Author's Notes:

     Our minds usually have their own have their own motives and occasionally twist facts to their liking.  The contents of this website is my take on the a few events that I experienced while abroad in Italy.  Everyone experiences Italy in different ways, I just hope mine did the country justice.

     The interactive map with blue icons acts as the navigation tool to the many posts.  Each icon, when clicked on, displays a link to the accompanying piece.  It may happen when clicking on certain icons the map will move.  If this happens and you cannot see the next icon you need to click on.  Please just grab the map and drag to recenter the map.  At the bottom of each piece lies instructions to continue on the journey throughout the beautiful country.  

     I leave you with a quote that I wish were mine, "You may have the universe if I may have Italy." (Giuseppe Verdi)

Please begin by clicking on Montalcino (2 cities north of Rome).

Compassion/ Nurturing:

Orvieto: Written at La Palomba restaurant on May 14th, 2010:
"

La Palomba     14/5/10

Via Cipriano Manente, 16   Orvieto

Wine: 

      Rosso di Spicca

      Orvietano D.O.C. 2008

         Smooth and light.  A much better step up to Roman wine.  This was a taste from the bottle of our neighboring table.

     

      Rosso della Casa

         buono nothing special but smooth and deep flavors

Paste:

   1. Tagliatelle al Ragu di Cinghiale     8,00 euro

      (Tagliatelle Pasta with Wild Boar Ragu)

         Great!  Pasta so fresh it ripped.  Sauce wasn't         overly gamey but could tell it was wild.  Perfect ratio of pasta to sauce.

   2. Tagliatelle della di' Giovanna       8,00 euro

         The lamb had its signature taste and flavor.  Not enough chunks of meat.

Secundo:

   1. Braciola di Maiale ai Ferri          7,50 euro

      (Grilled Pork Chop)

         A bit tough, but the combination of rosemary olio (oil) and lemon created a perfect flavor profile.

   2. Bocconcini di Cinghiale alla Palomba 9,00 euro

      (Wild Boar Stew, Palomba Style)

         Outstanding braised meat.  Tomato and pepper come in to help the boar shine.

Dolce:

   1. Torta Rustica al Cioccolato          4,00 euro

      (Rustic Chocolate Cake)

         Wow.  Almost a lemony cake with chocolate center and hot chocolate served on top.  Crumbly and soft.

   2. Torta con Frutti di Bosco e Panna Cotta 4,50 euro

      (Berry and Panna Cotta Cake)

         An interesting dessert.  Cake had a great consistency and berries were nice.  Panna cotta created an almost ice cream quality to it.  Cioccolato was better.

     Dinner was incredible.  We got there late (9:45) and expected to be rushed.  We were sat next to an italian couple who were just getting their dessert.  After the pasta course, we started a conversation, strictly in Italian.  It focused on food, what California is like, wine...all good things.

     A weird American who had lived there for 16 ears said that America has the best food and that we needed to tell this couple that.  I disagreed and was talking purely ingredients-wise.  We talked about cows getting steroids and how bigger is better; I brought up how they are corn fed rather than grass fed.

     She asked why we were here and what we were doing.  I told her and she recommended Casa Linga for dinner.  We learned that they were from a town near Parma and she has a son and a daughter, 23 and 25.  We tried the last of their wine and enjoyed every sip.  he called over the waiter and said in Italian, 'I want to buy these guys dessert.'  I politely refused but was so happy when she insisted.  I went with her favorite, Torta di Cioccolate.

     It was outstanding but what was better was the conversation and company.  She said, "You are now my children from the USA.  We are your Italian parents."  After many thank you's it was goodbye.

     This is why I came to Italy.  People are wonderfully sincere and open their hearts to you.  Now I have two families."


Satisfied and happy, we leave the warmth of Orvieto.  Carrying on northward, into Tuscany for another scrumptious meal in Panzano (2 cities north of Orvieto)

Patience/ Unfinished Business/ A Need to Return:

     Excerpt from  Heat {An Amateur's Adventures as Kitchen Slave, Line Cook, Pasta-Maker, and Apprentice to a Dante-Quoting Butcher in Tuscany} by Bill Buford.

     "The truth is Betta was right.  You learn pasta by standing next to people who have been making it their whole lives and watching them.  It seems simple, and that's because it is simple, but, characteristic of all italian cooking, it's a simplicity you have to learn.  My advice: Go there.  Make Betta a star.  Isn't it about time?  you'll have to put up with Porretta--very authentic because very ignored, and characterized by the temperamental irritability of a place that feels it has been abandoned (don't even think about getting change for a parking meter) and stay at an overpriced hotel with no bathroom, occasional water (sometimes hot), plastic walls (although wood-colored), no windows (you think there's a view?), and a dysfunctional telephone that works from noon on Sunday to early on Monday morning.  And then, once you've settled in (hah!), wander down to the bottom of the valley, listening for the River Reno, and, near the old aqueduct (now housing a sewer--you'll smell it). watch out for a sign, painted by hand, virtually illegible and probably fallen down.  It says "Capannina."  There will be an arrow.  Follow it, and after half a mile, where the river bends around itself, a peninsula of Emilia-Romagna surrounded by Tuscan, you'll find the pizzeria.  Betta gets in at about four.  Good luck."

     The challenged has been issued.  I made it a point to visit Capannina, first because I love all things Italian, second, most things Mario Batali (whom learned how to cook from Betta)does turn to delicious gold, and third, I thought it would an enjoyable meal off the beaten path.

     The drive to the often neglected one stoplight town of Porretta only increased the anticipation.  Jaime and I detested Bologna.  Driving through the countryside up winding mountain roads left us isolated with alternating vistas of wooded green forests, snow-capped ridges, and wildflower filled fields.

     Finding the restaurant proved to be nearly impossible. We drove through the town looking for the turn off the highway to no avail.  Even asking a police officer, "Dov'e la pizzeria Capannina?" was fruitless, he had no idea.

     Eventually we found the pizzeria, equally deserted, keeping in line with the town.  We hopped out of the car and almost ran to the door.  The menu had been posted outside and looked ravishing.  We tried the door.  It was locked.  Another push, nothing.  I peered in the windows looking for someone, a waiter, the owner, Betta, anyone to let us in and  taste her amazing food.  A man came to the door, unlocked it, and told us that the restaurant would be open for dinner.  We asked if it were possible to eat lunch, but he refused.  With that, he said goodbye, locked the door, and returned to the table where he and his brother were eating their lunch.

     We were defeated.  Our plans spoiled, we shuffled back to the car to process what had just happened.  We had finally found the place and now we couldn't eat there.  They were only open for dinner because it was early part of the summer season.  We couldn't wait another 4 hours until dinner.  And even if it were possible, what would we have done here?  There was nothing.  We could drive around but surely that wouldn't last for four hours.

     "I guess it means we have to come back."  Jaime said finally, looking at it positively.  His statement was exactly right. We would have to come back another year.  Our time in Italy was nearing its end.  Not eating at Capannina offered hope for the future.  A chance for a return trip to this beautiful country.  Looking at the rejection of a meal as unfinished business transformed our negative energy into something more positive: the potential to return and try again.  It had worked in Capri and hopefully it would work in Porretta.  We made our promise to try again soon by making a pact to return to Italy after we finished college in the states.  I have patience, although waning,it still remains.  One day, I will meet Betta and truly thank her for  a wonderful meal.


Our meal in Porretta will have to come another day.  We trek northeast, to the sea port of Venice (2 cities above Porretta)

Personal/ Highs/ and Lows:

     Roma. Rome. The Eternal City. The City of Seven Hills. The City of Fountains.  Home.  So many names for so many stories.
     Rome has a strong personal meaning to me.  I feel I am apart of it and that in some ways, it belongs to me.  I could never describe the moments that the city has shared with me.  Some good, some bad, but in the end it's all apart of the journey.  
     For instance, how would I accurately convey the joy of cooking in a Roman trattoria? I could not describe the fear and adrenaline rush of having a switchblade pulled on me in one of Testaccio's back alley streets.  Or explain the warmth that a bowl of delicious tornarelli alla Carbonara at my favorite restaurant Trattoria del Gino's can bring.  
     The beauty of the sun setting over the Tiber River is beyond words.  The booming sound of a homemade bombs exploding at a Roma soccer game cannot deafen your ears like they have mine.  
     Finding the point where Rome began to actually feel like home versus a temporary location is impossible.  The Forum, the Colosseo, the Spanish Steps, the Circus Maximus, the Pantheon, Piazza Navona, the Trevi Fountain, Campo Dei Fiori, and the Vatican, these were my surroundings; characters in their own right. Each left a tattoo on my heart.  
     I don't think I could recount the boyish pleasure of playing soccer in the Borghese Gardens on odd weekends to help pass the time.  Or the therapeutic practice of walking aimlessly around the city's core to ditch last night's hang over.  
     Tourists became a drag, even though I was one.  Gypsies, first a nuisance, soon added to the experience.  The enchanting charm of watching snow flakes blanket the city for the first time in 30 years cannot truly be displayed in photos (albeit majestic in their own right).  The comfort of waiters refilling an almost empty glass of wine is applicable to only those that have experienced it. Ordering a panino from Claudio, my esteemed culinary shopkeeper, may not inspire a spiritual awakening, as it has for me.
     Each moment, each second, each hour, culminated in MY Rome.  No longer a city, no longer a destination, but something more.  An indescribable place, one warm to the heart, despite so many cold realities.  I will never forget it.  Detailing every little moment, although tempting, depletes its mystical allure.  To relive the experience is impossible.  I know this, but I long to, more than anything.  Over time, I've transformed this wanting, turning it into an aching to return to my Rome.  To live there, to grow there, to perhaps die there.  My bags are packed; all I need now is a plane ticket.

Ecstacy:

     I was nervous like a little boy.  We were headed to Space discoteque to dance and party the night away.  Here I would have to dance to remixed italian songs that now included heavy baselines and electronic interludes.  Like this one.

I would much have prefer the version I watched in The Talented Mr. Ripley with Matt Damon and Jude Law in Italian class.

     My one priority in Florence was to eat at La Giostra, an age old restaurant rumored to be owned by "the prince."  This prince, of Medici origin (as the legend goes), gave up his elitist life of luxury to follow his dream of cooking.  Now owned by the son, the restaurant has not lost any of its ancient glory despite gaining favor of many celebrities.

     The dinner was magical; courses were well composed and paired well with our accompanying wine.  Stuffed and satiated our group, Josh, Jaime, Caitlin, Blair and I made our way outside towards the club.  
     I had set up the dinner a month earlier (reservations are tough to come buy) and hadn't made room for my new found flame.  We had only kissed a week earlier and I did not have a clue as to where our paths would take us.  She, of course, would be at Space. Here I needed to reengage things, develop a rapport, if I hoped to turn it into a relationship.

     Fortunately the booze, beats, and base eased this process.  We danced amongst the crowds of mainly study abroaders, laughing and smiling amidst the chaos.  Eruptions of excitement burst out of the crowd voicing approval when the DJ spun american records.  The bustling dance floor swayed rhythmically as each song built upon the last.  
     An effervescence grew.  Soon our bodies were entangled.  And my nervous energy was casted away.  Priorities changed as the trip progressed.  The night had its way with us.




Done with the clubs and after a few weeks in Rome, our journey continues south.  Please travel to the beaches of Gaeta (1 city south of Rome).

Exploration/Re-evaluation:

June 2002: Capri, Italy
     
     I'd been to Capri once when I was 13.  My mom insisted that we go to the Blue Grotto "because it is one of the Seven Wonders of Europe" I was somewhat enthused.  My dad however had written it off as a tourist scam.  Naturally, we went anyway.
     We paid to get on a boat to take us to the cave.  Then we paid to get on a smaller boat that would get us inside.  Oh, did I mention the 3 hours of waiting we did for one of the small boats?  The 40 person gasoline guzzling flat bottom boats idled constantly jockeying for position to unload their already upset customers onto the canoes.  Gasoline fumes filled our lungs as the heat wrinkled our skin.  If it were any hotter, the fumes would have lit and killed us all (a fate that I think many of us may have welcomed after hour 2).

     Finally the four of us climbed down into our rickety seafaring vessel and rocked toward the entrance.  Of course a line had formed for this as well.  But eventually we made it inside.  Boats were jam packed inside the grotto that extended 25 meters into the island.  Our captain, jealous of the gondoliere in Venice, began serenading us which only added to the cheesiness.  Don't get me wrong it was grandeur, but the bitter taste of gas tainted the trip.  My mom, the one who suggested it, even thought the electric blue water inside was artificially lit.  Despite the fact that the rest of the excursion proved to be a fake tourist trap, the water was real.  The spot became famous because of its incandescent water that appears to be lit from the bottom up.  Sunlight reflects off of the limestone walls that curl underneath the water creating the illusion that the grotto's crystal clear azzurro water is lit from below.  After our token 2 minute circle around the cave, the striped shirt wearing rower frantically ushered us passengers back into the sunlight and cloud of fumes.

    ANOTHER fee offered re-entry onto our original exhaust spitting barca where we awaited the return of the other ripped off tourists.
















April 2010: Capri, Italy
     
     "We should rent a boat and go to the blue grotto!"  someone shouted.  "Oh no, here it goes again" I thought as my study abroad program and I rode the ferry over the growing swells to the island.
     "My mom said we have to go.  Oh my God, it is supposed to be amazing!" another girl (probably one of those Bucknell  ones) chimed in.  "It's happening again,"  the one-sided conversation in my mind continued, "the horror of Capri.  Will I ever be able to outrun it?"
     "It's a scam." I finally blurted out.  These people had no idea what they were in for.  The boats, the money, the 2 minutes inside, and worst of all the waiting.

*

     
     "Josh are you coming?"  Blair asked.
     "I guess, there's really nothing else to do."  I had just succumbed to the Blue Grotto's allure.  (Blair's going may have had something to do with it)  It was a stormy day; the sky, grey and bleak, blended with the horizon creating a n intimidating but imaginary overcast wall.  Our captain informed us that the Blue Grotto was chiuso due to high swells; instead, this would be a trip around the island.
     "Possiamo nuotare nella grotto?" I threw out there.  It was worth a shot.  Our teachers had told us that it was, "very dangerous, but it is an experience like no other."
     "Si,"  the driver said with a smile on his face.  He could tell we were up for adventure.  Or at least Jaime and I, the only two guys on our vessel, were excited.  
     As we approached the infamous Grotta Azzurra, the girls lay bundled together for warmth.
     "Ready?" our captain/ tour guide questioned as he lowered the anchor.  There were no other boats in sight; the weather and cold water had scared the tourists away.  The waves lapped gently against the island's rocky edge.  The hole, a 4 foot gap, awaited our exploration.  Jaime was the first to jump in.  ("Dammit, I wanted to be first," I muttered to myself.)  I jumped off the bow, diving head first into dark Mediterranean below. 
     "Aaaaahhhhh!  Woooooohh! It's freezing," I yelped as the ice cold water enveloped my body.
     "Major shrinkage..."  Jaime commented.  I was beginning to feel the same (or lack there of).
     "Let's get this over with."  I said as I swam closer to the entrance.  Within seconds we were inside.  No waiting for boats, no hidden fees, no crowds, just an empty cavern full of beautiful radiant blue water.  We swam deeper, exploring the full extent of the cave.  Turing around and looking back from where we came elevated the grotto to all its deserved splendor.  

Majestic was the only word to describe it.  The adrenaline from the voyage and the view warmed my body.  "This is so much better than the last time I was here.  No wonder it's a wonder," I thought.

     We burst out of the cave at full speed to spread the news.  After some convincing, we managed to get most of our group off the boat and into the cave.  We couldn't let them miss this opportunity to see such magnificent and utterly blue water.
     20 minutes later, it was time to continue on our journey around the delightful island of Capri.  The rest proved to be worthwhile as well, but nothing could top the grotta.

*

     My two trips to the grotto could not have been more different.  Polar opposites, the two experiences helped me see that first impressions aren't everything.  Even trips need to be reevaluated with time.  It is rare that people have the chance to swim in the landmark cave.  If the cave had not been closed (chiuso) to boat traffic, we would never have swam inside.  Exploring the cave was a highlight of the weekend; an activity that made our peers jealous.  Exploration leads to unique and utterly amazing experiences.


After busing back to Rome and completing finals, adventure awaits.  Off to Orvieto we go (1 city north of Rome).

Shock/ Dismay / Exuberance:

     "Josh, what did you do this weekend?"  She asked.
     "Oh, I was with Jaime, Dan-O and Jake.  It was crazy." I answered.


     "Did you really crash the car?"
     "Yup.  I hit the hospital entrance columns."

     "What were doing at the hospital?"  She questioned further

     "Well you've seen Dan-o limping around haven't you?"  I explained, "he kinda stumbled into the fire."

     "Jesus, that looks awful.  How'd that happen?"

     "We wanted to camp on the beach for the weekend and we had a bonfire.  We drank all of our wine and I guess one thing led to another.  I don't know, I slept through the whole escapade."

     "Where were you guys?"

     "It's called Sperlonga.  It's right in between Rome and Naples.  We were trying to go to Trecento Scalini...

     ...but it was blocked off at night.  Trecento scalini means 300 stairs.  There were so many steps.  But the view was worth it."

     "Sounds great.  Anything else interesting happen?"
     "Yea.  Since Dan-o couldn't walk we went on the driving tour and ended up at Gaeta...

     ...and then I cooked dinner on the beach for all of us.  It was delicious...
  
Per Antipasto: 

Bruschetta di salsice e mozzarella al fuoco

    (Sausage and Mozzarella Bruschetta cooked over the fire)

Per Secondo:

Bistecca

Per Contorno:

Patate, Cipolle, e Peperoni

     ...We ate like kings."
"And then what?"  She continued

     "We slept the night and then drove back to Rome."

"What happened with the car?  Did you have to pay for it?"

     "A miracle took place.  Somehow when we returned the car the attendant missed the dent.  Don't ask me how or who was looking out for us but we even got money back."

     "That's insane.  What a crazy weekend, you guys are nuts.  I'm never renting a car."

     "Yea, I'm sure I'll be telling that story in 50 years."  I said smirking slightly, "I'll never forget it.  It was so taxing but so much fun."




After more time in Rome, we travel south again (avoiding rental cars) to the island of Capri (2 cities south of Rome).

Reverence/ Pondering/ Contemplative/ Brooding:

Bologna:  Written at the Certosa cemetery bus stop on May 16th, 2010:


"
Bologna, 16/5/10

     It’s my birthday and I’ve almost forgotten it myself.  We climbed the tower and looked over the expansive city.  I actually started to like it; forgetting about the mean and always growling locals.  After a kebab for lunch, we took a bus to Certosa, the city’s cemetery.  Its affect was somber to say the least.

     The first steps left an eerie effect.  I was covered in a shroud of sadness and reflection.  Seeing the dates of those that lived long enough to see their great grandchildren, I felt jealousy or a longing for the same.  For those who died younger than myself, I felt sadness and a need to appreciate my life.

     I am amazed by the lack of respect Dan-o has here.  He walked on graves embedded in the floor and was spitting constantly.  I wanted to say something and tell him but just didn’t know how.

     Interestingly, it was here that my parents called me from the US to wish me happy birthday, a place where life is an after thought and death is on the foreground.  It was humbling to view this.  The art sculptures of note could not alter my disposition.  Instead, I was more interested in thinking about my own end and what to do until that point.  Will people visit my grave?  Will I be buried or cremated or what (maybe frozen)?

     Dan-o said he wouldn’t want to live that long (90s) only thinking about death and narrowing their existence to: getting up, eating, reading, and watching TV.

     'And how is that different from what we do now?' I asked.

     Answering my own question I continued internally: 

Now is the time not to waste but to seize life and take in each day.  Do something constructive, satisfying, and healthy.  Do not waste what I have been given and do not limit your dreams and aspirations.  Society doesn’t owe you anything and you have to take your life into your own hands, because no one else will.  Make it a good life, full of family and friends.  One where you are who you want to be."

After a dismal birthday party and one more days in Bologna we head south to Porretta for a wonderful meal (1 city south of Bologna).

Hunger:

  Mac Dario - Panzano, Italia

Dario Cecchini (The most famous butcher in the world) offers Jaime and I his tuscan specialties.  We came famished and left with more than just a meal, an authentic 

and memorable experience.

Leaving Panzano and the Dante quoting Dario behind, we push north to meet Dan-o in Bologna (2 cities north of Panzano).

Lust:

Luciana, La Bella di Toscana

     The bustling enoteca continued to thrive late into the night as we sat and enjoyed some of the local vino.  We were in Brunello country; Montalcino, in Tuscany to be exact.  I sat with my back against the wall, opposite Jaime and Josh.

     The young bella came over and asked, "Bisogno un altro?"

     "Certo, ma solo se si beve con noi..."  She didn't blush, but I could see a hint of a smile forming.

     "What did you say?" Jaime asked.

     "I said we need another bottle but she has to drink it with us."

     This girl exuded Italian beauty.  The moment I saw her, I fell in love.  Well, one type of love I guess.  This, I could tell, would be the prettiest ragazza that I would find in all of Italy.

After a great weekend, we leave Luciana and Montalcino behind.  After returning to Rome, it's time to travel again.  Now, we head to the capital of Tuscany, Florence (4 cities above Rome).

Love/Longing:

 Were we meant to be?

God, I can’t wait and see

Sitting here in Venice

City of romance

Com’on let’s just dance

Stop being my heart’s menace

Hopin’ to make you mine

Lord it’s about time
It’s gotta be destiny

For you to fall for me

Oh Molly, let me show you what I mean

Take a gondala

Tryin’ to get that first kiss

Talk on the Rialto

 God you’re beautiful
Got me thinking of you molto

Down in St. Marcs

Let the mean pigeons be

Can't wait to meet you there

I want you all over me

It’s been so tough without you

my days were always blue

but now you’re here

and only one thing’s clear

I want to be with you

and always be near

Saying goodbye to Moly was very difficult, but she promised I would see her back in the States.  Unfortunately it's time to return to Roma, our last destination on the adventure.