Tag: photo

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.

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

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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,

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.   

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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.

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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.

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

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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.

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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.

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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.

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

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

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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.

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

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

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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.

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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.

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

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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.

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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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. 

Perfect German Gentlemen

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.

Timo in his office in Kufstein.
Timo in his office in Kufstein.

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).

Beautiful mountains on our hike.
Beautiful mountains on our 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?
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.
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.
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.
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.

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!

One of my favorite views in the world

The view from the Rialto bridge in Venice is – in a word – indescribable.  Yes, you are submerged in tourists.  But if you can just face forward and take a deep breath and let the beauty of Venice pour in, you will never forget the moment.  The curve of the Grand Canal teeming with activity just below your feet, the pastel painted buildings lining the water with bobbing boats parked steps away.  Yesterday was a warm, sunny day, and the canal was gleaming with energy.  Even the birds seemed to know this was the place to be.

An Innocent Roman Sunset

Living far away from home isn’t always easy.  But this sunset view of St. Peter’s Basilica just off of the Piazza dei Cavalieri di Malta in Rome has a way of melting away all of my homesickness.  Just one gentle sweep of my eyes across the Roman rooftops and all my worries are gone…

Treviso: That beautiful little city just around the corner

A country as beloved by Americans as Italy means there are a lot of tourists here. And while there’s technically nothing wrong with lots of tourists, the general consensus would be that high ratios of tourists greatly diminish the potential for experiencing a country as we dream of, stepping out of the predictability of our lives into a temporary, magical world where everything is different and fascinating. I’ll never forget the American woman who unknowingly cut into all of our “magical” experiences when she loudly announced at a restaurant in Venice, “Hey, y’all got somethin’ ta eat ’round here?”


I can’t tell you how many times I have been to Florence or Venice or Cinque Terre and felt sorry for some of the tourists. Now, don’t get me wrong – a trip to Florence is amazing no matter what. But an Italian vacation hitting only the most famous cities means never truly touching the spirit of the Italian lifestyle, which, technically, is what brings us here to begin with, right? Instead, I recommend with gusto – even if your next vacation outside of your country is short – scheduling in some time in a city off the beaten path, no matter how small and insignificant that city may seem. These are the places that incubate those travelling moments you’ll never forget.


Take Treviso for instance. With a mere 20 minute time investment on a train leaving from Venice every half hour or so, you’ll be so far from the crowds of tourists that you’ll think your train crossed you into some sort of other dimension instead of just transporting you 25 miles away. Impeccably maintained with remains of frescos adorning many buildings,

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and lazy art-filled canals cutting through the center of town, dotted by chic cafes and high quality osterias,

surprisingly even many other Italians don’t give this beautiful city its due credit.

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My conversation announcing my trip to Treviso to my Bolognese English students went something like this:
“I’m going to Treviso Sunday!”
“Treviso? Why??”
“Because I want to go someplace new!”
“There’s nothing in Treviso. Don’t go there.”

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But still itching to get out of Bologna and not wanting to spend a lot of money, I went anyway, inspired by the advice I found in the blog, Around and About Treviso. But because of my friends’ bad advice, I was so disillusioned about Treviso’s potential before I even arrived that I only scheduled about five hours of time to explore the city, thinking that would be more than enough time. Fortunately, I was quite mistaken.


Instead, what I found in Treviso was an afternoon of nothing but pleasure. The center of the relaxed city is mostly closed to traffic. I let out a sigh of relief as I slowed my normal pace to stroll Treviso’s clean streets under the mini porticos, enjoying the beautiful architectural touches of the thoughtfully updated medieval buildings.


And most of my day continued like that. I followed all the instructions on the blog except taking advantage of the nature trail because I ran out of time. I went by the three beautiful churches. I had the best tiramisu I’ve ever eaten at Antica Pasticceria Nascimben, which is only fitting, being that Treviso is considered to be the home of tiramisu.

I checked out the exhibit at Ca’ dei Carraresi, beautifully positioned with picture windows along one of the main canals. But the most important “attraction” in Treviso is that the city shines so much with the beauty of the unmistakable care that it has been given over the years, and I was content just to spend the day walking the streets and people watching.

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No travel guide would ever put this on the list of “must-dos” in a city, but in Treviso there’s nothing better than an afternoon of petting happy dogs (and children dressed as dogs!) on walks with their families,

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resting a moment on a park bench to enjoy an outdoor sculpture bathed in nature, or buying a two euro glass of local prosecco to sit and enjoy the beautiful canal view for just a bit longer.

I hope to go back soon, this time for a weekend. And in the meantime Treviso stands tall and proud among my memories of my Italian adventures. In my opinion, we spend too much time focusing on seeing “the sights.” We are determined to have the best vacations, and I guess that’s the simplest strategy to achieve this. But to have the opportunity to be a quiet guest in a foreign, beautiful world and just to watch, and to learn, those people’s lives…that, I think, is the best. I hope you can someday make it to Treviso, and if not, that you find your own Treviso soon. There’s probably one closer than you think.

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