Cava Grande

We’ve been in Sircasua for the last two days – gorgeous seaside town.  This is definitely a place to come back to without the children.  However, the kids can be helpful in many situations.  Cute kids help in Italy.  In Germany, they could have cared less about the kids.  Here they are touched, tousled, pinched, smiled at, adored.  We went to a restaurant last night for the second time, the waiter immediately recognized us and welcomed Cal like he was his own nephew.  Tousled his hair, led him to the toilette, remembered his order.  The Sicilian menu is fantastic - wonderful fish, the antipasto is focused on eggplant: stuffed, parmesaned, caponataed, fried.  We have been eating well.

The view from below

Yesterday we went to the Cava Grande Del Cassible.  Fantastic. It is a nature preserve about 40 minutes from Siracusa where you hike down to a swimming hole where the water is as green and blue as the ocean.  From the top of the ridge, Blake and I were a bit nervous to commit Cal to this rigorous hike but we watered up and made sure we had some peanuts for sustenance and started down.  It took us about 40 minutes.  No problem.  We get to the bottom and our polar bear Declan took the first plunge into the chilly water. One by one we all went in.  It was great.  There were 2 American families down there with us and between them they had eight kids – 2 of them infants, 2 more couldn’t have been more than 3.  I kept watching them thinking, “How are they going to get out? Did they hike the same path that we did, because that trail was steep!  What are these people thinking?”  Then the two wives strapped their babies to their backs and the lot of them headed back the same trail we had just worried down. All 10 of em headed out. Jiminy.  Then we look at the time. 4:30! We gotta get out of here before the sun goes down behind the ridge.  Visions of putting Cal’s’ ankle into a splint, bivouacking in the brush and roasting lizards for dinner danced through my head.  We head up and up and up and Cal, God bless him, climbs the entire way.  50 minutes later, we crest the top and there are the 2 families licking ice creams.  Turns out that they are Navy servicemen stationed here on Sicily.  Hiking up a ridge with 8 kids, no problem, yes sir!

View from the top

Dec in situ

I was still pretty impressed with Cal.

Kelptomaniac Americans

 We’ve made our way from western Sicily to its middle.  It was hard to say goodbye to Gabriella’s olive estate.  Great food (eaten by both kids!), pool, fish pond, surrounded by lemon and olive trees.  We felt very pampered there.  We explored Mazara del Vallo, taking in small town life, including an amazing statue of a dancing satyr that was found offshore and then installed into its own little museum.  Another gourmet evening at our olive grove, then we spent the last day on a glorious beach, part of a nature preserve.

But now, oh now, we’ve encountered an entirely different scenario.  Winding our way thru the beautiful hills of central Sicily and a couple of rainstorms that one would call gully washers, we found our next lodging at an old converted farmhouse. They call it “agritourism” here – and it’s, well, a little creepy.  They’ve done a beautiful job restoring the place, but it feels very spare.  Hard.  Barren.  Monastic.  There are only a few people here.  And each room has just a little bit of light.  So when the sun sets, it’s just possible that the Children of the Corn might emerge from the fields…or those two little girls from The Shining might appear in your hallway. And our hostess does not speak a lick of English. Not a lick. How do you say, “I’m being stabbed in the back with a pitchfork!”, in Italian?

On top of it all, the water here is not potable.  But it’s so remote that you can’t drive into town to get some Evian for the evening.  So here is the story of how Blake obtained water for last night.

Scene: Italian Farmhouse basement

Time: 7:30 (How we figured out when dinner started is another story)

Players:  Blake, Connan, Declan and Cal who are famished having only eaten bread, yoghurt and pistachios since breakfast.  (Ace – Cal has become a huge fan of pistachios!  You’d be so proud.  Plus Dec has become an expert cold water swimmer – Gram would be so proud)

It’s dinner time.  Only four tables.  We ingest our food, which seems to be particularly salty or farmlike.  Cal sniffs at it and says, “This tastes like hay!” He’s right, it does taste a little like hay – but we can’t let him know that! Maybe it’s the Sicilan cuisine?  Maybe not.  Everything is OK with the kiddies when the cannoli arrive.

So the dining room empties, except for us.  Everyone is off to do what they do in the middle of the pitch black Italian countryside at 9 PM. One can only imagine.  But we are still at our table, pondering the long parched evening ahead of us.  Blake spies a nearly full bottle of mineral water on someone else’s table.  Score!  Problem solved!  But the little Sicilian lady is clearing tables fast.  So he sneaks over, and just as he’s lifting the bottle, he sees that the inhabitants of said table are not, in fact, done with their meal.  They were just outside having a smoke.  But he lifts it anyway and runs to the TV room to hide it.  Diners return…something is wrong…their table does not look the same.  Family scoots away stealthily.  Imagined conversation:

Italian couple:  Where did our water go?

Waitress lady:  The Americans took it.

For Bec

You'll be happy to know that the clogs have finally met their demise.

For those of you who don't know, my cousin Becca has been trying to get me to get rid of a pair of black clogs that I've had for close to 2 years.  The problem is that these clogs didn't fit, they bled black dye all over my feet whenever they got wet, and then in Berlin, some of the stitching started coming loose.  Why did I keep them?  Shoes are expensive and I'm picky, what can I say.

This is what the clogs did to my feet in Palermo. It was time for them to go.

I finally got some new shoes today.  I guess I don't like going shoe shopping.  Who knew?

Castelvetrano, Sicily

Today I got to see sheep ricotta made fresh before my very eyes. I'll share the recipe with you.  Milk some sheep, dump all the milk into a huge copper vat, heat it up to 83 celsius while stirring it with a big plastic brush, dump in 3 bags of salt, when it curdles- ladle it into big plastic salad spinner looking things and let all the liquid drain away.  Then put the curds into bigger salad spinner looking things and put all the baskets into a big wooden barrel. Then pour the extra hot liquid in around the baskets.  Cook for 3 hours.  Ricotta cheese!  I don't think I've ever had so much sheep milk in my body at one time.  Tasty but I think I've had enough for a while.  I got up early this AM, headed for a dairy farm in a small town about 45 minutes away where they milk 800 sheep, twice a day, every day.  That makes a lot of cheese. Baldo taught me all that I just told you.  He makes the cheese every day - including Xmas - starting at 6 AM. Think of that when you wake up tomorrow AM, I know I will.

We have been staying here at Gabriella's olive and lemon farm where they make their own olive oil and ship it out all over the world. Their website is http://www.olioverde.it  These people are busy!  But the house is restful and very comfortable.

I picked a grapefruit off a tree in their field today and peeled it and ate it.  They have turtles and fish in the pond that you see above for the boys to feed.  And a wonderful cook named Enza who feeds us endlessly every night.  She seems amused by the boys antics - at least I hope she is amused. Tomorrow - somewhere new!

Our last night in Athens and Sicily

We got an email from George Z. suggesting that we take the Athens tram to a beachside suburb and get some keftedes (Greek meatballs) at a place called, appropriately enough, George’s Steakhouse.  We took the hour ride out with some dapper older gentlemen and watched Athens pass by in the windows. We arrived, threw some rocks into the sea and then started heading towards town, all the time hearing some distant choral chanting. I assumed it was a mosque, calling the evening prayer.  I was wrong. I have since learned later that Greece is 97% Greek Orthodox. Now, this may not be an entirely accurate number because I got it off the internet but it was definitely not a mosque calling the faithful to prayer.  Turns out that it was a special night for the main church in Glyfada and the service was on loudspeakers.  The church was decked out, complete with long line of the parishioners trying to get in the door.  There was a small parade around the main square let by a band, a bunch of teenage boys in what looked like Boy Scout uniforms, women in traditional dress and 30 priests in their best vestments carrying a small icon. At this religious parade, it was clear that you were not supposed to have fun.  No smiles on the faces of the spectators or the people parading.  This was not a happy icon and as it passed, everyone genuflected several times.  But later, after the parade there were fireworks and there was a huge streetfair that did not look like it was anywhere near stopping even when we headed back to Athens around 10:30. So a mixed message here.  Have fun everywhere else, except in church.  And on the tram ride back – the same dapper gentlemen who rode out with us.  It was a great way to end our time in Athens.  Thanks George!

We arrived in Palermo on Saturday and it is a lot bigger than I thought it would be.  1½ million people. We arrived in the rain and it rained all day Sunday which seems only fitting since the weather has been so good to us so far.  Good thing, as we lost our bottle of sunscreen during the last round of security heading out from Athens.  The Heraklion/Athens Security folks – not so happy. “Put your luggage here, now take it back down, now carry it over here, now recite the Greek national anthem, now… “ You get the picture.  They took our sunscreen away as if they were thinking, “I am taking this away from you, do you care?  You should care!  I am taking this away from you!”

The sanctuary at Capella Paletina

 On Sunday we awoke to dozens of rose vendors on the streets.  I mean dozens of them, with gorgeous, fragrant roses.  Everyone we saw had a half dozen in their hand. Then we walked through the rain to view then unbelievable mosaics at the Capella Paletina, a Norman palace (William the Conqueror’s half brother was King of Sicily). They looked as if they were created yesterday. Gorgeous biblical scenes that even the boys could follow with their limited biblical knowledge - Adam and Eve, Noah's Ark etc...  Sylvia, we thought of you.  This is definitely a must-see for you. 

Then we caught a soccer game with the cousin of our friend Guido, also named Guido.  Palermo lost 3- 1 against Verona but apparently they were saving all their best players for the Tim Cup that they are playing next weekend in Rome against Inter Milan.  If they play like they did on Sunday they are going to get slaughtered.  Plus, their team colors are pink and black. Only in Italy could you get away with that.

Athens

48 hours is Athens, so much to see!  We’re giving it our all.  George Zannos’ travel agent set us up with a nice, budget hotel in the tourist district.  Separate bedrooms (always a treat!) and a rooftop bar looking out on the Acropolis!  We’ve explored ancient ruins and visited the Theatre of Dionysus where the citizens of Athens enjoyed the first plays by Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides.  Pretty cool for a couple of theatre geeks like us.

 The boys have been good (mostly).  Declan has discovered a new love of seafood, and Cal is doing everything he can to get/do/say/eat/go everywhere and everything that Declan does.  The little guy is so tuckered out today that he willingly returned to the hotel room for an afternoon nap.

Tomorrow, we fly to Palermo to begin our 3-week driving tour of Sicily and southern Italy.  Blake has a friend named Guido who runs a travel business in Bethesda.  He adopted our cause and set up a whirlwind tour with a few days each in Rome and Florence, as well as a detailed itinerary thru Sicily – staying in various B&B’s that are run by various relatives and acquaintances.  Our second night there, we will go to a professional Italian league soccer game with his cousin (also named Guido) and family.  Should be fun!

Impressions of Crete

Things learned about Crete. 

1.     There are mosquitoes.  Blake killed 13 in our room tonight. No more leaving the windows open during the day.

2.     The food costs are a lot higher here than in Berlin. I got a hunk of lamb for 4 euros thinking it would be sufficient for a part of a  meal?  I think I cut about 8 morsels off of it. It was tasty but it didn’t go very far. One of the many street cats here is going to be happy when he fetches that tasty morsel out of the trash.

3.     There are many Dutch people.  And they are all tan?? It’s only May 17^th How can they be so tan so early in the season? I mean tan as in sunburned tan, not the yellow kind you get from the tanning bed.

4.     There are lots of fur shops???  As we drove to this resort town in I must have spotted at least 6.  All free standing concrete buildings, which is unusual as most of the shops and restaurants here are close together. After June 1 the temperature soars over 90 degrees here for several months.  It is a beach resort. What gives?  Apparently the Russians.  They come for the good times, the Uzo and the cheap furs.

5.     Zeus was born in a cave here. And then raised in another cave nearby.  He couldn't stay in the same cave?  He's the king of the Gods, if he wants to stay somewhere, he pretty much decides doesn't he?

6.     Everyone is friendly and grateful for our business.  The men all shake Blake’s hand as we leave a shop and if we walk by the next day, its greetings and pleasantries all over again, " I remember you!" 

7.     The sun will burn you faster than you can say debt crisis.

Crete

Third day on the isle of Crete.  We have become Cretans.  Art’s friend George Zannos recommended a Greek travel agent, who booked us into a nice, family resort for 43 Euros per night.  Yup, you heard that right.  We’ve got our own little condo with a pool, overlooking the Aegean Sea, for a mere 43 Euros.  Not sure what kind of karma we had to cash in for this, but it’s a welcome break after the theatrical journey of Berlin and the pig-knuckle cuisine of Prague.

We took in the ancient Minoan palace of Knossos – great ruins.  And we’ve revisited a variety of Greek myths – Zeus is from Crete, and Icarus met his fate here flying too close to the sun.  Other than that, it’s been beach and pool, beach and pool, beach and pool.

But it’s Monday now, so school starts back up for Dec and Cal.  Not much joy in Crete this morning for them.  So we’re doing a “field trip” to a kid-friendly museum exploring life in Crete (with interactive kid activities).  Declan will take notes and use this as the basis of this week’s essay.  Sylvia, thanks so much for the new workbooks for Callum.  He will be more than ready for Kindergarden in the Fall.

Connan says that Blake is “as relaxed as I’ve ever seen you” with the play in his wake.  For her part, she broke out the bikini yesterday!!!  (Pictures are under strict supervision.)

Here’s a little gallery of Cretan pix:

Blake at Knossos

This picture says it all. Look at Cal's foot.

We are here until Thursday AM.  Then it’s on to Athens to see the ruins.

Adventures in Prague

(We are several days behind.  Meant to post this May 13th.) - Cone 5/16

Yesterday morning, we went to an internet café to check messages and get some real coffee, since the java at our rental is sub-standard by any conceivable measure.  We tried our best to order a hot chocolate for Cal, but when it arrived, he had an entire mug full of hot fudge.  Just that – hot fudge.  So much for our superpowers of communication.  Many gestures later, we narrowed it down to half milk/half fudge, but that’s the best we could do.

Later on, we went to a café that our guide book hailed as family-friendly.  There were even toys in the corner, waiting for young guys just like ours.  Alas, the waitress turned out to be the darkest, most depressed citizen in Bohemia.  That’s saying something in the hometown of Kafka!  We did get served, however, and Blake sampled a local micro-brew with the strangest label ever.  Kind of like Pee-Wee’s playhouse brewery on hallucinogens.  Here’s the label.  You get the idea.

(I"ll have to add the pic later) - Cone 5/16

Favorite quotes from the boys in Praha:

Connan: This is nice.

Declan: It’s not a statue of two guys pissing.

…after an hour spent looking in vain for a statue of two guys pissing.  We ended up in a local park instead.

Connan: What did you guys learn today?

Cal: Today we learned that peacocks don’t like bananas!

…after the boys spent their time in said park chasing a loose peacock around the grounds, trying to lure it with various food items.

Blake and Declan went on a ghost tour of the old city.  It was mostly old stories from medieval days.  Our tour guide was a Canadian gal who had moved to Prague, and most of the customers were young goths dressed in black wearing Bauhaus or Kafka t-shirts.  But the tour did end in the actual torture chambers underneath the town cathedral.  It was eerie and sad and moving.

While Blake and Dec were learning the various ways that Czechs/Bohemians were tortured, maimed or haunted in days of olde, Connan and Cal went to what might rank as the worst live theatre performance, ever.  They have various tourist traps around town called Black Light Theatres. “Why not? “, I thought innocently when Cal asked if we could see one.  Not too expensive, every night at 8.  Can’t be too bad because they have a performance EVERY night.  Somebody is going to see it.  The show is a series of modern dance routines performed in skintight body suits where reflective tape strategically placed.   Remember the weird costumes from the opening ceremonies at the Olympics?  They were like that, but worse. Set to bad 80’s techno music.  Every time the dancers came onstage, Cal groaned, “Oh God, here comes ANOTHER one.” After each dance amusement there was a scene from an extended sketch comedy routine that can only be described as bad mime meets Benny Hill meets Russian snuff film.  Guns, drugs and fishnet stockings, all mimed for the international crowd.  Luckily, Cal didn’t get most of it, but the sold-out house was entranced. Makes you weep for the future of the theatre.

Our final night just happened to be the big Czech-USA hockey game, part of the world championship of hockey.  Yes, friends, there are people who pay attention to this stuff more than once every four years during the Olympics.  We got flogged by the Czechs 3-0, and the crowd gathered in front of the giant screen downtown went wild!  Much flag waving, beer drinking, and pig eating. 

With Prag, Prana, Praha, Prague behind us, we now head for Greece.

“Agamemnon, was a nasty Greek!

4 Days in Prague

Prague, Prag, Praha, Prana: so many different ways to spell this city’s name.  We arrived several days ago, and took a walk along the river to see the castle and the Charles Bridge.

 After trying Czech cuisine, I now know why there are no Czech restaurants around the world.  There are only 4 dishes to be sampled: roasted duck, roasted pig knee, roasted pork with sauerkraut, and sausages. Sorry, make that 5 dishes: we saw sheep’s knee yesterday.  For some reason, they only like animals’ joints.  We tried 2 of them, the pig knee and the pork with sauerkraut – hmm.

I think I know why the city has become such a tourist attraction.  Almost every building in the inner part of the city is original or restored that way.  There are almost no modern buildings.  It’s like Venice without the water.  Preserved, maintained and promoted for people to know what Europe was like before the wars destroyed it. But with a shabby chic and an air of mystery

It’s part Bohemian fairy tale, complete with gas lamps and bearded witches and tales of the Golem in the Jewish Ghetto, and stag party destination for young Brits seeking cheap beer and other treats.  We’re just a step away from Eastern Europe and slick guys who smoke all the time and drive fast cars.  But the city is full of ancient wonders that have been restored with western money.  The beggars here lie prostrate on the street with their hats extended towards you like penitent pilgrims, while the tourists flock around the Charles Bridge and Old Town Square day and night, soaking in the atmosphere.

Connan in the castle gardens above Prague

 We’re just beginning our fourth and final day.  So far, we’ve done the following: visited the castle and its gardens, walked along the river, witnessed the famous astrological clock chime, taken a boat ride, saw the dancing house, eaten ice cream, seen lame glow-in-the-dark theatre, done the ghost tour, lost our camera, found our camera, and sampled various Czech beers.

 

Amongst the unusual things here, there is a wall dedicated to the memory of John Lennon.  We posed for pictures and added a bit of our own graffiti – Declan being The Beatles newest fan (sorry, Unc).  Nearby, there is a small bridge where people place locks to signify their love.  They lock it up and throw the key into the canal.  Just when we thought it was romantic, a tour guide came by and said that they cut them off every two years to make room for more.  So it turns out that you’re only guaranteed true love for 24 months or so.

The Lock Bridge

Blake went to the National Theatre to see a production of Gogol’s THE GOVERNMENT INSPECTOR, one of the plays he performed on Broadway twenty years ago.

Today, we’re going to visit a monastery and a hall of mirrors in the castle, followed by a fountain/lights/music show tonight.  But first, we’re shedding clothes from our luggage.  Our one-bag-per-person plan works, but each bag has become laden with heavy books, souvenirs, and cold weather gear that we can do without.  It’s painful to give it away, but we’re gonna bite the bullet and discard.

Anarchy in 36

Blake just gave me some chocolate and then took the boys to go swimming.  Bless him. Ahhh, peace.  Now if I can just figure out where we are going for the merry month of July??

Our time in Berlin is coming to an end.  We leave Sunday for Prague. I will not be sad to leave behind the shower whose temperature wildly fluctuates, nor the ants, nor the poop shelf toilet. But it has been fun to be here and watch spring happen around us.

Last Sunday it was May Day, and that means something special in Kreutzburg - a street party and then political parade/demonstration where anarchists throw rocks at banks and anything remotely associated with the capitalist machine.  Bring your kids inside after dark!  Watch the communists mix it up with the local police force or dance to techno until 1AM - your choice.  The Berliners LOVE their techno and as we walked around absorbing the atmosphere, we watched the genial crowd sway to the pounding beat in the park across from our house.  Cal couldn't stay long.  He said the music made his throat hurt. Hmm.

Then we wandered over to the Ping Pong tables in the park.  Ping Pong is hot here.  Everyone is in on it.  Young kids to old Turkish guys.  If you are playing and they approach the table, they hover around waiting, watching, breathing down your neck until you give.  Which in our case is within 45 seconds because none of us are very good.

So after the octegenarians kicked us off of Ping Pong, we wandered down the street.  Everyone was pounding beers, Mojitos, Turkish pizza and burgers.  Good times.  Except here when they are done with their trash, they just throw it to the ground.  No trash cans, no bags, no attempt to make it less messy for your fellow man, just huck it!

So we avoided the trash, and started heading for the canal, which unbeknownst to us, was where the political parade was going to start later that evening.  The cops were everywhere.  Battalions of them in riot gear, helmets, bulletproof vests, clubs and the requisite video camera held by a boom above their heads to catch all misbehaving anarchists.  It was quite a shock, not something that we see everyday and the boys were unnerved.  Well, Declan was unnerved.  Cal said, "Let's go over there and see what is happening!"  I said, " I don't think that is such a good idea."  And the German dudes next to us chuckled knowingly.

So we avoided the melee. Went home and listened to the techno pounding in the street until 1 AM.  On a Sunday night.