Travel: Where I Was...

Restaurant: Aqua Al 2

My landlady waved her hand flippantly at the restaurant. It was a bit nondescript, with a wooden sign above the door. A few trees flanked either side of the entrance.

In her broken English she told me, as she rode her bike and I struggled to keep up next to her in my exhausted state, "All the Americans go here. So expensive. I don't know why. Not worth it."

Later on I realized that this little restaurant, just a few steps down the cobblestone street from my apartment, was the highest rated, most strongly encouraged restaurant in my guidebook. Then I got an email a few days later from my cousin telling me that when she was in Italy, she had one of the best meals of her life at a restaurant she insisted I check out. It was this one.

So when my sister arrived, we decided to be decadent and made reservations at this hyped-up restaurant. The entrance was on my street, but it's address matched the Via around the corner. Hence, it was called: Aqua 2. Named after via dell'Acqua.

Our reservations were for 9 pm, and we almost missed it because of a last-minute debate as to whether we should climb the Tower of Pisa. There was a crowd waiting outside the restaurant when we arrived at exactly 9 double zero, and it was obvious there was no way you were getting in without your name on the list.

Eventually we were seated at a big wooden table downstairs. It was so crowded that we had to share our table with three other people, who seemed more annoyed by the circumstances than we were. The menu was handed to us, and it was ALL in Italian. But we like a challenge.

Here's what we ate:

Sis had a first course of Fuscilli with Spinici. I had a first course of Macaroni with Gorgonzola cheese. I don't know how to describe to you how utterly unbelievable these dishes were. You could taste every single piece of seasoning, each nuance of the cheeses. We kept sharing our dishes, whispering to each other, "Oh.My.God."

For the second course I had the dish the restaurant is famous for. Steak with Blueberry Sauce. Who has ever heard of such a combination?? The ample sized chunk of meat arrived on a white plate, swimming in a dark blue sauce (yes, blueberries!) and I delightedly started cutting away. It was heavenly, out of this world, sublime, exquisite. It was a steak meal I will never, ever forget.

My sister also got a steak, but a little more of an Italian delicacy type. It was wrapped in some sort of dough, and cooked with saffron -- and you could, of course, TASTE the saffron. It was also magnificent. She loved it. Again, we kept switching dishes, repeating over and over, "Oh.My.God."

Of course, there was wine, too.

Then for dessert, our waitress suggested a "sample plate". Wow. It was a slice of cheesecake, a slice of fruit pie, and a slice of chocolate cake. My goodness. Never have we tasted cheesecake like this. Forget NY-style. Forget it. Just go with Florence-style.

The whole meal, considering all we ordered, was expensive, but not out of the park. It was around 65 euros, give or take, which is about, hmm, $90, give or take. Which for two people, having the MEAL OF THEIR LIVES, is unbelievably worth it.

Travel: Santa Croce

July 28th / Dusk

I am sitting in Santa Croce's piazza, my favorite church, my favorite time of day. I am drinking a coke and eating french fries and vegetarian falafel, without the falafel, because they were out of them again. A man is playing classical guitar a few benches down from me.

Before you leave someone, time is palpable. It rushes past your ears, a soft scream barely discernible above the whimpers of your goodbyes. But before you begin the, "this is the last time we will ever..." speech, before that, before you start thinking about letting go, you feel the immense power of holding on. You feel every drop of wind and every decibel of laughter. You notice every light that turns on, beacons for nightfall to come home. You notice the shadows of the day falling across your page, like the world is ready to close its book.

It feels the same way with this place, like a friend I've come to know.

People are sitting still on the benches, bathing their faces in the evening wind like a cleansing syrup. New shapes and colors stretch across the pavement, and families walk by slowly, shuffling their feet past the church that, unlike me, has seen this all a thousand times before.

No one wants to let go. And the shadows on the page become darker. The white marble on the columns begin to glisten brightly and the yellow facades on the old palace homes turn to gold. The sky unwraps itself and releases a sigh that shifts the light from gray to blue. This is the tender moment of transition between night and day. And in a breath, it is over.

There's a cue in the light that is so subtle, few but those sitting quietly on the benches would notice. The shift in the light has given us permission to transform and like a film strip suddenly catching on to its reel, the pace of the evening finds new momentum. Hopeful travelers come out of their sun-drenched slumber, ready to play on the now electrified streets. They show off their darkened arms in strapless dress, their proudest accomplishment of the day. A photograph of the sun on their skin.

The cigarettes are lit, embers burning like the street lights. The circles of friends are getting bigger, the laughter louder. The Italian rolls off their tongues like the gelato down my fingers.

The pigeons are gone so the children have nothing left to chase but each other. And so they do, shrieking with each turn they make around the big square. Space like they've never encountered. Uncluttered with toys and rules and instructions, they dance, patting against the stone with their sandals like freed creatures finally in their natural habitat. Round and around they run, until their parents, walking slowly ahead, hand in hand for the first time in years, call out to them. The children, also for the first time in years, don't need to be called twice. They respond to their names, beautifully echoed against the cupboard windows like seagulls returning to their flock, soaring over an ocean of cobblestone.

Book: Man Walks Into A Room

The very last thing my sister wanted to do during her 9 days with me in Italy was.... buy the new Harry Potter book. She knew if she waited until the last minute then she wouldn't be tempted to start reading it until she got on the plane to come home. Which is exactly what she did. She finished it before the turbo jet wheels touched the ground.

I was a little envious of her voracious desire to read (sorry, inside joke) and I wanted to feel that way about a BOOK too. For the last three weeks I had been devouring the sights and sounds of this tremendous country and my mind was working at a 100 mph. The last thing I was able to do was sit quietly and look at words. But here I was at the end of the trip, and I thought, maybe I can finally concentrate on something.

So I went to a bookstore and scanned the shelves for a long time. The English section was just a few shelves, but the collection was so random I could hardly call it lacking. Everything from Shakespeare to Candace Bushwell, on just a shelf or two.

I finally chose a book called MAN WALKS INTO A ROOM, by Nicole Krauss. She also wrote THE HISTORY OF LOVE, which I've already posted about with great affection. So here was her second book, which is actually her first book, but published before we knew who she was. So chances are, as it happened with me, you would discover it second. And I need to say, THIS is the book she should have gotten famous for.

It's a short book and I stretched it out as long as I could. I read it under the gazing eyes of the statues in Piazza Signoria. I read it until 3am in my studio apartment. I read it in cafes near the Duomo.

This book was.... goodness, someone give me an adjective other than AMAZING, please. Because it was AMAZING.

After roaming through the streets of Florence for a month, I told my sister that my new greatest wish was to have the ability to time travel. You just get this sense of history in this city like no other place I've ever seen. You can feel the ghosts of a million yesterdays walking through the streets even though the city hustles and grooves with the sounds of tourists and mopeds. And yet all around, time is frozen in the soft smiles of saints and angels holding their posts on top of towering podiums and church facades. I thought about time travel constantly. It's also the theme of my other favorite book, which I've also written about.

This book is not about time travel. But close. It's about memory loss. A man looses his memory at the age of 36, and all he can recall is his life until the age of 12. This greatly affects his wife, his employer, his friends. The story follows him as he tries to unravel everything he's supposed to remember, love, and identify with, simply because everyone tells him he once did. It's riveting, powerful.

It was the perfect book to read during a trip while far, far away from home. When you travel, all your habits are left behind. It's interesting to see how quickly we aspire to find new ones, or which ones managed to slip themselves into our suitcases for the trip across the sea. It's interesting to realize there are habits you didn't even know you had, but you suddenly miss. Like, the first ten things you do when you get up in the morning. Or the path you take through your house right before you go to bed. Suddenly all those things are gone, just like the faces of family members you tearfully said goodbye to before you got on the plane. Just like the clothes you left in your closet, and the music that didn't fit on your mp3 player, and the way your neighbor slams the front door downstairs.

This book made me think about all those things, about saying goodbye and hello to things that mattered or not. About relearning your steps into bed, and finding a new pattern for yourself in the morning.

How many things do we do each day that give us comfort in their repitition? Who would you be if you suddenly forgot who you are? And if everyone around you knew what your life was like for the past 15 years, except for you, what memories would you ask them to retell you? And would questions would you decide not to ask? How much of your life would you chose to reshape based on what you were told you did, and how willing would you be to reclaim nothing at all? And would the things that would not be reclaimed, or could not be remembered, be missed?

One night we were at a party in Florence. It was wonderful, and fun and the room was filled with artists and wine. The night weather was perfect and blew through our dresses and our glasses were never empty. And then I realized, that where I was, was exactly where I would have chosen to be had I known what I was choosing. I was at this party due to a series of choices I had made regarding people I wanted to get to know, activities I took part in, places I visited. All choices, unknowingly, led to this night. As the entire life I lived before this night swept away behind me, here I was again. Surrounded by smiles I seemed to have known all my life, but could not recognize.

"That's just it!" shouted Ray. "How to be alone, to remain free, but not feel longing, not to feel imprisoned in oneself. That is what interests me."

Travel: Italy

I'm Home!!!!

Top 10 Best Things About 1 Month in Italy
(in no particular order)

1. Piazza Signoria and all its majesty (yellow)

2. The first time you see the Duomo (pink and green)

3. The real one-and-only David (white)

4. Bruschetta (red and green)

5. The view at Cinque Terre (blue)

6. The Colloseum (brown)

7. Florence. All of it. (yellow and white and green and pink)

8. Une Due Tres Cuatro Cinque Seis Sete Otto Nove Dice

9. Red orange juice and yellow pistaccio gelatto.

10. Santa Croce (rainbow)



(...lots more posts to come)

Travel: Kripalu

Seriously? Again?
Yes, again.

It's spring break, and where else can two teachers go, when they have no expandable cash flow, but very over-extended minds that need reprieve.

They go to Kripalu. And get their yoga on.

This time, as always, the trip was different. It's always different, each time I go. That's why I keep going back. Disney world, it ain't.

But here's the thing about me. For some odd reason, I don't like yoga. But I like yoga retreats. Funny, huh? I like the setting, the food, the environment. I like the intentions of the yoga mindset. I like the outfits and I like hearing people talk about the results it's had on their lives. But what I don't like? The boringness of it. I get BORED in yoga class. I get all, "how many minutes do I have to hold this and pretend I'm into this?" in yoga class. That bothers me. So I don't go to yoga. Except when I'm on retreats.

But this week, my dear friend pointed something out to me. Something along the lines of, "Why do you keep taking beginner's classes?" Huh? I don't know. 'Cause I assumed that's where I belonged, I guess.

So this week, my friend, she showed me the light. "We're taking the vigorous classes," she said. And so there I soon found myself, in a room full of intense, sweaty, upside down, inside out, hot, way into it, yoga people. Woah. Now this is where it's at.

I'm no advanced yoga person. I tried a headstand in yoga class once. Years ago. And yes, it was fun. And yes, I added it to my list of "things I've accomplished in my life just for fun". But for some reason, I didn't get the sense that I would do it again.

But this time, years later, older and wiser, I found it was SO much more fun being around people who were doing headstands again than it has been just exhaling for an hour or so, as I'd been doing in various attempt-to-like-it-one-more-time yoga classes. I got into it. I liked "vigorous". I liked this form of movement that was faster and tougher than the thoughts in my head could keep up with. In other words, I didn't have time to look at the clock; I was too busy doing a side plank for the tenth time off my left arm. I found myself balancing on limbs that aren't meant to be balanced on. I found I can bend in ways that should be illegal. And... I can hold still while doing so.

I was into this.
And so, potentially, hopefully, begins a new chapter in my life.

I'll keep you posted.

But right now, my abs are still hurting. From yoga!

Travel: Kripalu

Top 10 reasons to love Kripalu:

1. The chocolate cookies they sell by the gift shop.

2. The gift shop.

3. Healing Arts.

4. The way it starts to feel when you fall asleep.

5. The meals. More specifically, the pasta primavera.

6. Making new friends in a share circle.

7. Dancekinetics.

8. The new couches on the first floor.

9. The fourth floor sun room.

10. Planning your next trip before your current one is even over. And watching other people do the same.

Location: Hotel Clarion

Sis and I found ourselves at Hotel Clarion during a recent road trip up the eastern coast for a friend's wedding.

I don't often remember hotels, but I think I'll remember the Clarion. Maybe it was the company. Maybe it was because we had such a lovely weekend as a whole. Maybe you can add up all the maybe's, and there still remains one very simple truth: we were very happy with our home on the beach.

First thing we liked: Valet car service. Sure, our car was parked just a block away on a grassy unprotected patch of land. But still, we didn't drive it there.

The second thing we liked: Having a big room that really did overlook the ocean, just like the website said it would. I could lie in my bed and watch the waves crash.

Third thing we liked: The working fireplace. Yes, it was warm. Yes, it added to the relaxing ambiance. Yes, it gave off some sort of dopamine that nearly drugged us in our sleep. But not in a bad way. We slept better than we've slept in days, and we both had to agree it must have been because of the heat from the fire. We woke up feeling like we had slept 1,000 nights, and needed 1,000 more. Needless to say, we opted not to turn it back on. You know, just in case we didn't wake up the next time.

Fourth thing we liked: HBO and CNN. Nothing feels more like "vacation" than the luxury of watching Entourage reruns and JonBenet highlights round the clock.

Fifth thing we liked: Continental breakfast included. Had we woken up in time, we most certainly would have enjoyed participating in this.

Sixth thing she liked: My sister used the jacuzzi in our bathroom and declared it wonderful. However, that also seemed to drug her, and she was quite "out of it" for a few hours after.

Seventh thing we liked: I have to tell you, the hotel was directly across the street from the beach. It.was.right.there. Hop, skip, or jump... and our feet landed on sand.

Eigth thing we liked: They told us our room was a smoking room, but that they would ionize it for us. Whatever that means, the room didn't smell.

Ninth thing we liked: Triple A membership priveledges. My red white and blue card saved us nearly $50 each.

Tenth thing we liked: Beach-town food, beach-town arcade games, beach-towns, period.