Skiing to Switzerland...a retrospective

Today we wore t-shirts and shorts and Jim cut the "lawn," a mix of grass, herbs, wildflowers, and weeds. Skiing in Zermatt seems like more than just a season ago...

Our long-time friends Kevin and Reisa were coming to Lichtenstein in January for a meeting of the Turtle Foundation, a cause that they have been part of since 2000. They apologized for not having enough time to come see us in Italy. We said "no problem, we'll meet you in the Alps!" After a bit of debate among the four of us and Steve, a friend from Geneva who would join us, we decided to meet in Zermatt, Switzerland, for four days.

Jim and I spent 2 months in 1993 in the town of Zermatt with the goal of climbing as many of the peaks in the valley as we could. It was undoubtedly one of our best summers. Because of the eighteen 4,000-meter peaks that ring the valley, Zermatt is a superb training ground for climbers, with the added bonus that after you "bag" your peak, you get to hang out in a beautiful alpine village, eat fondue, and drink good beer. We were excited to return to the Zermatt valley, experience it in winter, and hook up with our friends.

Zermatt is car-free, or I should say, combustion-engine-free. There are plenty of electric buses and transporters that could just as easily run you down as their fuel-guzzling counterpart. In fact, because they have quiet electric engines, I think you are more likely to get hit. Although you can't drive to Zermatt, you can drive to the town of Tasch and then take the train to Zermatt, but that wouldn't have been nearly as much fun as the trip that Jim planned: Drive to the Italian ski resort of Cervinia on the south side of the Matterhorn and go over the mountains to Zermatt. Here's a video of how that works.



European ski areas tend to be more spread out than their U.S. counterparts. U.S. ski areas typically have a well-defined base that the lifts and runs are built around. Perhaps because American ski resorts are newer, they look and feel like they are laid out with a plan. European ski areas, which vastly outnumber U.S. ski areas, feel like they grew organically, with lots of older small ski areas conglomerating into mega ski areas over time. Zermatt, for example, is three distinct areas that are loosely hooked together. This can be frustrating if you want to efficiently ski the resort, but frankly skiing in Europe is more about enjoying the views, taking long lunches, and enjoying all the different forms of transportation. In all of my years of skiing in the U.S., I've never taken a train to the top of the run!



On our first day of skiing, the four of us met Kevin for lunch at the Gornergrat station. Kevin had injured himself skiing in Lichtenstein. We thought he was off the roster for his stay in Zermatt, but through a combination of beer, pain killers, and sheer will, Kevin skied down the mountain with us that afternoon and all day the next day.

The trip over from Italy and back was fun and uneventful. We didn't get stuck on one side or the other as I feared. We got to spend some quality time with our friends from Bellingham. We shared great skiing, fondue, and laughs! Here are some photos compliments of Reisa and Jim:

A Birthday in Venice

We celebrated my birthday in December with a trip to Venice. This was our second time in Venice. We originally visited in 1988 during a 10-month bicycle trip, which included 3-1/2 months pedaling from Rome to Dublin. In the 22 years since we first visited Venice, we've changed a great deal. (There's nothing like a birthday to remind you how much you've changed.) Venice, on the other hand, is exactly the same. And that is the beauty of Venice: it is a city frozen in time. The time was around the 13th Century when Venice was the major trading center in Europe for goods and crusaders coming in from and departing for the East. The thriving trade center became a center of banking, manufacturing, and the arts. Wealthy citizens built splendid palaces along the canals and subsidized great works of art. But Venice's preeminence as an international trade center declined in the 15th Century after Magellan found a sea route to the East, shifting Europe's center of trade from Venice to Lisbon and other European cities that were prepared to set sail. Venice, with it's fleet of oared boats, slid into obscurity, preserved in its lovely, slightly decayed medieval-renaissance state.

From our original visit, we both had fond memories of Venice. I loved getting lost in the maze of little alleyways, and Jim loved that the city is without automobiles. (I find it funny that a guy who owns five vehicles loves car-free zones.) You can drive to Venice from the mainland on a long causeway, but then you have to park at one of the few outrageously expensive garages. (Cheaper alternatives are on the mainland and along the causeway, but we were only in Venice three nights so we opted for convenience.) From the parking garage, we rolled and carried our luggage to the vaporetto station, where we picked up the public boat that would get us, our dogs, and luggage closer to our hotel near St. Mark's Square. Bruno carried his own backpack, which made him a big hit on the vaporetto. After disembarking, we wandered around looking for the right alleyway to proceed down, but when we started retracing our steps, Jim pulled out the GPS and took us directly to the Hotel Locanda Canal. Venice is great for walking, but not with suitcases. A GPS is handy.

Venice has some fantastic sights to see, including the Doge's Palace, St. Mark's Basilica and Square, and the Frari church, but I didn't feel the desire that I feel in Florence to visit sights. Venice makes me want to walk and walk and walk, and when I'm tired of walking, it makes me want to eat. I did visit St. Mark's Basilica on my birthday, admiring the golden, stone-studded mosaics covering the ceiling, studying the detail in the Paolo d'Oro altarpiece, and marveling at the waves created in the black and white mosaic floor from the settling of the pilings under the weight of the cathedral. Jim and I also spent a day visiting half a dozen churches around the city, the best of which was the Frari for the masterpieces it contains. They say that Venice has an amazing café culture, but it was too cold when we were there for it to be in full swing. The cafes were full inside, but outside tables and chairs were empty in the near freezing temperatures. The only thing to do was to walk to stay warm and dip into a café or restaurant at meal time for some local cuisine. On my birthday, we dipped into Osteria al Mascaron, snagged the last table, and enjoyed their seafood antipasto, pasta, and house white wine.

Walking the streets of Venice is like hiking the canyons of the American Southwest. The footpaths are narrow and are hemmed in by buildings rising 30-feet overhead, as though the watery canals had carved out the facades of these buildings over time. These urban canyons angle this way and that, slowly revealing the path forward. Little canyons merge to form bigger canyons, and bigger canyons divide into many narrower canyons. Venice begs you to come to the next bend in the canyon and peak around the corner for a visual treat. It hardly ever disappoints.

I've posted more pictures of Venice and created a short video highlighting some different forms of Venetian transportation.

Olive Oil

Much of the mystery of olive oil production has been solved for us, including the answer to the question "why is good olive oil so expensive?" The answer: harvesting olives is really hard work! But if you've ever tasted fresh extra-virgin olive oil, then you know it is worth the expense if you buy it or the effort if you happen to have an olive grove, which we do now. Of course, having a grove of olive trees is common here. Italy ranks second after Spain for production of olive oil (22% of the global market) and per capita consumption (12.35 kg per person per year). All of our neighbors have groves that range from 10 trees (ours) to 200 or so trees (Letizia and Francesca's next door).

Another mystery of olive oil production is when to harvest the olives. We've heard everything from October to February, but I think the honest answer is whenever you can find the time. If you do it earlier, you have better weather, but you also have more green olives that aren't yet ripe. If you harvest later, you run the risk of harvesting in cold, rainy weather, but you'll have a higher ratio of black, ripe olives. Green olives are not a bad thing for olive oil, but they contain less oil than black olives and that gets into the third mystery of olive oil production: the yield. Apparently, Italians discuss their yield--the ratio of oil to olives--like Americans discuss horsepower in their cars. It's a serious topic that reflects on an individuals self-worth and image. We haven't been privy to any of these conversations, but we have heard men fight over the size of meat in the ragu, so it seems likely that olive oil yield could be an important and sensitive topic.

It took Jim and I about 8 hours to harvest the olives from our 10 trees. That was after spending a few hours with Francesca learning the ropes. The harvest involves spreading nets under the trees and then using small hand rakes to remove the olives from the tree. Once all of the olives are picked, the nets are lifted and the olives are dumped into a crate. Pretty basic, but Francesca had two valuable tools: an oliviera, an electric tool with gyrating prongs on a long handle so that olives can be harvested from hard to reach spots, and an olive cleaning machine that removes the leaves and twigs.

Once we had our olives (10 trees produced 56 kilograms of olives), a co-worker of Jim's made an appointment for us to take the olives to a frantoio, or olive pressing facility. We knew the frantoio had a minimum amount, which we would be under, but we were able to buy olives from them to get the 130 kilograms we needed. The frantoio we went to was Lucchi & Guastalli in Santo Stefano di Magra. When one of the owners discovered that I spoke English, he went and got his partner, who explained the process and served me a cup of coffee. I spent the next two hours at the frantoio watching my olives be weighed, washed, ground up into a peanut butter paste, and then spun through a centrifuge to extract the oil. An entirely automated process. The air was thick with the smell of olive oil and the warehouse buzzed with the fervor of harvest. Men stood in groups discussing their crops. One would break away when his oil began to emerge. He would watch with great intent, occasionally sticking a finger in the flow to take a quick approving taste.

When it was my turn, I watched with pride as my 25-liter stainless container was filled to the rim. The attendant did a quick calculation and handed me a piece of scrap paper with my yield (17.6 percent, an extremely high yield that I contribute to dumb luck) and my bill (150 euros for 80 kg of olives and the pressing fee). The final cost is 6 euros a liter (about $8) of the most delicious and certainly the freshest olive oil I have ever tasted. A fantastic deal, particularly when you factor in this truly Italian experience.

Buone Feste!

A short video card...



It's been an incredible year for us. After spending the last 30+ years in the Seattle area, we relocated to Italy. The changes in our lives have been both dramatic and subtle. I've tried to capture the transition in this blog, but it's hard to capture the feelings and effects of leaving your jobs, home, family, friends, and country and moving half-way around the world.

We are very thankful to all the people who have helped ease our transition. Our families and friends have been incredibly supportive and some of them have even consented to visit us in Italy to help alleviate any feelings of homesickness we might suffer! We had visits this year from Jim's nephew Mike and his wife Tina, Jim's sisters Alice and Marilynn, our friends Keith and Shay, and Jim's former boss and our friend Charlie. And next year's roster of visitors is already starting to fill up, so we have a lot to look forward to in 2010.

We are also very thankful to the people here who have helped us in our transition. The friends that we've made through Jim's work have been very kind and eager to help both Jim in his new job and us in our new life in Italy. Jim has nothing but good things to say about the people he works with.

The women who I've met through the International Women's Club have also been invaluable in our transition. An active group, they offer many activities, including Italian conversation classes, cooking classes, and field trips. In addition, they are a great resource of information: best doctors, restaurants, market stalls, gelaterias.... It's made the transition a lot faster and a whole lot more fun.

Finally, we must mention Letizia, Francesca, and Mattea, three generations of a wonderful family that we are lucky to call our neighbors. From the first day we moved in, they have been willing to help us, whether it is translating for us when the repairman comes, teaching us how to harvest olives, or inviting us to their home for dinner. (Even their dog Kruk is a good neighbor. He and Bruno like to get together and croon. We speculate that they are singing a love song to Bella.) We couldn't have asked for better neighbors. Without them, I think we would feel isolated at the end of Via Prulla.

We hope that you and your families are all healthy, happy, and enjoying the holiday season. All the best in 2010!

Pace e buone feste!

SPQR

Looking outside the house at the fresh snow on the ground, I find it hard to remember the warm days we spent in Sorrento and Rome in early October. I do remember that I liked Rome more than I thought I would and the Amalfi Coast a little less. Overall, the trip was fantastic: Jim took his first vacation in over a year, we began our explorations of southern Italy, and we traveled with two of Jim's sisters, Marilynn and Alice. Traveling with them can be described in one word: laughter. Whether it's chasing geckos around their hotel room or posing for photographs with ancient statues, they both bring a lighthearted and laid back approach to seeing the world, while still appreciating the incredible art and history we were experiencing.

So Saturday morning, we dropped the dogs off at the kennel, picked Jim's sisters up in Florence, and drove the 6 hours to Sorrento. We listened to a gripping audiobook about Ed Viesturs mountaineering exploits while Jim drove us through Naples in the dark and the rain. It was probably the wrong thing to listen to because when we finally reached our hotel, our hearts were racing as much from the story as from the crazy southern Italy drivers. The hotel was simple but had wonderful views across the bay of Naples. It also came with a hotel clerk that spewed information like lava from nearby Vesuvius. From Sorrento, we took the train to Naples to visit the National Archaeological Museum, which has amazing exhibits of Roman statues, frescoes, and mosaics. This is a world-class museum that although badly in need of a dusting is jam packed full of artifacts from Pompeii including the finest mosaics I've ever seen. It also houses the Farnese Collection (Cardinal Farnese became Pope Paul III): room after room of Roman sculpture, mostly copies of Greek originals that were unearthed in excavations around Rome during the Renaissance. Sadly, the Egyptian collection was closed during our visit.

Also from Sorrento, we drove along the Amalfi Coast. Despite a fantastic lunch in the small village of Rapallo, the drive was disappointing. I imagined a long, rocky coastline with a road that clung to the cliffs above the sea. That was all true, but the only reason it was long was because there were so many cars and the traffic was stop-and-go through each little overrun village. The scenery was stunning, but there are too many people trying to share too small of a space. I'd like to see more of this area, but perhaps from the trails in the hills or from the seat of a kayak.

If the Amalfi Coast was disappointing because it was smaller than I had envisioned, the opposite is true of Pompeii. The scale of the place is hard to describe. Our legs gave out on the rocky, uneven roads and sidewalks before we could see the entire site. Pompeii, which was sealed up by the 79 AD eruption of Vesuvius, is a well preserved window into Roman life. The mosaics, frescoes, courtyards, chariot-width roads, amphitheatre, baths, brothel, bakeries, fast-food restaurants... all paints a picture that you can't find anywhere. Large ruins remain in Rome, such as the Coliseum and Forum, but Pompeii shows you how middle-class Romans lived their day-to-day lives.

I didn't expect to like Rome. I expected to tolerate its crowds, its noise, its Vespas, but I loved it and can't wait to return. Marilynn rented a small apartment outside of Rome, which worked out perfectly. Each day, we'd ride the train into the city and visit any number of blockbuster sites. The Coliseum, magnificent. The Pantheon, timeless. Michelangelo's Pieta in St. Peter's Basilica, a tear jerker. The Vatican Museum, opulent overindulgence by a long line of power mongering and outrageously wealthy popes, but an extraordinary collection, nonetheless. The Sistine Chapel, soul stirring. The list goes on, but the one place we hadn't visited before that took our breath away was the Borghese Museum. This small museum houses some extraordinary art treasures, including many of Bernini's works. The museum lets 200 people enter at one time for a 2-hour period. If you get out of synch with the other 199 people, you can be alone in a room with a masterpiece, such as "Apollo and Daphne," and marvel at how Bernini captured Daphne's metamorphosis into a laurel tree, her fingertips transforming into delicate leaves of white Carrara marble.

SPQR is seen throughout Rome (it's on every manhole cover in the city). It is the latin abbreviation of "Senatus Populusque Romanus," the senate and people of Rome. Western politics, religion, law, medicine, philosophy, and culture owe much to the Roman Empire. Spending some time in Rome helps make that connection. (And if you can't get to Rome, or even if you can, watch the HBO series "Rome" to see what life might have been like around the time of Julius Caesar in all its gory details.)

More photos of our trip.

Motorcycle nirvana

I need to write about our October visit to southern Italy--Pompeii was fantastic and Rome is my new favorite city--but right now, my thoughts are in a purely self-indulgent place, and I'm more interested in writing about our new motorcycles than anything else.

As many of you know, Jim and I got into motorcycling recently. It had an altruistic beginning. I wanted to start riding a scooter to and from work (25-miles round trip) because I felt guilty about driving a 5-passenger, gas-guzzling car every day. At one point in my life, I was a regular bicycle commuter, but with dogs to keep exercised on long walks every morning, I didn't have enough time to add in a 2-hour bike commute. Public transportation options were abysmal from our suburban home. It would take me three buses and nearly 2-hours one way to work, including about 1-1/2 miles of walking. A scooter seemed like a reasonable alternative, and of course, it sounded fun. So, in the spring of 2008 while Jim was in the Arctic, I signed up for a motorcycle instruction course and started looking at Vespas and the like. When Jim returned home, and I told him about the class, he said "Great, when are WE taking it?" That's when I knew I wouldn't be buying a little scooter.

Two weeks after we finished our class, we bought a 1994 BMW K75. We were so new at this, that we didn't even dare to take it for a test drive, but rather had the owner deliver it to our house. Our first rides were around our neighborhood. I spent a lot of time in the local elementary school parking lot and then driving to and from work. I learned a lot in the first few months of commuting, including that I can pick up a 500+ pound motorcycle that I've dropped in front of my Mom. Despite being a bit big for me, the K75 was a great beginner bike. It was a very easy bike once I was underway, and with three inline cylinders, it was smooth but not overpowered. The only problem was we needed another bike so that we could ride together.

Before we found that other bike, we decided to move to Italy. We figured that Italy was full of motorcycles that we could buy, so we sold the K75 and started looking for bikes after we arrived. But, there were complications. First, whatever we bought would have to be sold before we left for the U.S. since we couldn't import motorcycles with European specs. Second, it was difficult to set up meetings, let alone negotiate, with our limited Italian. Finally, we would have to go through a tortuous licensing process to get used Italian bikes exported from Italy and imported into the Armed Forces Italy licensing system, a requirement for all of our vehicles while Jim works for NATO. Jim was frustrated with all of the hurdles, so he started investigating BMW's military sales program and discovered that we could buy new discounted bikes and avoid paying tax until we import them into the U.S. Although new BMW bikes aren't cheap, the deal was pretty enticing. After a bit of debate, we ordered two new bikes in August.

Jim will want me to disclose that it wasn't his idea to buy enduro bikes (off-road/on-road), but rather my insistence on buying the F650GS "forced him" into buying his 1200GS. Jim probably would have bought a sport or touring motorcycle, but since a co-worker first suggested the F650GS to me, I've had my heart set on it, not because it's a beautiful bike (the Moto Guzzi Breva 750 is a beautiful bike), but because the F650GS was right for me. I like the size and weight of the bike, and I like the notion that I can drive anywhere that I have the willingness to go.

Two months after we placed our order, our bikes were ready. Coincidentally, the pick-up date was the day after Jim's birthday, so the last weekend in October, we drove to Germany in a rental van and collected the bikes. No surprise, but Jim and I always feel a bit out of place when we go into a BMW dealership. This time was no different. It probably didn't help that we had camped in the van with Bella and Bruno in front of the dealership Sunday night. Despite our disheveled appearance, they were very kind to us, giving us coffee, loading our bikes into our van for us, and sending us off with a bottle of champagne. Around midnight Monday night we unloaded the bikes at our home.

The instructions in our manuals for breaking in the bikes say "Try to do most of your riding during this initial period on twisting, fairly hilly roads...." If you know where we live, you will find this instruction funny. I can count nine hairpin turns on the 3-mile road from town (sea level) to our house (1,500 feet). For our inaugural ride on Saturday, we spent 20-minutes negotiating some traffic near town, and then we drove 40 miles following the Vara River to the medieval town of Varese Ligure. The back roads here are a dream to ride: empty, twisty, and incredibly scenic. In Varese Ligure, we walked around, had a cappuccino, and then rode home, enjoying the sunshine and the fall colors. Late Sunday afternoon, we drove up into the hills above our house on gravel and small paved roads. We drove to the end of a long ridge and stopped to enjoy the view over the local mountains, the Apennines, which were bathed in light from the full moon. We are in motorcycle nirvana.

Visiting a Friend in Vicenza

I've been having too much fun to blog. After our weekend in Florence, we went to Vicenza, a 3-1/2-hour drive northeast of here. Our friend Susan Pollock was on a tour of Palladio's architectural works, so we decided to meet up with her. Then, for the last week or so, we've been travelling with two of Jim's sisters, Marilynn and Alice: first, to Sorrento for four nights, and then to Rome for five. We saw so much, yet we've barely skimmed the surface of what Rome has to show us. It's clear we will need to make many trips to Rome to delve deeper. But first, Vicenza....

The northern town of Vicenza was another nice surprise. Parma, Verona, Vicenza...we are learning to love these mid-sized agricultural, industrial Italian cities. They are all prosperous and have been for a long time. Their old towns are nicely preserved, the streets are clean, and the arts and restaurant scene is vibrant. We'd never heard of Vicenza before we moved to Italy, but Susan's trip gave us an opportunity to visit a city that we might have just passed through on our way to Venice. In addition to not knowing anything about Vicenza, we knew next to nothing about Andrea Palladio. Palladio was the focus of Susan's trip, which was specially arranged for her and a group of her travelling friends.

Our day travelling with Susan and her group, who generously let us crash their tour, reminded us of the benefits of a good guide. We spent the day walking around Vicenza with a local expert learning about Palladio and High Renaissance architecture.

Among many things, Palladio is famous for the villas that he designed for wealthy Venetians who had summer homes in Vicenza and the surrounding area. Like the great Renaissance artists, Palladio traveled to Rome to study what the Romans had learned from the Greeks, techniques that were lost during the middle ages. In particular, he learned how to make houses less expensive using brick and stucco where marble had previously been used. (Brick and concrete construction was for all practical purposes lost during the middle ages until Renaissance architects--most importantly Brunelleschi--started studying Roman construction, particularly the Pantheon.)

One of Palladio's most famous works is La Rotonda, which we visited with Susan's group. La Rotonda was a "pleasure palace" for a retired priest who wanted a place outside of Vicenza where he could throw the types of wild and lavish parties that were common among the Catholic elite before the Reformation. The hallmark features of Palladio's country villas are integration with the surroundings, a symmetrical plan, and the use of extended porticos and a dome. In the case of La Rotonda, which sits on the crest of a hill, the design is a symmetrical square capped by a dome and four porticos that extend on each side. You'll recognize La Rotonda, because it is the basis for many lavish homes in the United States, for example, Thomas Jefferson's home at Monticello.

Palladio's last work, which was completed after he died, was the Teatro Olimpico. We really have never seen anything like this theater, which is a replica of a Roman theater housed inside a medieval building. The set uses a series of trompe-l'oeil panels to give great depth to the stage, which is only a few meters deep. Our visit to the Teatro was certainly a highlight of our visit, but the real point of the visit was to get to see Susan. We enjoyed lunch with her and in the evening an aperitivo at the beautiful Hotel Villa Michelangelo where she was staying, and then Sunday she and her group were off to explore more of Palladio's works, while Jim and I visited two nearby villages: Marostica, the site of a biannual chess game where humans and horses are the chess pieces, and Bassano del Grappa, center of grappa production. Grappa is a grape-based brandy that is made from the leftovers of the wine making process. Jim and I are not fans, but based on the crowds of people drinking grappa for breakfast the Sunday we visited Bassano, quite a few folks seem to like this spirit.

More pictures of our weekend are on Facebook.