17 Maggio 2007

After just a few days back in Sardegna after our trip to Napoli, we set off for the Datca peninsula of Turkey for a week-long sailing expedition followed by a few days in Istanbul. As I had been longing to go to Turkey for many years, fascinated by the human history in that part of the world, this was a very exciting opportunity. We started off with a night in Bodrum, a tourist port about an hour’s flight south of Istanbul, where we saw row upon row of Turkish gulets, the beautiful wooden daytrip boats, set in the harbor next to the Castle of St. Peter, built by the Knights of St. John in the 1400’s apparently using pieces of marble from one of the seven wonders of the ancient world, the 4th c. B.C. tomb built for King Mausalus by his sister and wife, Artemesia. Initially, we were concerned about our complete lack of comprehension of the Turkish language, but our fears were quickly assuaged by the amount of English that we heard spoken, primarily by restaurateurs trying to draw us into the clutches of their establishment before the next heckler had his chance. It was a bit overwhelming, but we eventually settled on a place right on the beach where we had a lovely dinner and watched the ubiquitous Turkish flags flapping in the evening breeze. We decided that it must be a governmental mandate that every boat, business, and flagpole bear a Turkish flag.

The next morning, we caught a ferry to the Greek Island of Kos, where we were scheduled to meet our sailboat. It seems obvious, but somehow it surprised me to be surrounded by not only an unfamiliar language, but unfamiliar letters as well, although I was able to recall a bit from my high school days as a Classics nerd. We took in a bit of Kos including Hippocrates’ plane tree and an amazingly preserved Roman village that wasn’t marked with a even a single sign. There were intact paintings on the walls, beautiful mosaic floors, and dramatic arches of what appeared to have been a bathhouse. It is amazing to find such ancient treasures quietly existing nearly everywhere we have been in Europe. From here, we began our journey with Seascapes on the Vassilis, with Captain Simon at the helm and a crew of four other passengers. Our sister boat, the Anna Maria, had just come in from a week in the Greek Islands and would be joining the Vassilis for the week in Turkey. After getting to know our fellow shipmates over dinner, we spent our first night on the boat getting used to the small quarters and to bumping various limbs into bulkheads and other hard parts of the boat. The next morning, we were off to Turkey, floating over tranquil seas with nary a breeze to justify raising our sails. As we entered into Turkish waters, we lowered our Greek standard and raised the Turkish one, as the two countries don’t have the friendliest of histories with each other. The landscape has an animal-like quality with undulating brown, rocky hillsides punctuated by clusters of white stucco houses plunging down into deep blue Aegean waters.

Our first anchorage was in the small village of Ova Buku, where we enjoyed a lovely walk up the road to the next “town” over before dinner at Ogun’s Place, one of a few seaside tavernas tucked in the cove. The spread of mezzes, or small plates, was wonderful with hummus, sweet chili spread, Coban salatasi (shepherd’s salad) with mint and parsley, and seasoned meatballs which were amusing called lady’s legs. Then, we were all called into the kitchen where we got to choose our main dishes and, though I was already quite full, I managed to still have room for some moussaka. The tavernas here are reminiscent of the beachside places on the Baja peninsula in Mexico with thatched palm roofs overhanging tiled patios surrounded by dangling vines of bougainvillea. We had a beautiful hike the next morning up the ridge overlooking the bay, followed by a quick plunge to cool off before heading off to the next port. It was another warm, still day filled with much reading on the deck and cool drinks in the sun while sadly the sails stayed furled.

Datca, our second anchorage, was a more developed town with many boats in its harbor and a bustling carpet trade on the main street. It was also a longed-for destination for several of the Anna Maria crew who had been anticipating a Turkish bath at the local hamam after spending over a week developing a good salt crust. We contented ourselves with a hot afternoon spent on the beach sprawled out next to a group of women having a picnic, clad in headscarves and long skirts, wondering what they thought of the tourists sunbathing in their bikinis. The hours were punctuated by periodic calls to prayer broadcast from the loudspeakers of the mosque minarets. Turkey is a strange mix of western style and Islamic tradition where calls to prayer often seem all but ignored and Turkish women in short skirts walk along the same streets as those fully covered. Once the heat subsided, we went for a long walk through town along the waterfront and then back through the residential area of town, which contained a curious mixture of apartment buildings interspersed with farm animals such as cows, chickens and goats. With our Turkish phrasebook in tow, we practiced "teshekelur ederem," or thank you, after browsing the local honeys and spices at a few of Datca’s shops, and then returned for evening cocktails on the Vassilis. We had a wonderful mix of personalities aboard with a couple from Seattle, for whom this was the second Seascapes expedition, and their brother-in-law and his son, and Simon, our trusty skipper who always had a curious sailing fact or puzzle to amuse the group. The next morning, we had a guided tour of the old part of Datca, a strangely reconstructed maze of winding cobblestone streets and timbered houses, the style of which was mandated by the Turkish government in order to preserve the heritage of the original town. The cost of our trip was the requirement that we sit through a carpet demonstration put on at the shop of our tour guide, where we were dazzled by whirling carpets spun out onto display by barefoot men touting the number of thousands of knots per inch and the quality of the all natural dyes used to create these kaleidoscopic and colorful designs – all while sipping Turkish cay (tea) out of the traditional hourglass shaped glass tea cups. Somehow, we all returned to the port carpet-free, and in time to prepare for our departure.

The next spot was one of our favorites from the trip – a small cove called Dircek, where there was one other boat and only a single taverna. While the day started out very calm and hot, the breeze picked up in the afternoon and we were finally able to sail. We attributed our good luck to the morning’s consumption of the last banana left in the galley, having heard that bananas brought bad sailing luck. The magic of the quiet movement of the boat through the water was further heightened by the appearance of a pod of dolphins off the bow, zipping along so closely that we could actually hear their whistles underwater. The crew was in great spirits snapping away photographs and wondering at our crisp white sails finally hoisted and full of wind. The cove that we tucked into was barely visible from the water as its entrance was quite narrow but, upon entrance, we were greeted by lovely steep green hills dotted with trotting goats enclosing a perfectly tranquil bay with crystal clear inviting waters. Of course, we had to test out both the waters and our goat-footedness by hiking up the ridge followed by a pre-dinner plunge. The taverna was a simple, family-run restaurant, but served fresh tzaziki, mucver (zucchini fritters), more of our new favorite chili paste, and grilled Cipura (sea bream), a local fish we had seen on our swim. It was a deliciously quiet evening perfect for a good night’s sleep.

The next morning started off cooler than most such that we especially enjoyed the warmth of our morning coffee on deck before getting underway. Once out of the safety of the cove, we discovered a light breeze which carried us most of the way to Bozburun, our next port of call, where Chad was eagerly awaiting a much-touted Turkish shave and had saved up a bit of stubble in preparation. Bozburun was a small port town known for the construction of gulets, the dayboats we had seen in Bodrum. On our walk through town, we saw several frames of boats-to-be atop wooden cradles surrounded by fields with cows and goats. The gleaming varnished hulls of the completed boats, ready to head out to the tourist ports, lined the waterfront. This was all viewed along the path to the aforementioned Turkish shave which was, indeed, quite an experience, or at least for me to watch, and the final product was definitely worth more than 5 YTL (Turkish Lira).
In the evening, following another tasty taverna dinner, the Vassilis crew retired to the boat for a vicious game of Scrabble which began with the two of us playing each other and progressed to include the other crew members taking one side or the other to the end result of a winning 83 point word using all seven letters (much to Chad’s chagrin).

The sailing continued to be good on the following day and, as we didn’t have a lot of distance to cover, we were able to follow the wind a bit and also to stop along the way to see the ruins of a Roman villa of sorts that Simon remembered from voyages past. We quickly discovered that the goats had taken up residence in one of the still-standing smaller structures and got a bit of a scare upon peering in. Walking up the hillside, we discovered wild thyme and sage that sweetened the breeze a bit against the scent of the goats. It was hard to tell what we were looking at, but it was another amazing example of ruins likely over 1000 years old completely unlabeled much like those we saw in Kos. Eric and Paul cooked up a fantastic hot lunch of sausages and Babs made potato salad, all of which we feasted upon in the sun while anchored in the cove and which exacerbated the slow pace of our afternoon. Eventually, we made our way to Sailor’s Paradise, a cove similar to Dircek in its hidden position and tranquility. The taverna there had beautiful gardens out back filled with flowers and vegetables, many of which we enjoyed with our dinner that night. Spurred by last night’s festive game playing, in the evening we played Pictionary down in the galley accompanied by a bit of the local coffee-anise flavored after dinner drink.

Sadly, we came to our last day of sailing, as we had to return to Datca in order to get various people on ferries and flights home. But, we had our best sailing yet, reaching a record 5.18 knots, which I proudly announced while at the helm. We took another side trip, as we were in no hurry to return to Datca, to see an old church or monastery perched on hillside and guarded by a large donkey. There was a beautiful mosaic floor made of smooth black and white beach stones arranged in star patterns and pictures of animals and a tree in front of the doorway to the small building that was covered in pieces of paper and ribbon tied to its branches something like prayer flags. We guessed that maybe it was originally Islamic, given the animal designs in the mosaic but, again, there were no official clues to its history. Inspired by yesterday’s lunch and, shockingly missing pasta, I made a sort of Mediterranean pasta salad which we ate on the deck with glasses of wine in disbelief at how beautiful our surroundings were and how lucky we were to be there. Datca was, once again, very hot and, after wandering around a bit in the evening, we sought refuge at a tea garden along the water where Chad sampled ayran (a local yogurt drink) and I had a quite strong Turkish coffee. For our final dinner, the Vassilis crew decided to head off on our own to a restaurant in town that a friendly English-speaking shopkeeper had recommended to us. We had fantastic moussaka, corba (garlic soup), and farmer’s salad, among other things, for a grand total of 50 YTL for seven people, leaving us plenty to buy a box of deliciously sticky baklava to pass around from the bakery down the street. It was a great final night.

The last few days of our trip were in Istanbul, having taken a ferry back to Bodrum and then a short flight from there. Istanbul was a much larger city than we’d anticipated with nearly 15 million people in the city sprawling across the Bosporus from the European to the Asian continent. We stayed in the Sultanahmet neighborhood, the heart of the old city, which was still surrounded by amazingly intact tall stone walls. Our first adventure was trying to get dinner down at the fish market along the waterfront, which we had noticed on our way in from the airport. Innocently thinking that we could stroll along looking at the various seafood and then stop at a restaurant of our choosing, we were instead immediately assaulted by, “Hey lady, want to see my fish,” and “Where are you from? You come eat at my restaurant – best one in town. I give you my word,” followed by “where are you going, my friend. Just one minute – come and have a look inside. I give you free desert.” Finally worn down by the hecklers, we escaped inside the last restaurant in the row and managed to have a wonderful dinner of seafood antipasti, fearing the cost and the cleanliness of the whole fish that may have come from the Bosporus, whose waters were clogged with innumerable tanker ships. Indeed, the waiter did bring out bananas and strawberries drizzled with honey and chopped nuts – the promised freedesert.

While in Istanbul, we braved the Kapali Carsi, the largest covered bazaar in the world with over 4000 shops, where you can buy everything from carpets to genie lamps, but where you must be prepared to bargain. We were relieved to find that the heckling here was nothing compared to last night’s dinner experience and, once we got into the swing of bargaining, we managed to purchase a few things for just about half the asking price by using the new-found power of just saying “no” and walking away. The spice market, scattered outdoors, contained stall after stall of all varieties of the taffy-like Turkish delight as well as perfectly sculpted mounds of spices of every color and texture. And, a third market was known for its live pets for sale, which included leeches squirming around in large glass jars. Visible from the roof-deck of our hotel and only a short walk away, was the famous Blue Mosque, which was, at the time of its construction in 1609, controversial because its six minarets were said to rival those at Mecca. I made use of my newly purchased scarf to cover my head upon entrance and my too-short skirt was deftly covered by a large blue sheet provided by the man guarding the door. Walking around barefoot and cloaked, I got a small taste of what it would be like to be a young Islamic woman living in Turkey. Inside the mosque, the tilework lining the domes was amazing and was brightened by light coming through colorful stain glass windows and filtering onto the carpeted floors. A group of men were in prayer, repeatedly standing up and kneeling down, facing to the east, reminding us that this is still a place of worship. This was in contrast to the Aya Sofya, which was originally built in 360 AD as a Christian church in the time of Constantine, was then converted into a mosque by the Ottomans and, most recently, into a public museum. The mosaics there were the most striking we saw with the careful coloration and patterning of the tiny tiles lending very expressive looks to the people portrayed. The Arabic writing on the walls contrasted with the figures of Virgin and Child above the altar. We also visited the Suleymaniye mosque in the large complex overlooking the old city on one of the original seven hills of Constantinople, modeled after those of Rome, no doubt, and built by renown Ottoman architect Mimar Sinan in 1550. On a recommendation from friends, we went to the Yerebatan Sarayi, an underground cistern built by Emperor Justinian to collect water from the Belgrade Forest brought in by aqueducts. It had been very well restored following the removal of 50,000 tons of mud to expose the many columns filling its dimly-lit caverns. There were even fish in the shallow pool beneath our feet and water eerily dripping from above.

During our wanderings around town, we had passed a movie theater and noticed that Orumcek Adam 3, or Spiderman 3, was playing, and decided to take advantage. It may seem a bit strange to see a movie while in Istanbul for only three days, but, living in Sardegna, we are a bit short on opportunities or, at least, those in a language we can understand. The wonderful thing about movies in Turkey is that they are in English with Turkish subtitles and, even better, they have an intermission during the movie for an often badly needed shot of caffeine. It also provided a welcome rest from all of the walking we had done around the city.

Curious to see what the newer part of Istanbul was like, the next day we ventured across the Golden Horn to see Beyoglu. It was much like any large European city in feel and was a bit of a disappointment after being among the twisting narrow streets of the Sultanahmet. While walking down the main street, we noticed large phalanxes of police in riot gear surrounding a public square, but with no real crowd in site. Later, we heard that there had been a protest, much like those the day before in Izmir, of people against the current government’s religious leanings and in favor of a more secular state. Turkey has such an interesting history from Constantine to the Ottomans to Ataturk and now the present situation of trying to gain entrance into the European Union.

That night, we reconvened with the Vassilis crew minus Simon, as they had all stayed in the Istanbul as well. We had a wonderful dinner at the Mosaik Café where we sampled manti, the East Anatolian version of meat-filled ravioli in a spicy pepper-yogurt sauce, and delicious lamb cooked in clay pot. After dinner, we enjoyed a bottle of wine and more baklava on the roofdeck of our hotel, before finally saying goodbye. We were very lucky to be with such a good group of people for our trip.

Our final site on our final day was the Topkapi Palace, home to Sultans from the 14th century through the mid-19th. There were displays of lavish carpets, ceramics from the far east, weaponry from as far back as the 5th century, and amazing jewels from throughout the empire, including the famous 86 carat Spoonmaker’s diamond and the Topkapi dagger with egg-sized emeralds set into its handle. Perhaps the most interesting were the relics of St. John the Baptist – his arm encased in gold armor and his skull in a gold and jewel-encrusted crystal box. We wondered how this Christian relic ended up in the palace of an Islamic ruler. We visited the harem as well, where we imagined the young girls living under the auspices of the Queen Mother, all being groomed to please the Sultan. The systems of hierarchy and subjugation at the palace were amazing with every group living on the grounds belonging to a ranked society. We decided that perhaps the safest, happiest existence within the grounds might be that of a bird in the beautiful courtyard gardens who would actually be free to come and go as he pleased, unlike most of the subjects employed there. After our tour, we found lunch outside the palace gates at a gozleme café, where we watched a scarved woman roll out large flatbread pancakes and cook them on a flat iron skillet next to our table. There was just enough time for Chad to have one last Turkish shave before we had to head off to the airport, thus concluding our Turkish adventure. It is definitely a place that we would like to return to, our curiosity peaked by the little that we were able to see. It is a rare place in that it is culturally quite different but, at the same time, fairly accessible so that one does not feel completely overwhelmed.

Now, we are back in Sardegna, where summer is upon us with temperatures increasing, both water and air, and, with that, increasing numbers of tourists as well. We very much look forward to staying relatively put for a couple of months and taking in things here while reflecting upon our many spring adventures.

1 Maggio 2007

We have finally begun the first days of summer (although last night we had quite a hard downpour again and everything is now hanging in the sun to dry). The winds have calmed, the sun has returned after a long stretch of gray rainy days, and everything is suddenly shockingly green. The air smells different with the heat of the sun releasing new scents and new flowers blooming every day. This has also brought the return of the tourists, including the looming cruise ship that is momentarily parked outside our window. It is so close that I can even hear the announcements over the loudspeaker. The weather is particularly wonderful because my parents were just here and were able to enjoy long mornings on the porch watching the boats go by and listening to the birds singing.

I have to start back in March - the beginning of the crazy period of travel and guests. It all began when we boarded the overnight ferry to the mainland in order to meet our friends from San Diego in Tuscany for the weekend. In the wee morning light, we disembarked in the industrial port of Livorno and headed to the lovely walled city of Lucca, protected by its ramparts from the invading Pisans and Medicis. We had a delightful walk in the warming sun with hardly another soul on the streets, as the ferry gets in at 6am, and a cappuccino and a local specialty rice pastry of some kind in the main piazza. Just as we were heading out, we got a call from Scott to say that Anne had taken a fall in Rome and broken her ankle and that they would not, for obvious reasons, be meeting us as planned at the train station in Pisa. With plans up in the air for the moment, we took a little detour to another walled town, San Gimignano, where we ducked into a small trattoria for lunch just as the ran began to fall and managed to eat and drink until the sun returned and we got a call from Scott saying the they were on a train on their way to Florence.

Once in the Florence, we had a bit of an adventure getting around, as Anne was hobbling around on crutches. But, we managed to see the Uffizi with the help of a wheelchair and to have a picnic at the Piazza Michelangelo, overlooking the city, complete with Antic Noë sandwiches (a 400 year old shop we discovered on our honeymoon with the best sandwiches anywhere) before leaving for a gorgeous drive through the Tuscan countryside. We stopped in Greve in Chianti at the Verazzano winery (namesake of the New York bridge) where we tasted wonderful wines as well as the best balsamic vinegar I’ve ever had. The views from the winery's castle were unreal – terra cotta roofed houses dotting the landscape perched atop bright green hills rolling into the distance and lined with single-file rows of tall cypresses. Our first night in Tuscany, we stayed at a wonderful agriturismo in Greve that was tucked on a hillside just outside of town. The old stone building had lovely terraces and a cozy breakfast room where the owners left us a caraf of their homemade wine to taste before our dinner out in town. Staying there was a bit complicated, however, by the fact that we were the first guests of the season and, therefore, the first to discover (while waiting barefoot on the chilly tile floors for the water to warm up) that the boiler that heated the hot water was not yet lit. The heat in the rooms was also barely detectable, but the setting and the hospitality of the owners made up for it. After a few days of travel, we headed back to the tranquility of Sardegna to rest tired (and some broken) limbs. Unfortunately, we were in the midst of a stretch of bad weather, so we spent the first few days back reading, visiting and eating well until the Easter weekend brought us longed-for glorious sunshine. Our friends in La Maddalena put on a lovely Easter meal in their yard with meats on the grill and an array of cakes and gelatos for desert and we whiled away the afternoon, helped along by a bit of wine. Monday, we set off for more of an adventure than we’d planned in order to see the Festa di Torrone (torrone is a local toffee-like candy made with honey and nuts) in the town of Tonara near where I’d seen the Mamuathones at the start of Carnevale season. It was the Italian holiday of Pasquetta (the day after Easter) when everyone packs picnics and camps out in a green spot in the country for the afternoon with their friends and family. It was a wonderful sight to see everyone spread out in the sun. The festival itself was surprisingly crowded, especially after passing through many sleepy towns along the way. We sampled many varieties of torrone from limoncello to mirto to cioccolata and all types of nuts. The women making the torrone were impressively stirring giant cauldrons of sticky candy, rapidly beating the sides with large wooden spoons as they stirred it around and around. Another neat find of the day was a snow-capped peak in the town of Fonni, the highest village in Sardegna. This is the first snow we’ve seen here.

I have yet to mention that, amongst all of our visitors, I started and now have finished a cooking class at an agriturismo just up the road from here. I saw the advertisement for it at the local Pescheria (fish shop) and, after fearing that it would be cancelled for lack of enough people, I managed to round up a few other Americans with the promise that I would play translator for them during the lessons. The remainder of the students are middle-aged Italian women with one young woman about my age. Because of the linguistic challenges, the class started out fairly segregated, but, by the end, there was much joking around, mostly at the expense of the young Americans and their lack of culinary skills. Most importantly, though, I have learned how to make Spaghetti allo Scoglio (seafood pasta). The secret is a sauce derived from smashed shrimp heads which are flambéed with Brandy. I tested out my new skills for my parents and all were pleased with the results. We also learned to make a dazzling array of antipasti, presented as a beautiful buffet and then we finished the course with several pasticceria classes where we made nearly a dozen different torts and tarts - each class. The course culminated with a final festa complete with many kisses goodbye, homemade champagne to celebrate, and promises for further meetings.

That brings us up to the changing of the guests. Chad dropped Scott and Anne off at the airport in the morning and I picked up my parents just before midnight the same night. Fortunately for me, they were exhausted the first day, and I could catch up on life’s errands (and the online class that I decided to start at the same time all of our guests started arriving) before resuming my role as tour guide and innkeeper. We had many adventures while they were visiting including kayaking to Punta Sardegna to see the lovely houses of my dad’s new favorite architect, Alberto Ponis, wandering along the castle walls of Castelsardo (and meeting a darling woman weaving baskets in a cobblestone alley), sailing to Isola Spargi’s white sand beaches with Lorenzo, touring the nuraghe of Arzachena, dining at the Italian Officer’s Club on La Maddalena and driving the island loop, exploring the Friday morning market in Palau to taste amaretti (almond cookies) and the many types of local Pecorino cheeses and sausages, and enjoying lazy afternoons on the beach in the sun.

Then, all too soon, we were off to Rome where we walked until we dropped. The first afternoon, I had imagined that we would get to our hotel and take it easy in the afternoon and then head out in the evening for a drink and dinner, but my parents were eager to get out and see Rome upon our arrival. So, we pulled out the map and planned an afternoon walk that took us first to the Spanish Steps, which were filled with throngs of people nestled amongst pink azaleas left over, we later learned, from the annual spring fashion show. We stopped for a rest at a café just off the piazza and enjoyed some birra and antipasti while soaking in the mood of the crowds and then headed to the Pantheon. Unfortunately, we arrived just after it had closed and would have to return another day. By then, it was time for dinner, for which I had made a reservation at Trattoria der Pallaro near the Campo Fiori. It was a fantastic place bustling with busy waiters all under the orders of Paola Fasi, the turbaned proprietress whom I had read about in my guidebook. It was a good thing we’d made a reservation, as we arrived with a crowd of other hungry people, all of whom were turned away by an unsympathetic Paola. Immediately after we were seated, wonderful antipasti appeared including savory lentils and potato croquettes followed by homemade pasta, thinly sliced beef served with fennel, hearty potato chips and delightful homemade bread. The finale was tangerine juice served in thimble-sized glasses with a slice of custard tart, which, after asking for forks, we were instructed to eat with our hands. When I asked if we could order café, I was told that the menu was finished and that if we wanted anything more, we’d have to start over again from the beginning of the menu. As I had read, “You’ll eat what they serve you.” To digest our tasty dinner, we walked home via the Trevi Fountain, which was magically lit up in the moist evening air and surrounded by people throwing wished-upon coins into its waters. Mom and dad did this nearly 40 years ago and made new wishes on this trip. After a lot of walking for having arrived at nearly 4pm, we returned to the hotel for a night of sound sleep.

The next morning, Chad and I started off with a visit to the Cappucin Crypts where we saw the bones of some 4,000 monks (including a few whole skeletons complete with monks garb and skin) arranged in elaborate displays in a church basement. It was elegantly done, if that can be said of arrangements of bones, and certainly unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. Unfortunately, you are not allowed to take pictures, so we bought a few postcards. We met up with my parents back at the hotel and struck out for the Colosseum, taking in a bit of the parade celebrating Rome’s birthday along the way. My favorite were the marching Centurions. Processing with the teeming hordes around the circular levels of the Colosseum, we imagined some 50,000 Romans cheering on the Gladiators in their bloody battles.

From there, Chad and I picked up picnic provisions and met my parents in a shady spot atop Pallatine Hill where we took in views of the house of Romulus, ruins of the palaces of Emperors past, and the forum below. After lunch, we strolled through the forum, marveling at the Vestile Virgins, the Temple of Caesar, where he was cremated and where Marc Antony uttered the famous line, “Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears . . .,” the curia (senate house) where Caesar was killed, and the Temple of Saturn, constructed circa 500 B.C. the oldest structure in the forum. In the late afternoon warm sun, fueled by the prospect of gelato, we climbed the steps out of the forum up to Michaelangelo’s Piazza Campidoglio, with a view of the Monument Vittorio Emmanuele, marking the unification of Italy under the Sardegnan! King Victorio Emmanuele, from the top of the descending steps. After the anticipated gelato, we dragged back to the hotel to say goodbye to Chad, who had to take the train to Naples for a course for work, and agreed to ripose until dinner. The concierge at our hotel recommended a small place nearby called Trattoria Innoscenzi, off Piazza Barberini, and instructed us to ask for Beppe and tell him that Luigi sent us. We did and were rewarded with a wonderful meal in the garden patio hidden off the street - seafood antipasti and champagne shrimp, followed by a desert of limoncello torta and panna cotta accompanied by Sambuca and limoncello (and strangely, Jagermeister, which the waitress called amaro). At nearly 11pm, having arrived at 8pm, we finally finished up.

On our final day in Rome, we explored a few churches near the Pantheon, admiring the gold of Chiesa Gesu and the Cavaggio paintings in the Chiesa San Luigi dei Francesi before heading up the river to see a modern architectural museum constructed of a glass box built around a triumphal arch. We walked back along the Fiume Tevere to Piazza Navona for lunch, where we listened to a young boy playing accordion and crooning “O sole mio,” and then on to the Pantheon for a short visit before a long trek across the city to get back to our hotel so that I could race off to the train station to join Chad in Naples. There was just enough time to squeeze in a tear-filled goodbye before leaving and one last gelato with dad at the Stazione.

Next stop, Naples. The train ride out of Rome provided beautiful views of the Lazian countryside as well as a well-preserved aqueduct. The first night in Naples, after a hair-raising drive through the city with Chad at the wheel, we met a crew of people at an agriturismo called Abraxas which was perched over the Lago Aveno, the fabled entrance to Dante’s Hades, which we saw in the misty dusk. The food was never-ending and delicious and sometime around midnight the group decided to forgo desert and home home – basta!

Tuesday, a friend of ours volunteered to play tour guide and take me and another woman to Sorrento, down the coast. The drive was beautiful with steep cliffs dropping off into glittering waters below and the town was full of narrow, winding streets with shops selling loads of lemon products from pottery to soaps to lemon chocolates and, of course, limoncello. We saw the giant local lemons at several of the produce stands, which were more the size of melons than lemons, before stopping at a café for some famous Neapolitan Pizza Margherita – simple, but tasty. This was followed by refreshing graniti limoni (lemon ices) as we made our way back towards the car. After an afternoon’s rest, Chad and I enjoyed a beverage on the roof of our hotel overlooking the bay and the diffuse waning light and colors over the jumble of crowded apartment buildings and rooftop antennae. One of the drawbacks of such a thriving city is the problem of pollution and trash, which is ubiquitous. It makes me appreciate Sardegna, though its landscape is often not the cleanest either. Afterwards, we found a nice place around the corner for dinner where they served us complimentary limoncello for desert (they brought the whole bottle!).

The next morning, there was an organized trip to Vesuvius for everyone at the course. As it was an Italian holiday, fighting the traffic and crowds to get to the start of the trail was a bit of a challenge. On the mountain, the scenery was lunar-like and some of the craters even had steaming vents. The feel of it was enhanced by the low clouds rolling across the crater ruins, though the locals apologized for the cloudy weather obscuring the otherwise spectacular view of the Bay of Naples. To complete our volcanic tour, we spent the afternoon in Herculaneum where we wandered the 2,000 year old streets of the amazingly well-preserved town. Even the paintings on the walls were visible in some houses and the mosaic floors were in near-perfect condition. Walking around the old port area, it was eery to think of all the people who had tried to escape to the coast here, only to be trapped by the hot, falling ash. The city was apparently buried in ash to an average of 16 meters! While wandering, we heard the sounds of thunder and decided to call it a day and head back for some relaxing at the spa at our hotel. Apparently, the area around Pozzuoli and Lucrino, where we were staying, was once known for its thermal pools and people came to this area to benefit from their healthful effects. Now, we enjoyed the less natural, but not less luxurious, facilities at our hotel. On our last evening in Naples, we had dinner with friends who live there and enjoyed their view out over the water while enjoying good company.

I had to fly out the next day, but had the morning to explore a bit more before leaving. Another woman at the conference and I took the train into Pozzuoli to see the Roman sites there including the Tempio Serapis, a 1st century A.D. marketplace, the Terme di Nettuno, and Ampiteatrum Flavium, where we were able to go into the area underground where they kept the exotic beasts brought in on ships from Africa for the specatcoli held in this theater – the 3rd largest of its kind in Italy. While wandering through the underground caverns we, once again, heard the rumbling of thunder overhead and had to race through increasingly heavy rain to the train station. This was all made more challenging by the fact that Meghan is 4 months pregnant! We made it safely to the train and back to a little restaurant near our hotel for more Neopolitan pizza before I had to take off for the airport in order to attend my final cooking class.

That mostly brings us up to the present – over a month of adventures with many details sadly left out as I struggled to remember all the wonderful things we’ve experienced and to get it all down before leaving for Turkey in a couple of days for our island sailing adventure. This is such an amazing time for us and we have loved being able to both to travel and to share the place where we now live with our first guests. The hardest part is to try to capture it all.