Tag: photos

A Halloween walking tour through a San Diego historic neighborhood


San Diego’s North Park neighborhood piqued my interest many years ago when a tiny street called Ray Street dotted with artist studios started welcoming the public to their studios every month.  Prior, I had only thought of North Park as a fairly crime-stricken region of San Diego that was best to avoid.  Fast-forward a decade, and the neighborhood is booming with businesses and new residents, but most artists can’t afford to be there anymore.  A downside of neighborhood redevelopment.  Fortunately, the upsides are numerous, including the creation of the North Park Historical Society in 2007, which is the local group behind the official designation of the North Park Dryden Historic District, which boasts several blocks of California bungalows and Spanish colonial revival homes.  I watch the changing of the seasons jogging the streets of this gorgeous neighborhood as homeowners enthusiastically decorate their already eye-catching homes.

I pass this house every day but just noticed its incredible tree because of all the jolly pumpkins hanging from the branches.

And my favorite season of all to enjoy this neighborhood is – you guessed it – Halloween.  These homeowners are so creative and artistically inclined with their spooky decor.

One of my favorite bungalows in North Park’s historic district dressed up for Halloween.

If you are visiting San Diego or live here, pay a visit and take a nice long stroll at dusk along 28th and Pershing Streets, bordered to the north by Landis Street and to the south by Upas Street, and everything around and between.

Skeletons dancing on doors…

Enjoy a trip back in time, a lesson in California architecture, and a good laugh at these Halloween decorations with a sense of humor.

This home alone is worth the trip. This is just a portion of their extensive decorations.

And the best part is no costume is required.


Although, if you are so inclined, your costume will be admired by the neighborhood joggers, like me, and, no doubt, the homeowners too!

Not so easy to see the black crows in the dark, but they are surrounding this mannequin in this homeowner’s take on Hitchcock’s Birds.
More crows make a theme of scary bird decorations!
A typical North Park streetscape with a pumpkin peeking out from the bushes. 
I didn’t notice this guy climbing out of his grave until I peeked through the fence to take a pic of this darling home.
Black flamingo = genius.
Another great bungalow joining in on the Halloween spirit.

If you’re interested in seeing some fascinating historical photos of the neighborhood and learning more about its history, this PDF by the Save Our Heritage Organisation is a great read.

Vlog: Gracefully Global Goes to Ireland – A celebration of music on the Emerald Isle

My time in Ireland this year developed in me a love for the Irish that will never go away. Of the many qualities I fell in love with about the Irish is their love of music, poetry, and performance.  This was the connection to my family heritage that I subconsciously sought after.  My grandpa was a first-generation Irish-American and a paid actor in FDR’s Works Progress Administration.  This video prompted my dad to tell me for the first time that my grandpa had also been a singing waiter in Brooklyn.  The pieces of family history are slowly but surely coming together, and I thank my time in Ireland for a lot of that.

Since leaving Ireland, I’ve told so many stories of the special nights in the Irish pubs with locals singing and dancing, that I drove up a bit of demand for sharing the beautiful music and performance that I experienced. So, I decided to make my next vlog be a focus on the music I experienced during my trip.  This is my edit of the sounds from a few of my favorite performances I witnessed, which I paired with video I took on my phone of some of Ireland’s beautiful landscapes. I hope you enjoy, and I hope you make it to Ireland soon.

Oh, and don’t forget to turn your sound up!   🙂

The Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge

Editor’s note: This column is written by my fatherRich Ryan, who I’ve invited to be a frequent contributor to Gracefully Global as “Dad’s Guest Blog,” as he calls it.  He’s a retired professor, and he keeps himself busy with frequent traveling and writing a column in the local newspaper of my hometown, the Imperial Valley Press.  This particular adventure we shared together along with my stepmom, Estela.  This is the second post in the series, and the first post was written about Salvation Mountain, which you can read by clicking here.  The photos are by me.

To the southwest of Niland’s Salvation Mountain is the Sonny Bono Salton Sea National Wildlife Refuge.  Entry is free. 

The Salton Sea which straddles northern Imperial County and southern Riverside County is an inland saltwater lake that is a stopover for seasonal bird migrations.  The Refuge, a sanctuary and breeding ground for birds, is over 37,000 acres.  The area is huge.

The Sonny Bono visitors’ center is easily accessible from California Highway 111.  It is approximately a twenty-minute drive from Salvation Mountain to the Wildlife Refuge and less than two hours from Palm Springs.  Driving south on  California Highway 111, turn west on Sinclair Road which will bring you directly to the center’s entrance. 

You will pass a series of huge geothermal plants that run along both sides of Sinclair.  Signage is minimal so be alert.  The visitors’ center is not fancy but possesses the basics:  parking, a gift shop, informed docents, restrooms, and shaded picnic tables. 

Next to the center is a large, unshaded viewing platform from which to observe flocks of migrating birds such as white phase snow geese feeding in an irrigated field.  Bring binoculars.  Migrating is the key word.  These birds are not permanent residents so check the website for migrating bird information. 

Why should you visit the Refuge?  The Refuge is situated within the Pacific Flyway.  If you enjoy the outdoors and watching wildlife in their natural state, this is the place to be. 

Birds from all over the western states, northern Mexico and Canada winter over here.  Even during a brief visit, we saw dozens of pelican formations flying over and landing on the artificial islands established in the Refuge’s lakes. 

Thousands of shore birds line the Salton Sea which is about a half mile walk from the visitor’s center.  I was lucky on my first visit to startle a blue heron as I approached on a canal bank road.  A great blue heron taking off is a majestic sight.

Do be weather-wise when visiting Imperial Valley.  This is low desert, and from late spring to early fall temperatures will usually exceed 100 degrees Fahrenheit.  It’s best to visit during the mild winter, late fall, or early spring.  A sun hat and water are must haves.  Enjoy your visit.

– Richard Ryan, Guest contributor
   Instagram: @desert_rich

Stepping Into Frida Kahlo and Diego Rivera’s Mexico City

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It is hard to imagine that two artists alone could make an indelible mark on a city that would sustain for decades, a century, or more.  Yet Diego Rivera and Frida Kahlo’s legacy in Mexico City – the fifth largest city in the world – is still very real and tangible.  As a photographer, theatre artist, and arts advocate, I feel at home in cities that embrace art, and Mexico City is no exception.  I relished every opportunity on my recent trip to experience the Mexico that Rivera and Kahlo knew and loved, taking in their art and visiting their homes and haunts.
In fact, I dedicated an entire day-and-a-half of my Mexico City vacation to my immersion into the world of Diego and Frida.  Here’s where I went:

Museo Estudio Diego Rivera y Frida Kahlo
Calle Diego Rivera 2, Álvaro Obregón, San Angel Inn, 01060
+52 55 8647 5470
The home and studio of Diego Rivera where Frida Kahlo also lived and worked for many years, famous for its incredible architecture by Juan O’Gorman.
Time needed: 1 to 2 hours

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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Life Imitates Art or Art Imitates Life?

After completing two master’s programs in arts management, the topic of art and its relationship to life is of particular interest to me and has been the topic of many a paper and lengthy discussion with colleagues.
But in the case of the weekly WordPress photo challenge “Life Imitates Art,” I’m abstaining from profundity of any kind and delving into this photo challenge quite literally, utilizing the immensity of my library of travel photography as a significant asset.  I mean, doesn’t everybody love taking silly statue photos?

On that note, I now introduce you to the tip of the iceberg of my silly statue photo collection.  I apologize in advance.

Police statue in Budapest
Statues with lots of personality seem to be commonplace in Budapest, including this one just down from St. Stephen’s Basilica. Here my friend seems to have transformed herself into the pot-bellied double-breasted policeman.
Young girls statue in Trieste, Italy
My lovely arts management colleague Valentina interacts with a graceful statue in Trieste as if she were one of the group.

Polar bear statue at Venice Arsenale
This is one of a series of shots created with an obscure animal statue, me performing a selfie, and my friend Dan in the background responding to the serious posture of the animal. This polar bear is at the Venice Arsenale. We crack ourselves up.

Rhinocéros statue at Musée d'Orsay in Paris
Here are Dan and I again, this one with a giant “rhinocéros” statue in front of the Musée d’Orsay in Paris.

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My Dad at the Getty Center in Los Angeles. He’s the best model.

Manhole statue in Stockholm
Here in Stockholm, art imitates life with this statue of a man popping out of a manhole as people whiz by, as if he were about to fall into stride right behind them.

Stockholm Old Town statue
Another moment in beautiful Stockholm where art imitates life. This evening I was strolling through Old Town on my own, and this statue was so full of life that he almost transformed into my travel companion.

Dozza flower mural in Italy
My beautiful friend Lauren seemingly the human embodiment of the whimsical beauty of this flower mural in Dozza, Italy.

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.