Tag: Italian

My first backdoor experience at the Colosseum

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.

We had a lot of fun. 🙂


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.

Touching the toe for good luck.


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.

 
 
 

How I pick my guides: Enjoying cocktails and sunset with The Roman Guy

Big cities can be quite a puzzle to get to know, and Rome is no exception.  Even tougher still, Rome’s huge tourism economy makes it tricky to discover how to deviate from the beaten path.  I’ve been to Rome about ten times, and I still don’t feel like I could confidently recommend a restaurant for dinner, for example.

When my extended family called me in Bologna a few months ago and told me they’d be in Rome and wanted me to show them around, I knew it was definitely time to brush up on those dinner recommendations, among other things.  It was time to work on my Roman game.  

It was a huge relief when they told me they were willing to spend a bit of money for the experience they wanted to have.  Having a fantastic time in Rome is totally possible without spending much money.  The catch is that it takes quite a bit of advance planning and research, which they didn’t have, and neither did I, really.

I immediately thought of finding them a high-quality walking tour of Rome.  In my work managing logistics for CISabroad, I’ve come to really respect a good city guide.  That being said, not all guides are created equal, as the job requires a curious combination of social aptitude, knowledge, and passion for their city.  If you manage to find a good guide, what they offer is invaluable: a personalized, in-depth local’s perspective on the city you’re visiting. Which is kind of the ideal offering when visiting a new place.

Once I find a guide I really like, and the company they work for is easy to work with, I find I usually like all the guides from that company, and can explore other tours they offer.  But finding that company can be tricky.  For my family’s trip, I was searching for a great guide and a unique tour that didn’t focus too much on history or culture, as my family is more of the sporty type.  So when I stumbled upon The Roman Guy’s Cocktail bars in Rome: Evening Walking Tour, it seemed to be the perfect solution and I booked it immediately.  Let me tell you, my family really appreciates a good cocktail.  The Roman Guy is a big operation, offering many different types of tours, and lots of guides.  They pretty much bent over backward to get my family set up with three tours, with just a couple of days notice.

Piazza Colonna, Rome.

We met our The Roman Guy guide, Fiona, in Piazza Colonna.  She immediately endeared herself to us, admitting she was thrilled to lead our private tour, as she needed to get away from her half-Italian, half-Australian teenage son who had just started his summer break.  “Our apartment is feeling smaller and smaller these days,” she chuckled.  She is the kind of person you hope to meet at a cocktail bar for some fun small-talk with someone other than your family members, who you’ve been talking to 24/7 since your vacation started.

We wove our way to the first bar, and Fiona casually introduced my family to the important landmarks along the way, like the Tempio di Adriano, which was in the neighborhood of the first bar we visited, sporting elegant cocktails and the coolest Jell-O Gin shots set in lemon skins I’ve ever had (ok, admittedly, the only Jell-O Gin shots in lemon skins I’ve ever had).

Lemon wedges with jello Gin shots.

Next stop was the Pantheon, where Fiona explained its intriguing history to my family, filling in the blanks of my less-than-adequate description from when we had been by the Pantheon earlier that day.  What can I say?  My forte is logistics and not history.  I can’t do it all, sigh.

Our guide, Fiona, explains the Pantheon.

With my family sufficiently briefed on the Pantheon, we headed to the next bar, and within a five-minute walk, we found ourselves in a sea of fun and chic bars and restaurants that were anything but tourist traps.  I’ve been in the area of the Pantheon umpteen times, and I never knew it took so little effort to get away from the touristy cafes.  Our destination was Bar del Fico, where Fiona helped me improve my Italian by explaining the origin of their name.  I’d always known that “fico” in Italian was a similar slang word to our version of “cool,” but I had never known that outside the slang, the real definition of the word “fico” was “fig.” 

We loved our cocktails at Bar del Fico.

The bar was named after a beautiful fig tree standing proudly out front, under which crowds of men were hunched over chess boards, playing to their heart’s content amidst the bustling little square full of action and life.  I loved this place, such a great find, feeling so far away from the typical tourist destination, yet actually, just a five-minute walk away.

Playing chess under the fico tree.

Next, Fiona diverted our tour to the French church, San Luigi dei Francesi, to see a Caravaggio painting.  This diversion was a personal passion she wanted to share with us, as she loves art and is fascinated with the life that the painter Caravaggio, a feisty character, led in Rome. 

I love photographing in Rome. There’s beauty around every corner.

As we sauntered to the next bar, she shared stories about Caravaggio’s antics in Rome in the 1600s and pointed out places where he had lived and frequented.  She also stopped to show us how to properly get water from the famous Roman drinking fountains.

Fiona showed us how to properly use a Roman fountain.

Now was the moment I had anticipated: crossing the Ponte Sisto bridge into Trastevere, and enjoying this lovely, spirited neighborhood on a Friday night.  My family would have never gone to this area of Rome if it weren’t for the tour, and were grateful to take in the sunset over the River Tiber from the bridge, and the fabulous vibe of couples and families hanging out, playing music, and taking in the beautiful scene. 

Sunset on the River Tiber.

The next bar was just a short walk from the bridge at the edge of Trastevere, famous for having one of the best cocktail-makers in the city, and a fabulous aperitivo.  My family hadn’t yet learned about the fantastic world of aperitivo, where a drink purchase buys you access to a free, endless buffet. 

The aperitivo buffet!

I, on the other hand, lived on aperitivo when I was a poor student in Bologna.  We fondly call the act of eating aperitivo for dinner “apericena,” meaning, “aperitivo” plus “cena” (dinner).  We apericena-ed happily this evening, enjoying the rambunctious crowd on the patio.

By the end of our cocktails, my family was admittedly exhausted.  It had already been a full evening, and were feeling the jet lag.  Nonetheless, we couldn’t finish the tour without stepping into the famously windy streets of Trastevere, and also not without a bit of dessert.  Fiona had just the place, and we soon found ourselves standing outside of a little bar, Vendita Libri, Cioccolate e Vino, that only offered chocolate shots with raunchy names.  We were thrilled. 

Selecting our chocolate shots.

We all selected our shot, blushed a little when we ordered it, and watched the bartender combine all of the delicious components into little chocolate cups topped with whipped cream. 

The catch was, we were firmly instructed by the bartender that we must insert the entire shot into our mouth, which we all laughed our way through, some of us with more successful outcomes than others.

We ended our evening with a walk to the taxi stand a few blocks away.  My sleepy family got in a taxi and were off.  Fiona and I exchanged a hug and a goodbye, and I walked back to my Airbnb in Trastevere.  To me, that’s the mark of a good tour guide…someone you’d like to stay in touch with.  I hope to see Fiona again on another tour or just around town.  And despite the jet-lag, my family considers this evening on The Roman Guy’s cocktail tour the highlight of their trip to Rome.

Bologna: the city of nighttime.

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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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Saint Faustino’s Day: Celebrating Singledom the Italian Way

After spending most of the last five years of my life in Bologna, Italy, the day after Valentine’s Day will never be the same.  With the same pioneering, rule-breaking spirit that the Italians have brought to art, fashion, engineering, architecture, and crime, they’ve also brought to Valentine’s Day by creating their own holiday celebrating singles everywhere (everywhere meaning: the more the merrier) called Saint Faustino’s Day.  Happening annually on February 15th, the holiday would more appropriately be described as “clandestine lovers day.”  Since today is Saint Faustino’s Day, and you might not find yourself anywhere near Italy, here’s a little story to get you inspired for next year’s party planning.

It was a quiet afternoon in January and my tranquil afternoon was rudely interrupted by my telephone.

“Riiiiiiing!”

“Hello?” I answered from my apartment in Bologna, Italy.

“Yo Peg!  What’s up?  Can I use your place the day after Valentine’s Day?” comes the voice of my high school friend, also an American living in Bologna, and herein referred to as GF to protect his identity.

“What?! Why?”

“Why do you think? I want to meet girls!”

Sigh.  Of course.

“I don’t understand how your constant interest in the opposite sex has anything to do with my place or the day after Valentine’s Day,” I responded with the typical bit of annoyance creeping into my voice, a common occurrence in conversations with GF.

“Peg, what’s your problem?  Everyone knows the day after Valentine’s Day is singles day in Italy. I can’t have a party at my place!  I’d have to do the cleaning up!”

Obviously my friend GF has a lot of redeeming qualities that outweigh – or at least balance – the less than ideal ones.  And, as usual, I fell prey to his obscure charm and agreed to host a February 15th singles party at my apartment, much to the chagrin of my three roommates. I mean, hey, I was single.  Why not get into the spirit, right?  No sense in languishing in feelings of inadequacy on Valentine’s Day when I can be busy party planning for Saint Faustino’s Day.

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Party planning in Bologna.

Party-planning immediately got underway, meaning I created what turned out to be a fairly robust Facebook invite.  GF constantly monitored it to check out how attractive the girls were that had RSVPed “yes.”

But as the big day approached, I got sick.  Strep throat.  It wasn’t pretty. And I had no insurance to get antibiotics, as my “permission to stay” application had not been finalized yet by the Italian authorities, which meant that I was living in a crack within Italian bureaucracy and had no legitimate access to healthcare (although, to their credit, I could always go to the hospital and would be well taken care of).  On February 12th I found myself sitting and crying on the couch in our dining room because my fever was so high. I didn’t know what to do, and things really weren’t looking good for Saint Faustino. My Turkish roommate Zey, who is possibly the nicest person on earth, walked by on the way to the kitchen.  She assessed the situation (me) and quickly produced the travel antibiotic she always gets before leaving Istanbul and returning to Bologna.

I started taking them right away.  I stayed in bed constantly, abstaining from all social invites and even cancelling teaching English lessons.  I was determined: I had to get well for the Saint Faustino party.

Valentine’s Day came and went quickly.  Forgettable.  And I quickly found myself waking up on Saint Faustino’s Day.  I was still really sick.  So what did I do?  I got out of bed, took a shower, and put on my best pink cocktail dress and a whole lotta makeup.  I figured if I wasn’t going to heal the old-fashioned way, I may as well just give it the good old college try.

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We decorated our dining-room-with-a-couch with a random assortment of accessories from the 99 cent store (actually, multiple 99 cent stores, since they are practically on every corner in Bologna).  Friends started arriving, mostly from my graduate program at the University of Bologna and our extended circle.  GF arrived fashionably late with his sidekick and enough liquor for an army.  He immediately started complaining about my playlist and anxiously awaiting enough guests to make the party not embarrassingly empty.

And came they did.  Very fashionably late. But what would a party be in Italy if the guests arrived before 11pm?  Boring, that’s what! 😉  Friends came in groups and trickles of singles that we knew from all over town.  People tossed their coats in my room.
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Was everyone single?  Not even close.  But we all had at least one thing in common – we were all indisputably fun-loving.  Somebody brought a guitar.  Others starting noting my Valentine’s accessories and playing games.  People paired up and then mingled again. A couple found my room suitable for making out, which didn’t stop people from grabbing their coats and enjoying the entertainment.
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I noticed my project partner in my statistics class was spending a long time in my kitchen talking with the roommate of one of our classmates, a beautiful Italian woman.  GF noticed too and wasted no time in swooping in as soon as my statistics partner left early.  Hallelujah!  The party was officially a success.  GF met a beautiful woman that he wouldn’t have met otherwise.

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I don’t remember when GF and his Saint Faustino’s Day interest left.  But I remember quite distinctly that my last party guests didn’t leave till 4am.  And they insisted I join them wherever they were going next.  I declined, out of character for me.

I didn’t want to push my luck.  It was 4am, I was feeling better than I had in over a week, GF was happy, and I had just thrown a memorably enjoyable party.  Life was good.

So I went to bed, and woke up feeling awesome.  GF called.  No fireworks with his Saint Faustino’s Day catch, but he was happy nonetheless.  My statistics partner messaged me.  He wanted me to help him get to know this girl better.  The same girl.

Never a dull moment.

And now, they are married.  My statistics partner and the beautiful Italian girl that made such a splash at my first Saint Faustino’s Day party.  I can barely wait to tell their kids the story of how their parents met in my kitchen.  And it is all thanks to GF, and the fierce spirit of the Italians in their quest for love.  There is no occasion not worthy of pursuing potentially life-changing love, especially the day after Valentine’s Day.  Here’s to making the most of every day, especially today.  Happy Saint Faustino’s Day!!!

The dawning of a new adventure 


As I start out on this new adventure to Italy and beyond for the summer, I can’t help thinking it is going to be a good one.  But really, I’ve already had more than my fair share of adventures, from my perch in a swinging TSA bassinet on my first flight from my birthplace in Togo, West Africa, to my multiple cross-country drives, and starting life anew in my thirties to pursue a graduate degree in Bologna, Italy.  If I never had another adventure, I really couldn’t complain, and I’d still be fiercely grateful for all of it.


After nearly a year of adjustment to being back home in San Diego, California, and getting used to not being a perpetual traveler, I am now off from my university job for the semester, and therefore back to my old traveling ways.  At the moment I am lounging in an armchair at JFK, on my way to a wedding near Lecce in Puglia, Italy, which forms the heel of the boot of Italy.  I have been to Puglia one time previously, and the abundance of sun, vegetables, and unique architecture made it a favorite of mine immediately.

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Combine a beautiful place like Puglia with a traditional Italian wedding of two of your best friends, with some of your other best friends in attendance, and you’ve got an epic event on your hands.  Ironically, these two love birds met for the first time at my apartment in Bologna.  Several years ago, an American friend of mine convinced me to throw a “day after Valentine’s Day party” for singles to meet.  That particular friend is still single, but two of my other friends – an American and an Italian – met at that party, and the rest was history, as they say.

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A few of our group that will be at the wedding, including the groom!!


Some of my favorite travelers, also part of the same friend group, are currently en route to the wedding as I write this.  I will meet one of them in a few hours at the Emirates check-in desk at JFK, after my godmother takes me to a Peruvian dinner in Queens to fill the time of my long layover.  Another flight and a bus and a train later, we will all be in Puglia together.  And that will kick off this summer with a bang.


I only hope that you all will experience time with loved ones and/or some wonderful adventures this summer as well.  And if you don’t have anything planned yet, well, get to it!
Stay tuned!

Suspended in time in Siena, Italy


Just as Siena is stuck in time, I wish I could have gotten stuck in time in Siena.  Like in Groundhog Day, I want to be living that weekend over and over.  But unfortunately it didn’t hit me how special my weekend in Siena was until I was actually gone, so I was not able to inquire as to how to stop time when I still had the chance.
So instead I rely on blogging, so at least we can relive it…together.


I had been wanting to go to Siena for years, and years, as I had heard so many bits and pieces of wonderful travel stories from friends who had been lucky enough to travel there.  There’s a great blog called “Just Visit Siena” that I’ve been following for a long time, and I even shared a video about it here on the blog a few years ago.  But Siena can be tricky to reach, due to mundane logistical challenges called mountains.  Pesky details.  An eight hour round trip train ride wasn’t worth it in relation to what I envisioned to be an overnight trip.


But after much anticipation, I finally got to go last April with my boyfriend at the time, who drove us.  The approach into Tuscany was undeniable and fit perfectly into the stereotype – the road was smaller, the grass was greener, the sun was brighter, and the soft hills curved into infinity.  We parked just outside the city, and walked in with our luggage.

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A chef statue seems to beckon us to enter Siena.


I was a bit worried that I would be disappointed with all of my high expectations about Siena.  I mean, at this point, I’ve been to a lot of Italian cities, and I’ve found that many of them are alike, or are not necessarily unforgettable.  But I shouldn’t have worried.  Siena is a place all its own.  Siena is, for lack of the creativity to come up with a better word, gorgeous.

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There is never a dull view in Siena.


There are heart-stopping Tuscan views surprising you constantly, and each perspective is just as memorable (if not more) than the last.   And as cliche as it sounds, it is totally true: walking the narrow, winding stone roads feels like it must have hundreds of years ago.

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A young family walking through the streets of Siena.


Wandering Siena is a constant visual delight, so walk slowly and indulge in reality, which we did as we toted our luggage and stumbled upon hidden courtyards,

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A gorgeous Siena courtyard.


mysterious wells, and other fascinating historical remnants.

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Some tourist boys enjoy a wishing well in a courtyard in Siena, Italy.


We were walking around with our luggage for an extended period of time because we had a small snafu with the hotel we booked on Booking.com.  Keep in mind – last minute bookings for Italian hotels via third party booking agents are never a sure thing due to communication challenges, a lack of a customer service initiative, and small hotels.  But we found another average, affordable hotel, so the crisis was averted (I never expect much from Italian lodging, but I never have to pay much either).  And Booking.com handled the “crisis” well.

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Piazza del Campo at dusk in Siena.


Our first night in Siena was a bit quieter than either of us are used to, as we weren’t visiting Siena during the high season of their incredibly famous annual Palio Horse Race in July, and we are both used to the nonstop nightlife of Bologna.  There is no nightlife in Siena, so it is a good place to practice “early to bed, early to rise.”  There are a ton of interesting events, though, so do your research and plan accordingly.

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Tourists photographing the Siena duomo.


We joined the crowds on our first morning just walking and looking, relaxing and people watching the never-ending characters in Piazza del Campo, where the Palio Horse Race takes place (in our case the most entertaining animal was pizza-loving dog),

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A family trying to enjoy a pizza lunch in Piazza del Campo and rudely being interrupted by their dog.


checking out the Duomo,

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A different perspective on Siena’s Duomo.


the neighborhoods proudly displaying their flags supporting their horse,

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A neighborhood flag proudly displayed in Siena.


the famous Museo Civico, and an occasional unexpected attraction like a tiny church we found full of wonderful art and architecture.

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Art on the street in Siena


We didn’t do the Duomo tour because it was a bit pricey, but one of my English students highly recommends the tour and I definitely regret not doing it.


It is quite easy to eat well in this city without paying a lot, but it is also easy to eat an overpriced, mediocre meal.  We used a phone app, maybe yelp, to help us wade through our lunch options after eating an overpriced meal the night before.  We ended up at a modern family-run restaurant perched at the top of a hill at a beautiful outdoor table called Zest Ristorante and Wine Bar.

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Lunch in Siena, Italy

The tiny street it was on stretched ahead, sharply curving down and up another hill, nearly giving me vertigo until I was distracted by spotting the special flags for the neighborhood horse flying proudly and colorfully ahead, and my potential vertigo was replaced with a sigh of appreciation for finding myself in this one-of-a-kind place. As I write this, I am remembering for the first time in a long time that I stopped to think and look around me for a moment, giving thanks to the universe to be able to experience this moment.  It sounds corny, but Siena really is that special.

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More delicious food in Siena


After our amazing lunch, we relaxed again for a bit in Piazza del Campo trying to decide if we had it in us to do the big climb to the top of the Torre del Mangia, the major tower overlooking the piazza that is attached to Palazzo Pubblico, Siena’s City Hall.  It cost a bit, and the day was already winding down.  But, we decided to go for it.
It was unforgettable.  The climb went round and round…the steps were ancient, and we all were forced to cooperate as a group to get to the top.

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Climbing Torre del Mangia in Siena


But it wasn’t overly strenuous, and there were more than enough stops where we could take a rest and breathe in the amazing Tuscan air.

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The beautiful view from Torre del Mangia in Siena


It started raining on the way up, but somehow hiding from the rain and checking out the dramatic storm clouds just added to the drama and adrenaline of the experience.


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We finally got to the top, and our reward was a nearly unobstructed 360 degree view of Siena and its surroundings.

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The light was peeking through the clouds and gave us a gorgeous view of Siena.


By the time we got down, we were so elated, there was nothing else we needed to do to improve our weekend.  We returned to a small bar, called the San Paolo Pub, with a balcony overlooking the Piazza del Campo smaller than my closet.

Piazza del Campo, Siena, Italy
Piazza del Campo in the late afternoon sun in Siena, Italy.


The beers were affordable, and how much space do you need to enjoy a view anyway?  It was perfect.  We sat there for hours.  Couples came and went around us.  One was “like us” as my boyfriend had said.  “Whose English is better, his or mine?” he asked me earnestly, as he recognized the couple next to us was also an Italian guy dating a young American woman.

Piazza del Campo, nighttime, Siena, Italy
Piazza del Campo from our favorite little bar overlooking the square.


It was getting to be that time, but I wasn’t ready to go home.  “Let’s go back to the restaurant where we had lunch, please??” I asked him.  After all, we hadn’t yet had any of Siena’s famous Chanti.  He graciously obliged, and back we went to the same restaurant where we had lunch.  The young waitress and the manager, who appeared to be father and daughter, recognized us and greeted us warmly.  This is something I love about Italy – people are nice and gracious to you authentically.  They were genuinely happy to see us.

Coincidentally, we discovered that the young waitress comes fairly often to the small suburb outside of Bologna where I lived at the time.  Apparently she likes a restaurant in my neighborhood (ironically).  We talked about where I lived, and that I would be returning to the United States soon.  Suddenly, she gave us a worried look.  “But what about you guys?  What are you going to do, so far away from each other?”  she said it in Italian.

Good question, ha!  I guess her question could have also been about our trip to Siena.  What were we going to do so far away from it?  It was just a moment in time, that now I have the vibrant memories from.  Hopefully they won’t fade anytime soon.  Anyway, most of life is memories, really, isn’t it?  What more can I ask for.

An All-Women Work Trip to the Suburbs of Milan

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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.

My kindred spirits in Rome

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.

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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,

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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).

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Roasting nuts.

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.

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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.

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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 😉 )

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Alfredo photo op.

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.

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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. 

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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.

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Balloon vender.

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

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David, our personal guide.

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.

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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.

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The trees were so romantic.

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,

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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,

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My favorite guys.

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

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

But where was the keyhole?

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The line for 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.

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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.

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Perfect sunset.

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

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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. 

This video convinced me to go to Siena


Siena has been on my list of places to go for years (literally), but a long train trip has kept me away. But this video, just released for Siena’s race for European Capital of Culture 2019 has convinced me the train schlep is more than worth it. The spirit of the locals and the beauty of the city are standouts in this diamond in the rough of badly done, impersonal travel videos. Hope it makes your day like it did for me. And if it happens to convince you to go, check out Just Visit Siena! for super helpful trip planning advice.

Discovering Europe…with a little help from my friends

Yes, I’ve cried on friends’ shoulders, shared laughs, graduated, shopped, worked, participated in weddings…the normal life stuff.  But ten years ago I never would have anticipated that I would be crossing Europe with my friends, and it would be thanks to them that I can experience Europe in a way that far and away surpasses your average tourist experience.


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I’ve lived in Bologna, Italy, for three years, which is a big university town.  Here I have been lucky to meet people from all over the world.  Among my best friends are a Russian and a Serbian, and between the two of them we have heard a lot of Cold War and Bill Clinton jokes, which I am more than willing to suffer in exchange for the unique opportunity to see the world through their eyes once in a while.  And even the Italians that I am drawn to seem to have the traveling spirit and have spread all over Europe.


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So, luckily, I seem to have a friend wherever I want to go.  And my mission is to take advantage of this as much as possible.  In the last month I have been to Austria, Germany, and within Italy I have visited Venice, Treviso, Cassano D’Adda, Dozza, and Rome.  Exhausting, but awesome.


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My friends have brought me to these cities in different capacities – as tourists themselves, companions, hosts…and each trip was a pleasure.  I have the karma gods to thank for this, because, well, let’s face it.  Traveling with friends can be overwhelmingly awful as often as it can be wonderful.  I’ve had my share of the awful – from my friend loosing his pre-paid credit card on the way to our vacation in Stockholm, leaving me to underwrite his trip.  Or the evening a friend and I chose different adventures for the night, and thinking he would get home before me, he took the keys to our shared apartment from my purse without telling me, and never arrived at home, leaving me to search for an available hotel room in the wee hours of the night on foot in Hamburg, Germany.


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But, despite my past challenges, I can still whole-heartedly recommend traveling with friends.  The lighthearted, more outward focused energy between friends usually leaves us more emotionally open to meeting people during our adventures, which I believe is the true spirit of traveling.  Traveling with friends can be a nice break from traveling with your family or significant other in that it allows you to escape the normal role you play within your family unit.  And when you visit friends in their cities, you couldn’t ask for a better way to experience a new city.


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I only hope you can learn from my utter failures and keep in mind a few of my tips:  Try to travel with friends that have at least an equal amount of travel experience as you, and friends that you have traveled with before (at least a little bit) – i.e. don’t go to East Africa with someone you’ve never even left your own city with.  The more they love to travel, the better.  And if you aren’t completely flexible in every way along with your friend(s), the more you have in common economically, habitually, and with your goals/interests, the less conflicts you will have.  Which, in the end, I guess is just basic logic.


Logic??  What’s that???


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Stay tuned for my series of posts about my trips this month with my fabu friends.  And the pics!!  Oh, the pics.  Several thousand of them.  But don’t worry, they’ll be edited. 🙂
A presto!