights?! If there are hardly any traffic lights in an entire country, how are there not piles of collisions and pent up road rage? Well, it’s because the Italians adopt a much more efficient system by maximizing the rotundo (roundabout). The roundabout dates back as far as 1768, with more well-known examples as far back as 1907 (around the Arc de Triomphe). More modern uses of the traffic-calming system were implemented in the 1960’s throughout Europe. Washington DC is one of the few US cities that actively adopted the roundabout, so the custom was not entirely foreign to us (it can be intimidating for newer drivers). I love blowing through a roundabout when I’m late for something instead of waiting anxiously at a red light for up to five minutes.
A roundabout in our town
Zzzzoooom!! What was THAT?! If you’re driving on four wheels you have to be aggressive just to fit in. In fact, you’re more likely to get in an accident if you’re timid or ride your breaks. Since I was probably already considered an aggressive driver by US standards, I feel right at home here. But what I can’t wrap my brain around is the motorcycles. They blow past traffic at double the speed limit and everyone just seems to accept it as normal. You can be driving at a comfortable 120 km/hr and feel like you’re standing still as three or four Ducati’s blow right past you. They pass other cars and each other, while facing oncoming traffic, in the rain and around blind corners. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
Watch out for those crazy motorcycle riders
That better not be your car in the left lane! Don’t you dare drive slowly in the left lane here. And by slowly, I mean passing cars at 90 mph. If you’re not flying, the left lane is not for you. Along with the aforementioned motorcycles passing in the blink of an eye, you’d better keep an eye out for that Alfa Romeo that will drive three inches behind your bumper until you move into the right lane. I used to pull that tactic in the US (riding bumpers of anyone that dared to drive in the left lane)… man, is it annoying!
You trust me to do what now?! Some things are a long-forgotten memory from an era far gone. 25¢ phone calls, hand-cranked car windows and floppy disks are all things of the past. I thought pumping your gas first and paying second also fit into that category. But here, people are a bit more trusting. And it’s nice. Reminds me of a more innocent time. The first few times I tried to pump my gas, I kept searching for that mistrusting credit card machine, until I realized that it’s a “pump-first pay-later” society. Which is kind of surprising, because…
Gas costs how much, again?! Did I hear you complain about the price you just paid at the pump? Is it the current administration’s fault? Or perhaps the previous administration? Go ahead and tell me all about how you just came close to hitting $4/gallon during the high-travel season… I remember when I used to grumble about that too. Never again. I was happy to see gas was so cheap here at first. Then I realized it was price per liter. And in Euro’s. I did the conversion one time (also… never again) and realized I was paying almost $9.50/gallon. I threw up a little on my sneakers.
Gas costs how much?!
A TIME ONCE LOST
Pumping your gas first and paying second is just one example of the trusting and warm society we’ve encountered while living here. Many (many, many) things here are rooted in tradition, which lends to a more easy-going lifestyle. One of relationships and trustworthiness. Personally, I find it refreshing.
I’d like to withdrawal some money please. Think about your bank. When you go there to conduct business, did you have your ID? Your ATM card and PIN code? Your account number? You bet you did. It just occurred to me recently that I’ve been walking into my local bank branch for months without knowing my account number, presenting an ID or passing any form of security check. This may sound somewhat alarming, but I kind of like it. They just know me. And I know them. It’s the same three people and they always help me find my account and transact my business. It sort of has that Mayberry vibe, where your smile and handshake are good enough.
Don’t feel well? Call the doctor and sit back. Doctor’s make house calls? Seriously? That’s amazing. The “house-call” era ended long before Jen and I grew up. We were surprised recently to see a doctor leaving a neighbor’s apartment. He even had the little black medical bag, like something straight out of a movie. Of course, they have normal doctors offices and hospitals, but apparently they also make house calls.
Don’t expect me to jump up to help you. The “slow-going, there’s time to do that later approach” can be charming, but at times it can also be madening. The local definition of customer service is uniquely Italian. It means, “I will be happy to help you… just as soon as I’m finished doing whatever it is I’m doing.” For example, when buying my car (which was an ordeal worthy of it’s own blog-post) the salesman would constantly show up late for appointments (slowly finishing his coffee at a nearby bar), take phone calls resulting in long conversations while I stared awkwardly at the wall and require me to come back multiple times for paperwork he could have mailed. “Surely, that must be isolated to this particular guy” you say. Wrong. Go to the bank. Just be sure you’ve planned for over an hour, because you will wait. Go to the butcher… or florist… or anywhere. Just be prepared to wait. Please understand – I don’t mean to say that people aren’t pleasant. They are incredibly nice and love to chat about nothing and everything. The only problem is that the 5 people waiting behind you are doing just that… waiting. Multi-tasking customer service is a concept that hasn’t arrived.
Babies get all the love. I had heard that Italians were incredibly nice to babies before we got here. I had no idea just how true that was. It’s not unusual to be stopped time and time again by kindly older ladies or men, asking Julia come ti chiami (what’s your name?). But even the younger kids (the tweens that don’t yet realize life exists outside of Facebook) are incredibly nice to babies. We recently took Julia to the doctor for a check-up and the pediatrician was as sweet as could be. He complimented Julia and even gave her a couple kisses on the check. As born and raised American’s our instinct was to think it peculiar (and even get a bit defensive) that a stranger kissed our daughter. But it was so very sweet and affectionate that we charmed by the act.
Some friends of friends… they just took to Julia and she took to them
Julia made a friend and shared her Nonno Franco with her
BABIES
Jen is the primary caregiver in our family – she is a wonderful mother and takes care of Julia (I like to just swoop in and be “the fun dad” – you know, avoid all the dirty work). Since she has done such a good job taking on this role, she has also been the one to notice many of the following differences between US and Italian babies.
I can’t kick the habit, mom! Know what a ciuccio is? Sure you do. You probably know it as a binky. A ba-ba. A nu-nu. C’mon, stay with me folks – a pacifier. You know who else knows what it is? That five year old little boy that’s walking around with it hanging off his lower lip or the six year old little girl that pops it in for a quick fix in between bites of her risotto. We tried to get Julia to stop using her ciuccio around 18 months and people thought we were crazy. “If she wants it, why not just give it to her?” they would ask. We eventually relented and the ciuccio is now as much a permanent fixture as her hair bows and coloring books.
Julia has a love affair – with a cuiccio
You’re going to use a scarf, right? Baby scarfs. Did you know an entire market exists for baby scarfs? Italians are paranoid about the warmth of their babies. They will quite literally wrap them in layer after layer of clothing, covered with a down jacket, accessorized with a fashionable scarf (tied in that tricky Italian bow-knot), topped off with a wool hat and sandwiched in between their sleeping-bag stroller thingy’s. We were less concerned about the warmth of our baby (or perhaps, less prepared), often draping a ghetto sheet over our stroller, hoping she wouldn’t kick it off while trying to avoid the judging stares. Next year, we will be armed with all the latest baby high-heat fashion.
Pass me those clippers, I’ve got a head to shave. Italians believe that if you shave your babies head, their hair will grow back faster and thicker. Who knows, maybe it’s true. I’m not taking a position either way – but I sure know that Jen (and her mom before her) were ready to claw, scratch and pull the hair of anyone that came close to their babies with clippers.
I like my butt shiny and clean! After a dirty diaper (pee or poo), they don’t just use wipes here. It is almost imperative that you clean your babies butt the proper way. In a bidet and with lots of soap. Pat dry and wrap in a new diaper. Just wiping with those pre-soaped wipes is not nearly enough.
MISCELLANEOUS
The miscellaneous. Don’t really have a category for these times – just a few more things we’ve noticed.
Bring me a chair… please!! Jen is much more obsessed with this than I am. Partly because I’m not entirely convinced it’s different, but she insists that it is. The cashiers in the grocery stores sit down. I can’t picture it, but Jen reminds me that our cashiers are on their feet all day. Having been [on occasion] all day on my feet – I do hope they’re wearing proper footwear!
Let’s build them just for show! We have come to love the grocery stores here – with one exception. When it’s time to checkout, the stress begins. The two grocery stores we frequent the most have lane after lane of checkout desks. I would estimate over 30 in each store. But I have never seen more than four or five open at any given time. It doesn’t mean the store is any less busy… they just never have a sufficient cashier-to-customer ratio.
Tons of people crowded into three lanes
Push, don’t pull. Not an earth shattering revelation, but something that might help you prevent a broken nose on your next trip to Italy. I’m sure you’ve never thought about the swing pattern of the door at the local store. So let me help you. To open, you pull – it swings out. To exit, you push as you leave the store. Here, it’s the opposite. The only reason I would notice such a thing is that 30+ years of natural instinct had to be re-learned.
Spingere – Push
Bidet’s aren’t just for babies. I mentioned above that the bidet is used to clean a baby after a dirty diaper. Well, it’s original purpose was not for babies, but for us big babies. And let me tell you something… it’s glorious! I always caution all visitors – be weary of any hand towels hanging next to a bidet – do not use it to dry your hands.
Bidet on the right
That’s all for this post – more observations to come in Parte Quattro as time goes on!
One of the true gems of the world…. Venezia (Venice). The name alone evokes powerful feelings for many people. Romantic gondola rides, historical architectural treasures, beautiful creations blown from Murano glass, unique hand-crafted masks and always… always a city constructed with streets of water. Amazingly, the entirecity is listed as a World Heritage Site in order to preserve it’s unique beauty. According to my Wiki research, Luigi Barzini described it in the New York Times as “undoubtedly the most beautiful city built by man”. I’d have to agree with Luigi!
Panoramic view from the roof of our hotel
Venice from the water
The Grand Canal
More of the Grand Canal
Happy to be here
Our good friends Nathan and Danielle joined us recently for a whirlwind visit filled with food, wine and lots of fun (read about it HERE). We punctuated their trip with a stopover in this romantic city. I was intrigued by the history of such a unique place and just did a little research. Venice consists of 117 islands, formed by 177 canals and connected by 409 bridges. I kept waiting for that “ah-ha” moment when I discovered the name of the genius city planner that decided to create a magical city on the water. But unlike Bugsy Siegel’sLas Vegas or Sheikh Maktoum bin Rashid’s reinvention of Dubai – there was no one person that can be credited with the conceptualization of Venice. The truth is that refugees fleeing from invasion of the Lombards sought shelter in the marshland that is now Venice. And how do any cities really get built? A collection of people working together to establish trade and industry, creating habitation and then services to support the population. And so the city grew around the marsh and homes and churches and municipal buildings were constructed. This begs another question. How can you build a city on water?
The city built on water
Piers and bridges everywhere
Loved this view
There is a tree that grows in Slovenia and Croatia called an alder tree that is noted for it’s water resistance. Thousands of these trees were imported (and subsequently credited as a contributing factor for the barren land of the Kras region). The tree trunks were fashioned into piles that were submerged in the water, penetrating the sand and mud until settling in the much denser layer of compressed clay. Foundations were laid on the piles and buildings of stone and brick were constructed on these footers.
Peekaboo!
Cheese!
So now that you know the history, you can join us on our journey. We arrived early in the day via train (the easiest way into the city) and checked into our hotel. Our hotel, Molino Stucky is on the island of Giudecca, set in a beautifully renovated flower mill. After a quick lunch on the roof, we hoped on our hotel’s private ferry to the main island. We toured through the streets and canals, passed over bridges and stopped in shops. The girls bought scarves, glass and other souvenirs while Nathan and I took in all the scenery. We visited the infamous Piazza San Marco and fought for space among the crowds of tourists. We stopped for an afternoon cocktail on the water and eventually made our way back to the hotel to change for dinner.
Our hotel from the water
Hotel from the opposite side
Nathan and Danielle on one the pedestrian bridges
Looking good
Having fun touring
Piazza San Marco
The lion is symbolic of the Veneto region
Incredible architecture – the Libreria (library)
The Campanile – Bell Tower
My three favorite people in the crowd
Procuratie Nuove built by Vincenzo Scamozzi c.1580
Those aren’t aprons – we just lifted our clothes
The girls enjoying their prosecco
Looks like a romantic moment – really it’s just Nathan and I clinking our beers
After freshening up, we met in the lobby and discovered that we were in for a real treat. Nathan and Danielle had reserved a private boat to tour us through Venice – a wonderful journey elevated by the setting sun . We stopped for some wine and cheese and sat back to enjoy the ride.
Now look a this couple!
Some similar boats to the one we had
Traveling in style
View of Piazza San Marco from the boat
Along the tour
Stopping for a photo on the boat
Nate and D
Magical at night
The gondoliers were still out as the sun was setting
Danielle on the water
From the rear of the boat
All of us on board
Similar to our boat
Eventually our driver dropped us at one of his local favorites for seafood. We settled into a table directly on the canal and enjoyed ordering a variety of food to taste and share. At one point, I felt something wet kissing my feet and realized the water in the grand canal had risen high enough to splash the patrons (me) sitting on the edge.
Our restaurant
What a wonderful setting
Starter – mixed seafood
Mussels and clams
Nathan and I shared grigliata mista di pesce (mixed grilled seafood)
Jen got pasta with a variety of seafood
Pasta Aglio e Olio
The water started rising above the pier
Our grappa and limoncello after dinner
When dinner was over, we wound our way through the city at night to discover an entirely different Venice than the one we had seen all day. Long after the sun sets, the landscape of the city changes significantly. Without droves of tourists jockeying for the position to snap a photo (myself included) you are able to re-discover an entirely new place. Piazza San Marco becomes a magical amphitheater where dueling bands play wonderful music and the crowd shifts back and forth to capture the best view possible. We outsmarted the crowd and took up seats directly in front after ordering a nightcap. It was a great way to end the day before hopping on a boat back to our hotel.
In front of the Basilica
One of the “dueling bands”
Our trip to Venice had come to an end as had Nathan and Danielle’s visit with us. We spent one final day with them in Milano (Milan) and bid them buon viaggio (a good trip) back home. We were so thankful we got to do so many wonderful things with friends so special to us. After dropping them off, we rushed home and immediately started prepping for my sister’s visit… she would be arrived just a couple days later. Stay tuned for upcoming posts about their visit – more action packed fun.
On May 4, 2013 a tornado touched down in the Emilia-Romagna region of Italy. A path of chaos was carved throughout the area best known for a city that inspired a processed meat in the US nowhere near an authentic representation of it’s namesake – Bologna.
One day prior, a different type of tornado touched down in the Lombardia region just north of Emilia-Romagna. Our friends, Nathan and Danielle landed in Milan and a whirlwind of food, fun, wine was about to begin – our own path of chaos would be carved throughout northern Italy.
Our very good friends, Nathan and Danielle
I picked them up at the airport while Jen stayed home to prepare a proper welcome – an Italian pranzo (lunch) done right. We greeted them with an aperitivo (an alcoholic beverage used to stimulate the appetite) and then began stuffing them with salami, prosciutto, lardo (cured meat – basically just pork fat thinly sliced), cheese and olives. Then it was on to the pasta course, with a simple red sauce before our secondo, veal Milanese. Next of course were the salads and then dessert – fresh fruit and pastries we bought that morning. Plenty of wine flowed throughout the meal and we finished with grappa. The only problem… our large lunch had an effect opposite of our intention to keep them awake and perky in order to stave off jet-lag. They were both crying out for a nap, but we were merciless with our plans. We whisked them to downtown Como, where we walked off lunch and eventually made our way to a bar for happy hour outdoors under the sun.
Our next day (and pretty much every day following) was even more action packed than the first. We woke up early and headed to Como to catch the “fast-ferry” to Bellagio. The hydro-foil was going to bring us half-way up Lake Como to one of our favorite towns. Bellagio is often referred to as the Pearl of Lake Como, a very fitting nickname. The beauty of the town inspired the grand casino and resort in Las Vegas that shares the same name. We arrived at the pier a few minutes too late and watched as the faster hydro-foil departed without us. We booked tickets for the next ferry, the slower boat that would take two hours to reach our destination. This turned out to be a blessing in disguise, as we positioned ourselves in the open bow of the boat (we later learned the faster boat was entirely enclosed) and spent a full two hours marveling at the beauty of the lake. It also helped pass the time that we drank individual portions of boxed wine (imagine a juice box with wine as opposed to juice… “don’t take mommy’s juice-boxes, little Johnny”).
Nate and Danielle on the boat
Danielle gave Julia her first piece of gum (which she swallowed in seconds)
The whole crew
Some towns we saw along the lake – love the light coming through the clouds
Isola Comacina (an island in Lake Como)
Villa Carlotta in Tremezzo
The town of Tremezzo
Julia having fun with Danielle onboard
We’re HERE!
We arrived at Bellagio cheerful and ready to explore. But the internal Italian clock had already set in with our guests and it was just past noon – nearly time for lunch (without exception). We headed to Aperitivio et Al, where we had already made reservations. We ordered antipasto and then moved on to our main dishes. We ordered an extra dish for the table to share, a local specialty called pizzoccheri. Jen and I have enjoyed this unique local pasta many times over the years and they prepared the dish quite well here.
Bellagio from the opposite side of the lake
A baby in a stroller is no match for two strong guys!
Antipasto
Selection of cheeses
Danielle served our grappa
One of my favorite streets in Bellagio – right where ate
The girls having fun
“SAY WHAAAT?!”
The flowers in Bellagio are stunning – even Julia was taken aback
After lunch we set out to explore a bit before heading to Villa Serbelloni – a beautiful resort that sits directly on the lake. We commandeered a perfect spot in the corner of their terrace and ordered a round of the popular Italian afternoon drink, Aperol Sprtiz. As we finished our drinks, Nathan and I mulled over our next order of business when Danielle came back in true “Sweet D” fashion – two Cuban cigars in hand and two waiters in tow, carrying a bottle of champagne (for the girls) and two beers (for the guys). I guess we weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, which was just fine with us. Eventually we departed in time to catch the ferry (this time we made it to the fast boat) and headed back home for a late dinner.
Villa Serbelloni
A view from one of the hotel’s terraces
Nathan became giddy at the view
This is what he was looking at
Julia soaking it all up
The gang’s all here
Having fun with Daddy
The girls with their sprtiz’s
The aftermath of our afternoon
Another view from the hotel
Sunday (day three) was a continuation of the first two. I had prearranged a wine tasting in the Piemonte region – an area in the northwest of the country that produces some of the world’s best wines. Several weeks back, my father-in-law sent me an email about a three day event that was divided between six venues (mostly private villas and castles), spread among four villages and serving hundreds of the best Barolo’s, Barbaresco’s and Diano d’Alba’s (to name a few). The only problem – it was reserved for professionals in the wine industry. I was dismayed to learn that I may be prevented from attending a seemingly perfect day of free wine tasting. I viewed the registration form anyways and decided that it wouldn’t hurt to let them know I was a wine importer and therefore worthy of a badge (along with my three “co-workers”). It isn’t that far-fetched of a tale, as I would love to get into the trade and figured I could do some networking in between sips. The ruse worked and we had a day planned to experience some of the best wine in Italy.
Grandi Langhe DOCG Wine Event
The three hour drive to the Langhe province flew by and we were welcomed with warm weather and bright blue skies. Our anticipation built as we passed rolling hills and fields of vines dotting the landscape in perfect lines like ants on their way to a picnic. We arrived in the town of Monforte d’ Alba and teetered our way down the small cobblestone street toward the location of our first tasting, Palazzo Martinengo. The venue was wonderful and I was amazed to see how many local producers were in attendance, eager to showcase their wine and talk about their grapes’ unique prowess. I had a blast chatting in a combination of English and Italian, evaluating how the local terroir affects the flavor of each wine. It was no small coincidence that I chose this particular day of the three to attend the tasting – the first venue was featuring only Barolo’s (the most sought-after of all the wines in the region). We enjoyed a lunch on the terrace – steak tartare, pasta (of course) and some other goodies before moving onto the next venue.
Monforte d’ Alba
Inside the event
Lunch was served on the terrace
Badges and glasses ready
Danielle goes in for a taste
These guys must be big time wine importers – I mean, look at those pink shirts!
Stepping out for a bit
What a day!
As we piled into the shuttle we noticed some dark clouds moving in. By the time we arrived at Tenuta Abbene, a heavy rain had broken through the clouds. I was particularly bummed, because this venue was stunning – a private villa set back behind a long driveway. Situated behind many hectares of grape fields and atop a hill that produced a view of the entire valley. The event had planned this portion of the tasting to be outside – a plan that was wasted because everyone was crowded inside a small space to avoid the blistering cold rain. Eventually we decided the rain wasn’t letting up and opted to drive home, but not after stopping at one of our favorite restaurants, Antique Sapore for Como’s best pizza.
The villa – shot from the safety of cover
More of the outdoor space we weren’t able to enjoy
Hiding inside
Danielle fashioned a couture raincoat out of a garbage bag
Monday, we needed a break before our next big trip (we were leaving for Venice the next morning) and so we enjoyed a slow morning before headed to our absolute favorite dining establishment… Franco and Claudia’s home, just upstairs. She prepared a wonderful lunch which we all thoroughly enjoyed (I even caught her in a picture… a rare feat indeed).
Everyone for lunch – Franco… SMILE like you like us!
Preparing the food in the kitchen
Afterward we took a nice long drive, winding our way up the lake past some more of our favorite towns and ended up in Menaggio.
Walking around Menaggio
Walking along the lake
I was helping Julia attract the ducks so she could “pet them”
Family photo
River that leads to the lake
Soaking up the scenery
Can you believe that we just happened to be sitting like this?!
Just like Nathan and Danielle’s visit, we have a lot packed into this post and so I will conclude this first part and resume again next with our exciting trip to Venice. Ciao for now…
Our first award! I’m excited, honored and flattered. I would like to thank all the little people… namely Julia because she’s pretty little.
The Liebster Award was given to us by our good friend and fellow blogger, Michel. You’ll notice that his blog, Our House in Provence is one that I follow. I imagine if you spend just a few minutes reading some of his posts, you’ll be an avid reader as well. His attention to detail and plethora of knowledge about his subjects puts my posts to shame. Michel and his wife Shirley live in a beautiful home in wine country, California. Michel’s passions include food (he owns a restaurant near his hometown, Bistro des Copains), wine (he is an expert in French and California wine), his family (he has two beautiful daughters and four bright grandchildren) and of course France; the subject of his blog (he owns a beautiful stone village house in Provence).
Michel and Shirley
Michel received his Liebster Award from another blogger I follow, Sara in Le Petit Village. Sara is very plugged into the blogging community and has transformed her life in France into a successful digital collection of written word. Her blog is one I admire very much.
The Liebster Award [in a nutshell] is one that is given among peers within the blogging community. I found a blogger that spent hours researching the history of the award. She had done all the heavy lifting and all it took me was scrolling half-way down page one of my google search. My kind of effort. If you’re interested in the origin of the award, click HERE. The award comes with very specific rules and criteria, which I got from Michel’s post after he had completed all his hard work researching (I told you he was thorough). So, I did not need to spend much time looking around for information about the award since I luck-boxed my way into everything I need to know.
Here are the rules, as explained by Michel and copied from his website (permission to do so was herein implied when nominated for the award. Any questions about the validity of this claim can be forwarded to my attorney).
THE RULES
1. Thank and link back to the blogger who presented you with the award. CHECK – Meech, youdaman!
2. List 11 random facts about yourself. SEE BELOW.
3. Answer the 11 questions you were asked. KEEP SCROLLING LOWER STILL.
4. Present/nomiate a Liebster blog award to 3-5 other bloggers. EVEN LOWER.
5. Write 11 questions for your nominees. YOU GUESSED IT… KEEP GOING.
11 RANDOM FACTS ABOUT ME
1) This is not my first blog. My first blog attempt was an unsuccessful one. I believe I still have the domain name – foodpaparazzi (now my twitter handle). I had a fortunate culinary upbringing and was exposed to many different types of food very early on (when asked in 3rd grade what my favorite foods were, I answered “caviar, lobster and McDonalds”). When I moved to DC in 2008 I was exposed to a whole new world of dining and embarked on an entirely new culinary voyage. At the time, I fancied the idea of blogging about it – but my plan lacked implementation. I got as far as laying out about 20% of the blog and taking pictures of 2 meals. Then I gave up.
2) I have been to five of the seven continents in the world (North America, South America, Europe, Asia, Australia). For those keeping track, that leaves a gap in Africa and Antarctica. I know with 100% certainty that I will make it to Africa someday. My father-in-law was born in Ethiopia and I would love to go back to his hometown with him. There are also many other parts of Africa I would like to see. I don’t have many regrets in life, but one glaring experience sticks out. When Jennifer and I were on our honeymoon, we sailed around Cape Horn – the southernmost point in South America. We had the opportunity to take a short flight to Antarctica for the day – a decision I wrestled with for quite some time. It was prohibitively expensive and so we didn’t do it, but I will always regret not throwing caution (and fiscal responsibility) to the wind.
The moment we sailed around Cape Horn
Our honeymoon – dinner with a view
3) I married my first love, my first girlfriend and my best friend. Many people can get one or two of those – but I nailed the hat trick. Jen and I met in middle school and I love to tell people [truthfully] that she had a major crush on yours truly that lasted nearly a decade. We progressed through middle, high school and the same college together. It wasn’t until a couple years after college that I finally woke up and smelled the roses. I was lucky she was still on the market!
On my 30th birthday
4) I fashion myself to be better than I really am. What does that mean? Well, I am very practical. I know my limits. I know that I am a decent skier, have a little knowledge about food and wine and enjoy writing. But in my mind, I envision being able to heli-ski the Alps, differentiate between a Rosso di Montalcino and a Rosso di Monetlpuciano solely on taste and publish a book after reaching new heights in the blogoshpere. In reality – I’m far too out of shape for heli-sking, my palate will never be advanced enough to be a sommelier and my grammatical errors and awful metaphors will stifle my writing career like Yoko Ono suffocated the Beatles. It’s good to dream… but even better to be practical. It keeps me working hard at things I love, but without any disappointment.
Ski trip from ’05 – I honestly miss that sweet yellow jacket
5) I am proud to say that I’m a “Harley-Man”. I know, I know… more the “suburban-poser, weekend rider” than the “hardcore, grizzly Hell’s Angel” type… but I’m comfortable with who I am. I do absolutely love being on my bike – a Harley Davidson, VRSC Nightrod Special. I bought the bike because I was working for a side business that brought me to motorcycle rallies across the country. I leveraged that part-time vocation into a convincing sales pitch to Jen that I needed a bike. I need to believe in what I’m selling! I don’t know too many pregnant wives that are cool enough to let their husbands buy their first motorcycle a few months before expecting – but I got one of the good ones. She didn’t exactly say “yes” but she didn’t say “no” either – and going for the assumtive close has worked for me more often than not. She has yet to ride on the back with me – but I envision a cross-country trip after kid number II is in grade school.
My third love
This kids a Harley baby!
She loves the feel of the wind in her hair like daddy!
6) I love Ethiopian food – it’s one of my absolute favorites. Jen’s father was born in Ethiopia and spent his formative years eating the unique cuisine – he introduced me to this delectable ethnic fare years ago. The DC metro area has one of the largest Ethiopian populations in the States and so we are fortunate enough to have access to great, authentic cooking. My favorite dishes include tibs in a spicy awaze sauce and kitfo (raw beef, much like steak tar-tar). I once saw an Anthony Bourdain special where he visited an Ethiopian restaurant in Northern Virginia, which was unique for serving cubed chunks of raw beef (not like the minced and treated kitfo). Dom (Jen’s father) and I made a special trip to pop cubes of raw meat in our mouth. I cannot say that I loved it.
Traditional Ethiopian dish with kitfo in the center
7) I got a $100 parking ticket on my wedding day. We were married at the St. Regis in Washington DC in front of our family and friends. The presenter of my Liebster Aweard, Michel was the one who married us. He did an incredible job and set the stage for one of the best days of my life. I received the ticket when I pulled up and parked my car out front of the hotel for a few minutes (to drop some things off) well before the ceremony started. I am happy to report that I went to traffic court and the officer didn’t show up – so I got off!
I’m grinning because I know I’m going to beat that ticket!
8) I have eaten pig brains (delicious), calf brains (not delicious), liver of just about every animal, beef tongue (one of my grandmother’s favorites), lamb and calf glands (sweetbreads – delicious), pig and chicken feet (good in a dim-sum restaurant), frog legs, pig ears and crab poop (just a bit of the yellow mustard is great – Maryland people you know what I’m talking about) . I stop at the heart, eyes and stomach of just about any animal – Andrew Zimmern, your job is safe. I have also eaten shark, snake, alligator, crickets, kangaroo, ostrich, emu, horse, elk, deer, boar, bison, rabbit, duck, pheasant, squab, quail and snails. I have not tried bear or camel and I draw the line at dog and cat. (*after this originial posting, I can add pigeon to the list). This may all sound like a tall tale, but I assure you that it is 100% accurate.
9) My standard meal at McDonalds is a super-sized filet of fish meal (includes a large fries and large Sprite), two double-cheesburgers, a McChicken sandwich, a four piece chicken nugget and an Oreo McFlurry. My standard meal at Five Guys is two regular cheeseburgers (fried onions, fried mushrooms, lettuce, mayonnaise, A-1 and hot peppers), a large fry (“hey buddy, please fill that bag up with fries”), a grilled cheese sandwich (which I eat in the car as an appetizer) and a root beer. My standard Chipotle meal is a steak burrito (usually so stuffed they have to wrap it with two tortillas), two orders of chips/guacamole and a sweet tea. Once, I ate two steak burritos and chips/guacamole in one sitting. In college I regularly ate two 12″ sub sandwiches with chips – I do not recommend attempting either of those two meals. The other meals are fine to try at home.
10) I passed a Professional Sales course in college with an “A” and never took the final exam. Each semester, the professor would allow one student from each of his 3 different classes (roughly 300 students in total) to skip the exam if they could “close” him in a private sales presentation. We each met him in his office and extended him the opportunity to “buy” whatever it was we were selling. He announced the 3 winners on the day of the exam, so we were still supposed to study. I had a really good feeling I nailed the sale so I didn’t study too hard. It paid off.
“Always…be…closing!”
11) Until I moved to Italy, I have consistently held a job since I was 14. My first job was caddying, I did a few freelance valet gigs, worked in a bagel shop most of high school and then worked in the student center at Virginia Tech. After graduation I moved on to Ryan Homes then NVHomes (new home sales and then sales management), M-Brace (medical manufacturing sales and management) and then briefly sold new homes again before this trip. The five months I have lived here have been the most peculiar five months of my life, with my only job keeping my wife happy and baby entertained. While I have loved every minute, I am anxious to start working again.
11 Questions Asked of Me
1. If you could have dinner with anyone in the world, alive or dead, real or fictional, who would it be and why?
I’ll give you a hint… long orange pony tail. Bright orange crocks. Big, boisterous personality. Have you guessed yet? Mario Batali would be my first choice. The choice seems fairly obvious to me. I believe that many of the more popular choices (and many of the people I admire) would be nice to get to know… but a bit stuffy. I can imagine Mario coming over, with an armful of food and wine and helping me and Jen in the kitchen. He’d entertain us with tall tales of happenings I could only imagine. He’d be the center of attention, but yet kind enough to gracefully share the spotlight. And then of course, we’d become fast friends and I would be the recipient of a brick oven pizza one day, just like another of his friends, Michael Symon (who was also be allowed to attend the dinner if he wished).
How much fun does he look like he’d bring?!
2. Describe the circumstances under which you met your spouse or the significant person in your life?
In 1992, I glanced through a sea of pimply-faced tweens, flanked on each side by lime green lockers in Ridgeview Middle School. I had an eye out for new ladies, having already dated all those immature Darnestown Elementary School girls. And then I saw her. Big, feathered bangs. Hot pink body suit beneath her rockin jean jacket. Who was this ravashing beauty? I smoothed my purple silk shirt and set down my Sony Diskman, pausing Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit”. I strolled over and dropped a casual, “hey – did you see last night’s episode of 90210?” The rest is history.
Lucky for me Brandon wasn’t available
3. Name your very favorite restaurant, in what city/town/village is it located and what kind of food do they serve? I am always looking for recommendations for restaurants to try.
Jeez, Meech. Could you make this one any harder? OK – when I am faced with a task seemingly too monumental to finish, I break it down. How do you eat an elephant… one bite at a time (and medium rare). I’ll list a few places where we regularly eat, in some of our favorite cities (this may not include some of my best meals – but to be a favorite restaurant, I think it’s important you dine there regularly). In our hometown of Washington, DC – it would be Braserie Beck. Robert Wiedmaier’s contemporary Belgian-style brasserie sits on the corner adjacent to our building. Their food is always delicious (try the mussels), the service wonderful, the outdoor patio is divine in the spring and the beer selection is among the best in the city. My favorite steakhouse is in one of my favorite cities – N9ne Steakhouse in the Palms Casino, Las Vegas. The ultra modern furnishing is set off perfectly with the club-music playing just loud enough to create a fun and hip atmosphere. Order the seafood tower (some of the best seafood… in the middle of the desert!) and settle in with a cucumber martini while you wait for your bone-in filet (rare). Amazing. Living in Italy, we discovered Osteria Belvedere Montalbano in our neighboring lake town of Lecco. The restaurant is the among the most unique I’ve encountered. The journey to get there is half the adventure (the small, rustic restaurant sits high atop a mountain with access via a virtually non-existent road). The menu is seasonal and determined by the chef, Fabio – so I can’t tell you what to order. Just sit back and enjoy the most authentic of Italian experiences.
We had Julia’s christening at Brasserie Beck
Antipasti we had set on the table
The family in a room behind the wine cellar
4. What is your favorite dinner meal or “comfort food?”
Michel, I can see we’re very like-minded, I’m sensing a food-theme here… This is almost as difficult as the previous question – but I promise to be a bit more concise. My favorite meals – From my mom (and my most often requested birthday dinner) – egg salad, caviar and artichokes to start. Then a caesar salad made table side. Next, a standing rib roast with sides of roasted potatoes and asparagus. Finished off with a mint chocolate chip cake. From Jen – a starter of salami, prosciutto and cheese. A first course of pasta with a simple pomodoro sugo and then veal Milanese with a side of potatoes and her cannelloni bean salad. Finished with a fennel salad and then pastries from our bakery next door. Finally, my favorite comfort food – if we’re feeling lazy and in a “snuggly” mood – Chinese take out (and large quantities with lots of variety) always hits the spot (add a Coke Zero and a good action movie and you’ve got one of my favorite nights in).
Mom preparing the Caesar table side
My mom and Jen’s mom digging in to the roast
Proof I like this meal every year – this is the following year’s birthday
5. Who is your favorite author?
I’ve got to go with the classic American novelists… Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Steinbeck and Faulkner. Nah, I’m just kidding. I would probably say, Stephen King – the best to keep you lying awake with a cold sweat. Also, Ben Mezrich who has written some fascinating non-fictional novels about Ivy-League kids experiencing meteoric rises of financial wealth in their early 20’s. Finally, Mario Puzo is quite literally the Godfather of the organized crime story. I’m a bit embarrassed I can’t name some obscure, but really deep author that no one else has heard of. I suppose I’m just a bit more mainstream.
6. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would that be?
I suppose that living in Como, Italy would definitely top the list. I would also love to live in Sydney, Australia and Shanghai, China.
7. What is your favorite movie of all time?
COME ON! I can’t just answer with one (again)! I suppose the top, top, top all-time is going to be Braveheart. I have probably seen the movie 100 times from beginning to end (I re-watch it a couple times a year). The film has the right amount of action, history, love and drama. Some close seconds are Kill Bill, Inglorious Bastards, The Princess Bride, Godfather I and II, Seven, Django Unchained, Heat, The Big Lebowski, American Psycho and City of God. I have heard that I need to see Oldboy – a Korean Gangster movie (too bad Netflix won’t work here).
“They can take our lives… but they can never take away… my LiebsterAward!”
8. Tea or coffee?
Finally, a softball. Coffee! Although, we’re becoming more partial to the Italian way of drinking it – cappuccino in the morning and espresso throughout the day. The one habit from the States we kept was a big cup of American coffee in the morning (to extend the morning coffee-drinking ritual) but it’s starting to taste a bit weak in comparison to the espresso used to make cappuccino.
Even Julia prefers coffee
9. What is your guilty pleasure?
Getting an obscene amount of food (see any of the above junk meals from McDonalds, Five Guys, Chipotle or a Chinese restaurant) and settling in for a new movie release on TV. I have loved doing this with Jen since college when I would get the food from our dining halls (on Jen’s meal plan – mine would be empty) and watch movies on VHS (as opposed to today’s more convenient, On Demand).
10. Are you a morning person or a night owl?
Not sure I fall into either of these categories. I don’t like to get up incredibly early and I don’t like to stay up too late. However, I’d have to lean more towards morning – I just seem to be a bit more productive before 10:00am.
11. What would be your dream job?
I would like to work for an Italian company that has operations in the US and would need me to manage their US branch. This would allow me to keep ties with Italy and live in the US. Additionally, I would like to develop residential and commercial properties and start a management company to oversee the real estate portfolio. Taking applications for business partners now…
Now Presenting the Liebster to…
B and J have a wonderful blog, Two DC that revolves around their life exploring a new city. The blog has a heavy food focus but also highlights many wonderful activities that they encounter in DC. They moved to DC in 2007 but I have to say…. I can’t comment on the future of the blog since they have just completed a cross country trip to their new home in the Bay Area. Hopefully there will be a Two Cali coming soon.
Our friend Amy has a great blog, One Preppy Cookie where she blogs about her life and her cookie business. Be warned – her pictures will make you hungry for dessert!
Elaine McCardel lives in Michigan but cooks wonderful Italian food, featured on The Italian Dish. Her images and recipes are both awe-inspiring to us. Can you say, blog-envy??
And Their Questions Are…
1) Are you a fan of social media and if so, do you prefer Facebook, Twitter, Pintrest, FourSquare, Linkedin, Tumbler, Instagram, etc?
2) What accomplishment are you most proud of?
3) What’s your favorite thing to cook?
4) Pick your favorite company – large or small, profit or non-profit and explain why.
5) What is your all-time favorite TV show?
6) What is the longest stint you’ve ever spent awake and why?
7) Where is your favorite beach?
8) Detail your dream vacation.
9) What is something that surprised you recently?
10) Mac or PC? iPhone or Galaxy?
11) Name your superpower – ability to fly, invisibility, immortality, telepathy, super speed or something else.
Facebook is great for a lot of things. First of all, it’s a wonderful time killer. It is a spectacular medium for sharing funny videos about cats. The site is also great for shameless self-promotion of your unimportant blog (ahem). Facebook keeps me and Jen apprised of popular youtube videos and trending pop-culture stories we would have otherwise missed living in another country. But perhaps best of all – it helps reconnect people after many, many years.
This is how you “like” a post on Italian Facebook
This was recently the case when my wife re-connected with a high school friend of ours, now living in Tuscana (Tuscany). Beth traveled to Rome in 1999 to study abroad. There, she found her love and has been living in Italy ever since (to clarify, I mean a man – not just a love of the country). While they enjoyed living in Rome together, they eventually moved back to his hometown in Tuscany, a short distance from Pisa. It was here that Beth and Andrea started a family together with the birth of their son, Indi. We were thrilled we got to spend some time with them in their amazing home and had the opportunity to reconnect with Beth while getting to know Indi and Andrea (whom we both loved).
Beth and Indi
Beth’s “front yard”
Still in the front
More views from the front – ridiculous, I know!!
Jen and Beth had been exchanging Facebook messages about getting together (we’re roughly 3 hours apart) almost since we moved to Italy this past January. And then, the timing seemed to click perfectly. The 25th of April is Liberation Day in Italy. Festa della Liberazione is a holiday that marks the end of Mussolini’s Social Republic and the end of the Nazi occupation in Italy in 1945. Today, this holiday is celebrated with the closure of nearly all business, which affords the people a good reason to get together and do what Italians do best – eat wonderful food, drink amazing wine and trade passionate stories.
Congregating after lunch
As we soon discovered, Beth lives in an incredible 500 year old farmhouse and her neighbors were having a party for the holiday. There was to be a big lunch outdoors, with music, kids and plenty of wine. She invited us for lunch and extended the invitation through the long weekend. I don’t know anyone that would turn down such an amazing invitation – and we were no exception.
The farmhouse Beth and Andrea share (the building in back)
Their home
Another angle
Building used to store hay – now used for parties
The plan was to arrive just ahead of lunch – the real start of the party. It was to be a typical Italian lunch, with all the courses and dishes we love – but, quite literally Under The Tuscan Sun and with some regional favorites we were eager to try. I would not allow our typical tardiness out the front door get in the way of this epic meal. So, I fibbed and told Jen we needed to be on the road earlier than we really did. Then, I budgeted an extra 30 minutes for typical trip delays (over an hour buffer in total). If you know me, you’ll know this was the type of meal I would not want to miss!
Everything was going according to plan until we neared Milan some 40 minutes down the road. Traffic got a bit thicker. By the time we got on the Autostrada toward Tuscany, we were stuck in stand-still traffic, moving 0 km/hour. That converts to 0 mp/hour. I watched the GPS arrival time creep later and later. 11:30am turned into 12:00pm and before you knew it, 1:00pm. I tried a short cut that just added to the time. By noon (and an estimated arrival of 3:00pm) we sullenly threw in the towel. We pulled over and ate panini at the AutoGrill. I swear as the day is long – I’m getting depressed all over again just typing this. The sandwiches were good – but nothing like what we were missing. Thankfully, we kept our spirits high and pulled into Beth’s house by 3:30 (a seven hour trip).
The remnants of the meal we missed
Since everyone had eaten, we jumped right into the party. Beth has some spectacular friends and we had a wonderful time. It came as no surprise that everyone was so warm and inviting. They talked to us as if we had been friends for 15 years and took to Julia as if they had watched her grow up. We drank wine, fresh mojitos and swayed to the beats of the DJ spinning outside. We spread our toes in the Tuscan grass and ate some fresh food off the grill.
Relaxing together
Julia loved playing with Indi
DJ spinning great music
My kind of speaker set-up
Part of the party
Say “formaggio!”
This nice kid fired up the grill for us
At one point, a big blue tractor showed up and it almost sounded like some of the male partygoers were arguing with the man driving the tractor. I recognized a few words and hand gestures usually only reserved for a type of heated debate. After a few minutes, the arguing died down and the guys walked with the tractor driver to the bar area to get a drink together, laughing like they were best friends. It didn’t seem to make any sense until Beth explained.
What’s this guy doing here?
The land we were on (including the farmhouse, all the structures and ten more homes nearby) belonged to the Marchese (Marquis). The Marchese is a man of noble decent who carries his title and rules his lands as if he were still in power. In reality, he has no more power than you or me. That is – if you or me had a noble bloodline, hundreds of acres in Tuscany, a mansion, dozens of employees and a several properties on our land. In 1948, the newly adopted constitution of Italy refused to recognize all noble titles (the Republic of Italy replaced the Kingdom of Italy in 1946). So, the Marchese (whom I was fascinated to learn loves the aristocratic pastime of hunting with dogs) “rules” his lands and everyone is just sort of happy to let him go on thinking it. He had “ordered” this man to drive up the hill in his tractor to tell us to lower the music. At home in the States, I can imagine a property manager (at the behest of the landlord) banging on someone’s front door to tell them to lower the music would be greeted with a bit of disdain. He would certainly not be invited in for a drink and food. But this is Italy. After a couple glasses of wine together, we lowered the music and the man drove back down the hill having successfully completed his task. But not before letting Julia drive his tractor – quite literally, he let her steer unaided for about 10 meters (until she almost put him into a field).
Only a small portion of the Marchese’s house can be seen here – it was huge
He let Julia drive
She was ready to GO!
After some time, we decided to go in and feed the kids and make a proper meal. Beth’s time in Italy was definitely evident, as she “whipped up” on the best pasta dishes we’ve had since arriving here. We paired with another wine and settled in for a relaxing weekend in Tuscany.
Dinner is about to be served – LOVED the charm in her home
Wonderful Tuscan dinner
Baby Indi munching on his mom’s wonderful cooking
More to come about this amazing weekend in Tuscany in a subsequent post…
