A Winter Day at the Beach

Last weekend, we had gorgeous weather with clear, blue skies and warm temperatures. Thinking it would be nice to take Scully on a walk on the beach, we soon changed our destination from our small, local beach to the wide expanse of sand just over the hill from us. We had yet to visit this beach, but we've taken good looks at it from up on high, while visiting the ancient ruins of the Cuma settlement. A friend who takes her dog there gave us directions, and with Scully full of excitement in the back of the car, we headed out. After a few wrong turns, expected, we found a road we thought could lead to the beach (our directions included "turn down the unmarked, dirt road") and voila. The unmarked dirt road is one car wide, full of ruts, huge pits, water, and has broken, barb wire fencing falling into it, but it does parallel the Cuma hill, which has some really cool caves that are only visible from the beach. This beach is unlike almost all other beaches in the area. There are no "clubs" with parking and fancy structures and beach beds, the beaches are wide with light colored sand rather than volcanic sand, and edging up to the sand is all vegetation, not a human structure in sight. Getting out of the car, I almost doubled over in horror at the smell. Stink is not even the word for it. Horrible, putrid, icky! There is a sewage outlet at this beach, and supposedly, the sewage is treated before it's dumped. But this is Naples. Now I'm not saying the sewage water wasn't treated, but I am saying the place smelled like a public toilet that hasn't been cleaned in a few months...or years. But Scully was just so excited, so we decided to at least let him run on the beach. That is until we actually stepped onto the beach and saw the trash covering it. My picture above doesn't really capture just how much trash was present. Tiny pieces of litter were everywhere in addition to the big stuff, like metal drums, cargo ship sized boat fenders, even a refrigerator. There was so much trash we decided to keep Scully leashed in fear of him cutting up his feet. Between the smell and the trash, we didn't last long. Thankfully, the same friends who gave us directions also recommended a walk in the forest.

Heading back to a turn-off road, we followed a narrow, dirt path that opened onto a small parking lot and a walking trail. We could hear the roar of the sea, but smelled only fresh air while surrounded by trees. Scully even found an old temple to play on (these are the remains of a Temple of Isis, built in the 1st century B.C. and in use until around 400-500 A.D.). We may give that beach another try at a later date, or we may just skip it and head to the lovely walking trail. I love to think about how we're walking the coastline where the first settlers of mainland Italy landed and began creating a new city that, 3000 years late, is part of the densest city in Europe.

Santa's a Witch!

Not really. But he is an old, wrinkly woman who carries a broom and has a hooked nose. Tonight is the night that La Befana visits children and leaves them treats here in Italy. There are several different stories as to her origins. One story is that the wise men got lost while trying to find the Baby Jesus, so they stopped at an old woman's house to ask for directions. She put them up for night, but declined their invitation to come with them due to her household chore list (boy, does that sound familiar!). Befana regretted this decision, so she followed after the Wise Men, giving treats to little children as bribes for them to help her find the Baby Jesus. She still hasn't found Him, so to this day, Befana visits children and gives them treats in search of the Babe (or, she gives each child treats in hope that he/she is the Babe). Another story is that the Befana legend has come down from a pagan goddess of Roman times who gave gifts to celebrate the new year. OR, the ancient Romans visited an old crone at the winter solstice to have their fortunes told, and Befana is the modern day old crone who gives gifts instead of fortunes. And why the broom? Some say she rides her broom through the air, some say she needs the broom to clean up the soot after coming down the chimney, and yet another explanation is that cleanliness is so important to her that upon seeing the Star of Bethlehem in the sky, she set off to find the Baby and help the Mother with her cleaning. As far as her name goes, one theory is based on the Italian word for epiphany - Epifania. Befana is a play on Epifania...maybe. One Italian town even sets up a post office where children can mail letters to Befana (but she lives here in Italy, not in the North Pole). Santa may like milk and cookies, but wine and biscotti are Befana's preferred treats. And by the way, bad little children do indeed get lumps of coal in their stockings from Befana.

A Year in Italy

We've now marked an entire calendar year spent in Italy. While I always feel like there is more and more travel to be done, I realize now that we didn't do such a shabby job. Beyond our travel within Italy, we marked six  countries off our list, with visits to France, Greece, Ireland, Czech Republic, Germany, and Austria. With another full year to go, I'm excited to see where the year will take us. Istanbul is tops on my list, although Nathan has no interest in the city, so that may be a solo trip. Skiing in Austria, a weekend trip to Barcelona, a long weekend in Sardinia, a cruise through the Nordic countries, driving through Croatia - all of these are on our list. Who knows what we'll actually fit into the schedule though. We're resting up after our marathon fall and early winter travels so that we can hit 2012 with renewed vigor.

As far as our actual life here, we've made friends, created a support network, found a home church, secured options for Crazy Dog care, and made friends with our landlords. We've learned that all the bad things people told us about Naples were, in fact, true...but that those things don't define Naples. We've learned to embrace the driving. I wonder how I will adapt to driving in the U.S., a place hampered with stifling rules such as stoplights, stop signs, yield lanes, lane change rules, left turn rules, and so forth. While with most aspects of society, a complete lack of rules can descend into chaos and anarchy, I find that in Naples driving, chaos and anarchy are more compatible with safety on the road. An odd dichotomy. We've learned about living in a house in a country that is falling down around itself. No matter how nice the house, mold will grow. We must turn our caldaia (water heater) off and then back on at least once per day to ensure continued hot water. Our terraces, if left unswept for more than two days, will become a carpet of leaves. Plaster will continue to fall off the walls in our house. At least one thing in our house or on our vehicles will break each and every week. Scully has learned to be an Italian dog, which mainly consists of hanging over our front railing and barking madly at any and all persons who dare to do such activities as walk down a public street. We've learned to appreciate a coffee culture in which the proper coffee, from time of entry to exit of the bar, should take no more than two minutes...but that doesn't mean we don't miss sitting in comfy chairs in an American coffee house, enjoying reading or talking with friends over an hour long coffee session! We've learned the Metro system, our favorite pizzeria, and how to drive the Amalfi Coast without being terrified. We've learned how to get by and even have a somewhat decent conversation in Italian. Our brains are full and tired, but we have another year to absorb and learn and see and do.

And so, we will end 2011 with a bang. With lots of bangs. I don't know if there's a better place on the planet to experience a New Year's Eve. We'll head to a high point by our house tonight to have a 360 degree view of fireworks displays - fireworks will be shot off of balconies, out of personal yards, by town councils in their piazzas, and out on the islands, of which we hope to be able to see all three from our vantage point. We'll look at the fireworks while standing on the edge of a caldera formed hundreds of years ago in a volcanic eruption, and we'll give thanks for 2011 while looking forward to 2012 with optimism. Happy New Year.

Presepe Come to Life

My fascination with the presepi continues. I've made no secret of how much I love these little dioramas of life. They appeal to the miniature lover in me. I like to stand in front of one and take in all the tiny details that are so lovingly crafted and placed. When I heard about a Live Presepe taking place in the the medieval village of Vaccheria, the event went to the top of my "must see" list for local, Christmas activities. Open only a few days during the Christmas season, the town creates a historic presepe over a mile long walk, which is filled with wood huts and people doing their chores like making shoes, cooking polenta over the fire, weaving cloth, baking bread, and so on. Since it is a presepe, there is a nativity scene as well, complete with the shepherd and sheep next door and pipers playing some tunes once a crowd has gathered. I could not believe just how much detail went into the production, and I gained a new appreciation for just how realistic the "normal" presepi are. I thought it would be fun to show you a little photo comparison:

Live Presepe

Live Presepe

Live Presepe

An Italian Christmas Dinner

I hope you all had a lovely Christmas. Our plans changed a bit suddenly when the hostess of our scheduled, Christmas Eve dinner came down with a flu bug. Earlier in the day, our landlady stopped by with our Christmas gifts - homemade wine, homemade limoncello, a huge bag of clementines from her own tree, and a nativity scene made by her granddaughter. As we sat and chatted, she asked after our dinner plans for the evening. When we explained that our dinner plans had been cancelled, she asked us to eat with her family. This sparked off a 20 minute attempted explanation on directions to her house that included me finally calling an Italian speaking friend for translation help. As it happened, he was walking by our house at that moment and was able to speak to our landlady in person. Our instructions were to arrive at 7:30 for dinner at 8pm, so after our own, Christmas Eve church service, we got on the road to Mama Anna's at 7:15. And drove around in circles for the next HOUR! We tried calling and didn't get an answer. We found a house we thought might be correct, they opened their gates for us, we parked our car in their yard...and it was the wrong house. We were not having any Christmas peace in our car. After finally getting ahold of our landlord (Mama Anna's son), we arranged for him to come get us, whereupon we found that we were only a 100 yards from their house. So close, yet so far. The actual way to get to the house did not resemble in the slightest the directions we'd gotten from our landlady.

We chatted with our landlord's teenage daughters for a bit before dinner, then sat down to enjoy the traditional, Christmas Eve dinner of all fish. To start, we had spaghetti vongole (with clams) - delicious! Next was a baked fish, also delicious, accompanied by broccoli and another salad that is very traditional at Christmas here, a mix of vegetables like cauliflower and carrots and olives that are pickled. Then a white fish fried into a huge ball and the capitone (eel). Yep, eel. The only thing I declined. Nathan gave it a try, but did not like it. The eel is alive until one is ready to cook it, and a friend told me that both her landlords and her Italian language instructor told her stories of the eel escaping as they were attempting to kill it over the cooking pot. Just the thought of an eel slithering around my house gives me the heebie jeebies. Dessert consisted of some various pastries, fruit, and strufoli, a dish of little dough balls that are fried and covered in honey and cookie decorations (like those little silver balls).

The entire family was so great at keeping us included in the conversation, and we were able to hold our own for the three hours we were there. We loved the chance to see a typical, family dinner. We ate in what I think is called the Rustico, the family kitchen and living space which is separate from the "real" kitchen and living rooms. The Rustico was on the bottom level and had a kitchen, living room, dining table, and fireplace. Dinner was a normal event, no fancy china or silver or expensive crystal - just a family enjoying spending time together, eating, sitting by the fireplace (and smoking - the entire family from the teenage daughters to the two grandmothers), dancing to videos on the television, and chatting. At one point, our landlord disappeared upstairs and moments later, the most beautiful piano music spilled out. He is phenomenally talented (to my completely ignorant ears) and entertained us with Christmas music for about half an hour. With our Christmas Day evening spent with friends enjoying dessert, apple cider, and hot buttered rum, our Christmas was a special time, and I hope you all had similar, joyous events.

Merry Christmas from Lucrino

We returned home from Germany to find this pretty tree planted in our local piazza. Given the usual, seeming lack of concern for community beautification, my heart lifted at this tree, and I take great joy in it's presence.

Abusivo

The day we flew home from Germany, we arrived on our street to find the top of it crowded with policemen, an ambulance, two moving trucks, and an excavator sitting in the yard of a house up there. After getting our stuff unloaded, we hung about our front terrace watching all sorts of activity. As the afternoon progressed, I observed men removing things like walls and doors and placing them in the trucks. Police were everywhere. A friend reported seeing a paddy wagon up there as well. Combined with the excavator, our first thought had to be: Camorra! A mob boss found living underground on our street. After all, the same thing happened only a week prior. I called my neighbors who have their finger on the pulse of our hamlet's goings on, and her husband found out the answer for us. The house was abusivo - built without permits. Now the house has been there for a decade (or so the story goes), and it was gorgeous. Large, beautiful roof terrace at street level looked out over the sea, while the house built into the hillside had an incredible, tiled, fully complete outdoor kitchen. This house was not some shack thrown up, but more of a seaside villa. Apparently, the police are cracking down on the "abusivos," and have taken the route of tearing them down. I kept asking, throughout the week as I watched the men turn that house into a big pile of rubble, why didn't the government seize the house, bring it to code, and auction it off? Wouldn't that have actually made the government money rather than cost it money? But, abusivo is abusivo, and the answer is to tear them down, thus creating a gaping, dirty hole in a fairly pretty, upscale neighborhood, thereby lowering property values and creating an area that I am quite sure will soon become an unofficial trash dump. In talking with my friend and neighbor, I kept trying to apply reason to the tear down - maybe bringing the house to code would be too difficult, or maybe... - she finally shrugged and said, "This is Italy. It doesn't have to make sense." True that.

Presepe Palooza

One of my goals this year was to spend some time in Centro (downtown) visiting the churches, most of whom haul out huge, beautiful presepi this time of year. I realized that I have mentioned presepi in this blog and posted a few photos, but I've never dedicated an entire post to them. And they are well worth the effort. The Italian, and specifically the Neapolitan, presepe is much like what we would call a creche. However, they go far beyond a simple nativity scene and rather, add to the traditional to depict daily life. Presepi are as varied as their artists. Some are traditional, centered around nativity scenes. Some tuck the nativity into a little "grotto" in the back and put the focus on other figures. And some I saw this year focused on daily life and didn't show the nativity at all. Some have water features, some have flickering "fire," some have electricity. In general, the presepi are displayed only during the Christmas season. However, there are a few places, mostly museums, here in Naples with year round exhibits. Caserta Royal Palace and Museo San Martino come to mind, and I've heard of a display in the Palazzo Real, a place I've yet to visit.

The nativity was actually "invented" in Italy in the time of St. Francis of Assisi in the 1200s. He'd commissioned an artist to make a nativity scene, and they took on a life on their own, sometimes literally. The tradition began in Italy, and in Naples, the artists hit, and kept, their stride in the 1600s. One of THE places to see in downtown Naples is Via San Gregorio Armeno (known as Christmas Alley to the Americans), an itty-bitty, two block alley that's home to a couple of dozen workshops cranking out the pastori, the figures for a presepe. The figures are made of either terra cotta (cheaper) or wood (vastly more expensive), are hand painted, and the larger ones then have glass eyes inserted. Small figures are completely painted, while large ones are clothed in sumptious finery, silks and velvets and embroidery. Scenes are equally varied, from women hanging washing to cooking to families eating around tables and much, much more.

Ironically, while presepi are probably the single most unique art identifiable to Naples proper, they are the one thing we're not allowed to bring back to the United States. Why? Because the structures are always decorated from bark and moss, prohibited by the USDA. I have heard, though, that there is a way to have a presepe certifiably fumigated, and if I win the drawing I entered for one that is larger than my current bathroom (slight exaggeration, but not by much), I will look into that. Otherwise, I may end up the proud owner of a presepe worth thousands and thousands of euros and no way to take it home. Yep, thousands. They are not cheap. To outfit a fairly small creche with just the basic pastori for a normal nativity would run several hundred euros.

On my trip into downtown Naples this year, I lucked into a large exhibit showcasing the work of several artists. Unfortunately, I did not have our good camera, and the pictures taken with my phone are not the greatest. Still, I hope you can get a sense of the uniqueness of the Neapolitan presepe, taking a traditional nativity scene and making it into a diorama of life, showcasing daily living that any one of us could step into and participate rather than just observing from the outside in.

I loved this one, but the details are hard to make out at this size. There is a traditional, tile dome coming off the side of the building, there is a bottle tree holding a bunch of miniature bottles, the man on the upper balcony is standing in front of a decorated bedroom, and what you can't make out no matter how big the photo is a tiny waterfall in the back. Just lovely.

What is Different?

My sister asked me about the differences I've noticed for Christmas in Italy versus Christmas at "home." I thought I'd share a little of my answer here. BUT...it's a difficult answer due to the fact that I really don't feel like I've yet to experience "Christmas in Italy." Last year, I was in the U.S. until December 19 and when I arrived home to the house I'd lived in for approximately 12 days, I jumped right into playing tour guide to our family who visited last year. This meant trips to major tourist sites rather than specific, Christmas activities. And since we were still fairly new to Italy, I was excited to see those tourist sites then, too. Now the long time readers may recall that Nathan's aunt and uncle scored tickets to the Midnight [10:00pm] Mass at the Vatican. I'm not sure it's possible to get more experiential than that. BUT...it still felt touristy. I'm not sure that standing in the cold for hours then trying to beat out aggressive nuns for a seat to watch a mass filled with flash bulbs going off filled that need for a time of reverence. This year, we headed to Germany, where we partook of great amounts of Christmas Festivus, and while I deliberately scheduled our trip to give us two weeks back in Naples, I neglected to factor in trip recovery time.  My week has been filled with home repairs, grocery shopping, online shopping for Christmas, gift wrapping, cleaning, and standing on our terrace watching lots of activity going on up the street (more on that later!). So we got Christmas in Germany, but still no Christmas in Italy.

However, I think the real reason that I haven't felt like I've experienced a "real" Christmas in Naples yet is because it is so very different. I keep thinking of the trappings I'm used to - lights everywhere, huge trees, quaint festivals, carols filling the air, and a two day decorating spree in our own home. On our street here, one family has put up outdoor lights. And those lights consist of one, six foot strand along their terrace railing. That's it. There is no driving around and admiring house after house of beautiful, lighted displays. And along with that, people here have walls around their homes, so there's very little chance to glimpse a tree through a window. Whereas many Americans position their tree in front of a window, that just doesn't seem to be the case here. Festivals in general are different in Italy, at least in the Campania region. They are a bit...smaller...than I'm used to (apple festival flashback, anyone?). I do have a few festivals/markets I plan to attend this week, so I'll be able to get a better feel for the Christmas festivals. Ditto for the carols filling the air.

And finally, our own home - we left the majority of our Christmas decorations back in the U.S. And honestly, what a relief I felt when I could put up our "tree" (a fake tree in a planter that is meant to go on a fireplace mantle or somewhere like that) and do the rest of our decorating in about four hours. While I love decorating for Christmas, and we both love our Dickens Village houses (that take about a day to set up just on their own), there is a great deal to be said for simplicity. In fact, I have found that the simplicity in our house as well as the simplicity of the greater region allows for a better focus on the spirit of Christmas - both celebrating the birth of Christ as well as a focus on quality spending time with our friends. In order for our Christmas packages back to the U.S. to arrive in time, we have to mail them by the end of November, so we avoid all the last minute scramble. Instead of masses of obligatory shopping, days spent decorating, then removing/storing those same decorations after Christmas, and the pressure of where, how, and who with to spend Christmas, we shop year round and mail early, decorate simply and quickly, and will spend Christmas with our closest friends - our only option [but a great one!]. We will not have family here this year, but we will spend a wonderful, Christmas Eve with friends and with the glories of modern technology, we will have a full view of my sister's entire living room on Christmas morning and get to see our niece of nephews enjoy Santa's offerings, thus still enjoying a child's Christmas. So, yes, Christmas in Italy is a huge difference, but not a bad one. When we return to the U.S. for good, I'll love the big, flashy, American Christmas, but I hope I can take with me some of the simplicity I've learned here.

We returned home from Germany to find this adorable tree planted in the piazza nearest our home. Since community beautification is virtually unknown, I love this exception to the norm. And see what a lovely view is behind the tree. There used to be a house there. There was a house there when we left town. Now that's an interesting story! Later...

We're Back

This time, we'll be home for awhile. Some day trips, maybe a short weekend away, but we have no long trips in our immediate future. We have been on such a roll since early August that I'm looking forward to having a solid week that does not involve any unpacking, packing, or trip planning. What on earth will I do with my time? [said sarcastically]. Oh how I long for those early days in Italy, where I had time to actually sit in the Glass House with a book and enjoy the warmth and the view!

I have much to catch up on here. I'll head back to Paris with you, and then on to Germany, where we spent eight days exploring the Christmas Markets throughout Bavaria. We ate wonderful food (hearty meat and potato meals), saw pretty things (but I still don't know the name of those wooden, turny things - the ones where you put four candles in the holders and the candle heat creates an updraft that turns some blades, which then rotates some sort of center scene such as a nativity or some deer in the woods or some angels flying around - anyone?), visited a couple of palaces, and capped off our evenings with a nice cup of gluhwein (hot, mulled wine) in the market. We based in Munich and took day trips to Salzburg, Nuremburg, Augsburg, and Oberammergau, and spent half of our week with a German friend whom we met many years ago. We shopped, ate, toured, and barely escaped from the Krampus, but not without some wounds. Don't know what the Krampus is? Neither did we. I suppose I have a busy week of writing ahead of me.

I found it impossible to go to the top of Notre Dame and not take a gargoyle photo.

Luxuries

I have not yet had a spare moment to even look at our Paris photos, but when I do, you'll be the first to see my favorites! We arrived home on Sunday night to no hot water. This was not a huge surprise since our hot water had been hit or miss for the week before our trip. Our landlord sent someone out on Monday night. That guy said another technician would have to come take a look. On Tuesday night, for the first time ever, I had strange workmen in the house with no landlord/landlady or Nathan around. Thankfully, I had Crazy Dog and his Girlfriend. Scully can bark, but when another dog (especially a girl) is around, he really must show off his strong protector qualities. Fortunately for me, this meant two gentle, sweet, loving dogs turned into snarling beasts, lunging at the glass door opening onto our back patio where the workmen were. It was awesome! I do not discourage this behavior, which is going to be a problem once we return "home." I'll deal with that domani, domani [tomorrow, tomorrow - a favorite Italian saying]. The workmen spent some time hanging about with various faucets running before telling me lots of things in Italian. One of them seemed to be something along the lines of turn on the radiators, wait ten minutes, then take a hot shower. That made no sense, but when I questioned it, I got the same answer. Then the men said they'd come back the following afternoon. Then it was "or on Thursday." I assured them that I am at home all the time (you might think this is an incorrect answer to tell strange men, but it's actually opposite from what one would say in the U.S. - here, it's better for people to know you're at home all the time rather than knowing your house is empty and your belongings just waiting to hop onto the nearest white van with no windows). As the workmen were leaving, one said maybe he'd return on Friday. So at that point, I had a possible repair date of Wednesday, Thursday, or Friday after 1:00 p.m. This was worse than Comcast! [What am I saying...there is no company on earth with worse customer service than Comcast...unless things have changed drastically in my 15 blessed months of not being a Comcast customer.]. Well, it's Wednesday night now, and I've gone four days without a shower. Thankfully, I am an excellent sink bather and cold water seems to be the answer to making my flat, boring hair incredibly bouncy, so I've yet to resort to boiling water on my stove. I'm reminded anew of just how many of our "luxuries" can be taken away without the world crashing in upon itself.

Nathan and I have been married fifteen years, and in that time, we've had the incredible fortune to take some amazing vacations. But my favorite of them all was a canoe/camping trip we took about three years ago to the Boundary Waters, an area of hundreds of lakes on the border between the U.S. and Canada, a place to set off in a canoe with tent, sleeping bag, food, and camp stove, and leave all niceties of civilization behind. It's the only time in my life that I've really felt apart from the world at large...and it was phenomenal. For five days, we rowed and camped with three other friends - just enough companionship to prevent loneliness, just small enough to allow us to enjoy solitude. One day in particular, we explored a small lake near our campsite for the night and came upon a campsite of other people plus two other canoes in the distance - we left that lake because it was "way too crowded." I marveled at the fact that we were in a place with no cell phones, no TV, no radio - anything could be happening in the world at large, but what was important to us was getting our shelter set up each night, finding a spot with a beautiful view and flat, stone-free ground, cooking a simple dinner, enjoying fellowship with our friends, reading a good book before drifting off to sleep. Hanging in our bedroom is a framed photograph of our final campsite of that trip. I open my eyes every single morning to this picture and have a daily reminder of just how beautiful Creation is and how many of the "things" that fill our lives can be so unimportant. As we enter another Christmas season (and on a day when I've just wrapped and packaged Christmas gifts to go back to the U.S., and gotten writer's cramp from filling out all the customs forms), I think it's always important to have a reminder that the material things are just expressions of love - the things don't matter, the people and experiences behind them do.

A Good Thanksgiving

I hope everyone's Turkey Day was filled with good food, good company, and good napping. In our new determination to make the most of every single vacation day, we went on another trip, this time to Paris. We didn't even attempt to seek out a turkey dinner, but we did head to the Hemingway Bar at the Ritz. I'd read an article about the bar's renowned head bartender, and with our love of PX (blogged about here) back in Alexandria, we thought this place sounded right up our alley. We'd already decided to make this our after dinner stop, and while at dinner, we overhead the table of Americans next to us discussing their post-dinner, drinks stop. One person suggested the Ritz, and another replied, "Sure, if we want to spend all our money in one place." We decided that we did, indeed, want to spend all our money in once place and dutifully headed over. Once past the long hallway lined with luxury goods, we tucked into a cozy, wood paneled space with low tables and pictures of Ernest Hemingway on the walls - we felt like we were back in Key West, where we lived for a couple of years. Little did we realize that the Hemingway Bar is THE hangout for Americans in Paris, or at least it seemed like it since American voices rose from most of the tables. And once again, we found proof of how small the world can be. In chatting with the couple next to us, we found that the wife was from Key West. When Nathan mentioned that we moved to Italy from Alexandria, VA, a man from the table behind us came over to chat - turns out, he lives in Del Ray, a charming neighborhood just over a short bridge from our townhouse in Alexandria. As I was talking to him, Nathan met another couple at the bar with some other interesting connection that I have now forgotten. While we thought the highlight of our night would be sipping fancy cocktails at the Ritz, the real highlight was making connections with fellow Americans in a foreign country on our holiday that emphasizes family and friends. And so, while we were far from our own family and friends, we passed a good Thanksgiving, indeed.

Final Fav Fotos

In Prague:

Just a small sampling of the beautiful buildings

Wide pedestrian only streets equals happy tourists

Little Quarter and the Castle above

Old Town Square, vibrant at all hours

 

A Statuesque City

Hope you all had a Happy Turkey Day! Given the business of a holiday weekend, today and tomorrow will just be a few of my favorite photos from our Prague trip. Enjoy!

 

Tick Tock

One final Prague write-up because I never mentioned one of the city's most famous sites: the Town Hall Astronomical Clock. This thing is quite a feat. The clock dates back to the early 1400s and is the oldest one still working in the world. This being medieval times, the clock section shows the earth at the center of the sun and the moon. Oddly to me, the clock is not supposed to tell exact time, but rather, show the orbits of the sun and moon around the earth as well as the sun and moon moving through the signs of the Zodiac. The clock actually indicates time in three different ways, one using a 24 hour clock based on the setting sun, one indicating time as we know it today, and a third showing twelve parts of the visible part of the sky, which is called Babylonian time. The bottom circle is a calendar (this part was added in the 1800s). So all that's sort of interesting, but the best part happens at the top of every hour, when the statues on the side of the clock come to life. The skeleton inverts an hourglass and pulls on a rope. Beautiful wooden sculptures of 11 of the Apostles of Jesus (plus Paul to make 12) pass by and look out the windows, and after they're finished, the clock chimes the hour. For our visit, the chiming clock was followed by a trumpeter at the top of the tower playing a tune on all four sides while dressed in a medieval costume. A fun way to ring in another hour of life.

Seeing Prague

Saturday, we decided to concentrate on the Old Town area in the morning, and walked just about every street. Of the 160 photos we took, more than half of them are pictures of buildings or architectural details of buildings. The city is amazing! Statues hold up balconies, art deco railings abound, rooflines are spires or stepped or have cupolas, some exteriors have frescoes, some have intricate plasterwork. I couldn't get enough of it, and thankfully, Prague does not have dog poop covering the streets, meaning we could walk with our eyes up to our hearts' content. We walked to the edge of the pedestrian zone to a medieval tower, once an entrance to the city, and gazed in awe at the Municipal House next door, an Art Nouveau extravaganza. My favorite was the stained glass awning over the entrance into the lobby, which now houses two restaurants, while the building elsewhere holds exhibition halls, popular for concerts.

For our afternoon, we took a tram ride across the Vltava River to the district above the Castle, then walked down the street enjoying the views of church spires. Making our way to the castle entrance, we walked around the grounds (free), but elected not to tour the buildings, painting gallery, or church. Our feet were aching, and it was time for a break.

Sunday was our day to walk the Jewish Quarter. Prague's Jewish population were essentially walled into their ghetto and experienced a great deal of oppression up until the late 1700s, when some of the more flagrant discriminations were relaxed. Fun Fact: The word ghetto comes from the Italian verb, gettare, which means to throw or to cast. In Venice, Jewish people were forced to live in an area near the copper foundry (il ghetto). The entire Jewish neighborhood became known as a ghetto, and then the word spread in usage to refer to Jewish neighborhoods in other cities. And that's where the word ghetto started...all roads lead back to Italy. But let's head back to Prague - the Jewish Quarter has about six synagogues open for touring and, more interesting to us, the Jewish cemetery, in use from 1478 to 1787. We wanted to see this place in person because the pictures were so amazing. Due to scarcity of land, people were buried 12 deep, with headstones crowding around, but estimates are that over 100,000 are actually buried in this location. The ticket entrance was steep, but after we visited our once actual tourist site for the trip (Museum of Decorative Arts), I headed for a bathroom break and found that the ladies' room overlooks the cemetery. Sweet - I had a great view.

A late lunch in an Irish pub and some relaxing with our Kindles gave our feet time to rest before our next jaunt, back over to the Charles Bridge in search of some street art. I had a picture in my head that I wanted, and while we didn't find it, we got one I like even better. And lots of our own photos as well. We must have spent a good hour goofing around on the Bridge before the cold set in. While in search of a warm pub and some hot wine, we instead found an outdoor cafe using space heaters. Less than 30 degrees outside, and the outdoor cafe was open. After taking a look at their cozy chairs, we had to try it out. Hot Wine and Honey Cake (sooooooo delicious) for me, and for Nathan, a real Budweiser. Another Fun Fact: Two companies from Budweis, Bohemia (now part of Czech Republic) began exporting their Budweiser beer to the U.S. in 1871 and 1875, respectively. Anheuser Busch began selling a Budweiser beer in 1876 and put some sort of copyright or patent on the name. And thus, over a 100 years of legal disputes began. As of now, American Budweiser is sold as "Bud" in the EU, and only the Czech company can use Budweiser. I don't know what name the Czech beer gets in the U.S. But in the U.K., both companies are allowed to use Budweiser. All very complicated, and frankly, annoying. Well, not really for me since I don't care anything about beer, but I am extremely annoyed on behalf of the beer lovers in the world. For all you Budweiser/Bud/Budvar (yet another name used) lovers: Na Zdravi (to your health, which is just a fancy way of saying cheers):

Look At That Building!

My cold is finally waning such that I can do more than stare around the house bleary eyed and sniffling. So...I can start my posts about our trip last weekend, which we spent in gorgeous, beautiful, stunning Prague (location of the INXS video for "Never Tear Us Apart," and a city Nathan's wanted to visit since seeing the video as a teen)! Nathan named this blog post because that's all he heard for three days. We visit many beautiful cities, but Prague is surely the most comprehensively beautiful. Every single street is lined with gorgeous buildings - Renaissance, Baroque, Gothic, Art Deco, all the styles are there in a hodge podge of colors, rooflines, fanciful decorations, and every single building is stunning. Many big cities we visit have pretty architecture, but it might be one or two buildings among five or a few streets of a historic quarter surrounded by a more modern, austere, boring section. I'm sure Prague has that boring, outer section, but the core is huge, and in the 2 square mile section that we walked over and over in our three day visit, we didn't find a single, uninspiring building. The core area consists of five main districts, Castle Quarter, Mala Strana (Little Quarter), then over the Charles Bridge to the Old Town, Jewish Quarter, and "New Town," founded in the early 1300s. My overriding questions that I've yet to research are (1) how did the city escape WWII destruction, and (2) how on earth did the architecture in such a large city survive Communism and the ugly rebuilds so often found, especially considering Prague was home to the largest statue of Stalin in the world (now torn down with a giant metronome put in it's place).

Our favorite Trdelnik stand

We flew up on Friday afternoon, took the very easy public transportation into the Old Town center, and walked the two blocks to our hotel. We stayed at Hotel U Zlateho jelena (Hotel at the Golden Stag - lots of buildings in Prague have names like this, such as House at the Black Madonna, House at the Two Golden Bears, etc. These usually refer to some type of exterior decoration on the building). The hotel had the best location imaginable, only a few buildings down from Old Town Square, a huge...ummm, square...with a food and wine market going on for the weekend - yay for us! Our days were not complete without a little stop at one of the tiny, wooden huts for a cup of hot wine and a Trdelnik. Trdelniks are ingenious - a simple dough is rolled into a rope, then wrapped in a coil around a large metal tube that turns over hot coals. Once it's toasty brown, the Trdelnik maker slides the treat off, rolls it in some cinnamon sugar, and passes it over to the lucky eater. Yummy!

We spent our days and nights just walking around, picking a new section to walk each time, helped along by Prague's complete embracing of the pedestrian zone concept. While probably very annoying for the city residents and shop delivery vans, tourists speak with their money and seem to flock to Prague. I was expecting the city to be somewhat quiet in the winter and was sorely mistaken. The streets were packed, wall to wall people, even with temperatures in the 20s! I cannot even imagine what the city is like in the warmer months! Our first two nights for dinner, we only got tables, in out of the way restaurants no less, by looking respectable and agreeing to eat in under an hour before the folks with actual reservations were due to arrive.

While Prague has a number of museums, historic sites, towers to climb, and a large Jewish section with lots of synagogues open for touring as well, we elected to spend our days walking, walking, walking, just soaking in the city. Upon our Friday evening arrival, we set off to walk the famous, Charles Bridge by night, a must do for any visitor is to walk the bridge through the soaring, 18th century statues that line it's edges as the bridge connects the Old Town with the Castle District. The Wikipedia page for Charles Bridge has a gorgeous photo, so click on the link if you want to see a far better picture than the ones we took!

Here's a quick bit of history for you: A bustling, trading town by the 900s, Prague later enjoyed great success under the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles IV during the Middle Ages, when he selected the city as his Imperial Residence. A number of institutions were founded then, including a large university. Prague was the home of Jan Hus, a preacher who spoke out against the Catholic Church, which led to Hussite wars in the 1400s, then in the 1600s, a Protestant Revolt and 30 Years War led to a decline in the city's fortunes. Another hundred or so years later, Prague experienced a Renaissance and rekindling of civic pride before finally becoming capital of Czechoslovakia, an independent republic, in 1918. Initially a democracy, the country soon became ruled by the Nazi Party, then Communism, until the Velvet Revolution (because no blood was shed) in 1989, and in 1992, the country split into two, Czech Republic (of which Prague is the captial) and Slovakia. And there you have it - 1000 years of history in one, brief paragraph.

But I left out the most interesting tidbit of all, which regards a prince of one of Prague's early ruling families. Christmas is coming, and have you ever given thought to what the carol "Good King Wenceslas" even means? Guess where he was from - Prague! Wenceslas was a prince (also called a duke, depending on which account you're reading) from the 900s who ruled the government from age 18 to approximately 28, at which time he was assassinated by his younger brother. The Holy Roman Emperor posthumously gave him the title of King. Our Christmas Carol today is based on the many legends of his kindness. And that's how a little known man who lived hundreds of years ago and ruled only a small region for a short time, spending most of that time fending off attacks from other kingdoms, is even still immortalized once a year by carolers the world over.

The Good King himself, in front of the National Museum

How to Cure a Sore Throat

The big reveal will take a couple more days because I got sick the day after we returned home. Yuck. Seems to be improving though. My painfully sore throat feels better as the level in the whiskey bottle drops. Now I know why my mom put whiskey in our honey and lemon tea when we were kids (oops, was that out loud?). Whatever, it works. Either the whiskey numbs the throat and makes the pain go away, actually kills the bacteria, or just makes me not care.

Nathan's Pilgrimage

We've had an exciting weekend visiting one of my favorite cities and giving Nathan the chance to see a city he's longed to visit since being a child in the 80s. Here's a hint:

Italy link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_VU9DjQpvMQ&ob=av2e

U.S. link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_VU9DjQpvMQ&ob=av2n 

[Edited on 11/17 so that hopefully, those of you in the U.S. can open]

How to Lose a Grandma

The theme of Ma's trip to Italy must be getting lost. After 17 days with a mix of sitting around reading, visiting local sights, and learning to fry chicken and make apple butter (skills I probably should have learned a couple of decades ago), Ma's departure day arrived. We left my house three and half hours early to make the 30 minute, freeway drive and hit complete gridlock, moving only 2 miles in an HOUR! At the first available opportunity, I took an exit to turn around, and at that point, we had under two hours before departure to take...the long way 'round, eerily reminiscent of our Amalfi Coast attempt. We were able to go 90 miles/hour in an 80 kilometers/hour zone, and with five miles left to go...another gridlock. Nooooooooooo!

We screeched up to the airport one hour before her flight departed, I pretty much threw her luggage onto the sidewalk, and then watched my 84 year old grandmother muscle two, 40 pound suitcases into the terminal. Meanwhile, I drove as fast as possible to the nearest parking, grabbed her carry on suitcase and sprinted into the terminal, only to find my grandmother at the counter, all checked in and smiley, watching her second suitcase disappear on the conveyer belt with nary a mention of extra baggage fees. That was enough stress for awhile, but more was to come.

She had only a one hour layover in Paris, and we'd arranged a wheelchair transfer for the Paris layover. I don't know if that was a blessing or a curse as that's how we lost her. She always knew exactly where she was, which leads to a somewhat existential argument about the word "lost" which hurts my brain. Regardless, we were concerned about her making her flight in Paris. When my aunt called the airline after the Paris flight had departed and found that "there was a problem," and "she's not on the flight," and "we provided her a hotel voucher," there was cause for concern. We had no way of contacting her, no way of knowing if she'd found her hotel, no way of knowing if she'd be able to call, no knowledge of when she'd get on another flight. I wish I knew the name of the hotel where she'd stayed the night because I'd love to give them some publicity! It turns out that upon check-in, when my grandmother asked how she could reach her family in the U.S. because her cell phone didn't have any reception, the hotel turned on the phone in her room and allowed her to make several calls, at no charge, to her sister (who was picking her up at the airport) and my aunt. Air France, meanwhile, took full responsibility for her and escorted her with wheelchairs everywhere, until she was in the baggage area of the Atlanta airport. With flight delays and the like, she'd ended up with 1 hour 15 minutes on the ground in Paris, most of that time spent waiting for her wheelchair transfer. This waiting is what caused her to miss the flight. But from what I've heard from my aunt, Air France was wonderful in taking care of her. Thank you, Air France, although I was already imagining my trip to Paris to search for my lost grandma. But we'll get there soon...stay tuned!