Tag: ex-pat

My first backdoor experience at the Colosseum

by Gracefully Global travels • July 1, 2017September 15, 2021

I must admit, as far as travel experiences go, visiting the Colosseum never ranked highly on my list of favorites. Until recently, that is. The mass confusion entering the Colosseum and the stress of dealing with their stringent yet non-communicative ticket office, followed by feeling pretty much like one of a million sheep, and not much to do once inside other than take selfies or watch other people take selfies really downgraded the experience for me.
When my extended family came to visit Rome and asked me to help them organize their trip, I was struggling my way through the Colosseum website and thought, “There must be a better way.” And entered, The Roman Guy. But more on that later.

Frankly, Colosseum ticketing options are not ideal. I’ve had first-hand experience through my work managing on-site logistics for groups of American and Australian university students with CISabroad. Often we opt to pay the reserved group entry (which is an additional cost on top of the ticket to enter). The group entry has its own entrance a bit closer to the metro stop than the single ticket entrance, but, ironically, there is always a line at the reserved group entry, and eventually, this “special” entrance converges with the non-reserved single ticket entry line.

A small part of the line to get into the Colosseum.

Being fairly disillusioned with the group entry options, I eventually decided to try arriving early with one of my groups and give the unreserved entry line a go, only to find out after waiting a half hour that I was prohibited from purchasing more than 12 tickets at a time. I’m not sure how I would have known this rule in advance, but whatever the case, now I finally understood the need for reserving the otherwise unhelpful group entry in advance.
The final solution for entry into the Colosseum is to purchase your single tickets online in advance and print them out at home. Then when you arrive at the single ticket entry line, you have access to a special line for people who purchased online, which moves a bit faster.

All that to say, there isn’t really an ideal solution. Until I finally rolled up my sleeves and was determined to find a better way. That’s when The Roman Guy came in. The Roman Guy sounds like one guy, but it is actually a robust Italian tour company based in Rome. They have a lot of different tour options for exploring the Colosseum with a guide such as Colosseum underground and floor tours.

The idea of having someone else manage the craziness of getting us into the Colosseum was reason enough for me to book, but the tour also resolved my other primary disappointment with visiting the Colosseum: the lack of information about Colosseum history available to visitors. Having a trained guide would really open up the experience for us, giving us the narrative that would make the place come alive.
The day of our tour arrived, we met our Roman Guy guide, and everything started out smoothly and normally. But then everything was suddenly different.

The backdoor entry to the Colosseum was empty other than us.

We passed the mobs of people waiting in the three lines I had mentioned, kept walking around to the back of the Colosseum, and stopped in front of a back gate. I was flabbergasted. There was no one at this back gate. Our guide simply called the name of the guard, he came over, opened the door for us, and we walked into the Colosseum.

HALLELUJAH.
Instead of the typical mixture of stress, anxiety, and annoyance that I carry with me after finally getting through all of the hurdles to enter the Colosseum, we merely just walked in. I was in heaven.

We then proceeded to walk onto a deck perched just above the floor of the Colosseum. Every trip I’d made here, I’d seen people on this deck from the other side, and always wondered what this magic place was that was not accessible to us. Well, now I finally understood.

The view I usually have, without a guided tour, of the exclusive access area to the Colosseum.

This area was regulated by Colosseum staff, and only a certain amount of visitors can be there for a given amount of time (20 minutes or so, maybe a half hour), meaning there was plenty of space to move around and take pictures. Since The Roman Guy is registered with the Colosseum, they can reserve this special entrance onto the Colosseum floor (and other restricted access areas), and bring people in through the back entrance.

I was such a happy camper that I took a rare selfie.

My stepbrother with his wife, his brother-in-law, and his parents-in-law.

We had plenty of time (and space) to take photos, and then our sweet Roman Guy guide, an archaeologist, started explaining the highlights of the Colosseum history.

Our sweet and knowledgeable guide had great visuals to accompany her talks.

We walked around nearly the whole Colosseum together, up to the second level, then ducked here and there, finding shade, water, and places to rest, as she explained fun facts. My favorite trivia was about the female gladiators. I had no idea they existed! We also learned that the ruins across the street were ruins of a gladiator training school. So cool.

The second part of our tour took place across from the Colosseum at the Forum and Palatine Hill, where we learned about the fascinating Virgin Vessels, and our guide showed us where Caesar was cremated. I’d been to the Forum many times but had never noticed the tiny sign that points out this incredible history of the temple, now partly in ruins.

The Roman Forum is so incredible it doesn’t seem real, but there are no historical explanations so we were so glad to have a guide.

I had a few favorite moments, including when she pointed out a piece of what would have been a massive statue, and now all that remains is a foot. I wouldn’t have noticed it otherwise, and it is rumored to be good luck to touch the pinky so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

The tour finally wound down, and our guide shared one last insight with us. “Rome is like lasagna,” she said. “It is full of many layers, all of them worth discovering and savoring.”

I loved that moment, as it really made me think, and appreciate all the insight that this lovely archeologist guide brought to our experience that we would have missed if we had done it alone. It is an experience that I won’t soon forget.

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Catemaco, Veracruz

Call me Jane: Adventures in the Los Tuxtlas jungle of Veracruz, Mexico

by Gracefully Global travels • February 22, 2017November 23, 2021

I woke up in Veracruz City on the second to last day of 2016 having no idea I’d be going to bed that night in a jungle. Our hostel owner at the Oyster Hostel in Veracruz moonlights as a tour guide and is passionate about the many offerings of the dynamic state of Veracruz, especially the region of Los Tuxtlas around Laguna Catemaco which was our destination that day, compliments of his comfy mini-SUV.

We spent much of the day in the car, winding through the rural countryside of Veracruz on our journey to Catemaco, making pit stops along the way at a famous Cuban-style cigar factory, and a humongous waterfall. The people-watching was as good as it gets.

There was “animal watching” too, unfortunately. I witnessed a group of turkeys standing in the rain along the road, very malnourished and somehow given up on life as their owner tried to hawk them to passing cars. That was depressing.

But Catemaco wasn’t. We had no idea what to expect, which is somehow the best of ways to approach a new place. After arriving, we spent the rest of the late afternoon exploring Laguna Catemaco on a boat owned by a friend of our hostel owner.

From land, the scale of the lake was impossible to recognize, as the lakeshore was lined by trees. But when we actually got on the lake, I was overtaken by the size. We sped along on the boat so quickly that the bumps of waves we hit started to feel like concrete speed bumps that sent us flying, over and over again.

We explored every corner of the lake, from a lakeshore stop for volcanic mud face masks offered by the wife of our boat guide outside the vacation home of the owner of the cigar factory,

to the sunset stop to drink water from a hole along the lake where naturally carbonated water comes up from the earth,

and finally a pause in our boat to roll along the small waves of the lake for a few minutes and watch the monkeys on a small island.

My favorite moment was turning the boat to the west and darting off into the sunset, as the least bashful of the monkeys watched us disappear while peeling a banana another boat had thrown at him.

We went to bed that night in one of the two guest rooms off of a coffee shop.

I showered with no hot water and went to sleep hoping the thousands of birds that populated the trees along the shore wouldn’t wake us up too early. Luckily, I woke up surprisingly refreshed the next morning, the last day of 2016, and enjoyed talking to the other guests over breakfast. They asked what our plan was for the day, and I told him we were exploring the Reserva Ecológica de Nanciyaga, which is supposedly the most visited fee-based attraction in the region of Los Tuxtlas. In other words, there weren’t many other options.

The reserve’s name, Nanciyaga, comes from the Nahuatl language and means “at the end of the Nance trees.” I did some research on the area, and the discontinuous rainforest belt of Middle America reaches its northernmost extent on the mainland in southeastern Mexico. Apparently, the forest in this region is not a rainforest, though, and is instead considered to be a moist forest.

Ha! Whatever that means.

We easily found a taxi to drive us the beautiful four-mile stretch along the lake to the reserve, the same route we had taken by boat yesterday.

I was apprehensive about what we would find at the nature reserve, bracing myself for potential encounters with caged, unhappy animals, which happens sometimes when groups market themselves as sanctuaries to increase tourism.

When we arrived we were the only ones in sight other than the nice woman at the wooden ticket booth. I don’t remember how much we paid to get in, but it was around five dollars each, and maybe even less. After paying, the woman waved us toward a young man carrying a tall stick, who turned out to be our volunteer guide. Instead of letting us wander around on our own and get ourselves into trouble, this young gentleman took us up and down the winding dirt paths and through a history of the ancient Olmec culture, and a bit of a background on the wildlife that call the Los Tuxtlas Biosphere Reserve home.

The ecological park is a self-sustaining property made up of ten acres along lake Catemaco including a mineral spring (Nipapaqui natural hot tub), a tiny lagoon for swimming, small bungalows that accommodate overnight guests, and a wonderful open-air restaurant serving three meals a day to guests, but closing at sunset for those not staying on the property.

Really, though, there was so much more to the property than expected, which we discovered through our sweet young guide. We stopped along the dirt path as we encountered random replicas of Olmec sculptures he used as talking points. Highlights of the property included the temazcal (sweat lodge), which is actually functioning, and group treatments are scheduled throughout the month.

As a theatre person, I loved their outdoor amphitheater. And then, of course, I was shocked-but-not-shocked at the wall of printed photos of guests in mud baths, mixed with pictures of celebrities. Apparently, parts of Medicine Man (1992) with Sean Connery and Lorraine Bracco, and Apocalypto (2006) with Mel Gibson were filmed here. The owner, a woman, is happily pictured in a photo with Mel Gibson.

After enjoying the photo wall, we entered the wooden structure and found ourselves in a small but clean and lovely open-air salon.

My friend enjoyed a mud face treatment, while I purchased the dried mud and some patchouli soap to take home. Folklore claims a princess used to cross over from a neighboring island to use the mud in this region to beautify herself. I took that as a strong hint I should be doing the same.

Once my friend’s face was thoroughly green from this miracle mud, we left the salon to discover rows upon rows of tied leaves laid out for us to select from. I was bewildered, as everything was in Spanish, so it was becoming a bit hard to keep up with all the surprises. I followed my friend’s lead, green face and all, as he picked up a leaf and dipped it into a bucket of water. To my surprise, the leaves were watertight, and the water was carbonated. I took a gulp from my leaf cup: the water had a familiar taste, and I wondered if they pulled it from the same hole we had drunk from the evening before. This was the first time, and possibly the last, I had drunk from a leaf. So far, so good. I was thoroughly charmed by our jungle adventure.

But the surprises didn’t end there. The handy leaf cup maker, a nice young woman, asked if we wanted to have a “White Magic” treatment. I wasn’t aware of this at the time but later discovered from the mother of great friends of mine near Mexicali, Mexico, that this region of Veracruz was famous, or perhaps infamous, for its traditions of magic. My friend and I decided to participate together, and we spent a thoroughly unusual but surprisingly pleasant five minutes being swept with leaves as our white magic doctor chanted and prayed around us. At the end of the ceremony, he presented us with a clay ceramic face on a ribbon to wear around our necks, that he had blessed for us to ward off the spirits. I keep it in my purse. I figure I need all the help I can get. ;b

Our adventure continued alongside an algae-filled lagoon inhabited by more than a few crocodiles and turtles, with a fence separating us humans from these prehistoric-looking characters. They were as still as statues.

And the turtles perched along the long wooden logs looked like a cartoon.

Along with these guys, the area is apparently known for rich birdlife, including toucans and parrots, which we saw from a distance.

In 2003, a few Howler monkeys were reintroduced in the reserve which apparently did well. We saw a large iguana and babies. And we didn’t see any unhappy animals. I was relieved.

Our tour wound down, and our guide showed my friend where to wash off his mask.

Bowls of fresh patchouli leaves adorned the sinks, and our guide smiled and encouraged me to use them as my soap.

I loved them: the fiber seemed to scrub my hands clean and left a wonderful scent. We tipped our guide nicely as he handed me back my soap and mud that he’d carried, and we bid each other goodbye, at which point we were let loose in this little paradise! I was thrilled. It was lunchtime, and lunch at the open-air restaurant seemed like a perfect idea.

We talked to a chef who managed the dessert bar, and she showed us some of the traditional cakes that they offer, tempting us to leave some room for later.

We enjoyed a thoroughly relaxing, delicious lunch on the lakeshore, a beautiful piñata blowing in the wind above us.

After lunch, we made our way back up the winding dirt paths to the wooden ticket booths and asked the woman to call us a taxi. While we waited, we chatted with the volunteer guides waiting for the next visitors to arrive. They were local students and all very proud to be a part of the reserve.

The visit couldn’t have gone better. I’ve promised myself I will return, and next time I will stay at the reserve. Full of good energy, happy people, and happy animals, this is the type of place I want to go to remind myself how much there is to appreciate in life, despite our everyday stresses and challenges.

And until my return, I luckily have quite a store of mud mask to tide me over. I put it on and pretend to be the princess of Catemaco. 🙂

For more information on Nanciyaga, visit this helpful website apparently maintained by an American ex-patriot not affiliated with the reserve.

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Travel Tips

Repurposing On The Right Side Of Travel And Fashion

by Gracefully Global travels • February 1, 2017September 15, 2021

This week’s photo challenge, Repurpose, is inspiring me to share an object I’ve repurposed, and continue to use every day in my travels throughout the U.S. and Europe.
Traveling doesn’t afford the luxury of taking any object in your possession for granted. Each and every piece that you carry with you is evaluated on the basis of size and weight. And if either of those measurements outweigh its worth in any capacity, that object is dunzo.
Until I began traveling full-time, I was a lover of stuff of all kinds. I couldn’t throw away a postcard or a receipt if my life depended on it. My idea of a fun weekend activity was going to a home-decor store and picking up a throw-pillow, or two. Or maybe a doorstop. Or a fruit bowl.
Nowadays, that life couldn’t be more foreign to me. I don’t even own a pillow, let alone a closet. I work as an educational travel coordinator, and I live from hotel room to hotel room, couch to couch, and when I’m lucky, my parent’s spare bedroom. If I want it, I have to lug it. But therein lies the rub: I can’t give up my passion for fashion. So, despite the fact that I live on the road, I continue to have a lot of clothes, shoes and accessories.
My accessories were a mangled mess, tangled and mixed up to the point that I was only wearing three or four pairs of my own earrings. Yet, I continued to lug around the whole collection. What a waste of energy, and potential fashion opportunity.
The solution came not a moment too soon from my pioneering, Pinterest-loving, high school friend Giovanna. Over brunch one Saturday she said, “Peggy! Haven’t you seen my travel board? Pill organizers!”
And the rest, my friends, is history. My ears are now back to being as fashionable as the rest of my body. And not a moment too soon. Thank goodness.
If you liked this article, you might enjoy My Secret Packing Tips, where I originally shared my pillbox jewelry storage tip.

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Bologna, Life in Bologna

Bologna: the city of nighttime.

by Gracefully Global travels • December 16, 2016

As the host of the oldest university in the western world, Bologna has been a second home for young people from across Europe for centuries. And with the saturation of young people comes the inevitable nightlife of those who don’t have morning meetings and people depending on them to make breakfast.
I’m one of those students that made my pilgrimage to Bologna, only to be charmed by the nighttime energy of this city. Only in Bologna does coming home at 3am on a Saturday night feel early. After five years of this, I’ve finally learned to prioritize my favorite places, and cut my nights short so I actually come home before sunrise. Sometimes.
The energy of the city is visceral, and therefore photographable. Instead of always wasting my nights away in laughter and Italian wine, I’ve started shooting instead. Or at least, taking a few minutes to shoot on my way home, ha! My new lens is a f/1.8, and the results have been fantastic. I hope you enjoy my meanderings through the streets of Bologna, seen below. And stay tuned for a vlog coming soon, featuring interviews with Bologna’s best bartenders!

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Bologna, Travel Opinion

Italian Liberation Day in Bologna

by Gracefully Global travels • April 25, 2016September 15, 2021

Today is a special day in Italy. A holiday from work, a day spent relaxing with family and friends, enjoying the new season of warmer weather, and remembering the close of a dark period in Italian history.

Screen Shot 2016-04-25 at 12.37.18 PM — The Cineteca’s Instagram account from this week posted historical photos of these days 71 years ago, including this huge crowd on the streets in the center of Bologna.

April 25 is known in Italy as the Anniversario della Liberazione d’Italia, or the Anniversario della Resistenza. It was during these last weeks of April, 71 years ago, that one by one the cities of Northern Italy successfully renounced 20 years of fascist dictatorship, and five years of war. A friend of mine equated it to the 4th of July in the United States, as what was happening 71 years ago in Italy created the momentum for what would officially become Italy as we know it today, the Italian Republic, when the constitution was signed in 1948.

all-imported-832_7431682422_o — A day of sunshine in Piazza Maggiore, Bologna. This is where some of today’s festivities take place, and where they took place the very first time.

As an ex-patriot living in Italy, these holidays always catch me by surprise. Growing up in your own culture, holidays are tied to so many memories and anticipating them is second nature. But when you are living outside of your culture, none of these triggers exist and life from one day to the next is just one huge learning lesson.

img_7235_7444542254_o — Late afternoon sun in Piazza Maggiore.

Even though I’ve lived in Bologna for several years already, I’m still learning. I just found out from a friend that Bologna is an important destination for Italians celebrating this holiday. The city is full today – it is very exciting.

As an American, it is hard for me to understand the impact of a war happening in someone’s own backyard, and therefore, the significance of a holiday dedicated to the end of such a war.

Screen Shot 2016-04-25 at 12.37.44 PM — Another historical shot from Cineteca’s collection: A happy group celebrating 71 years ago in Piazza Maggiore.

I’ll never forget the afternoon that my English student, a Bologna police officer and a lover of history, showed me something in Bologna’s central square, Piazza Maggiore, that changed the way I look at this hub of activity and concentration of precious architecture in the center of the city.

We took a familiar path toward the piazza, one that I had walked hundreds of times, and he stopped me just as we were stepping up onto the center walkway.

saved-photos-307_8715266895_o — Piazza Maggiore during a night spring rain.

“See here? Where the stone is missing? Do you know why it looks like this?”

I looked around. Strange, he was totally right. There were chunks of stone missing along this shallow curb that I had never noticed. But it wasn’t like that around the whole walkway, as far as I could see.

“Weird, I never notice,” I responded. “Why is it like that?”

“The tanks,” he responded. “From the war. They would damage the stone when they were rolling up onto the curb to go to the center of the piazza.”

Screen Shot 2016-04-25 at 12.36.37 PM — From this photo posted by the Cineteca, you can see one of the tanks he must be referencing.

I was flabbergasted. The war seemed so long ago, but this visible damage to the piazza in front of me made it so tangible. “Why didn’t they ever fix it? It has been so long!”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe they want to remember…”

In honor of today, I paid a visit to that curb, and took this picture. Turns out I wasn’t the only one with this idea. The gentlemen on the left side of the photo were doing the same thing. You can see the same clock tower in the background here as is pictured above the tank in the historical shot.

Visiting the broken curb in Piazza Maggiore today.

I’m discovering a little bit more every day how rich our pasts are, and how much there is to be found just below our footsteps. And most of all, I’m grateful to be included in today’s important festivities on this day of liberation in Italy. Here’s to many more to come!

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Bologna, Illustrious Instants

Illustrious Instants: An Afternoon Stroll in Bologna

by Gracefully Global travels • July 14, 2015June 17, 2020

This photo is perhaps the most “illustrious” of my “instants” so far. The photo isn’t meant to demonstrate fabulous composition, color, movement, etc. The photo taking is normal, but the subjects are wonderful.

I took this photo because this relationship – daughter and mother taking a simple afternoon stroll -represents Italy for me in a special way. The unconditional love and family ties that still run deep in this country are a joy to witness.
I am always grateful for the perspective that witnessing moments like these in countries other than my own have given me, and I hope for the same opportunities for you as well!

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Cesenatico, Italy Travel, Travel: My stories

Celebrating the Italian Summer at the Seaside in Cesenatico

by Gracefully Global travels • March 18, 2015September 15, 2021

Italians find themselves at the sea nearly every summer weekend, whether they smartly rent or own a whole beach house, or just a few feet of sand under an umbrella. Having lived in Bologna for years and living as any honorable Italian would do, I joined in the weekend beach-side adventures, fleeing as far as Ancona, but mostly sticking directly East of Bologna in Rimini, Riccione and Ravenna. But mostly Rimini, because it was familiar. As soon as the fan came down off the top shelf of my closet and propped up by my bed, the early Saturday morning train rides to Rimini commenced. So it was fitting that I spent my last weekend in Italy before my big return to the United States relaxing at the Italian seaside lifestyle that had defined my summers there. But this time I didn’t have to wake up early and take the train. Instead, my boyfriend at the time preferred to drive. And he was a different sort of character. He didn’t do things the same way everyone else did. Instead, he suggested we go to the tiny town of Cesenatico. I didn’t have the slightest idea what to expect, but as always, I was up for the adventure.

The canal leading to the sea in Cesenatico, Italy

The non-eventful drive and the parking process played out like all of my other beach adventures. The drive east toward the Adriatic Sea is flat with huge green fields broken up by an occasional ancient structure. As you approach the sea, there are lots of trees shading the streets and houses. I was unsuspecting as we parked in an ugly supermarket parking lot until we emerged onto the main walkway of the village. Stretching before me was a long canal that ran to the sea, flanked by colorful buildings and sporting a long line of cleverly named boats. But these weren’t recreational boats, they were fishing boats. And the canal, apparently, is famous because it was once surveyed by Leonardo da Vinci. Only in Italy.

I was surprised by my surroundings. “Where are we again?” I asked him. I’m bad with proper nouns. “Cesenatico,” he replied. “But this place is so cool – why doesn’t everyone come here?” “I don’t know,” he said. “But that’s why I like it. Not everyone comes here.”

A boy playing on the beach in Cesenatico, Italy

He was right. There were definitely other Italian tourists, but they were mostly families. Instead of walking into a tourist trap, it felt instead like we were stepping into the seaside life of these lucky Italians that call Cesenatico home.

A girl taking a stroll along the beach on her own in Cesenatico, Italy

We walked down the crowded main stretch along the canal, toward the sea. I almost felt like a voyeur, watching all the families and the family dogs enjoying their Saturday. There was even a funky shaped boat that cost one euro that would take you to the other side of the canal if you so desired.

We drifted until we couldn’t walk anymore, to the point at the end of the boardwalk. Fishermen and teens and couples like us trickled around, but nothing overwhelming. Near the boardwalk was a sprawling restaurant with whitewashed walls and tables. We were led to a table in the sand. A family with a toddler playing in the sand sat at the next table. We sat a bit with our drinks, the sight and sounds of the sea releasing our stress, much of which stemmed from my impending departure. “It seems impossible to believe that in a week you will be in New York. From Cesenatico to New York – I can’t imagine a bigger change,” said my traveling companion. I sat and munched my olive and took a sip of prosecco. He was right. At that moment, New York was absolutely worlds away from Cesenatico.

The scene of a small town that looks after itself in Cesenatico, Italy

We eventually found ourselves making our way back up the canal. A pair of sunglasses caught his eye, and as he tried them on I wandered a few steps and discovered a little fair on a tiny side street, so characteristic of Italy. Everywhere I turned this little street was dripping with charm – a candy-cane striped awning and a retro bike, a gelato shop that tempted my traveling companion, and knitted jellyfish hanging from a string tied to streetlights.

I followed the jellyfish hanging from the sky, one by one, to a small, quiet piazza, full of families and a few curious adults, officially stepping over any remaining line between tourist and resident. To my delight, there were nautical-inspired knittings livening up the ancient stone fountain, church, and doorways of the building facing the piazza, to match the hanging jellyfish.

Children played under trees decorated with diamonds and more jellyfish.

With a bit of internet research, I realized I had stumbled upon Cesenatico’s Urban Knitting Group “Il Mare in Conserva,” an installation art exhibit in the Piazzetta delle Conserve.

I was utterly charmed to so unexpectedly wander into this peaceful, simple world. I participated as an outsider, snapping photos of the happy children and cats, until realizing my travel companion had probably finished his gelato by now.

I reluctantly followed the jellyfish back, and found him happy as a clam (no pun intended), taking advantage of his phone’s data plan as the celebrations went on around him.

We made our way back to the car slowly, our departure marking a transition into a much more complicated world, void of knitted jellyfish and children playing jump-rope on the street. It had not been just another beach adventure. It was the end of an era of a naive American girl marveling in the oddities and delights of a beach life so different from my Southern California home. And the beginning of a mysterious something else.

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Italy Travel, Travel Opinion, Travel: My stories

An All-Women Work Trip to the Suburbs of Milan

by Gracefully Global travels • April 10, 2014September 15, 2021

This post is my latest in a short series celebrating the success of my random and wonderful traveling adventures with friends over the last month. This adventure in particular is not a typical travel story – not at all glamorous, with minimal photo ops. But before you wonder why you are bothering to read this, give me a moment to explain…

As an ex-patriot living in Italy, I have a distinct need to really understand this country and the people in it. The more I get out of my bubble of American white girl, the richer my life becomes. So my recent work trip with a fabulous group of fellow non-American teachers to a not-so-vibrant suburb of Milan called Cassano D’Adda was exactly the kind of trip that shows me the side of Italy that most foreigners don’t experience. Full immersion in Italian culture brings me that much closer to understanding Italian life, and my fabulous friends. So, here it is.

My friend, Vale, the head of a Bologna school of English, is a bottomless resource of fun, and also my boss. A few months ago she asked me to be one of the three performers in her English Quiz Show for children on this special trip to perform in Cassano D’Adda. She made a clear point of telling me she wanted me to come because I am “fun to travel with.”

Despite the inadvertent non-acknowledgement of my actual pertinent skills for the job (performing and English teaching), I was flattered. So, naturally, I accepted the invitation.

I walked up to Vale’s house with my co-worker Martine at 5:45am on a damp, dark Monday. She was sitting in her idling, heated car ready to go. We jumped in and picked up the missing member of our team, Giulia, a few blocks away, who was armed with coffee and croissants. Mix Giulia’s offerings with my own bag of Italian style chocolate chip cookies (delicious and way less sugar and fat than their American counterparts) and we were pretty much our own traveling cafe. Let me tell you, there were a whole lot of crumbs in laps on that particular drive.

The sun finally joined us on our way to Cassano D'Adda — The sun finally joined us on our way to Cassano D’Adda

On the road to Milano we went…well, ahem, Cassano D’Adda to be specific. We had a long day ahead of us – at least a two-hour drive, then set-up, and finally two performances of our Quiz Show for young English students. And we did it with gusto. Martine, Giulia and I performed and sang our hearts out while Vale took pics and networked with the teachers. We were a great team.

We wrapped up our workday by pre-setting for our next show at 8am the following morning and then headed out in search of lunch in little Cassano D’Adda, proud of our work, relieved to be done for the day, and absolutely famished.

We pulled up to the restaurant recommended to us for lunch by the teachers at the school. It was so closed, there wasn’t even a soul remaining inside other than a waitress who was peacefully eating her lunch in the dark.

We were baffled. In Bologna, the lunch hour is 1pm to 3pm. It was currently 2:30pm. How could this be possible? The Italians never cease to be a mystery.

We got back in the car and fired up our smart phones, following Tripadvisor suggestions and the Google map to the nearby center of the city where there were a cluster of recommended restaurants written into the Google map, meanwhile debating the mystery of the lunch hour. We decided the issue with finding an open restaurant was that Northern Italians eat their meals earlier, combined with the fact that we were in a small city.

Crossing the bridge in Cassano D'Adda, surrounded by typical Milan-esque weather. — Crossing the bridge in Cassano D’Adda, surrounded by typical Milan-esque weather.

After several more failed attempts to find a restaurant, a whirlwind tour of the small typical Italian city, and a few run-ins with local characters, we ended up at the last Google recommendation, i Satiri, with an open kitchen. The environment was comfortable and we were relieved. Our waitress ended up in somewhat of an argument with their frustrated cook who wanted to close the kitchen. She returned to our table with an apologetic look and an announcement that the compromise was panini.

My artichoke panino at i Satiri was actually amazing. I got another one right after I finished eating this one.

We could order any panino on the menu, and that was all. Well, I took two. 🙂 The rest of my team had a panino and a dessert. Everything was delectable. And I’m not just saying that because, despite my vegetarianism, I could have eaten a horse I was so hungry.

Dessert at i Satiri was pretty impressive.

After lunch we followed Vale’s iPhone and a random man biking with a stick to our hotel, the surprisingly large and modern Park Hotel, most certainly serving business travelers in the Milan area. Cassano D’Adda is a bit too close to Milan to have its own identity, and yet a bit too far to really reap the resources of Milan. The hotel is perfect for salesmen traveling to and from the Milan.

Somehow this man biking with a stick was a recurring theme in our trip.

We reached our room, a huge room with four beds (a typical solution for European travel, rather than taking two rooms with two beds each). After some delirious laughter, we all konked out.
Disliking naps, I got myself up after a cat nap and headed out in search of a café in which to do some computer work. I strolled around the nearby industrial shopping area, and found my way into a small, typical, Italian café. Despite the café’s lack of apparent identity, I liked the music and decided to stay. The music reminded me of home. I quickly forgot my plans for tea and decided on a glass of prosecco instead, and sat there for a few hours on my tablet, waiting for the gals to wake up, and making friends with the owners of the cafe who had dreams of moving to America. We danced, talked sports (there was a big soccer game), and had a great time. Finally, my phone rang. It was Vale. “WHERE are you?” she asked in disbelief. She and the rest of the team were already in the car, en route to dinner. “Ok, I just pulled up outside,” she said.

I said a hurried goodbye to my new friends and ran outside and jumped in the car.

“Peggy!” my team laughed at me. “WHAT were you doing? How many proseccos have you had?”

“Just two, I swear!” I defended myself, laughing. “It was a great place!”

They teased me all the way to the restaurant, a pizza/pasta place the hotel had recommended called Pizzeria Il Birbante. I was thrilled upon arrival. The environment was lively and comfortable, and they had Brooklyn Lager on draft – this was my kind of place. I exclaimed enthusiastically to the bartender, and he chuckled in surprise when he figured out what I was so excited about. In Italy, the little things like this that bring you a little bit of home are something to be revered.

They all copied my beer order. I adore them.

Being the truly awesome team they are, Vale, Martine, and Giulia all ordered the Brooklyn Lager with me. Ordering dinner proved more difficult – the selection of pasta on the menu was so different from Bologna, as Italy’s cuisine is so regionally centered, it was hard to choose from all the interesting options.

A dinner of Gnocchi and Brooklyn Lager at Pizzeria Il Birbante, aka heaven.

I ordered the gnocchi. Everyone loved their dinners, the beers, and the company.

Having fun at dinner at Pizzeria Il Birbante

It was an all-around fabulous day, and we slept hard and peacefully that night at the Park Hotel.
The next day was a work day. We woke up early and enjoyed being the lively table of women at 7am sharp at the hotel breakfast, surrounded by a sea of serious faces and grey and black suits slightly diffused by our colorful clothing and happy conversation. We performed three shows that day at the school, said goodbye to the satisfied teachers, packed up the show, and jumped back in the car.

One of our performances in Cassano D'Adda. — One of our performances in Cassano D’Adda.

For lunch we had finally learned our lesson and ate fast food, then headed back to Bologna, leaving little Cassano D’Adda behind. The car trip was just another opportunity for some heart to hearts – culture, Italy, America, English, guys, work, you name it, the topics with limitless. Smiles to the end, it wasn’t until we reached Bologna that I realized I had never had such a successful trip with a group of people who weren’t best friends. A combination of simply being nice and gracious people, the team was also well-balanced personality-wise. The experience was awesome…one that will remain fresh in my mind for a long time.

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Italy Travel, Rome, Travel Opinion, Travel: My stories

My kindred spirits in Rome

by Gracefully Global travels • March 28, 2014September 15, 2021

There’s nothing like spending a little quality time with someone who just “gets” you. Double that pleasure when you can spend time with them on the backdrop of one of the most intriguing cities in the world.

That golden opportunity came to me in the form of a surprising Facebook message from my American friend Clint in February. Simply put, his message went something like this. “Peggy, me and a friend are meeting in Rome for a vacation in March. Want to join us?”

Well geez, he didn’t have to ask me twice. I booked my train ticket to Rome immediately. I couldn’t wait.
Clint is one of the few people in my life that has seen nearly all the homes I’ve had as an adult. A feat in itself, he’s joined in my adventures coast to coast in the US, and even across the pond in Italy. He meandered into my life ten years ago carrying homemade banana bread, and the rest was history. He had just moved to San Diego and wanted to get involved in the arts, so he signed up to volunteer in the marketing department of the Old Globe, where I worked. After a significant amount of homemade baked goods, he had permanently won a spot in my heart as a wonderful friend. We share a love of art and people and traveling, and are somewhat of a pair of lost souls. So naturally, an invitation to travel with Clint couldn’t be turned down.

I arranged my schedule to spend the weekend with Clint, and on Sunday his friend would join us after his flight arrived.

A Roman family enjoying a Saturday stroll.

I was thrilled to have a sleepy but happy Clint all to myself on that rainy Saturday we spent meandering around the center of Rome with no particular agenda,

The rain just made for better photo ops.

interspersing glimpses of architectural wonders and warming up over tea and wine (in no particular order, depending on how the mood struck us).

Clint has a way of truly savoring the moment, and when I spend time with him, wherever we are, he always manages to get me to look at things differently.

We stopped to do a selfie, but instead I took this photo that I love.

He spotted a balloon horse stuck in the ceiling of the Pantheon, which we stood and giggled at for what seemed like an eternity.

The closing of the Pantheon at the end of the night.

And despite myself, he managed to convince me to take a silly picture with Pinocchio (photo not included, sorry guys 😉 )

We proudly relished our tourist status that night when we went to Ristorante Alfredo for dinner (the home of the “American” pasta dish, Alfredo), which was actually on the recommendation of my student, who grew up in Rome. It was delicious.

Our wonderful walk up the Spanish steps on our way back to the hotel.

The next day David woke us up upon his arrival from the Rome airport after his red-eye from Denver. David is a history buff (although the term doesn’t do his knowledge justice) who can’t get enough of historical cities, and our first introduction was that sleepy Sunday morning in the hotel in my pajamas. I had no idea what to expect from a day with David and Clint. Despite his long flight, David was already ready to start exploring. Poor guy, it was no easy task to get me and Clint dressed and out the door.

How could we stay in bed when we had this beautifulness waiting for us?

Being quite the gentleman he is, David deferred to my wishes for the day, knowing I had a shorter time to explore than he did. I was armed with a little wish list for sight-seeing in Rome, a list that I owed to an improvised english lesson with a student brimming with excitement about her recent weekend in Rome spent with her sister, a local. I was thrilled I had managed to find the list and had such a supportive crew with me with which to enjoy it.

We started out the day in classic Clint/Peggy fashion, just meandering.

But now we had David, the perfect addition, who was able to legitimize our disorganized approach by explaining the history behind every random architectural ruin we stumbled upon in our meandering.

The rain coming down from the architecture made the angels seem like they were crying.

Which, in Rome, are about a dime a dozen. In between our history lessons and my photo ops, David managed to charm me with the sweetness that he is.

After a long trek to Piazza Santa Maria in Trastevere, highly recommended by my student, we needed to rest and eat a bit. David was more than content to stop and enjoy the area a bit longer, announcing it was his favorite neighborhood in Rome. Clint wasn’t in the mood for eating, but David enthusiastically copied my order for a Roman specialty (the dish even inspired him to learn how to make pasta by hand back home in Denver!), cacio e pepe with a splash of pistachio. Heaven. Over devouring each of our plates, I discovered how much we have in common, from blogging to traveling to friendships, David was one of us. A lover of people and places, and definitely someone I would make room in my heart for.

After an unexpected and truly impressive stop at St Maria in Trastevere Basilica,

St Maria in Trastevere Basilica was breathtaking.

we continued on foot to a less widely known tourist destination called Piazza dei Cavalieri di Malta. I knew nothing but what I had heard from several students: you go there, you look through a key hole, and you see the best view in Rome. Sounded promising.

Amidst more history lessons and lots of laughs, we made our way to the Piazza dei Cavalieri di Malta,

which we found at the top of a hill in the center of an entourage of churches and gardens with seemingly limitless exploration potential.

The light was catching the steeple just perfectly as sunset approached.

But where was the keyhole?

The keyhole was at the front of the long line of people. Why is it that the most obvious of things are sometimes the most evasive? We got in line and waited about five minutes (there were no other Americans in line), and sure enough. The view from the keyhole was beautiful.

The keyhole…you are going to have to go for yourself to see the view…

But so was just about everywhere on this beautiful hill…each garden, church, and view seemed to surpass the last. And we even caught the sunset. It was the perfect way to end the day.

My train departure was impending, unfortunately. We grabbed a cab, enjoyed a whirlwind tour of the city amongst the craziness that is Roman traffic,

and ended up back at our hotel in time to enjoy a drink at the rooftop bar. If it is possible, Rome at night is even more impressive. The city was like a sparkling wonder…

I hugged the guys a hurried goodbye and ran to the station. It should have been a somber train ride home, but my disappointment over my short visit was quickly overridden by my giddiness over acquiring a fabulous new friend, seeing Clint again, and, well, being in Rome. Enough said.

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Elsewhere, Kufstein, Austria, Munich, Germany, Travel Opinion, Travel: My stories

Perfect German Gentlemen

by Gracefully Global travels • March 19, 2014December 4, 2021

I recently spent a weekend in Kufstein, Austria. Which is a pretty small town. According to recently garnered information, it is located between South Tyrol in Italy and Bavaria in Germany, and is right around the corner from SkiWelt Wilder Kaiser – Brixental, which is Austria’s largest interconnected ski area. I don’t ski. And I didn’t study geography in school (unfortunately). So when I went, I really had little to no idea where I was actually going. My goal was simple: I was going to meet some old friends. The actual location of my friends was just a minor detail. I had a feeling we would have fun wherever we were. And thankfully, I really turned out to be right.

My great friend Timo, a fellow arts management nerd and a friend I made while studying at Carnegie Mellon in Pittsburgh, PA, has a teaching gig at a university in Kufstein and invited me out for the weekend. I am always looking for an excuse to travel, and I had never been to Austria, so why not? And to make matters better, a wonderful mutual friend of ours was working in Munich, only an hour train ride away. Two countries and two friends to explore with promised to be a fantastic weekend

I'm a lucky gal to have these two great friends. — Timo, me, and Thomas. I’m a lucky gal to have these two great friends.

Now, an important side note. I had no idea how to track down the train to get to Austria from where I live in Bologna, so I asked my friend Timo to do the research. By going directly to the Austrian ÖBB train website he was able to find me a round trip fare (not listed on the Italian train site) for a mere 60 euro. The train ride was not only totally economical, but it ended up being one of the highlights of the trip. Riding through the Italian Alps defines the term “eye candy.” Views rivaling Yosemite or Rocky Mountain National Park are just whizzing by like, no biggie.

Most of the train ride looked like this. My point and shoot unfortunately doesn't do the view justice. — Most of the train ride looked like this. My point and shoot unfortunately doesn’t do the view justice.

But as wonderful as the train ride was, the real highlight was the hospitality of my friends. As the true gentlemen that they are, they had every moment planned, and still managed to let me pick my favorite parts of the trip. Timo met me at the train station, gave me a whirlwind tour of Kufstein, and brought me home to drop off my bags and to have a relaxed at-home happy hour.

I love a good salad, and sometimes the Italian salads don't do it for me. Thank goodness for Austria. — I love a good salad, and sometimes the Italian salads don’t do it for me. Thank goodness for Austria.

Then on to an amazing Austrian meal complete with a character of a waitress and a huge fireplace in the middle of the restaurant, and not a tourist in sight. Nothing better than an Austrian salad and some potatoes and cheese. Yes, I’m easy to please.

The next day involved a superb Austrian brunch with endless scrumptious bread and cheese, a tour of his university, and a hike that straddled the border of Austria and Germany (he was looking forward to making free calls to Germany when we got to that part of the hike).

And a giant lake. It was overwhelmingly beautiful. In my life, not a typical day. But the Austrians seemed pretty nonchalant about all the grandeur and such.

Sushi night in Austria. What more could I ask for?

We topped off the awesome day with a sushi dinner of all things at a boisterous local hangout. I was thrilled.

The Austrian train company, ÖBB, is actually very reasonably priced.

Last but not least. Our day in Germany. After a train we nearly missed (running after trains is not sexy, I really need to start planning more appropriately), we met our friend Thomas for lunch in Munich at Prinz Myshkin, a restaurant they let me choose in the historic Altstadt neighborhood. And the restaurant was vegetarian, no less. What more could I ask for? Then, as the arts management nerds we all are, our next stop was the modern art museum, Pinakothek der Moderne. We sauntered our way to the museum after lunch with a brief delay by the Carnival parade that intercepted our walk.

Group of people in Munich's historical center randomly dressed as stuffed animals. — Group of people in Munich’s historical center randomly dressed as stuffed animals.

Adults dressed as jungle animals? I was interested.

I love a good costume and a little drama.

Once in the museum, I managed to set off several alarms in my picture-taking gusto as we casually took in the spectacular architecture of the museum, and the awesome Jeff Wall exhibit.

Enjoying the Pinakothek der Moderne museum.

Followed by a great coffee break at the bar and a late Indian dinner when we got back to Austria. It was a successful day, I would say.

I left the next morning, and my disappointment about my short stay in beautiful Kufstein was short-lived, as once again the spectacular scenery of the ride through the Alps captured my devotion for a few short hours.

Back at home in Bologna, I was newly enlivened with the spirit of my awesome weekend, thanks to the amazing gentlemen hosts. The first of a series of smashing successes with friend related traveling. I highly recommend it.

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