Post from Italy, Part 2: The Cinque Terre

Breakfast with a view, Vernazza

The five towns known as the Cinque Terre are linked by challenging hiking trails, an enticement for travels with my daughter, who loves nature as I do. Now, finally, we were arriving in Vernazza. High speed trains link Monterosso al Mare, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore, each painted in the pastel pinks and salmons, yellows and baby blues and pale greens decreed as the tints of this picturesque piece of Italy.  Sunlight shimmered on the Ligurian Sea, eliciting a collective gasp as the sight of sparkling water came into view of our train for the first time.  

The belvedere, Corniglia

Corniglia kitty

Our first "hike" was the 15-minute climb up rough stone stairs to our apartment high above the coastal town, with the sound of the waves always present.  From our private terrace, we could see the entire town of Vernazza like a watercolor painting of a dream.  Our first dinner was eaten just down the hill at La Torre, where a sign proclaims: 
"But not in many places you can try the experience of being in a postcard.  If you are in a hurry, you're not allowed here."

We watched a spectacular sunset over the sea while savoring the regional fare: pasta with pesto and stuffed mussels, paired with the local red wine and Prosecco. 
We were not in a hurry.

We loved Corniglia, on a hillside with its friendly maze of side streets; at the end of one, we found a belvedere “perched between the sea and sky” (Rick Steves), an apt description that didn’t convey the bliss of having it all to ourselves, except for the resident cat who befriended us.                                                                                                                          

Antipasto di Mare

We spent one sunny morning on the beach in Monterosso, which seems to get most of the morning sun in winter. We tried the local specialty, Antipasto di Mare: six small plates of the fresh local catch.  Our selection included smoked swordfish, sliced translucently thin; anchovies marinated two different ways; meaty, flavorful octopus; pickled mussels; and the local cod, cooked and served with olive oil, lemon and capers, all regional products.

Sunny Monterosso

Monterosso morning

Prone to landslides and erosion, I had heard that the Cinque Terre trails are sometimes closed to hikers, but I was disappointed to learn that all the main trails along the coastline were off limits during our visit.  Nevertheless, a tip from a shop owner in 

Hiking from Corniglia to Manarola

Corniglia sent us higher into the hills to a trail that was accessible, though by no means easy.  Sometimes marked with a red and white stripe, other times leading through someone's (fabulous) backyard, or threading a narrow path above someone working in the terraced grapevines, the trail led in and out of forests, offering astonishing views of the cliffs and the towns and the dazzling sea.

After three hours of strenuous climbing and descending and climbing again, we found ourselves confused: we were hiking to Manarola, but the trail forked and led in three different directions.  At that moment, with sunset approaching, a couple came hiking toward us, and we asked them the way to Manarola.  After trying to explain in Italian, they suddenly said they were going there, and we should follow.

Our stylish Italian guides

He was dressed for walking, but she! - Wearing shiny black boots with chunky heels, tights and a short skirt, a fashionable shawl draped diagonally across her shoulders, she was carrying a leather purse in one hand.  Her blonde hair was perfectly coiffed.  She seemed to have no trouble with the rocky, irregular trail.  

We followed them for another half hour.  Our new friends looked back regularly to make sure we were keeping up (we weren't), until we arrived at their destination - a cliffside osteria with the perfect sunset view, perched above the postcard town of Manarola.  The sun set flaming pink and orange on the watery horizon as we enjoyed the Italian version of hot wine in the twilight.

Manarola at twilight

This is how the locals roll on a Sunday evening in the Cinque Terre.  How lucky for us that they showed us the way.

Post From Italy, Part 1: Siena

If I could realistically escape modern life, I would do it in Siena.

Walking into the heart of Siena

The ancient stone walls of the old Tuscan city enclose narrow, picturesque streets that meander, seemingly randomly, inviting exploration.  The heart of the city is Il Campo, the public square, scene of the crazy horse race known as the Palio in summer.  On our winter visit, people had gathered to enjoy the January sun, the delightful trattorias serving tagliatelle with wild boar ragu and Caprese salad, and the Fonte Gaia (fountain of joy), where pigeons perched on carved figures, sipping from this 600-year-old place of refreshment.  

Yes, there are plenty of tourists and shops catering to them, but it feels SO much smaller and easier to navigate than the big cities of our previous stops.  And there are incredible sights to be seen:  after the 400+ step climb to the top of Torre del Mangia, the second highest bell tower in Italy, the geometric dome and towers of the Duomo to the west, and the tile roofs and Tuscan countryside in every other direction, more than made up for the harrowing climb.  The landscape has a rolling, symmetrical beauty, punctuated by stands of skinny, perpendicular Cypress trees.

View of Il Campo from Torre Mangia

Siena Duomo and Toscana

Siena's main sights can be enjoyed in a couple of days, on foot - what a treat!  We never felt rushed as we toured the simple, sweet synagogue and learned of the history of Jews in this part of the world.  We visited the Palazzo Publica (city hall), where the vibrant frescoes rival paintings in Europe's finest museums - and how on earth did they do those ceilings?  We enjoyed another expansive view from the Panorama dal Facciatone, the loggia atop the Museo del Opera.  

Fresco and ceiling in Palazzo Publico (old city hall): "Good Government"

Quietly boasting some jaw-dropping art, Siena's Duomo is a visual feast, with its elaborately decorated, soaring columns, more mind-blowing frescoes, and a basement-level crypt that evokes medieval ages and beliefs.  

Siena Duomo

Frescoes in Siena Duomo

The food of Siena celebrates pasta of all shapes and sizes, served with mushrooms, truffles, and long-cooked sauces.  How surprising to enjoy sweet tomatoes, basil and the most delightful mozzarella in January, while the sun bathed us and we people watched in Il Campo.  We sampled Salsicce con Fagioli (sausage and white beans) and the famous local soup, Ribollita (beans, veg and bread) at a hole-in-the-wall with a handwritten menu and communal tables full of locals.

Love Potion #9, Italian style

We drank Prosecco and Campari and local red wines, and on our last night lucked into front row seats for live music at a crowded trattoria.  The two-man band played jazz and pop while disco lights played around the room, and when they sang "Love Potion #9" in Italian, Emily and I couldn't stop laughing.

Osteria La Chiaccuera

Beyond what this fascinating town offers in present experience and fond memory (I was here when I was barely 20 years old, more than 40 years ago), the people were simply lovely.

Our Airbnb couldn't have been more warm or comforting.  Elena made us feel like family from the moment we arrived.  Breakfast was epic: cured meats, fresh cheeses, a loaf of bread to be sliced and toasted to our preference.   Croissants, cakes, jam and butter, coffee and tea and juice, yogurt and cereal.  A cat named Roby.  A warm hug and two kisses as Elena waited on the street with us for our taxi.

Waiting for our taxi with Elena

Bella Siena, arrivederci!

  

Postcard from Paris

What can I say about Paris that hasn't been said by so many others?

Sacre Couer, Montmartre

Unimaginably ancient yet incredibly modern, it's a feast for the eyes: elaborate cathedrals festooned with lunging gargoyles and glittering with stained glass, shop windows sparkling with jewel-like desserts and provocative lingerie, enticing markets stocked with the freshest produce, baskets of oysters, fabulous cheeses, fish and shellfish.  On every corner, you can grab a cup of Vin Chaud, hot spiced wine, to keep you warm and willing to keep walking and ogling Paris.

Organic Market, Raspail

Purely by chance, our lovely apartment was located in Le Marais, the Jewish and gay quarter, and an ideal neighborhood to explore on foot.  We loved Rue de Rosiers, where delis alternate with falafel stands, and the food is both affordable and amazing.  One day we stopped at Sacha Finkelsztajn for a knish and Favorki, twists of fried dough sprinkled with powdered sugar.  On New Year's Eve, we opted for falafel and Israeli sandwiches stuffed to bursting with velvety grilled eggplant, Merguez sausage and fresh vegetables.  Our appetizer was fresh oysters, purchased in front of the neighborhood grocery store and shucked to order, served with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.  Exquisite!

Museum overload is a definite danger.  There are literally dozens (hundreds?) of world class museums both large and small, for every taste, and you can go crazy trying to fit them all in.  The D'Orsay, housed in an old train station, should not be missed - the glass ceiling allows natural light to bathe the old masters, Renoir and Picasso, Monet and Cezanne, Rodin, Gaugin, Pisarro and Degas.  The Picasso Museum contains more of his works than any other museum in the world, including works you've probably never seen - and with photographs of the artist and the creative displays, you might almost believe that Pablo is right there with you.

Picasso and sculptures

Other highlights: jazz at Le Caveau de la Huchette, a club located in a cave, where couples danced swing to a live band in a crowded, lively space (thank you, Julie and Scott).  Shakespeare and Co., an astonishing bookstore where books are stacked up to the ceiling, and the intimate rooms invite you to explore and linger ... forever.
Rue Cler, where fromageries and cafes and flower stands assault your senses with delight, and where I sipped a hot chocolate that tasted like a liquid truffle (thank you, Chef Tse).

New Year's on the Champs Elysee

New Year's Eve on the Champs Elysee, lined with trees festooned with sparkling red lights and the largest crowd I've ever seen.  On the boulevard, the jostling crowd flowed towards the Arc de Triomphe, where a new age light show colored the iconic monument.  Despite the presence of chanting "yellow vests" and a plethora of police, the party was punctuated by a fantastic fireworks display - and we survived the mass exodus of thousands, escaping to a bar for overpriced wine, but exhilarated and ready to welcome in 2019.

What can I say about Paris that hasn't been said before?
Despite what everyone says, the French were more than friendly and helpful.   And that was the nicest surprise of all.

Postcard from Barcelona

Barcelona!

Casa Batllo

Casa Batllo

Electric, eccentric, effusive and ever moving:  that's my impression of this Spanish port  city.  Famous for the fantastical houses and structures designed by Antoni Gaudi and others inspired by his psychedelic creations, it is also a showcase of stunning classical architecture everywhere you turn - elaborate turrets and rooftop gazebos, exquisite carved ornamentation, wrought iron balconies and delicate mosaics set into store facades.

Plaza Cataluna

On the ramblas, pedestrians stroll en masse.  Late at night, the effect is carnivalesque: during our visit the crowds were huge until close to midnight.  The city is all lit up for the holiday season, with lights strung across the many narrow streets (carrers) in a surprising variety of colors and shapes.  Fountains spew and cascade in an everchanging colorful light show.

Then, the food.  The tapas lifestyle basically means you just keep eating until you can't continue, even though you never want to stop.  Iberian acorn-fed ham, anchovies and squid and mussels, fried Padron peppers, stuffed piquillo peppers, albondigas (meatballs), empanadas filled with eggplant and smoked mozzarella or sausage and chimichurri, cheeses delightful enough to convert a vegan.  And the party never stops - Emily and I got the last table in a popular restaurant at 10:30 p.m., a loud and colorful spot with delicious tapas - and when we left at 11:30, the party was still going strong.

Tapas!

Did I mention that it was close to 60 degrees and sunny the entire time we were in Barcelona, in late December?  It's no wonder that people love this city.

Postcard from Madrid

Christmas eve, Madrid

A magical day wandering from Emily's flat through Arguelles and past the sparkling displays of Christmas in every shop window.  Blue sky and sun, almost 60 degrees on this day so close to the turn of the year.  Madrilenos and visitors are out in droves, pushing strollers with their children bundled into footed bags like bugs, their dogs all wearing cozy vests and their own necks wrapped in elaborate scarves, despite the heat that has me taking off my coat.  Linked arms, kisses left cheek then right, a streetside parade of human warmth.

Everyone seems to be out and celebrating the sun today.  We head towards Puerto del Sol, where a tacky Christmas market sends us careening away towards tapas and rioja at Fatigas del Querer.  The boisterous conversation, free flowing wine and food and the crowded space says: This is Madrid.  The elf and santa hats with glittery sequins on grown women and men are a seasonal touch, but I get the feeling that this is a gathering place, every night.  And why wouldn't it be, with its gorgeous painted tiles inside and out, the leg of jamon on the bar being carved to order, the camaraderie and celebration and the great wine and food to make it a party.

As the eve of Christmas cascaded towards sunset, Emily and I headed to her neighborhood park, where sunsets have been known to be spectacular.  A crowd had gathered near the Templo de Debod, serenaded by a street musician playing jazz classics and pop songs interspersed with Christmas tunes on his melodic clarinet.  Beyond him, the exotic Palacio Real glowed in the fading light of the day.

Although the sunset was nothing special, the day and the moment, the laughs and the walk home by the glowing Temple made it a most marvelous day of the year.

Palacio Real, Madrid

Templo de Debod, Arguelles neighborhood, Madrid

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European Yearning

I'm about to embark on a journey to some of the most wonderful places on the planet, but more importantly, I'll be sharing them with my much-missed, much loved daughter Emily.

This plan began percolating when Emily accepted a job as a teacher's aide in Madrid for 9 months.  In September, we shared a last tearful hug at PDX before she boarded a plane and took off on her adventure.

The last time Emily and I were in Spain together was in 2010, with my mom (Nana), at the end of Emily's time as an exchange student in Seville.  The trip was a welcome, wonderful multi-generational adventure that included fabulous food, a camel ride on the volcanic island of Lanzarote in the Canary Islands, coastal Malaga, and a crazy street party on New Year's Eve in Puerta del Sol, Madrid.

Lanzarote, Canary Islands, Home/Museum of Cesar Manrique ~ three generations

This trip begins in Madrid.  On Christmas day we'll board a fast train to Barcelona, known for its astonishingly eccentric architecture, Zarzuela de Mariscos (seafood stew), and the street dance known as the Sardana.  From there it's on to the City of Lights, Paris, for five days of delightful food, glittering boulevards, a wealth of museums and monuments and palaces, and a dazzling New Year's Eve.

Next stop on our grand tour is Siena, Italy, a nice break from the huge cities we'll have come from.  Then - at last - the Cinque Terre, the string of five picturesque towns along the Italian Riviera, linked by ancient hiking trails.  Emily and I have dreamed of hiking the trails together for many years. Now it's within sight!

We'll return, finally, to Madrid for a final week of Spanish exploration and delight.

I'm excited to document these travels and share my experiences, observations and photos with those who'd enjoy hearing about them.  Ciao, for now.

10 Good Reasons to Write More Letters

1. Writing a letter shows that you care enough about the recipient to take a little extra effort: choosing the right stationery, handwriting the message, addressing the envelope, adorning it with an interesting stamp, and transporting it to a mailbox or post office.  All of that "work" vs. turning on your computer, dashing off an email and hitting Send. In a comment I received from Janet Aldrich, she said, "When I was in Peace Corps a few years ago - in the middle of the South African bush, an hour's walk from my post office village, I sent 1,004 pieces of mail and received nearly as many replies."              She added that everyone saved her letters.                                                                                                                                                                                                            
2. In the United States, a colorful history of mail delivery recalls the short-lived Pony Express of 1860, whose horseback riders relayed mail between St. Joseph, Missouri and Sacramento, CA, in just ten days, switching horses every 15 miles of the 1800-mile journey. Even our modern blue-suited postal people seem vaguely heroic, in light of the postal service's unofficial motto inscribed on the James Farley Post Office in New York: "Neither snow, nor rain, nor heat, nor gloom of night stays these courageous couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds."  Note that this quote is credited to the Greek historian Herodotus, who was referring to the mounted couriers of the ancient Persian empire. Nevertheless, it seems appropriate to support this historic profession.
3. Writing a letter is a meditative act that requires introspection and intention. Thinking about what's important or interesting in your life is always a good idea. Trying to put that perspective into words enhances understanding, for both writer and reader.
   
4. Children need good modeling in the area of correspondence, and a sense of joy in writing and receiving letters. Rather than forcing young people to write letters, they could observe their parents and friends engaging in this creative act. Every young person seems born knowing how to operate a *smartypants phone or game controller, but do they know where the stamp and return address go on an envelope? (*thanks to Ramona White for this great phrase)
5. Handwriting a letter is an opportunity to practice your penmanship, or even calligraphy.
6. Creative choices abound for correspondence: handmade paper stationery, art card or picture postcard; writing implements, from quill
   
   and ink to color-changing markers; rubber stamps and stickers to embellish letter and envelope; colorful and interesting postage; even scent and glitter, should you be so inclined.                                                                                 Emoticons can't compare :(
7. A personal letter, handwritten and penned with care, can be a treasured keepsake.   Letters are meant to be read and reread, savored and saved. 
8. As writers, we can all use practice. Letter writing is an opportunity to shine as a writer, in whatever ways you like. Have fun with rhyme, get ultra descriptive, make plays on words, decorate your words with drawings. There are no rules.
9. Writing a letter is a vulnerable act, helping to create possibilities for deep connections between writer and recipient. 
   
10. If you write more letters, you will almost certainly receive more letters, and isn't that fun?