Salerno, a coast town in Southern Italy near Amalfi. We stayed in Salerno for two nights and took a boat to Amalfi for the day.
Thursday, April 07, 2005
This is the coloseum in Rome. The marble seats that are seen only in this small portion of the coloseum used to fill the stadium. But the coloseum was heavily looted after the fall of Rome. Benito Mussolini, back when he was alive and in charge, had the small section of marble put back in the coloseum for historical purposes. We overheard a guide telling this to a group in English and either Neil or Dustin said, "Well, I guess he did one good thing."
This is an ancient Roman foot. The rest of the statue has long been missing and now this foot sits in an alley in Rome where cars and motorcycles park practically on top of it. Only a city as steeped in history as Rome could leave something as old and historic unattended like this. If we had this foot in the U.S. it would surely be in a museum, or protected by glass... or at least there'd be a plaque nearby to let people know, "Hey, there's an ancient Roman foot right here." We learned about the foot from a travel book.
A little town called Monteroso in Cinque Terre or, the five lands. Five little towns are connected by hiking trails along the northern Italian coast. Pesto was invented in this region and we ate what was probably our best meal here at a restaurant called Miky. This view is from our apartment. After learning that all of the hotels in town were booked the night we arrived, we went to the train station where the woman at the info desk called someone (her parents?) and arranged for us to rent a top-floor guest apartment with two bedrooms and a rooftop deck for only $25 euro each. It was a very lucky night.
Dustin and me with our empty Bicerin glasses in front of us...From the cafe's website: "It's a place where the art of tasting has made its mark in history."
This is a famous coffee shop where they serve a drink called the Bicerin which is coffee, bittersweet chocolate and heavy cream and tastes AMAZING. The cafe has been open since 1763 and many famous intelectuals and artists used to frequent it including Cavour, Alexandre Dumas, Nietzsche and Giacomo Puccini.
On Friday, we took a tram up to the top of a hill in Torino where we saw this church. Italy's champion soccer team flew into the back of the church and the whole team died (I think this was in the 80s) so behind the church they have a memorial to the team. On a clear day, we would have seen Torino and the Alps from the hill, but on this day, we saw lots of clouds.
Neil and I haven't slept yet. We left on Wednesday and arrived on Thursday morning. It's Thursday afternoon right now and we're on top of the Torino film museum looking out on foggy Torino. The museum is in a building originally designed to be a Jewish synagogue. Apparently, they ran out of money and it was empty for many years, but now it's an incredible film museum.
Tuesday, April 05, 2005
Ciao!
While traveling in Italy, I read a rather remarkable book called Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. One of the entries in the book said that people aren't interested in hearing about my vacation and another one (I believe it was a different entry) said that people don't like to look at vacation pictures either. When I read this, I had been taking copious notes for my blog for several days already...but after thinking about it for a while, I realized that Amy Krouse Rosenthal might, indeed, be on to something. And so, because I gleaned that bit of insight from the book I read on vacation, I am going to try to relate a condensed version of my trip without boring anyone to death.
Day 1: We woke up way to early and stumbled our way out of bed to the airport and onto a plane to Chicago where we had a five-hour layover. Instead of rotting in O'Hare for five hours, Neil and I jumped on the El and headed into the Loop to meet Christine for lunch at Flat Top (all time favorite Chicago restaurant). On the El with my backpack, I felt like I was in college all over again heading back to Evanston after a (window) shopping trip at the Watertower. I could feel the rhythmic rattle of the train trying to lure me into that too-comfortable train sleep and I got a bit lost in the joy of the long lost familiarity of a city once lived in.
At one of the stops a middle-aged Asian man in a nice-looking felt pea coat got on and sat near us. He looked like a business man of some type and he had a strange little backpack with him that didn't go with the rest of his clothing and accessories. On the shiny vinyl backpack was a large rubber oval that said "ADVENTURE" on it in bright yellow all-caps italics. I thought about how companies/advertisers use these words that impact our emotions and I wondered if the man on the El bought the bag in hopes of becoming more adventurous, or if he just got it because it was cheap and he hadn't thought twice about the odd logo. I realize I was judging him on his looks on one particular Wednesday morning, but to me, he didn't look incredibly adventurous. He would have been better-suited to be carrying a nice leather briefcase, not the strangely cheesy ADVENTURE backpack.
When we got off the El, Christine was waiting to drive us to lunch where I got to eat some veggies and noodles with my favorite spicy lime basil sauce and we got to talk to Christine and catch up a bit. We probably could have talked for several more hours and still not done all of the catching up old friends can do after years of absence, but our flight to Brussels was waiting and Christine had a business meeting so we got back on the El and headed to O'Hare.
To be continued...
While traveling in Italy, I read a rather remarkable book called Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life. One of the entries in the book said that people aren't interested in hearing about my vacation and another one (I believe it was a different entry) said that people don't like to look at vacation pictures either. When I read this, I had been taking copious notes for my blog for several days already...but after thinking about it for a while, I realized that Amy Krouse Rosenthal might, indeed, be on to something. And so, because I gleaned that bit of insight from the book I read on vacation, I am going to try to relate a condensed version of my trip without boring anyone to death.
Day 1: We woke up way to early and stumbled our way out of bed to the airport and onto a plane to Chicago where we had a five-hour layover. Instead of rotting in O'Hare for five hours, Neil and I jumped on the El and headed into the Loop to meet Christine for lunch at Flat Top (all time favorite Chicago restaurant). On the El with my backpack, I felt like I was in college all over again heading back to Evanston after a (window) shopping trip at the Watertower. I could feel the rhythmic rattle of the train trying to lure me into that too-comfortable train sleep and I got a bit lost in the joy of the long lost familiarity of a city once lived in.
At one of the stops a middle-aged Asian man in a nice-looking felt pea coat got on and sat near us. He looked like a business man of some type and he had a strange little backpack with him that didn't go with the rest of his clothing and accessories. On the shiny vinyl backpack was a large rubber oval that said "ADVENTURE" on it in bright yellow all-caps italics. I thought about how companies/advertisers use these words that impact our emotions and I wondered if the man on the El bought the bag in hopes of becoming more adventurous, or if he just got it because it was cheap and he hadn't thought twice about the odd logo. I realize I was judging him on his looks on one particular Wednesday morning, but to me, he didn't look incredibly adventurous. He would have been better-suited to be carrying a nice leather briefcase, not the strangely cheesy ADVENTURE backpack.
When we got off the El, Christine was waiting to drive us to lunch where I got to eat some veggies and noodles with my favorite spicy lime basil sauce and we got to talk to Christine and catch up a bit. We probably could have talked for several more hours and still not done all of the catching up old friends can do after years of absence, but our flight to Brussels was waiting and Christine had a business meeting so we got back on the El and headed to O'Hare.
To be continued...
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Bon Voyage
The day has arrived. Tomorrow morning, Neil and I are taking our yet-to-be-packed suitcases to the airport and heading to Italy. I do not feel at all ready for this grand adventure, but I'm excited nonetheless. I am sure that tonight, when I go to sleep, I will know that I'm prepared. But right now, I have an empty suitcase and no clue what clothes to bring or even what to wear on the airplane.
I'm so excited about visiting my long lost brother. And I'm thrilled to finally act on some of my wanderlust. Expect photos and thrilling posts upon my return at the beginning of April. But until then, unless I unexpectedly find myself in front of a computer in Italy, I will be a little bit quiet. Have a great couple of weeks!
The day has arrived. Tomorrow morning, Neil and I are taking our yet-to-be-packed suitcases to the airport and heading to Italy. I do not feel at all ready for this grand adventure, but I'm excited nonetheless. I am sure that tonight, when I go to sleep, I will know that I'm prepared. But right now, I have an empty suitcase and no clue what clothes to bring or even what to wear on the airplane.
I'm so excited about visiting my long lost brother. And I'm thrilled to finally act on some of my wanderlust. Expect photos and thrilling posts upon my return at the beginning of April. But until then, unless I unexpectedly find myself in front of a computer in Italy, I will be a little bit quiet. Have a great couple of weeks!
Monday, March 21, 2005
Sick is Scary
Yesterday, Neil got sick. It started shortly after a trip to our bagel shop for lunch. He was nauseous and his whole body felt weak. We thought it was brought on by the fumes from cleaning stuff we were using to clean the bathroom at the time, but he kept feeling ill for the rest of the day. We went to sleep at 11 and he tossed and turned and at 2 he woke up and went into the kitchen where he got dizzy and light-headed and then puked. The point of this is not to describe Neil's illness as much as it is to point out that I was terrified by it. Neil is never sick, so I am sure that was part of it, but I also just got worried.
"What if he doesn't get better," I wondered. "What if he has a really bad kind of poisoning?"
When I'm sick, I don't think those thoughts about myself. I just think, "Must get better, must get better." It's that caring about someone else thing that got me last night. I wasn't sick, so I had enough time to worry about Neil.
We're pretty sure he got sick from the lox on the bagel... and luckily, he is feeling better (but not all better) today. When we woke up this morning and he was the right color again, I felt a huge wave of relief. It felt so good, that I didn't mind all the worry from the night before. I love being in love with someone so much that it feels wonderful when a worry about their well-being fades away. Not sure if I'm making a whole lot of sense here -- it's been a long day.
Yesterday, Neil got sick. It started shortly after a trip to our bagel shop for lunch. He was nauseous and his whole body felt weak. We thought it was brought on by the fumes from cleaning stuff we were using to clean the bathroom at the time, but he kept feeling ill for the rest of the day. We went to sleep at 11 and he tossed and turned and at 2 he woke up and went into the kitchen where he got dizzy and light-headed and then puked. The point of this is not to describe Neil's illness as much as it is to point out that I was terrified by it. Neil is never sick, so I am sure that was part of it, but I also just got worried.
"What if he doesn't get better," I wondered. "What if he has a really bad kind of poisoning?"
When I'm sick, I don't think those thoughts about myself. I just think, "Must get better, must get better." It's that caring about someone else thing that got me last night. I wasn't sick, so I had enough time to worry about Neil.
We're pretty sure he got sick from the lox on the bagel... and luckily, he is feeling better (but not all better) today. When we woke up this morning and he was the right color again, I felt a huge wave of relief. It felt so good, that I didn't mind all the worry from the night before. I love being in love with someone so much that it feels wonderful when a worry about their well-being fades away. Not sure if I'm making a whole lot of sense here -- it's been a long day.
Friday, March 18, 2005
The Rudest Guy Ever
Tonight, like many other nights, Neil and I went to the gym after work. We both hopped on elliptical machines and started moving. I listened to my iPod and Neil was tuned into one of the televisions. Suddenly, even though my volume was up 2/3 of the way, I heard a very loud sound. It took a moment, but I tracked the noise to a man two machines over who was, I discovered, holding a cell phone to his ear and shouting into it.
"Tell me about your life, man!" he hollered. "I want to hear what's up with you!"
These were not statements that needed to be shouted, but they were being shouted nonetheless.
Right behind this fine specimen of a human was a sign that said something like, "Don't use your cell phone." (The sign was a bit more polite.)
At first, I thought that he might just be talking very briefly. I reasoned that I might take a really important call at the gym and set up a time for a later call back. I expected that, at any moment, my fellow gym member would say (a bit more softly), "Well, I'm at the gym so I've got to go, man." But the minutes ticked by and we were subjected to his shouting.
Cell phone man looked like a nice enough guy. He had dark hair that was a little spiky in front and those thick plastic glasses that have become increasingly cool among the 30-something set. He was wearing a normal white t-shirt and some striped workout pants. He had three days worth of stubble on his face, but it made him look rugged, like the kind of man you might meet at the mountain bike shop or the ski area. But his shoes were another story. He had white Nikes with a black swoosh and a big orange stripe that went right through the swoosh and looked spray painted on the shoe. I wondered if they were from an outlet or something and had to be marked with orange paint because he didn't pay full price? Or maybe these spray-painted shoes are cool now? I have no idea. He also had a very dated Sony armband walkman strapped to his left arm. There have been at least three generations of portable music players since that thing was made, so you know he's not the hippest guy around.
As the man continued to shout into his phone for 5...6...10 minutes, my dislike for him grew. I became a less mature version of myself as I turned to Neil and made an obnoxious gagging sign which I knew full well that Cell Phone Man could have seen reflected in the dark window in front of us if he weren't so self absorbed. Neil did an exaggerated thumbs down gesture and the two of us kept looking at Cell Phone Man and rolling our eyes.
Why I let Cell Phone Man bring out the worst in me, I'm not sure. It was just amazing to me that he somehow thought it was ok to have a 15 minute conversation on the precor at the gym while at least ten other people were in the room with him. It was even more amazing that he was able to shout that loud for that long while working out. The other day I was wondering what little annoyances I have coping strategies for. I suppose that when I am really annoyed by an inappropriate cell phone talker, I gag, roll my eyes and act like an adolescent. (all behaviors that are much cooler than shouting into your phone at the gym.)
Tonight, like many other nights, Neil and I went to the gym after work. We both hopped on elliptical machines and started moving. I listened to my iPod and Neil was tuned into one of the televisions. Suddenly, even though my volume was up 2/3 of the way, I heard a very loud sound. It took a moment, but I tracked the noise to a man two machines over who was, I discovered, holding a cell phone to his ear and shouting into it.
"Tell me about your life, man!" he hollered. "I want to hear what's up with you!"
These were not statements that needed to be shouted, but they were being shouted nonetheless.
Right behind this fine specimen of a human was a sign that said something like, "Don't use your cell phone." (The sign was a bit more polite.)
At first, I thought that he might just be talking very briefly. I reasoned that I might take a really important call at the gym and set up a time for a later call back. I expected that, at any moment, my fellow gym member would say (a bit more softly), "Well, I'm at the gym so I've got to go, man." But the minutes ticked by and we were subjected to his shouting.
Cell phone man looked like a nice enough guy. He had dark hair that was a little spiky in front and those thick plastic glasses that have become increasingly cool among the 30-something set. He was wearing a normal white t-shirt and some striped workout pants. He had three days worth of stubble on his face, but it made him look rugged, like the kind of man you might meet at the mountain bike shop or the ski area. But his shoes were another story. He had white Nikes with a black swoosh and a big orange stripe that went right through the swoosh and looked spray painted on the shoe. I wondered if they were from an outlet or something and had to be marked with orange paint because he didn't pay full price? Or maybe these spray-painted shoes are cool now? I have no idea. He also had a very dated Sony armband walkman strapped to his left arm. There have been at least three generations of portable music players since that thing was made, so you know he's not the hippest guy around.
As the man continued to shout into his phone for 5...6...10 minutes, my dislike for him grew. I became a less mature version of myself as I turned to Neil and made an obnoxious gagging sign which I knew full well that Cell Phone Man could have seen reflected in the dark window in front of us if he weren't so self absorbed. Neil did an exaggerated thumbs down gesture and the two of us kept looking at Cell Phone Man and rolling our eyes.
Why I let Cell Phone Man bring out the worst in me, I'm not sure. It was just amazing to me that he somehow thought it was ok to have a 15 minute conversation on the precor at the gym while at least ten other people were in the room with him. It was even more amazing that he was able to shout that loud for that long while working out. The other day I was wondering what little annoyances I have coping strategies for. I suppose that when I am really annoyed by an inappropriate cell phone talker, I gag, roll my eyes and act like an adolescent. (all behaviors that are much cooler than shouting into your phone at the gym.)
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Great Minds
The other day I told someone about moving to Washington D.C. next November and whoever it was said, "There are a lot of great minds in Washington D.C." And now I have this image in my head of a bunch of wise brains sitting around in cigar bars without their bodies. I realize this is completely bizarre, but that's the image I have. Instead of thinking of something obvious like the Washington Monument, or the Capitol building, I think of brains smoking cigars. Lovely. I wish I could remember who said that to me so I could properly thank them.
Letters
Last night I wrote six letters. Not e-mails, but handwritten letters. This is something I used to do all the time, but now I am out of practice. It seems that if I am not in front of a keyboard, I have trouble composing sentences. The pen in the hand just doesn't do it for me like it used to. I probably have about 20 journals that I wrote between 4th grate and the end of high school, but when I got to college, the writing by hand dropped off and I poured my heart out in e-mails to friends. Now, I have this blog and e-mails and everything I write for work is typed. I love technology, but it is a little bit sad that it's robbed me of the simplicity of pen and paper. I'm going to try to write letters more often in the hopes that I will be able to get that skill back.
Basketball
I am not the world's biggest sports fan. I like sports. Basketball is one of the few that I can actually watch on TV, but ask me to name teams and players and forget it. Since March Madness is beginning, I have been sucked into participating in two bracket competitions. One is for some money and I had to pay $10 to be a part of it, the other is at work and administered by my boss who plans to give the winner a day off! I love money, but I'm really hoping to win the day off. Perhaps my complete lack of statistical knowledge or season history will help me?
I wonder how many people across the country participate in this kind of gambling.
Taxes
Based on the results of this year's taxes, I should become a republican. (But don't worry, I'd have to be completely insane to do that.) Today, I feel like a grownup because I'm totally bummed about money. The biggest benefit of childhood is blissful ignorance about money in particular.
The other day I told someone about moving to Washington D.C. next November and whoever it was said, "There are a lot of great minds in Washington D.C." And now I have this image in my head of a bunch of wise brains sitting around in cigar bars without their bodies. I realize this is completely bizarre, but that's the image I have. Instead of thinking of something obvious like the Washington Monument, or the Capitol building, I think of brains smoking cigars. Lovely. I wish I could remember who said that to me so I could properly thank them.
Letters
Last night I wrote six letters. Not e-mails, but handwritten letters. This is something I used to do all the time, but now I am out of practice. It seems that if I am not in front of a keyboard, I have trouble composing sentences. The pen in the hand just doesn't do it for me like it used to. I probably have about 20 journals that I wrote between 4th grate and the end of high school, but when I got to college, the writing by hand dropped off and I poured my heart out in e-mails to friends. Now, I have this blog and e-mails and everything I write for work is typed. I love technology, but it is a little bit sad that it's robbed me of the simplicity of pen and paper. I'm going to try to write letters more often in the hopes that I will be able to get that skill back.
Basketball
I am not the world's biggest sports fan. I like sports. Basketball is one of the few that I can actually watch on TV, but ask me to name teams and players and forget it. Since March Madness is beginning, I have been sucked into participating in two bracket competitions. One is for some money and I had to pay $10 to be a part of it, the other is at work and administered by my boss who plans to give the winner a day off! I love money, but I'm really hoping to win the day off. Perhaps my complete lack of statistical knowledge or season history will help me?
I wonder how many people across the country participate in this kind of gambling.
Taxes
Based on the results of this year's taxes, I should become a republican. (But don't worry, I'd have to be completely insane to do that.) Today, I feel like a grownup because I'm totally bummed about money. The biggest benefit of childhood is blissful ignorance about money in particular.
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