Awesome Austria

7/1

Early to rise to catch the early train to Innsbruck and then taking the scenic southern route to Hallstatt by way of Stainach-Irdning. It may take a bit more time this way, but we get to see a different part of the countryside on the way. The contrast to Italy, which we've just left behind, is stark. What a difference a country makes, not just in terms of sights and language but the weather. Having bid a fond farewell to Sonja, we emerged from our hotel after enjoying a breakfast buffet of pastry, coffee, yogurt, cereal and more, to be greeted by grey skies and steady rain. Hoods up and hats on, we made our way to the station. (I guess we'll get to test how waterproof our backpacks are!) Aboard our second train of the morning and not even 8 am, the rain seemed to be subsiding. The world looked newly washed, green hill sides in varying hues of green; moss, chartreuse, and emerald gave way to cloud shrouded mountain tops. I am a mountain girl at heart, so I feel instantly at home among the pine trees that traipse up and down the foothills, and safely guarded by the towering peaks that wall us into this pretty valley. Staring out the window of the train, we delight in seeing the occasional castle, alpine chalets spread far and wide, a great variety of some mighty content looking cows and a churning river that carves a twisting path through the valley. While I am rhythmically rocked by the train resulting in intermittent naps, it is Greg who (despite his lack of sleep last night) is hyper aware and delighting in the beautiful scenery. He is positively glowing, I expect to see him bouncing in his seat and start yodeling any minute, but the ear to ear smile will suffice. He is delighted to be in a German speaking country, where he feels more confident to converse in light of his four years of study in high school and a year in college. Although it was nearly ten years ago since Greg traveled in Germany, it is amazing how much he has retained and his accent is right on. As we stopped in Stainach-Irdning to switch trains, we feared we wouldn't find much to entertain ourselves with on our hour layover, as we had seen countless stations fly by that were little more than wooden shacks. Luckily we braved the restaurant attached to the train station, even though so far it has been our experience that food at the train station is usually sub par. However, we were pleasantly surprised with Dopolavoro which bore this Italian name and a few menu items of the same. Yet most of the menu was Austrian and while I am a bit intimidated by all the types of sausage, there were a few vegetable items. We ordered the vegetable quiche with a green salad and along with it came some creamed spinach. The quiche was loaded with carrots and greens served with a caramelized onion red wine sauce, the salad consisted of very fresh butter lettuce and a light vinegarette. As many of my friends know, I am a food snob. This situation got worse when we started growing our own vegetables, as I am very aware of how fresh (or not fresh) restaurant food is. The greens for that salad were very likely picked this morning, so I guess I have no need to worry that I'll need to survive on potatoes and bread while in Austria. Another surprising delight about this country thus far, is that everyone is incredibly friendly. From people on the train who were eager to chat and help, even the ticket taker (who checked in with us to make sure we knew when our stop was coming up), to our great hotel staff from last night and even our server in the restaurant. Since the restaurant was next to the train station Greg asked if the train we were going to board soon would be stopping in Hallstatt. Involving the customer seated next to us in the conversation, both she and our server agreed it would stop there. Moments later our waiter returned with a business card sized schedule from the station next door that he had just popped over to get for us in the midst of serving many tables. Our fellow customer wished us a pleasant journey as well as folks from the kitchen who popped out to wish us well. In our opinion, Austrians are sweethearts!

As we arrived at the Hallstatt station, we were almost star struck by the view. Greg has had a photo of this place as his screen saver for the last year. So we were exclaiming, "There it is, just as beautiful as it is in photos." We got to ride a quick little fairy from the train stop to the town and take photos approaching the town from the lake. This lake is closed in an embrace of unspoiled towering mountains and the little town perches on the other side, with boat houses, waterfront guest houses and impressive church steeples. Shortly after we arrived and checked into our room with a view (the only obstruction to our perfect lake view is the flowerbox brimming with red geraniums and pink petunias perched just outside our window), it began to rain in earnest. We didn't let this put a damper on exploring the town so we bought a cheap umbrella and walked the main street popping out of small shops and watching the ducks thoroughly enjoy the downpour. Back to the room to warm up a bit, then downstairs to dinner for a good lake fish and some beer. We also tried our first apple strudel and then had need to take a walk, since we were stuffed, yet again. Luckily the rain had stopped and Greg had read a poster in town about a free concert. We heard the horns emanating from the community center and followed the oom-pah beat. Before we entered the concert promoters offered to sell us a schnapps from a little cask they were cradling, how could we resist, it was for the good of the community. It was fun to watch the locals dressed in marching band uniforms complete with fringe on their shoulders having a good old time playing music. Early to bed to watch a dubbed into German version of the Simpsons, so that we can get up in the morning and explore a bit before leaving this lovely town.

Catching up.... (Multiple posts in one, for now)

High Fashion

Monday 6/27

Today we traveled to Milan, the fashion capital of the universe! Though only a three hour train ride, it seemed a long one, as we were a bit sleepy, for the party goers of Monterosso had woken us in the wee hours of the morning again. Oh well, such is life in a resort town. When we arrived in Milan we managed the Metro like pros (after our experience in Rome we feel like we've got the Italian Metro system down!) We grabbed a quick pizza and cool drinks (we would later learn it was the hottest day of the year in Milan) and a brief nap at the hotel. Though our hotel was just a two-star, it seemed like a palace after our backpackers hotel. The room was much bigger and you could complete a full turn in the bathroom with ease. There was also a cute little balcony overlooking the neighborhood. After washing up, we arranged to meet Roberto Andreoni, a friend who Greg met when he was a visiting Fulbright professor at Scripps this past fall. We found Roberto in front of the Duomo and he took us inside to see the stunning beauty, carvings, paintings, and a mass was in progress. The outside of the duomo was just as beautiful, the intricacy of each tiny statue that perched on the facade and the detail in each spire made one marvel at the time spent to construct this glorious architectural feat. The professor suggested we eat someplace beautiful and ushered us to a well known department store, when we ascended to the roof level we found a slew of very classy, hip and fashionable eateries. The decor was very modern and artistic. Roberto helped us select a ristorante that perched its patio over the city, it seemed to be only an arms length to the glimmery rooftop of the duomo. The sun sinking behind this glorious sight is certainly one of the most beautiful sights we have witnessed. Not to mention the amazing food! Roberto had brought us to a mozzarella bar. We got to sample a smoked mozzarella with prosciutto and a buratta (a cream soaked, liquidy delight of cheese heaven) served with a ratitoue like stew of tomatoes, eggplant, pine nuts and peppers). We were also treated to fresh ravioli stuffed with ricotta and spinach in a butter sage sauce. (We learned butter is more common in the north and olive oil in the south, there are cows in the north and olive trees in the south, it make sense.) Greg tried a deliciously complex dish of eggplant parmagiano, the flavors were amazing. In addition, an excellent, robust bottle of red wind from the south made this a meal we won't soon forget.

After our amazing dinner with a view, thanks to our hospitable friend Roberto, our gracious host then led us on an insider's tour of the city. Evening was the perfect time for this, as the air was cooling off and the temperature was becoming tolerable for the first time on this day. We walked through the galleria, the irst of it's kind and the model for our modern shopping mall, which housed the high fashion shops like Prada and Louis Vitton. More interesting to us was the architecture, high arching ceilings and very old buildings. The mosaic tiles on the floor created glorious designs. We learned that sadly, the creator of this architectural gem fell to his death from the height of the center arch only days before its completion. This was obviously considered bad luck. To counteract that bad luck, it has become a tradition for locals and even tourists to step on a particular part of the tiled floor and turn in a circle. Not to be to crude but you must find the bull, place your heel on his balls and complete a full turn. It is easy to find the spot, a hole has been worn away from all the testical tramping. Roberto was full of amusing stories of the city's history. He showed us a whispering wall where locals used to cheat at gambling, one man would stand at one corner of the square and another could stand behind the gamblers, then walk to the wall caddy corner to his friend and whisper their hand to the wall. The players could not hear, but the dealer could. We tried it out whispering messages, it was almost magical how the acoustics directed themselves in that place. La Scala, the opera house, and beautiful castle in the distance, were also on our itinerary. Roberto also shared with us his special blend for gelato, the unexpected pairing of pistachio and coffee was an amazing combination an energy boost for our walking tour of the city. Before he hopped on his scooter, Roberto said he would drop by our hotel to say goodbye. After our return Metro trip, we found him waiting patiently by our hotel (which turned out to be only blocks from his apartment) to wish us buona serra. We learned that Milan is unique as a city. It is a blend of old and new. The city is innovative, pushing boundaries architecturally and culturally. It is diverse, modern, trendy, cutting edge, and fun! Thanks a million to our gracious friend and tour guide, we had the perfect evening in Milan.

In Fair Verona

Tuesday 6/28

"In Fair Verona where we lay our scene, two star crossed lovers..." boarded a train from Milano. (Sorry couldn't resist). So yes, today's destination is Verona, the fabled home of Romeo and Juliet. Greg and I enjoyed an early morning breakfast at our hotel (yogurt, cereal, cappuccino) and hiked off to the Metro in the cool of the morning. Back to the train station to board our first high speed train riding in a first class car, it is a flexi-pass day for us, traveling to Verona for lunch and to stay just outside of Venice in an agriturismo for the next two nights. Aboard Trenitalia, we have cool little lap tables in front of us, great for catching up on the blog. We were surprised to receive complimentary beverage service and a "snack-eh" of packaged bread sticks (Italy's crackers) and fruit candy, a nice perk. I also got to visit the train's toilette for the first time. I had heard that when you flush, the contents fall directly onto the tracks, so that I was prepared for. I was interested to learn that a fair amount of wind passes your backside in process, I had to giggle in spite of myself. I was tickled by the experience, so to speak. When we told our hotelier in Milan that we were on to Verona today they asked if we would visit the house of Juliet. Of course, we replied, this was to be expected. "Are you going to rub her tits for good luck?" they asked quite innocently...they meant the statue of Juliet. Luckily Greg remembered this ritual from the guide books. It is tradition that to find/keep love one most give Juliet's statue a bit of a fondle, perhaps this is similar to smashing your heel on the bull's balls (see yesterday's blog for clarification!) We arrived in Verona by 11am and took the fifteen minute walk into town instead of taking the bus. To our benefit, this was not a hill town but it was much more substantial and broad than we had bargained for. We did find our way to the arena, the oldest arena that is still functional and in use for modern concerts and performances today. We found Juliet's house with the help of our guide book and Greg's map reading skills (I would be utterly lost without him!) Once again, lover's grafitti abounds in this place. The letters we expected to find crammed into crannies in the wall had been redirected to a mailbox. The balcony was there, much closer to the ground than I imagined it when I read Romeo and Juliet in the ninth grade. We did spy the tourists caressing the breast of Juliet, but the Puritanical history of our forefathers urged us to refrain (indeed no, it was just really crowed and we opted to watch rather than to cop a feel of a statue). Another duomo and piazza were encountered before lunch. We found a little wine bar where the owner gladly made us fresh sandwiches to go with our glass of local vintage. Warning: This description does not adequately detail the amount of walking involved. We had about two and a half hours until we needed to return to the train station and these sights were pretty spread out. We were hoofing it in the heat non-stop (except for our brief lunch). It was a city I have always wanted to see, but by the time we returned to pick up our backpacks (We paid 8 euro to have them held at a baggage check at the train station, it was worth every euro not to have to carry that extra 20-25 pounds on our backs, we never could have seen the city so laden with luggage) we were exhausted, sweaty, and thirsty. Hurray for free beverage in first class, after a little peach juice and air conditioning (and a little shut-eye for Greg), we were excited to see Venice. (Which will be the final town in Italy we will experience on this trip.) Lucky for us we got a tiny bit of rest because the true adventure was just about to begin. After exiting the train it took us one hour to locate the proper bus and for it to arrive, much walking from the station and waiting in the heat for it to arrive. Once aboard the packed bus we weren't really sure where to get off. Greg asked the driver in his broken Italian, which is way better than my nearly non-existent Italian, if we had reached the stop yet. Nearly forty minutes later we were beckoned by the impatient driver and he pointed in the direction of our street. We were in a fairly rural area by now and just hoping we could find the agriturismo having been abandoned by public transportation. We walked a half kilometer down a street which quickly turned into corn fields and hay. In my mind I was just hoping beyond hope that when we arrived it would be really awesome. Luckily it was. When we finally found the property, it was an old farm house surrounded by relic farm houses and barns in various stages of restoration. We were approached by an older lady, who said something in Italian, I pointed to myself and said my name, she patted my arm and gestured inside. She pointed to our name in her hand written agenda and we nodded. So, there was to be no English here. We quickly realized that someone outside of the family had helped them translate and book through e-mails. This was truly authentic. Our hostess took us upstairs and showed us to a beautiful room full of antique furniture (bed posts, nightstands, and armoire all beautiful polished wood.) Authentic bedspread, exposed beams and roof tiles, complete with a silver cross over the door, this was the real deal! Our bathroom is positively spacious and even has a window, a form of circulation we have not had until this point in our trip. We had a very brief rest but the one thing we had understood from our hostess was that dinner was to be at 8:30. So we had only a few hours to see the property, then shower and make ourselves presentable. We opted to walk around the farm first, knowing we would most likely get more grungy in the process. Right off we made a friend, an adorable little dog was our guide around the property. We don't know if he has a name, no tag, so I decide to call him Happy, because he seemed so pleased to show us his tromping grounds. First, Happy took us to meet the neighbor's cat, a very close and personal friend of his. They did a little head-butt as a greeting. Then we were off to look at the neighbors chickens, ducks, geese, and turkeys. Happy left us to our own devices as we wandered though the vineyards on our property but rejoined us when we met the cows. From there he took us to the vegetable patch and corn field which bordered a creek where we heard some frogs. We heard a loud splash and apparently Happy had either jumped in or fell in. No worries within seconds he had scampered back on shore and was rolling in the grasses and shaking himself dry. Back on our farm we discovered there were also goats, sheep, more geese, chickens and ducks and a peacock. Also plenty of cats sunning themselves in the fading light of the evening. We cleaned up and headed down for dinner. Only four other couples seem to be staying here and all seem to speak much better Italian than we do. Dinner was basically a one shot deal, you eat what they have prepared. We did fairly well with that. A fresh salad (which has actually been hard to come by since we left Tuscany), vegetable soup, bread. Then the main dish came out. It looked like fried chicken, since we haven't eaten chicken in ten years we really couldn't remember what that would look like. Now remember we have agreed to be flexitarians on this trip, so Greg bravely tried it first. He thought perhaps it was pork. I ventured a taste, certainly fowl, I thought. Since neither of us could agree we guessed, rabbit? We could only eat a few bites to be polite and had to ask our table neighbors to confirm what we had eaten, chicken to be sure from the expert meat eaters, they had just come from a farm stay and had killed and eaten their own chickens often. For me this is just confirmation that I'm glad to be a vegetarian and doubt that I will be tempted by meat back in the states. However as a cultural experience, it has been much easier to eat a little meat than to try to explain that we are vegetarian, in Italy that just doesn't translate. On our way back to our room we noticed the farmer watching TV downstairs, so this is indeed their residence. What an experience this day has been! So many things pushing us beyond our comfort zone and to be so deeply immersed here on one of our last few days in the country. Greg and I agree it feels like a final exam; can you communicate now after two weeks, do you know enough language to find your way from the city to the country and back? Tomorrow we will see. We'll need to find our way back to the train station and then into Venice proper. At least we can leave our big bags at the farm and start early to avoid the heat. Wish us luck!

Ahh...Venice!

Wednesday 6/29

After a fresh breakfast of farm products, we walked back to the train station under an already sunny sky. We had packed a very light day bag and left the backpacks in the room, so the road to the station seemed short and pleasant as compared to yesterday. This time we only had to wait ten minutes for the bus, but the ride was a long fifty-five minutes into Venice proper. (A quick word on buses in Italy. Everyone rides them from business men, to grandmas, teens, beggars, and people with small dogs. As you approach a popular destination, they stop often and by the time you reach your destination they are full to the gills. They are hot, loud and like to spill out into the aisles when making sharp turns. We have concluded that the bus drivers union must be doing a very good job for the drivers, for they get frequent breaks to get out and stretch their legs, smoke and do puzzles in the newspaper. When a bus stops and the driver takes one of his breaks, the passengers patiently stay put and wait it out. No one decides to walk to the next stop to save time or board a different bus, this is just an accepted piece of riding buses in Italy. It has been very educational and interesting for us to use public transit in another country. When we arrived in Venice, there was a pleasant cool breeze from the water. We saw what we expected to see; canals, gondolas, water taxis, bridges, alleyways, and shops selling opera masks. The windows of the pastry shops were my favorite. A beautiful display of sweets was accompanied by the heavenly scent of bread. We shared a cannolli for second breakfast, effectively checking off the last item of typical Italian food I had to try while in this country. Others on the list that we checked off earlier in the trip were; pizza, gnocci, gelato, fresh pasta, pecorino, cappucino, and tiramasu. In Venice, we also saw what you would expect to see in any big city; grafitti, construction projects, trash, pigeons, and tourist traps. Greg and I were prepared for the high prices and the tourists. As we expected, the gondola rides were way out of our price range and it turns out most of them seemed very cheesy. Men in striped shirts with silly hats haggling with tourists who were trying to capture a romantic moment, instrumental love songs blaring from speakers on the boats. It turned out this was not our cup of tea and we couldn't justify spending several days worth of our food budget on a twenty to thirty minute boat ride which seemed highly theatrical and not very authentic. We much preferred exploring the hidden alleys and finding a ristorante for lunch that was off the beaten path and hearing some accordian players finish a set of music. After what is likely to be our last pizza lunch in Italy (sniff), we were renewed to wander some more. We saw St. Marks square, which had some impressive architecture but was under construction and drowning in crowds. Back to the alleyways (there are over 2,000), we found a charming museum which housed a display in honor of Vivaldi. There was also a display of how luthiers made the instruments, Greg took pictures galore. By 5pm we were pretty much done with Venice, there were an abundance of high end shops which held little interest for us and we had exhausted ourselves from walking the canals and alleys, our feet throbbed and calves ached. Ahh...Venice! It is a unique city full of charms, but we think it could easily be a day trip from Milan unless you really love to shop and don't mind paying high prices. We decide while we were there we should eat an early dinner, rather than return to our farm and face more mystery meat for dinner. We found a snack bar on the canal, where we consumed 1.5 liters of mineral water (all this sweating has made us very thirsty people) and some marginal pasta. Steeled against the long bus ride home, we were on board after only five minutes of waiting and delighted to find out the first loop of the route had been eliminated and we only faced a forty minute ride home. After walking down our country road in the fading light, we settled into our room for the evening. Showered and sweat free, we realized our room was really warm. The air conditioning didn't seem to be working. Greg asked our innkeeper, "Conditionatore non functione?" She apparently ran outback mumbling, 'scuzi,' an apology. Apparently we are the only guests in the house for the night and she forgot to turn the generator on. Shortly there after the room cooled down and we were able to rest comfortably. At about midnight we were startled awake by booms and crackles. Greg peeked out the window to see a fireworks display in the distance. (No idea of the occasion, but fun to see.) Apparently opening the window resulted in some unwelcome visitors, mosquito bites=5! Greg blames my LaLone Leg-Out Sydrome for this. (If Aunt Polly is reading, she knows of what I speak). Myself and some other family members of the LaLone clan have a tendancy to sleep with one leg out of the covers. While this serves as a great temperature control technique for the hot blooded breed, it is apparently a huge temptation to Italian mosquitos. Ah, another eventful evening on the farm!

(This was the one canal street we found that was not swarming with other tourists and made for the best photo to share.)

Happy Birthday Greg!

Thursday 6/30

Today is Greg's 35th birthday. When we awoke and I wished him a happy birthday, he sleepily explained it wasn't quite his birthday yet because he was born around 9 am Pacific time, and he still had a few hours to be 34! We proceeded downstairs for our breakfast. I did not expound on the breakfast yesterday, but for us it is a very good spread. Farm fresh milk warmed on the stove and served in white china pitchers along side the coffee. Fresh butter and homemade berry jam is ready to top the fresh made pound cake slices and polenta and lemon mini muffins. There is also cheese and salami available for those who would like. (Greg likes.) Our innkeeper greeted us this morning by calling us bambini. It was like, "More coffee, kids?" Very sweet, and it kind of feels good to be referred to as children at 35! We did discover that an English speaking young lady helps out with breakfast in the mornings so we asked her many questions. Yes she had seen the fireworks, no she didn't know why. Yes, it had rained last night. No, there wasn't internet at the farm. Yes there was a cafe with internet about 1 km away near the hospital (We had seen the hospital on our bus ride and figured 1 km to be a gross underestimation, so sorry we are behind on posts). When did we need to check out? "You check out when you leave your room," she answered seeming puzzled. What time? we pressed. She smiled, "There is no time, when you want." Great, so we had plenty of time to shower, pack, and relax a bit in the air conditioning before heading out for the train station at about 11:30. Before we knew it, time to go. I really loved the farm. Being there with all the animals was great. Would we recommend it to friends? Hard to say. It depends on what you are looking for. If you are craving solitude, love farms and animals, speak at least some Italian, and enjoy eating products from the farm (and don't fear meat). Then it would be a good fit. If you are not bothered by very specific times for breakfast and dinner, flies, the smell of the cows when you open your window, a very quiet environment (I said to Greg at supper time in the dining room, it was like eating in church, all the guests whispered and the clang of silverware was the predominant sound). Reflecting on our time in Italy, we were glad we ended here. If we had started here, it would have seemed too hard. As it stands though, we had a very unique experience and are very ready to move on to our next country.

So the big question, what is Greg getting for his birthday this year? He gets to go to Austria! Our destination today, the little town of Hall, Austria. Perhaps because of lst night's rain storm, the day was blessedly free of scalding sun, overcast and with a cool breeze, and our walk to the bus was glorious. Not that the day was without complications... When we arrived at the Venice station after a pretty easy bus ride, we partook of some McDonald's fries. I know that seems like blasphemy in Italy, but later in the day we'd be glad we had some sustenance. Twenty minutes before our train was scheduled to go, our train was still not on the board. Making us nervous. Greg questioned the ticket counter. Our train reservations, the train that was scheduled to go to direct to Innsbruck, did not exist, at least not from the station where we were. This was the last straw for the disorganized train system of Italy. How could we make a reservation for a train that doesn't exist? It is a mistake, they explained. No one, not the ticket agent nor the information manager seemed interested in helping. Then Greg had a stroke of brilliance, call our guest house in Hall, they have an investment in getting us there. Luckily, he was right and Sonja volunteered to look online at other trains headed in their direction and with only an hour and thirty minute delay in total, we traveled from Venice Mestre, back to Verona, then up to Brenner (the border town), then to Innsbruck and to Hall. It wasn't nonstop or first class but it would get us to where we were going for no additional fees. So we took the suggested route. By the time we were on the train to Brenner, we were awed by the changing landscape. Fields gave way to greenery. The Dolomites proferred a sea of green foothills to which clung little alpine chalets scattered far and wide. Each little tiny town on the Italian/ Austrian border presented a church with adorable russet colored spires, some resembled a soft-serve ice cream shape at the top, looking very much like something you would see in Moscow. We had no lunch other than the fries, but we scraped by on some breadsticks and nutella that we had collected to maintain our blood sugar. Maybe we were hallucinating, but we just found this transition in the land and the tiny towns to be so breathtaking. I kept nudging Greg and pointing out the window to say lamely, "Cute, so cute!" The language was changing around us quickly, as well. From a mix of Italian and German,then only German. The train announcements were the key to knowing when we'd moved out of Italy onto Austria. Finally in Hall at about 8:30 pm, we followed the directions under the tracks and across the wooden bridge to our cute hotel. The helpful proprietors were glad to see we had finally made it, and just in time for dinner. Before even seeing our room we got seated in the restaurant. We ordered too much food, as we hadn't eaten all day. We had an appetizer of fresh-made Tirol spinach ravioli, then the cheese spaetzel and trout. Way too much food, but so good and filling. Greg got his first (and second) Austrian beer and enjoyed thoroughly. We asked our waitress to bring us a dessert fit for a birthday and we got eine kleine geburtztag kuche. Our room is "so cute," clean, modern, and big! Taking advantage of the fast WiFi, Greg double-checked the train schedule for the next few days, in hopes of avoiding another travel fiasco. And forfeited sleep for these blog updates. Hey, more time to enjoy the comfy room! As I get some much deserved shut-eye, the birthday boy is diligently finishing up this entry and will now post everything before joining me in a quick snooze before the church bells ring to start tomorrow's adventure to the tiny lake town of Hallstatt.

Via Dell'Amore

Sunday, 6/26

We had hoped to rise early and be on the trail by 9 am, but our dorm like room proved to be very much like a hostile,when at 2 am, giggling, shouting, and singing heralded the return of most of the occupants from their night's carousing. (We should have asked them where they went, as they had obviously tapped into a night life of which we were unaware...) Anyhow, sleep somewhat interrupted, we were on the train by 10 to explore the other local towns. After only a fifteen minute train ride we were in Rigomaggiore, the town furtherst East or down the coast in the Cinque Terra. Here lies the most famous hike of the region; The "Pathway of Love", a notoriously romantic walk. While the view was breathtaking, tourists plagued this sight. Romance can be hard to come by when the wizzened woman in front of you is slathering her husband's hairy back with sunblock... (but love does take different forms throughout the generations, even such a display has its place on the the romantic road.) The amazing view of the ocean was the key feature. However this is also a cult sight for lovers, so on every rock, plaque, handrail and cactus you find lovers grafitti. "Paulo and Katherina forever", love poems scrawled in sharpie, declarations in magic marker, proclamations of eternal love scratched into the very leaves of a cactus. At first glance, as a nature lover and someone who respects historic sites, I was appalled. But as the pure girth of loving words and thoughts grew around me, I was amazed at how many people wanted to document and keep there love in someway beyond the confines of their relationship. Perhaps the strangest of all rituals were the locks of love. All sorts; combination locks, key locks, bike locks, attached to any anchor; a fence, a handrail, an archway, nets, a tree branch even. This is meant to be a symbol that their love is locked here, forever preserved and marked by initials so many tourists have scrawled on the locks. As Greg and I walked hand in hand, we agreed we didn't need a rock or a lock to keep our love here. We know without question how we feel, but we were none the less impressed by this memorial to love built by so many locals and visitors who feel the need to document their love on this lovely stroll overlooking the sea. Back on the train in the next town, Manarola we rode by Corniglia unmoved to get off and explore until we reached Vernazza. Here we explored shops and the local beach. We considered a boat ride, but the boat was spilling over with tourists and was so crowded, we opted to take the cheaper air conditioned train back to our home base. Back in Monterosso, we visited the focacceria for airy focaccia bread topped with pesto and mozzarella for a quick inexpensive lunch. Tired from our travels and the relentless sun, we hit the hotel for siesta, when we emerged the streets were transformed. While we slumbered the city had been preparing for some sort of festival. The streets were blanketed in carpets of flower petals that created the effect of having spread out formal and detailed rugs. Much like the Native Americans of the Southwest create intricate sand paintings, several of the main drags had been laid down with coffee grounds, tiny tomatoes, flower petals, and vegetation creating intricate designs. We settlde into one of the best seafood ristorantes in town just in time to see the procession past the duomo with flags and hooded figures. I wish we understood more about what was being celebrated, but it was beautiful. Nearly as beautiful as our meal was. We had spied this ristorante while making our laps last night. They throw their kitchen window open wide so that passerby can admire the cooking techniques but even more so the outstanding fresh array of fish and shellfish they have displayed on ice. We tried grilled scampi (heads, eyes, legs and all....very daring for vegetarians, or as we are saying on this trip...flexitarians). Not full yet we opted to add the mista frita (mixed fried fish; prawns, calamari, and anchovies). It is by far the most indulgent meal we have allowed our budget thus far, so we decided while we were splurging to try the house specialty dessert of homemade vanilla ice cream with whiskey and honey. We were even able to make some recommendations to a couple from Melbourne who were just being seated. All in all an outstanding meal. We walked down to the shore to dip our toes and fingers in the sea and made a few more rounds before heading homeward. A romantic walk and a delightful dinner, these lovers are happy with how we spent our day at the seaside.

On the road again

Saturday, 6/25

Morning came too early, as it was our last morning in Tuscany! We packed quickly and got one last visit from Luciano to say ciao! On the way back to Chiusi, we found that we were turned around once more and ended up getting lost, or should I just say going a different way than we expected. Though we thought we'd traveled this route before on our way into town, it turned out we'd entered yet a different way. (There are way too many options for how to get to these small hill towns and I'm positive that the local Italians get up at night and move the street signs around, I wouldn't put it past them). In the end we saw some sunflowers and sheep and managed to get the car back in time and just make our train to Florence. This was a crowded train, we sat next to a talkative eight year old Italian boy, who was playing a blaring computer game. Luckily, it was only an hour and as we exited he patted my shoulder as if to say, "I know you don't speak my language but I liked sitting next to you and having you smile at me even though I was loud and squirmy." A quick wait for the train to La Spezia landed us chatting to some young travelers, a couple of young ladies who were doing a farm stay, working for their lodgings during the week and traveling around on their own during the weekends. We found out we were headed in the same direction we ended up visiting during the train ride. One young lady was from Indianapolis and the other was from Perth on the west coast of Australia. It was fun to talk to them about their individual travels and their time here in Italy. When they found out Greg is a musician, they wanted to talk shop, whipping out their iPhones and playing for us a few of their favorite new international bands and song writers. Greg responded in kind sharing a song or two that he discovered by listening to KSPC, the college radio station in our home town. Yes, he finally got the chance to promote the tune-yards while on vacation. With a final train change, we were on the road to the Cinque Terra. Our train almost immediately popped into a long dark tunnel. Too long to hold your breath through! When we emerged from the darkness, the sea was revealed momentarily, then back into another tunnel. Our twenty minute ride to Monterosso continued in this way, like a peep show of the shore. We disembarked and marveled at what a different world this was from Tuscany, swamped with tourists in bathing suits, the beach blanketed in umbrellas and the sea beyond sparkling blue-green. We walked toward what we thought was the town, only to find a large map and realize we were walking toward the new town and our hotel was in old town. Switching directions we found several streets named by the hotel in their directions, so we were puzzled when we ended up on hiking trail just above the village. there were dangers crossing the road here as well, but instead of nearly getting run over by a Vespa, Greg nearly trampled a skinny snake. (Don't worry, neither of them are worse for wear, both just startled). So obviously we were headed the wrong way again, we returned to the main square and Greg asked a man sitting outside of a barber shop about the street we were looking for. "Souvenir?" he asked (which is the name of our hotel)...Hurray, he knew it! As he walked us over to a wide street we got some directions in Italian like... walk up that street to the hotel Margherita, take a right at the fish fountain, its easy, you can't miss it. Believe it or not his directions were right on. We checked in and dropped our baggage. Compared to our previous accommodations, our room seems so small. This is a backpackers hotel so cheap is the key word, but it is clean and safe. We have two small twin beds, pushed together and just about enough room on either side to get out and walk to the bathroom, which is so narrow, you have to turn sideways to squeeze past the bidet to the toilet. Though we were tired from our several train trips today, we were eager to get back outside and see the beauty of this sea side town. We had dinner at a small cafe; gnocchi with pesto (this area is famous for their pesto) and swordfish Monterosso style, sauteed with tomatoes and capers. When we left Creatoile, Carlo asked where we would travel to today... we replied Cinque Terra and his response was, "Ahh, mangiano pesce... EAT FISH!" Glad we took his advice. After dinner we made the rounds (walking around the boardwalk, eating gelato, window shopping...we even got our first taste of lemoncello at a wine shop that was giving out free samples). Now we are completely spent, our tiny room has the one thing we have still yet to enjoy today, beds! Good night from Monterosso!

The Real Tuscany

What do you think of when you hear the name, Tuscany? Most of us have a picture in our minds of rolling hills filled with vineyards, sun flowers, and ruins of farmhouses atop those hills. Perhaps a flock of sheep crossing the road, or rolls of hay amid freshly cut fields of Durham and Semolina wheat? Now, since Tuscany is a region, which names of towns come to mind? Chianti, Siena, Florence...? Well, if so, you wouldn't be wrong, but when it comes to that picture in your mind, you might be disappointed when you arrive in Chianti or Florence. The truth is that the most photographed part of Tuscany lies right here in the Val D'Orcia. But until you read this blog, had you ever heard of such a place? Probably not. That is because those postcards all have photos of these rolling hills, then slap the name TUSCANY across them. This myth is not only apparent to foreign travelers, but for Italians as well. They may know it as one hour from Siena, or near Montepulciano, or even just wine and olive oil country. But ask about Pienza or San Quirico and you will just get puzzled looks. So, why all these monikers and approximations? Difficult to say, and perhaps it is better this way. Those who are aware of this secret, though frequently upset by the misnomer, may be just as happy to keep it to themselves so it doesn't become overrun with tourists like so many other well known towns.

The Val D'Orcia has been protected, since 2004, as an UNESCO World Heritage site, with strict regulations on what you can and especially cannot do with the land and buildings. Much of the agricultural traditions have also been preserved. This ensures that the area does not get bought up by developers who might want to take the land and slap shopping centers in the middle of it. Or even less obvious problems such as a private party coming in and buying a dilapidated farm house, tearing out a wall to add bay windows and digging a hole for a swimming pool, then painting the entire thing their favorite shade of Pepto-pink. In Isabella's words, there's no limit to imaginations and personal desires. When Pienza became a historical site, the people of the town said, why not the entire valley? That process began back in 1996. So now, our lovely Agritourismo Cretaiole sits smack in the middle of this beautiful landscape, now preserved in the way it that it is depicted in all of those postcards and movie scenes and in your mind's eye. The way it should be. This is so important to understand because when you finally do get the opportunity to come and visit "Tuscany" you will get to see it as it was meant to be seen. Just be sure to visit the Val D'Orcia, or more specifically La Famiglia Moricianni at Cretaiole, for simply the best experience of the Real Tuscany.

GJ

Olio

Friday, 6/24

Today we enjoyed olive oil in many different ways. Starting with lunch in Pienza. We ate at La Buca de Enea a lovely little ristorante owned by husband and wife, Antonio and Gabriella. The meal began with vegetable mista antipasta and bread. We ordered the caprese salad and a dish of flat pasta with mushrooms. All dishes were generously adorned with an ample drizzle of local buttery olive oil. We realized we have not had butter since our arrival in Italy and have not even missed it! We decided to spring for a cappucino and our host suggested the homemade tiramsu, how could we resist? We mentioned that we were staying at Cretaiole and Antonio declared with a smile, "Ah, Isabella!" He quickly returned with dessert wine and grappa, gratis for friends of Isa! A lovely meal. As we needed to get walk off that midday meal, we decided to visit Montepulciano, another hill town. The views were beautiful and we found a music conservatory where we could listen to students practicing violin as we took in the beautiful sights. Then back to Cretaiole for olive oil tasting. Isa educated us about the tricky wording you find on olive oil labeling. Basically you should only buy extra virgin, as that is the only guarantee of quality (cold pressed and first harvest are terms that are redundant on an extra virgin bottle, designed by producers to get you to pay more because it has another fancy term attached to it and they are counting on the fact that their customers are not educated about the process). We learned many good tips on how to buy good oil in the states and what to look for. Then we did a blind tasting of four different oils and filled out tasting score sheets. In the end we compared our results with Carlo's (who is a professional taster for the region). I scored well, but Greg's score was outstanding, so he'll be the one to call when you want to go shopping for oil. Many of the oils were very spicy and some were bitter. We were ready to replace those flavors with some local pizza. So after going for my farewell run of the property, Greg and I went into town for some take out pizza and enjoyed it in our room with the last bit of the white wine we procured at Carlo's farm earlier in the week. One last knock at the door called us to grappa with Luciano. Many of our fellow guests joined the farewell meeting, and we all agreed that we were triste (sad to say goodbye). One more peaceful night sleep listening to the insects and the frogs as we fell asleep before we continue our journey tomorrow. We know we will miss this place, its beauty, its culture, and the friends we have made.

Vino

Thursday, 6/23

Today we learned about the wine of the region. We visited the Fattoria del Colle of Donatella Colombini Cinelli, a winery in nearby Trequanda. The winery was able to represent both the Chianti and DOC Orcia regions as it has vineyards in both areas. The history of this land was fascinating; the two brothers who originally owned it were run out of Italy for becoming protestant and the church took the land from the family that remained behind, passing it to different noble families throughout the generation, eventually a relative of the original family bought it. It was bequeathed to Mrs. Donatella who decided to hire a female wine maker, which was unheard of at the time (way back in 1990) but by the mid 1990s the winery was winning awards from wine spectator magazine, showing that the women could do it just as well as the men. We tasted some delicious wines but being that we will soon don our backpacks again, we enjoyed the taste but decided not to purchase any. The evening was to bring more wine, as it was the night of the pici (pronounced pee-chee) dinner. Pici is the local pasta of this valley, akin to a fat spaghetti. Isabella and a local woman taught us how to make it on the veranda at Cretaiole. Everyone pitched in by kneading the dough and hand rolling the pasta, they made it look so easy to make uniform strands, sort of like when you were a kid making Play-dough snakes but very skinny. It was much harder than it looked but after a while you develop a rhythm and the strands emerge more evenly. Regardless of the appearance of the pasta, it was delicious. This dinner was another full blown Italian meal. As we had prepared for this trip we realized we focused our training on the wrong area. We worked on our physical fitness when we should have been working on our eating endurance! Though we learned from experience to pace ourselves, the food just keeps coming, and at some point you just need to say "basta!" (enough) [Though we also realized that we should take care when using some of the phrases we've picked up from the locals, as to not offend anyone along the way... Best to add 'per favore' and 'grazie' when ever possible.] We had bruschetta that Carlo grilled over a wood fire with olive oil and garlic. Then olives were passed. (This is before we even sat down). Finally seated, the bread water and wine was on the table with cucumber salad to top the bread, and the pasta with ragu and a vegetarian variety. (This would have been plenty). Then ribs from the grill and sausages emerged, for vegetarians a plate of grilled cheese (heaven). A bean salad. Not done yet, the cheese course, yes more cheese! Fresh pecorino from the farm. Then fruit; watermelon and cantelope...not done yet. Dolci: sweets of all sort, biscotti, cakes, candies, grappa and Vin Santo. Somewhere around segundi Greg dropped out of the eating and grabbed the guitar to entertain us. We enjoyed the background music and during the dolci requests began. Those endurance eaters that remained gathered around one table. The Danish guest introduced a game, where each person had to begin a song and the rest sang along, "unda song unda song, Gregorio singa unda song." It was fun to see which songs popped up and of course Greg played along with each one. Finally around midnight we cleared the table and hit the hay, a good day for wine and food (and music for that matter) in Tuscany.