31 December 2007

It is the last day of 2007 and we are anticipating a feast at the base on La Maddalena this evening to welcome in the New Year. 2007 has been quite a year filled with many adventures and it is likely to remain a memorable one for many years to come. Sadly, we will not likely make it until midnight this year, as we are both recovering from a nasty bout of the flu which made the rounds amongst the group of friends we went skiing with over Christmas. So, we’ll all be in good early-to-bed company tonight. Maybe we’ll hear the fireworks in our Nyquil-induced dreams.
The ski trip, despite the spread of a nasty virus, was fantastic. We were somewhat primed for the wintry weather by a sudden turn of seasons in Sardegna in mid-December where the high over a period of a week or two was only 7C (44F). I know that sounds pretty wimpy, but it feels cold when all you have is one portable heater and the wind comes right through the windows such that you can see the leaves on your indoor plants blowing in the breeze. Up in the Dolomites, however, it was truly winter and glistening frozen ponds and snow-capped peaks welcomed us into the Tyrolean region. It is easy to forget that you are still in Italy, as streets are named things like Amberstrass and every town has two names – the old Austrian and a newer Italian name added after the war. The architecture of white stucco houses with heavy dark beams and overhanging roofs reminded us of Garmisch. We arrived at the Hotel Adler in the small village of Villabassa in the late afternoon after an overnight ferry ride and a long drive north and discovered that the Residence, the part of the hotel where we had booked a room, was a bit further away from the main hotel that we’d thought and we realized that the temperature outside would make it a chilly walk to and from breakfast and dinner each day, especially after skiing. So, Chad set off to inquire about a room in the main hotel and we were soon set up in the Junior Suite compliments of the proprietor, a friend of a friend who has a house in Sardegna and whom I had tutored in English at the beginning of the summer. They were quite posh accommodations – complete with two bathrooms! Little did we know that, later, this would provide a comfortable respite for a flu-addled Chad. That night, we met up with nearly a dozen friends from La Maddalena who had all just arrived, and had the first of many fantastic dinners at the hotel with many more courses than our stomachs had anticipated.

The next morning, we opted for an early start to get to the mountain and rent skis for the week. After the gathering of the troops over breakfast, followed by the rounding up of proper clothing and provisions for the day and the stuffing of children into new snowsuits, we set off to Kromplatz in a caravan of cars. And, sometime midmorning once we’d finally all gotten fully equipped, all the skiers rode the gondola up to the top of the mountain for the trip’s first run, leaving the sledders and snowboarders to the lower slopes for the day. The views were beautiful with natural snow on the peaks (though artificial on the slopes) and bright sunshine. We greatly enjoyed the sun over lunch on the outdoor porch of a mid-mountain restaurant where we ate all manner of sausages, spetzels and knodels. Then, we were off again, for a few more runs before calling it a day. This was the basic routine of our ski days, each of which brought increased speed and confidence for me after a tentative start and little previous skiing experience. I actually reached the point where my level of fun surpassed that of my fear.

Our ski day was then followed by returning to the Adler to take a very eager pup for a walk through the fields across from the hotel and then stopping by the nightly gluwein stand in the piazza for a mug of the local hot mulled wine by the fire. We realized how maladapted our poor pup was to the cold when we noticed him doing a little two legged dance on the icy ground as we waited for the carolers to start one evening. From there, we retreated indoors to the delightful Hotel spa to warm up and relax tired muscles. This left us just enough time to clean up before the multi-hour, multi-course dinner that ended each day and from which we all departed full and exhausted.

Aside from the skiing, we also had a chance to explore a couple of the towns in the area in the afternoons. Brunico, at the base of Kromplatz, had a wonderful Christmas market with booths full of various local crafts including gingerbread hearts, carved wooden ornaments, and colorful woolen capes and clogs. We even heard Tyrolean horn players performing on the longest horns I’ve ever seen. And, of course, we found steaming mugs of gluwein to keep us warm while perusing the market. Another afternoon, we headed into Cortina d’Ampezzo to see the famous glitzy resort town there. We had heard that people liked to show off their furs and high fashion there, and found this to be more than true – even the dogs had fur-trimmed jackets! We decided that Brunico was more our style.

The visit to Cortina was after a day of skiing there. The scenery was unbelievable. We thought that Kromplatz was beautiful, but at Cortina, the lifts take you through jagged channels in the rocks that are sparkling with fresh snow, up to nearly 3000 meters at the top. I couldn’t stop taking pictures. It was interesting to note the difference in style between the two mountains as Kromplatz was much more modern with fancy gondolas and big mountain restaurants, while Cortina had many of the old-style open chairlifts and little lodges. There were also many more Italians at Cortina than at Kromplatz, which was to our advantage since Italians like to sleep in the morning and we were there bright and early. Just after we finished lunch, they started rolling in. Not so at the Austrian-dominated Kromplatz, which was crowded by 9am.

After our day at Cortina, we returned to the Adler for Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, this was the night that Chad succumbed to the flu, but he did manage to emerge after dinner for caroling and gluwein around the hotel’s Christmas tree. Christmas Day, the group met up for one last day of skiing altogether (except for a still-feverish Chad). It was a beautiful, sunny morning with few skiers on the slopes, although we did see one in a full Santa suit! We headed back after lunch to have our Christmas gift exchange in the hotel’s cozy card room, followed by an outdoor fire with more hot gluwein in the piazza. Dinner was a grand feast complete with roast Christmas goose, a first for most of us.

And, that brought us, sadly, to the end of our stay at the Hotel Adler. We left the next morning to make our way toward the ferry. Midday, we stopped in Bologna, hoping to explore the famous Quadrilatero food district, but, as it was riposo and the day after Christmas, most of the shops were closed. It was great window-shopping ,though, which was easier as we had Manny in tow. The architecture in the city was beautiful with many brick buildings, a rarity for Italy, and narrow winding streets off the main piazzas. One of most unusual things we saw was the sarcophagus of St. Dominic, the namesake of the Dominican monks, which was perched high atop an elevated monument outside the Basilica. Then, it was onwards to the ferry and home to Sardinia, returning in the wee hours of the morning to our chilly, dark house.

We decided to have Christmas part II once back at home so that we could open each other’s presents there. We made a shellfish stew on “Christmas Eve” reminiscent of the Olcott tradition of haddock chowder and watched Charlie Brown’s Christmas Special in front of the fire. The next morning, we opened presents in our pajamas and had Norwegian apple cake a la Andrea and fresh squeezed OJ a la Tom. We lingered over the pile of loot for several hours thereafter, enjoying many new goodies and reliving Christmas Day now that we were at home. We did our best to recreate the traditions of our families, but still missed them quite a bit and spent the afternoon catching up with parents and siblings via phone. And sometime late in the day, I became the latest flu victim in the family - Merry Christmas!

And, that brings us back to the present, to celebrate the end of 2007 and the coming of 2008 (and with it, hopefully the return of health for both of us!). The arrival of January means that we will be saying goodbye to many of our friends here who are leaving before the closure of the base. So, we are hunkering down for the last couple of months and preparing to return to the land of English-speakers, baseball, and apple-pie come the end of February. Hopefully I’ll get in at least one more travelogue as we try to squeeze as much out of Sardinia as we can before we go. Meanwhile, happy 2008 to all.

28 Novembre

It is an unusually balmy day here with mercurial smooth seas and misty warm air such that we cannot see the new snow on Corsica which fell earlier this week. It is hard to believe that, just two weeks ago, I was nestled around the heater in our living room with Andrea and Charley while hail pelted the ground and the wind blew the rain through our not-so-well-sealed windows. Now, the winds have died and the temperatures have climbed a little, but we are still waiting for a few warm, sunny days to do some much-needed laundry as we are, in the Italian tradition, without a dryer. That aside, the return of the wet season has given rise to a wonderful greening of the landscape here such that it sometimes feels more like spring than fall, though the chilly nights and the re-lighting of our lone bombola heater remind us otherwise.

The chill seemed appropriate for Thanksgiving, known by Italians as the Festa Ringraziamento (Festival of Thanks) or, for the more culinarily-minded, the Giorno di Tachino (Day of the Turkey), which we celebrated with many friends here and from which we have finally recovered. Chad made DadO’s famous oyster-walnut-sausage stuffing, truly a meal unto itself, and I finally successfully made Zuppa Gallurese, the traditional layered bread/broth/cheese dish of this area of Sardegna that I’ve been trying to master. The secret was a special type of Sardegnan bread and homemade lamb and veal broth, the bones from which Manny delightedly munched on for several days afterwards. After our grand feast, we had nearly a whole turkey’s worth of meat left, requiring a team of bone-pickers to clean the carcasses before the rounds of desert began.

Weather and feasting aside, this has been the season for visitors, starting with Gwynne (a friend from graduate school) and her parents. They only stayed a few days in Sardegna, but we managed to pack in a wine-tasting excursion and a fantastic dinner at a local agriturismo among other adventures. This was shortly on the heels of Chad’s parents’ visit such that, after the guests were gone, I enjoyed a lovely girls’ weekend at the spa to appropriately relax. The spa overlooked natural hot springs and the site of the ancient Roman baths of Fordongianus on the river below. I returned much rejuvenated, having soaked and steamed for enough hours to turn me into a human prune.

After just a few days back at home, Chad was off to the U.S. for a job interview in Portland, where we will be heading come spring. We are still getting used to the idea of living in a place that has true winter and where snow isn’t just something you see in the far off mountains but that you shovel by the pound to reach your car in the morning. The morning of Chad’s departure, while hiking with Manny on a headland just south of the airport, we watched his plane fly overhead while also watching a nasty storm come in from the East and just barely managed to outpace it in order to return to the car undoused. Along the way, Manny also had a close encounter with a herd of dogs protecting a herd of sheep up the path from us such that we quickly altered our course and safely proceeded away from the clanging sheep bells and barking dogs.

Our next adventure here was to the Festa dei Vini Novelli which celebrated the new wines of the season. I recently learned that the grapes harvested in the fall are put through a quick fermentation process that keeps in a bit of the gasses to produce, in just a matter of months, a light fizzy wine known as the new wine of the year, or “vino novello.” In the tiny town of Milis, about two hours south of here on the west coast, they have an annual festival to celebrate the new wines and, for a small fee, you can purchase a souvenir glass in a handy wine pouch, which you wear around your neck. Then, you can fill your glass at each cantina’s booth with a taste of this year’s product. It was quite a jolly affair such that we had intended to purchase a few bottles for the upcoming Thanksgiving feast but, by the end of all the tastings, forgot to actually buy any. Lucky for us, our local wine shop carried a few of our favorites from the festival. We had yet another wonderful agriturismo experience that evening closer to the coast of Oristano, where we had fresh fish caught by Mimmo, one of the proprietors. The next morning, his wife, Giovanna, served us fresh yogurt and homemade cake flavored with orange zest accompanied by giant hot cappuccinos, which we drank by the fire in the breakfast room. This fueled us for our windy hike out to the headland just down the coast. Our friend, Rachael, and her dog accompanied us for the weekend and the two dogs had a ball racing around the watchtower and the tip of the peninsula and then following Chad up to the top.

Happily, we relaxed all day Monday, as it was Veteran’s Day and Chad was off from work, before heading to the airport to pick up Andrea and Charley after their brief visit to Rome. We had a wonderful visit with them and, despite some chilly, wet weather, managed to get in a beautiful hike on Caprera to the watchtower with Massimo, a friend who is a guide for the park, as well as a drive along the panoramic road around La Maddalena. Sadly, then, the weather began to deteriorate and we had a series of chilly, rainy days, one of which included hail pelting against the windows, scaring our jittery pup. But, we made the most of it and visited the nuraghe of Arzachena, drove out to Punta Sardegna, and had a grand roadtrip down to the Capo Falcone peninsula to see the Pisan watchtower and the old tuna fishing town of Stintino with its many colorful boats tucked into its harbors . According to the rainy weather, lunch was usually the day’s centerpiece and we found many cozy restaurants where we sampled insalata di mare, prosciutto with pecorino cheese, gnochetti sardi, and zuppa gallurese amidst the occasional pizza and hearty salad. And, we ended each day back at home with a fire in the fireplace to warm us back up after our wanderings. As Charley and Andrea had quite an early start on Sunday and quite a long day of traveling to follow, we decided to stay at Le Macine, a small agriturismo in Loiri, just south of the airport in Olbia. After arriving to find the place dark and with no one home, we were a bit concerned, but a friendly woman soon came hustling out and explained that she had been without power during the storms and was scrambling to get ready for us. Soon, we were in our cozy rooms set up with a bottle of wine and glasses for the four of us. She explained that we would have to eat in the kitchen as the heat hadn’t been on in the main dining room and it was quite cold. So, we sat around her little table in front of the fire, Manny at our feet, and had fantastic homemade ricotta ravioli, pomegranate salad, and suckling pig roasted with branches of myrtle. She also served fegato (liver) which we politely tasted and then tried to feed to Manny, who turned his nose up in favor of the accompanying fried artichokes. This was all a welcome feast after a blustery (in the Mediterranean sense) day of walking around Olbia, looking in neat old churches and down skinny cobblestone streets. After a bit of exploring, we headed up to Cabu Abbas, an old nuraghic site just outside of the city and sought refuge behind the old stone walls of the complex after being blasted by the winds. The vista was worth the exposure, as there was visible snow on the mountains down south and the sun was glistening on their white tops. Just before sunset, we headed south to San Teodoro, famed for its large lagoons full of an array of birds including pink flamingos! With the clearing skies, the sunset was beautiful and richly colored over the mountains behind us and was a perfect ending to a week of adventures before relaxing back at the agriturismo.

The next morning was beautiful and bright and so we set off for a hike on Capo Figaro, just north of Golfo Aranci, the major ferry port. This was, of course, after Chad kindly awoke in the wee hours to deliver Andrea and Charley to the airport, while I slept on and awaited his return. The hike was beautiful and afforded views of more snow-capped peaks and hidden bays along the peninsula in the shadow of the dramatic Isola Tavolara. And then, we returned to our quiet little house after a very full week.

After many guests and weekend trips, we had planned on staying at home for the long weekend after Thanksgiving, but saw good weather in the forecast and decided to take the chance and head south to the mountains of Barbagia, where we’d been in the spring and had been wanting to return to in order to hike to the Gola su Gorrupu, known as the “Grand Canyon of Sardegna.” So, after a day of recovery from Thursdays feasting, we packed a few clothes and some picnic supplies for our hike and headed out on Saturday morning under glorious bright sunshine. Unfortunately, the warmer weather during the week had melted the snow that we had seen from Olbia, but the scenery was still quite striking. The hike to the gorge was incredible, taking us along a wooded path that eventually led to a stream bed and to the very narrow passage in the rocks known as the “gola” or throat of the gorge. Limestone boulders lined the gorge, their bright white contrasting against the deep greens of the surrounding vegetation. Some of the trees were actually changing color, making it look autumnal. It was quite a hike and helped us to work up a good appetite for our agriturismo dinner that night. Along the drive on the way back, the colors of the sunset were spectacular, causing us to pull off the side of the road several times in order to try to capture it on camera, but the pictures only hint at the scale of the drama of color and mountains. We had stayed at Agriturismo Didone in the spring and, upon arrival that trip, had came upon Giovanni butchering the lamb that we were to eat that night for supper. Dinner that night was fantastic, and Giovanni and Katy were very gracious hosts, such that we were eager to return there and see them again. This time, rather than lamb, we had what Giovanni described as “la pancha,” or the stomach of lamb and pig, both of which were a bit difficult to look at, but tasted very good. We didn’t make much of a dent in the serving and had to explain that this was our first time to try such a dish. Giovanni replied by saying that perhaps it takes a bit of getting used to.

The next morning, we awoke to rain and puzzled about what to do with our day. At first, we set off to see the famous Grotto Ispinigoli, which supposedly contained the world’s second biggest stalagmite at 38 meters, but, upon arrival, we saw a sign that said, “Next showing: tomorrow.” We wondered how long that sign had been there. The view from the entrance, however, was beautiful and we got to see the clouds moving out over the mountains to reveal a rainbow and the promise of what looked like it could be quite a nice rest of the day. From there, we set out along the Strada Orientale Sarda, a twisty road along the mountaintops that was built in the 1850’s by coal miners, an incredible feat for the time. In search of yet another cave that we’d read about, we headed off the main road down an even twistier, more narrow road to a trailhead through the Codula Illune (Valley of the Moon). This road should really have been named the Strada dei Animali as it was full of cows, goats, sheep, and pigs, causing much distraught howling from the back of our car. The valley did feel quite lunar as we hiked amongst large boulders along the river valley until the water disappeared underground into part of the large underground cave system that originated at the coast. Along the way, we discovered a sort of shepherd’s camp tucked in a cave complete with a covered porch outside and a wooden ramp from one level to the next. While enjoying another picnic on the rocks, we watched dark clouds moved in and warily contemplated driving back on the twisty roads in rain, but we somehow beat the rain on foot and even for the drive back and returned to a beautiful sunset in Palau.

I forgot to mention that, on the morning we left, we were discussing how to make fresh ricotta cheese with Giovanni and he then disappeared briefly, returning with a bottle of warm sheep’s milk which had had undoubtedly just obtained. He also produced a small jar of something called “calio,” which I later learned means “to curdle,” and comes from the stomach of a cow. This, he told me, was the REAL way to make ricotta – using lemon juice was for the inexperienced. So, as I write this, I am waiting for the milk to curdle in yet another Italian cooking/science experiment.

I think that brings me up to the present. This has been quite a busy period, but it is all in an effort to pack in as much as we possibly can before we have to leave here in February. There will certainly be a sustained period of absorption of all of these experiences long after we depart, as things are happening too quickly now to fully take them in. That said, we are looking forward to December’s ski trip up to northern Italy with friends and will likely put together the next travelogue edition shortly after we return in the New Year. In the meantime, we hope everyone has wonderful holidays with friends and family, will miss being with you, and very much look forward to hearing about the feasting and visiting to come.

25 Ottobre

Fall is upon us in Sardegna and the mornings have brought chilly weather and steam rising off the still-warm Mediterranean. The days are still sunny and bright, but there is a little edge in the air that reminds us that it is no longer summer. That said, we truly were able to experience fall recently on a trip to Garmisch, Germany and were reminded of how beautiful fall’s colors can be and how much we have missed the change in seasons since living away from New England for the last few years. It was enchanting to see the reds and yellows of giant deciduous trees reflected in tranquil mountain lakes settled beneath the snow-capped Bavarian Alps. The magic of the mountains was enhanced by the presence of perfectly-placed mountain huts to which you could arrive after several hours of hiking and enjoy a bowl of borscht, a mass (a frosty mug) of Dunkel or Hefeweissen (the local dark or light wheat beer), and a brez’n (delicious doughy pretzels which I tried to recreate at home with somewhat gooey success).

Generally, our days there started with a walk into town, passing by the verdant green fields dotted with sheep clanging their bells and picturesque wooden hay-drying huts on our way to what became our favorite local Backerei to get a pastry and cappuccino. We decided that the Germans must really like nuts and seeds while surveying an impressive array of hearty looking rolls containing things from pumpkin seeds to chili peppers and beet juice. We stuck to the sweeter types, opting for cherry turnovers and poppy seed-swirled rolls. Then, we would strike off on the day’s hike, walking along perfectly-maintained paths criss-crossing the mountains with not an ounce of trash along the way (a welcome relief from Sardegna), until we eventually reached Partnach Alm or Elmau Alm Hutte or one of the other afore-mentioned mountain huts. There, we would relax in the sun at a picnic table on the deck and eat a tasty meal while enjoying the surrounding mountain views. Usually, we were able to obtain an English menu, but, on one particular afternoon there were none to be found and the only words we were able to decipher were wurst (sausage) and kartopfel (potato). While these were components of nearly every dish, we couldn’t quite figure out the differences between them. Thankfully, a friendly couple sharing our picnic table offered to help us and proved to be much more adept at English than they gave themselves credit for. Even so, I somehow wound up with Leberknodel soup – a giant liver dumpling floating in broth, which was not exactly the knodel I’d hoped for, but was surprisingly tasty. This couple was a great example of the many middle-aged hikers we saw on the trail who tackled climbs that challenged even our young, spry legs. We were most impressed by the jolly, ruddy-cheeked older folks who greeted us with “Gruss-gott” as we crossed paths. Not really knowing what this meant at first, we simply returned the greeting, but soon began using it ourselves as it always elicited a smile from passersby. We were relieved to later learn that it is simply another way to say “hello” that is specific to Bavaria.

While most days we started out from our hotel and got right on one of the many nearby trails, one morning we indulged and took one of the many ski lifts, the Olympiabahn, partway up and began our hike from there. The lift originated at the Stadium built for the 1936 Olympics by Hitler, who merged the towns of Garmisch and Partenkirchen for the games. It was a little eery to walk around the stadium and think of the history of this area. Once on the lift, the views from above were amazing including a favorite scene of a man pitchforking hay into one of the drying huts tucked amongst hummocky green hills and black and white goats clanging their brass bells.

The many miles hiked were absolutely worth it to be able to see sights like the Partnach gorge, reached after switchbacking down a steep trail towards the rushing river. We followed a narrow path along the rocks that was barely one person wide, dripping with moisture and with sunlight filtering down through the vibrant leaves far above the rocky gorge. Another day, we passed by the Reisersee, a mirror-like mountain lake reflecting the colorful leaves of the trees surrounding it and with a picturesque Bavarian lodge at one end. I visited another lake solo while Chad went to see the former concentration camps and museum in Dachau and enjoyed grand views of the Zugspitze, Germany’s highest peak at 2962 meters above the Eibsee (“see” is German for lake). And, we had to see a castle while there, so we hiked up to the Elmauschloss which we found out was not, in fact, an ancient castle, but was constructed in 1913 by a wealthy artist as a retreat for his friends. It then burned and was recently reconstructed as a luxury hotel. At $5,000, you and your friends can rent the Grand Suite, encompassing the entire top floor of the castle. We only made it as far as the lobby. Our final day, we packed in one last hike up to St. Andrew’s Hutte, an impressively short but steep climb a wonderful view 1084 meters up, noticing along the way that the leaves were even brighter than they had been upon our arrival just five days before.

Every evening, without fail, we enjoyed the soothing, bubbling jets of the outdoor hot-tub at our hotel, reinvigorating our tired limbs just enough to be able to walk into town for dinner. From the lodge, we walked past crisp white stucco buildings with dark wooden half-timbers defining their heavy roofs and balconies filled with overflowing window-boxes of bright pink and red geraniums into the pedestrian zone of Garmisch where we had been greeted on our first day with a performance of a genuine oompah band complete with a tuba player and costumed musicians in leather shorts, tall woolen socks and smart felt hats. Despite my German heritage, the cuisine doesn’t exactly agree with my stomach, so we instead found an array of Chinese, Japanese, Indian, and Greek food amongst a few dinners of traditional Bavarian fare. Our favorite spot of these (don’t mind the name) was the Café Mukkefucke where we tried the apfelstruedel and weinerschnitzel just to get a taste of the authentic.

And, as we were in Bavaria during Oktoberfest, we had to enjoy the festivities in Munich for at least one day. We took the train from Garmisch, arriving in the city just in time for the noon playing of the famous glockenspiel in the Marienplatz (the historic center), pushing through the crowds to see the carved wooden figurines turning around high up in the clock tower. From there, we headed to the Theresienwiese or Wies’n fairgrounds, to meet up with some friends at the famous Hofbrau house. This was one of many giant tents set up for Oktoberfest which was filled with beer-drinking, sausage-eating, merry folks and stages full of oompah bands. It was quite a scene with more people standing on tables than sitting, waitresses impressively carrying 6-8 liters of beer at a time in heavy krugs (liter-sized thick glass mugs) and repeated “prost-ing” with people we’d just met, but who seemed to take to us rather quickly. We had read that there was a special word, “Wiesenbekanntschaft,” to describe friends made at Oktoberfest and now we began to understand its meaning as we left with several email addresses and pictures of new acquaintances. It was a bit like a giant fraternity party, but people were generally better behaved and we managed to leave without any beer-soaked clothing.

Nonetheless, a few hours and a few masses later, we emerged in a bit of a beer-induced fog to investigate the rest of the fair. The grounds outside were filled with carnival games, stomach-dropping rides, and all kinds of fair food from brez’n to wurst to steckerlfisch (fish roasted on stick and served whole wrapped in newspaper which I wasn’t quite brave enough to try). And finally, we left the Weis’n and walked back through the city, stopping by the famous Viktualenmarket filled with local fruits, meats, cheeses, and assorted crafts before collapsing onto the train for the long ride home. It was quite a day.

And, finally we returned to Palau after almost a week’s vacation, having gained a new appreciation for the German tourists here that often frustrate us with their brusque impatient style after experiencing the cleanly efficiency the pervades Bavaria in contrast with the slow pace of la dolce vita here. Not to have too much time to absorb our new experiences, we began the following week with a diving excursion to Lavezzi, an island off of Corsica that is famous for its giant Cernia (grouper). We had been awaiting a calm day with little swell to venture out there and we lucked out on Columbus Day and had a great dive where we looked eye-to-eye with these giant fish.

We got back just in time for Chad to rush off to the airport to pick up his parents who had freshly arrived from New Hampshire. Our adventures with them included a daytrip back to Corsica to visit the city of Bonifaccio and eat fantastic fish soup and peppercorn steak on a sun-filled terrace in the old city, a boat trip with our landlord to see the archipelago and do a bit of snorkeling in the famous turquoise waters of the Porta de la Madonna, and the usual patented tours of the Friday Palau farmer’s market followed by the panoramic drive of La Maddalena and tour of Isola Capera across the causeway. We also packed in trips to Punta Sardegna to see the whimsical houses tucked in the rocks and the hobbit-like Porto Rafael with its tiny inviting gates and garden paths and also to Castelsardo to see the 12th century Genoese castle perched high above the water, swinging by some natural hot springs on the way back in nearby Casteldoria that I vowed to return to for a good soak in the near future.

And for the final leg of the Olcotts’ visit, we headed to Tuscany where we reunited after they had a weekend cooking course in Florence with their new best friend, Claudio, the chef, who taught them how to prepare delightful Tuscan dishes ranging from roast venison with chestnuts to a sauce of local wild porcini mushrooms. Upon our reunion, we were given a tour of Claudio’s and served steaming hot cappuccinos to help us to warm up in the crisp fall Tuscan air. From there, we were off to Siena, zigzagging along windy roads over the dusty Sienese cypress-dotted hills and ogling over the beautiful scenery. There, we found our way through medieval streets to the famous Piazza del Campo, dominated by the 14th century Torre del Mangia, to a sunny spot for lunch. Then, it was off to the Basilica San Domenico, home of the mummified head of St. Catherine of Siena, which we had seen on our bike trip here four years ago but Chad felt the need to re-view – a ghastly vision indeed. Quite chilled by this point by the wind and the sight of St. Catherine, we were ready to return to the lovely Agriturismo Villa San Andrea, sited on a hilltop in the tiny village of Fabbrica, where we were to spend the night. It was built on the site of a 13th century castle that was destroyed in WWII, with only one guard tower and a part of the outer wall remaining. There, we enjoyed a stroll through the vineyards, now mostly emptied of their grapes after the recent harvest, though we did manage to find a few remaining deep purple bunches with surprisingly sweet fruit, and also some very noisy pigs which weren’t too eager to have their picture taken. A lovely sunset there with ethereal painterly pink and melon-colored clouds capped off the day and gave us a few moments in the quiet darkness to rest before dinner. Our dinner was at Ristorante Macerata tucked amidst olive trees along a long dirt road not too far from our hotel. There, we feasted on roast suckling pork, venison in red wine sauce, fresh pasta with more famous porcini mushrooms and ricotta-stuffed ravioli with brightly flavored pesto accompanied by wonderful local red wine and followed by Schiacciata alla Fiorentina, a traditional Florentine cake of puff pastry and cream. It could not have been improved upon.

The next morning, the Olcotts were off to the train station in Florence to head north to Munich before the long flight back across the Atlantic and Chad and I headed south to the hilltop town of Montalcino, famous for its Brunello wine. We had a yet another fantastic Tuscan meal of herb-crusted rabbit and hearty bean soup with glasses of Brunello and Vino Rosso at a cozy trattoria that provided a moment’s respite from the chilling winds blowing through the stony streets of town. This was followed by a bit of wine tasting at a wine shop inside the old fortress which dominated one end of town. The proprietress there was quite patient with us and helped us to choose a few bottles to return home with and let us sample those that we could only afford to sip. After strolling down the skinny streets, colorful flags whipping in the wind along the way, we were in need of a bit of caffeination before the twisty drive back towards Livorno and stopped at the cozy Café Fiaschetteria, dating back to 1888 where we sipped café on plush velvet chairs and shared a bit of cocoa-dusted torta.

Our drive back to Livorno was perfectly timed to enjoy a glowing sunset over the Tuscan hills after one final stop to visit the Romanesque white marble Abby Sant’Antimo where we sadly learned we were too early to hear the monks sing their evening vespers and couldn’t stay long enough without missing our ferry home. It was nonetheless a lovely church settled among olive trees along twisting paths beneath the town of Castlenuovo dell’Abate picturesquely sitting on top of a hill inside the old castle wall. Our trip finally ended with wine and pizza on the ferry while rereading the Tuscan entries from the journal of our honeymoon bike trip four years ago and commenting both what a wonderful trip that was but also how free we were in traveling by car to explore this hilly country so easily and to be able to bring back its wonderful wines as well. And now, we are home on our island enjoying the quiet of fall.