Day 5 - Formaggio, Glorious Formaggio

Normally, I don't do mornings. The thought of leaving a nice warm bed before the sun is up has never really appealed to me, and while there are certain temptations that would successfully drag me out of bed, I never in a million years thought that cheese and balsamic vinegar would be the things to do it. :)

We were all up around 5:30am and made it down the stairs by 6:30 where Andra was serving breakfast. I immediately understood why she had cringed the night before when we told her we needed to be up so early. This was not a simple spread of juice, rolls and coffee on the counter. It was fresh, hand-made fruit/chocolate filled pastries, a variety of meats, home-made cheeses and preserves, cappucino, juices served at the table with place settings. She herself had made almost everything by hand, and it was all delicious.

The reason we were up so early was because Michelle was interested in seeing the cheese actually being made, and that happens first thing in the morning.

We hit the road in pouring rain, and did our level best to find the place (the destination on the map above was my best guess as to where we actually were). After a few wrong turns, we stopped at a gas station and found a guy to point us the right way....but it wasn't long before we were lost again. We then found a hotel, and PJ and I went in to see if someone would help us there.

Two very nice women were at the counter, and one spoke flawless English. Neither one could tell us exactly how to get there, but agreed to call the place and get the directions for us. As the one woman was speaking on the phone, the other one started pulling out several different maps and explaining exactly where we should go...in Italian...so PJ and I did our best to follow it and nod like we had a clue.

After her phone call, the English speaking woman wrote out the directions for us, and we were on our way yet again.

I must pause here and say how polite and helpful every single person we have encountered so far has been. We have not encountered a single rude person and everyone has gone out of their way to help us, even if they didn't have a clue as to what we were saying. It's never easy to go somewhere with a communication disadvantage, but so far everyone has done everything they can to make that as easy a transition as possible.

As we're leaving the hotel, we get our tour guide on the phone, and drive along with her directing us to the right place. We actually pull up into the parking lot and read the sign on the door to her, and she says, "No, that's not it, keep going another mile or so." We hang up at this point, assuming we're going to see it and her soon...but that was not the case.

We keep going, and finally have to call her back. She winds up getting in her car and coming out to find us....and then leads us back to the factory. The building had several different uses, and we had read the wrong one to her, and apparently she was not familiar with it.

For the life of me, I don't remember the woman's name, but she too was very nice and knew more about cheese than any human being probably should. She spoke reasonably good English and took us to the factory floor where the cheese process was in action.

Basically the milk comes to the factory in the evening and is poured into these 15-foot long trays where it is treated with the appropriate cultures. In the morning it is poured into kettles and cooked, and the cheese forms at the bottom of the kettles. When ready, two muscled guys pull it out of the bottom of the kettle and put it into molds where it sits floating in water and then is moved to a store-room to age.

That's the short story....the actual tour took a couple of hours. Our guide explained that everything in cheese production (as well as balsamic production...we would later learn) is controlled by a governmental consortium. Only those cheeses deemed worthy in a given year are allowed to be sold as Parmigiano-Reggiano. And to quote our tour guide, "everything else is just cheese." So this factory could make hundreds of wheels, and none of it would be allowed to be sold under their name. It could still be sold, but at a much lower price and perceived inferior quality.

The aging room was amazing. Two story high shelves with hundreds of wheels of cheese as far as you could see. The minimum aging time is one year, and the higher-end cheese is aged three years before sales. Here's what the hallway of cheese looked like:

While we were walking through this area, I noted a dusty little card with a picture of St. Franics of Assisi posted near one of the wheels of cheese. When I asked our guide about it, she explained that we would find those throughout the factory, as St. Francis is the patron saint of animals...and they want to have his blessing over the cheese. I thought I took a photo of it, but it doesn't appear to be in my camera.

At the end of the tour we were taken to the factory's cheese shop for samples. Like everything else we have tried so far, it was really good. It was a far cry from our green-can version in the states. :)

After buying cheese, we were on to our next appointment, the balsamic vinegar factory in (or near) Modena. We were able to find this place with no problem, but again, the man who owned it told us on the phone that we were at the wrong place and would drive out and lead us in.

I don't remember what his name was either, but he too was extremely welcoming. Unlike the parmesan place, which was definitely a factory-setting, the balsamic vinegar was made on a country estate in a converted barn behind an enormous house. The owner first took us on a tour of his family's home, which had been built just after the turn of the 20th century. Owned by another family up to World War II, it had been occupied by the Nazis, and then sold to this man's family in the late 1940's. It was there that they began their balsamic production.

The house itself is a work of art. Frescoes are painted all along the outside, and inside is an extensive art and antique collection. Everything looked like a museum, and it was tough to believe that anyone actually lived there.

The house was also used in the Bertolucci film, "1900" with Robert DeNiro and Gerard Depardieu. We paused on the tour to go to the TV room to watch the scenes where the interior shots were filmed.

From there it was on to the vinegar production area. Unlike the cheese factory, which was loud, and a place of constant action, the vinegar production was quiet, reserved, and with absolutely no action at all.

We were taken up to the attic where the barrels were kept. Balsamic has to be stored in attics due to some climate control issues that I missed the details on. Anyway, the mixture is poured into a large barrel, and then after time a sampling from that barrel is moved to a smaller barrel, where it sits, and then a sample is taken to an even smaller barrel, and so on and so on. The smaller barrel, the higher the concentration. It takes years to make a quality balsamic, and like the cheese consortium, the balsamic group determines whether or not the vinegar is fit to go to the marketplace. So there's a great deal of time an investment involved in a product that may or may not make it to the store shelves.

After the tour, we were taken to a tasting area out in the middle of the grape vines. It was a tented area with a long picnic table. It was really cold and windy, but there were space heaters to keep us all comfortable. I could only imagine how spectacular it must have looked in the summer.

Prior to this outing, the extent of my knowledge of balsamic was that you mixed it with oils and put it on salads. Not so. Our "tasting" was basically a meal of appetizers where balsamic was served on everything from parmesan cheese to vanilla ice cream. Now before you shudder at that last thought, let me say that the sweet balsamic that they put on it was really, really good. I will definitely have to buy some and try it when I get home.

Somewhere along the way, the owners gray tabby (creatively named "Cat") joined our tour and followed us whereever he was allowed to go. I figured that our lavishing him with attention and petting was the reason he stayed so close, but the moment he joined us at the tasting table, his motives were clear. The owner did multiple tours per day, and Cat clearly knew the routine. After the tasting we were led back to the barn to purchase the ones we wanted....leaving the cat with a lot of unsupervised left-overs. We have a photo of the cat sitting in the chair just staring lovingly at what would soon be his.

Several bottles of vinegar were purchased, we thanked the owner for the tour and headed back to La Buca about 4pm.

At some point in the day's travels, our rental car's dashboard displayed a warning light that none of us were familiar with. Given our "adventures" scraping the undercarriage on a myriad of bad roads, it could have been anything. It was in italian, and the car's manual wasn't much help. So when we arrived back at La Buca, Michelle called the rental company to see what it was, or what needed to be fixed.

Andra was there to greet us when we got back, and while Michelle dealt with Avis, Andra offered a full tour of the property. We started in what she called "mi laboratorio." It's an old barn that was converted into a kitchen laboratory for her downstairs, and her own balsamic vinegar operation upstairs. In the downstairs kitchen she makes her own wines, lemoncello, jams, jellies and canned goods from fruit grown on the property. Whatever was made here was brought over to the guest house for consumption.

From there it was up to the fields where the olive trees grew, and a white arabian stallion was stabled. Animals are everywhere, and all have free run of the place. Chickens and turkeys pass by the windows, the rooster wakes us up in the morning, and white scottish terrier named Gus never leaves Andra's side.

There are several gazebos, all with bbq's and panoramic views of the Tuscan valleys. There's also a pool (closed for the season) that has the same view.

The last stop on the tour was Andra and Mauro's private residence, which was just as nice as our house on the property. She showed us the basement where the wine and preserved meat were kept, and the wood-fired pizza oven. She told us if we didn't have any plans for the next night, she and Mauro would love to invite us over for home-made pizza for dinner. Never ones to turn down that kind of opportunity, we instantly agreed.

When we got back to the house, Michelle had resolved the car issue. Apparently that light was the indicator that the emergency break was on...and we had driven for two days with it in that condition. That certainly was not great, but it could have been far, far worse.

Since Michelle missed the tour, Andra did the same tour again for us. Then Andra excused herself and we all gathered for wine by the fire in the living room. Full from the tasting, we relaxed by the fire for the rest of the afternoon.

Travel Tip: The Italian way of living is *much* slower than anything most Americans are used to. Everything shuts down from 3-5 (and I do mean everything...businesses, restaurants, etc) so that everyone can go home and nap. Everything resumes at 5pm and goes until about 7pm. Dinner is rarely served before 8-9pm, and is always a multi-course meal that takes at least a couple of hours. You can always spot Americans in restaurants because they are looking in the windows at 6pm wondering why nothing is open. :)

When we asked for a recommendation for dinner, Andra suggested eating at the castle, which sounded really cool. She also told us that she and Mauro would be over with appetizers before dinner. (I swear if we weren't walking so much I wouldn't be able to fit in the airplane door to go home.) She is really really spoiling us. I think this place is something like 90 Euro per night, and we are being treated better than any fancy hotel.

True to her word, Andra and Mauro were back just before 7pm with a platter of appetizers that were unreal. Bruschetta, bread with home-made olive-oil, bread sticks wrapped with prosciutto. Parmesan and balsamic. Just delicious.

We enjoyed the food and wine while doing our best to communicate. Mauro explained that he was a contractor and renovated the buildings on the property himself. The villa was more than 400 years old, and they had owned it for about 25 years.

They had only been in the B&B business for about 6 months, and we were their first Americans. I think this explained a lot of why they were so warm and un-jaded. I don't think they realize how things are done at most B&B's....and how much beyond our expectations they were going.

I also think that we had an advantage in that we were the only guests. Feasibly, two other groups could have been staying in the house with us, and I think while it might have been fun, it also probably would have been a much different dynamic.

We relied heavily on our Rick Steves phrase book to make conversation, and PJ made many many points when he used the phrase that translated to, "You cook better than my own mother." Andra was completely pleased, and there was lots of hugs and thank-yous.

From the wine and appetizers it was on to dinner at the castle, which was something of a let-down. We were the only ones there, and it was a very small room inside the castle walls but nothing inside that could let you know you were anywhere special. If you didn't know what was outside, you wouldnt' have known you were in a castle or a local cafe. The food was passible, but compared to how we had been eating, merely passable was the worst we were going to see on the trip.

We didn't linger there, but came back to sit by the fire and watch TV. The only channel in English is CNN World, but the Italian channels can be hilarious if you find the right show. We stumbled onto a game show that just cracked us up. I don't know the actual name of it, but it's something like The Price is Right. From what we could figure out, a contestant guesses the prices of various items. If the contestant guesses within a specific dollar figure, the camera cuts to a stacked brunette who wiggles and dances around in a bikini to this crazy music for about a minute. (With some disturbing close-up shots)

If the contestant chooses incorrectly, the dancing girl makes a sad face and uses this machine to send a note or something to the host, saying, this sing-songy "Boop-bo." ....which is quickly becoming our favorite phrase. I will have to find it online somewhere.

Not tonight, however. Tomorrow we are spending the day in Florence and going to see Michaelangelo's David. It won't be as early a day as today was, but I think we'll need our rest beforehand. :)

Talk to you tomorrow, :)

K

Day 4 - Montalcino to Castello di Serravalle
(a.k.a "Niente parle Italiano?" or, "None of you speak Italian?")






We left our little apartment in Montalcino and drove north towards our next bed and breakfast in a little town called "Castello di Serravalle." If we had driven straight through, it would have taken us about 3-4 hours, but we stopped several times along the way to explore, so we didn't arrive here until about 7pm this evening.

In addition to the food and rest breaks, we went to the Carpineto winery, which sold a wine that was a favorite of Christy's parents. We were greeted at the door by a large German Shepherd who, in spite of multiple assurances by his owners that he was completely harmless, still had a formidable bark that kept me somewhat wary. We never got his name, but he followed us wherever we went and snoozed while we did our tasting.

One of the winery's owners greeted us, apologizing for his English (which was close to flawless) and the fact that his assistant who normally conducted the tastings was not available. He was an extremely gracious, elegant older man (think Cary Grant) who clearly loved the wine business. While it would have been very easy to turn us away, or quickly usher us in and out, he sat with us, opening at least 10 different bottles for us to try while explaining the processes involved in getting it to the States.

After about 20-30 minutes, he excused himself to greet other clients, telling us to try any of the bottles we liked, and to help ourselves. We tried everything he offered and found several types that appealed to us. Yet again, we added more bottles to the collection...some of which were coming home as gifts, and others would undoubtedly be consumed in the next few days.

While we were waiting for our purchases to be rung up, I found a brochure for a local resort that looked simply spectacular in the photos. Since we weren't in a real hurry and it was on the way to the autostrada, we decided to take a side trip and see it.

Before leaving, we took a bunch of photos of us holding wine out in front of the Carpineto gate sign to show we were there. I haven't been much of a wine drinker, but I'm really learning to like just about everything I have tried so far. I don't know if I'm at a point where I could distinguish one from the other, but I still enjoy tasting it. :)

On our way back to the car there were some grape vines growing adjacent to the parking lot that still had a few grapes left on them. We tasted them (yummy) and used the grapes to toast another successful side trip.

A lady at the winery gave us directions to the resort, Villa La Palagina and assured us that it was still open in the off-season. Apparently it's in a high-rent area, with the musician Sting's villa close-by.

We found it with little trouble, and the photos didn't do it justice. I cannot wait to get these photos up on the website. The resort was a convent in the 1400's (?) and has a panoramic view of Tuscany, with two giant infinity pools. It was amazing.

The website is here: Villa La Palagina

The front desk clerk gave us a full tour, even taking us upstairs to see some sample rooms. Every room is decorated differently, but have all of the amenities. There are also apartments on the property. I looked up the cost to stay there, and it's really inexpensive. 90 Euro...about 115 per night? That place is definitely on my list of places to stay when I come back here.

From there it was on to our next bed and breakfast in Castello di Serravalle. That part of the trip proved to be more challenging. The skies opened up and started pouring rain not too long after we got on the autostrata, and with added traffic, it was very slow going.

We had originally told the b&b's owner that we were going to be there at 5pm...which we quickly learned was not going to happen. Michelle called them and told them we would be late, but with a sketchy connection and a language barrier, we weren't sure that translated.

It was well past dark when we got off the autostrada and started making our way to town. The last mile was by far the toughest. (And I say that merely as a passenger who can't read maps in a moving car. Michelle, PJ and Christy did an amazing job of getting us around) Our b&b was in a villa at the very top of a hill, and to get there, you had to travel on a single-lane, barely paved steep narrow winding road with absolutely no room for error. Add driving rain and fog to the picture, and you can understand why we all white-knuckled it the entire way.

This experience was just like something out of a horror movie. Four friends on a dream vacation heading to a big spooky house on a hill in the middle of a rainstorm. I was never so happy to get to the top and see that we had in fact been going the right direction.

Since it's dark and rainy, I can't say much about what's outside, but inside looks like something out of a Better Homes and Garden magazine. Everything is rustic, but exquisitely decorated and very comfortable.

We pulled into the courtyard of the villa where we were greeted by Andra and Mauro, the owners of the villa, called "La Buca." ("The Hole" - and I have no clue how it got that name) Mauro is probably in his mid-late 50's, and Andra is in her 40's. We got inside from the rain as quickly as possible and introduced ourselves. Andra shook our hands, smiling, and rattled off a long string of greetings in Italian. When she saw our puzzled faces she said, "Niente parle Italiano?" which translates into "None of you speak Italian?" I shook my head and said, "un piccolo" ("A little") She could not have been more gracious, but you could tell that both of us were a little dismayed that communication was going to be a challenge for the next few days.

The only one who spoke any English was Frederica, their 20-something daughter. While she too was more than nice and did her best to help us, I got the vibe that she was less than amused at her parents serving her up as the family translator.

Since breakfast comes with our stay, Andra asked us what time we would be getting up. We have tours scheduled early tomorrow morning, so we asked if we could get breakfast at 6:30am. Much like when we told her we didn't speak English, she registered a quick shudder of dismay and then smiled and indicated that would not be a problem. As a long avowed night owl, I wasn't any more excited than she was, but we assured her that we would not get up so early the next two mornings.

But it wasn't long before we were settled and looking for a place to eat. Through Frederica we were directed to a pizza restaurant in town. That was fine by us. At that point in the day a boiled phone book sounded good. By this time the rain had let up a little bit, so the prospect of braving the hillside road was a little less daunting.

A quick dinner in town and we were soon back at La Buca in our jammies listening to the rain by the fireplace. I was exhausted and headed almost immediately to bed, but the others stayed downstairs with Andra and Mauro for a round of wine and lemoncello. And not too long after that, we were all in bed by about 9:30pm

Just before 10:00pm, Michelle sat upright in bed, realizing that she had left her purse with her passport back at the restaurant. She and PJ dressed quickly, and Mauro kindly offered to drive them back to the restaurant in his far more mud and rain-worthy SUV. (and I'm sure he was somewhat concerned about his new guests having wine and then trying to brave that road in bad weather) But the passport was retrieved and everyone was back in bed before we knew it.

Tomorrow morning we're headed out for tours of a parmesan cheese and a balsamic vinegar factory. Michelle is a gourmand and assures us it will be lots of fun. I have my doubts, but that's largely due to the thought of dragging myself out of bed before dawn. I'm sure it will be great when we get there. :)

Talk to you tomorrow,

K

Day 3 - Cortona and Montepulciano

Our third day in Italy, and we're really getting the hang of things. We headed into Montalcino to a little coffee bar for coffee and sandwiches and then hit the road. The goal of today was to go to Cortona, the town featured in the book and movie "Under the Tuscan Sun."

Cortona is another medieval walled city high in the hills. Having learned our lesson in Siena the day before, we looked for a place to park before we drove somewhere we weren't allowed.

Like Siena, the streets are very narrow and very steep. It sounds very tacky, but it's tough to remember that this is a real town and the people who lived there were not Disney employees. The buildings and cobblestones are just too quaint and perfect to be real. Today was colder than the previous days, and the rain was still coming down steadily as we walked.

We passed by a chocolate shop and were drawn inside by the smell and the sign outside that said "cioccolata calda" (Hot Chocolate) This tiny little shop had all kinds of hand-made sweets from floor to ceiling, and a nice lady working behind the counter. A couple of us got our drinks and we were again on our way.

Travel Tip: Unlike American hot chocolate, which in most cases is warmed milk with cocoa in it, Italian Hot Chocolate is melted cocolate with a little milk to keep it in a semi-fluid state. Absolutely delicious, but really, really rich and best in small doses.

We took tons of photos and video in Cortona, so I'll have them up on flickr as soon as I can get them there. It's a beautiful city with warm wonderful people. Even with the rain and the cold, it was just gorgeous.

At one point we went looking for Bramasole, the home bought by Frances Mayes, the woman who wrote "Under the Tuscan Sun." We stopped in a shop to ask for directions, and the women working there attempted to give us directions in broken English/Italian....and then offered to ride with us to take us to the actual house. We declined that offer (not knowing if there would be a fee for this courtesy) and decided to find it on our own.

While PJ and I were asking directions, Christy and Michelle stood out in the square. At one point they were passed by a family on their way to mass. What was unique about them was that they looked like they were in costume from the 1950's. Four or five little girls in long blue coats and hats, mom in a dress and hat, and dad in a red suit and fedora. It looked odd, but at the same time there was something appealing taking the time to dress up for church...I guess that time has passed...in California anyway.

Sketchy directions in hand, we get back to the car and attempt to locate Bramasole...and failed miserably. We navigated narrow mountain roads and while we made some twists and turns that made me more than a little antsy, none of these roads ever pointed us to our direction.

What I didn't know until later was that the Bramasole from the book (a true story) was dramatically different from what was shown in the movie, both in terms of plot and location. So even if we had been directed to the house, I wouldn't have known it anway....but it would have been nice to find.

On our way back down the hill we spotted the dome of a giant church on the hillside below us. We decided to brave one more muddy hill to try and see it. Santa Margarita (I think was the name...we didn't go in) is an enormous church just ouside the walls of Cortona. It took a lot to make it down a single-lane muddy mountain road to get to it, and by the time we got there it was raining again and looked like services were about to commence. Not wanting to interrupt, we opted to head back the way we came.

But leaving was trickier than we thought. There was a sign at the exit of the parking lot that none of us could decipher. It was a picture of two cars going opposite directions, one was red, and one was black. Given that this was a very narrow one-lane road, and after our experience in Siena, we were all a little gun-shy about the rules of the road...and presumed that it was telling us that we weren't allowed to exit that way. None of our travel books/maps gave us any clues, we we went in search of another exit.

It took our going up a very very steep muddy hill that ultimately led nowhere for us to finally brave the main exit and do what we hoped was not violating any more traffic laws. It turned out that the sign meant that those exiting had to yield to those entering, but we didn't figure that out until we were on our way to Montepulciano.

Before I continue in this entry, let me just offer a travel tip and note of apology.

Rick Steves is a travel writer that has a show on PBS. I have always found him to be a little odd, and irritating to try and watch on TV. That being said, the man knows what he's talking about, and his books have been invaluable to us. I apologize and take back any/all disparaging remarks I may have made in the past about Mr. Steves.

So my travel tip is to pick up his guide-books before you leave, read them ahead of time, and follow his recommendations. He will not steer you wrong.

The draw to Montepulciano was the castle, and the Contucci Winery that is contained in it. Our Rick Steves (not getting paid for these plugs, by the way) book indicated that we had to stop there for a tasting and look for Adamo, the wine-master who would tell us all about the wines.

Again we parked outside the walls of the city, and made the long steep climb up to the castle. The layout of the towns was not done by accident. In the days where mauraders came through on a regular basis, towns needed all of the protection they could get. Positioning themselves high in the hills made it easier to spot trouble approaching, easier to take ain on those wishing to do harm, and harder on the invading hoardes who had to first climb the hills before fighting.

The climb to the castle was not easy...and made me wish I had worked out a lot more than I had prior to the trip. But once at the castle, all was right with the world. The castle was amazing, just as one might expect after reading a lifetime of fairytales. This particular castle was mentionted in records dating back to 715 AD.

As Rick Steves' book promised, Adamo the wine master was there ready and waiting with many glasses of wine to taste. What a character! He was in his late 60's, and extremely friendly and demonstrative. Adamo told us all about the wines, and the history of the Contucci winery, and why the wines of this area were unique. Unfortunately he told us all of this in Italian, and didn't speak a word of English. Most of our communication was through smiling and hand-gestures. At one point an English-speaking tour guide came through and helped us out, but the rest of our communication was his filling and re-filling and re-filling our empty glasses. Tasting became drinking, and a warm fuzzy feeling. It actually became a challenge to not have our glasses re-filled automatically. If a glass was empty, it was a matter of seconds before Adamo was there re-filling it and not taking "no" for an answer.

We were encouraged to tour the castle, which was primarily used to house enormous barrels of wine. If there were other residential areas, we didn't see them. We wandered around with our glasses and listened to the bells of the church ring at 6pm calling everyone to mass....as they had for centuries.

We bought more wine (Adamo was a master salesman) and Adamo gave us hugs and wished us safe travels. We did find a great deal of amusement out of the fact that he seemed to really like Christy, and the hugs and handshakes for her lasted a lot longer than any of ours. :)

From there it was back to Montalcino, where we went back to our hotel restaurant for our last dinner in town.

Tomorrow we head north (I think) to another little town in Tuscany...about 4 hours or so. Can't wait.

Will write more later,

K

Day 2 - Siena, Pisa and the Outskirts of Cortona (a.k.a."How Not to Get Arrested in Italy")

Today was full of advenutres and travel, and we learned a few valuable lessons along the way.

The sun made an appearance this morning as we headed out to the Leaning Tower of Pisa. It was gorgeous but short lived, as it is very cold and raining almost constantly.

We stopped at a gas station for diesel (which isn't too bad, probably 2 Euros a gallon..which works out to about 4-5 bucks). It's not great, but I expected much worse. We also grabbed breakfast at the gas station, which unlike US, is actually really good.

A quick coffee and a sandwich and we are on our way to Pisa, by way of a little medieval town called Siena. This town is a walled city with extremely narrow roads...barely enough for our little car to get through. But since we were following other cars along the roads, we were confident that we were at least driving only where cars are allowed.

It is here that I must share another very important Italian travel tip.

Italian Travel Tip: When you see this sign:

DO NOT go any further. It means that unless you are a resident of the town, you are not allowed to drive in the area. Many small towns throughout the country have these signs, designed to minimize car traffic in highly congested narrow roads. Most towns have designated external parking lots where you leave your car and hike into town.

Unfortnately since we had only been in the country about 48 hours at this point, we did not know that rule and were relying on the, "if other cars do it, it must be OK" principle.

It didn't take long to realize that we were pretty lost, and dangerously close to running a lot of people over...though given the Italian way of driving we didn't see a single pedestrian so much as flinch when we came close to turning them into hood ornaments for our car. We circled the same area a few times before giving up and deciding to ask someone for help.

We figured that asking a friendly policewoman for help would be the best way to get out of town without incident. However, that's really where the indicent started. When we rolled down the window and tried to show her our map, that was the cue for her to know that we weren't supposed to be there, and she responded by asking us to pull over.

She gave the impression that she didn't speak English, though whether or not that was the case we will never know. She didn't speak at all, didn't smile, nothing. She simply opened up some kind of legal rule book to an English explanation of our infraction and gave it to us to read. While we were trying to figure out what we had done, she began writing us a traffic ticket.

In retrospect, we probably should have approached this differently, but it's always easier with hindsight. Instead of assuming that she understood nothing of what we said (again, I have my doubts), and grumbling about it, we should have probably asked for forgiveness and just asked for directions out of town.

Any hope we might have had of talking our way out of it evaporated when from the back seat of the car, PJ rolled down the window and shouted to some passers-by to ask them if they spoke English. The policewoman (understandably) got really upset and made it very clear that PJ should say nothing further. It was at this point I was mentally trying to figure out how we would call home for bail money, because jail seemed imenent.

She wrote the ticket and we realized that in Italy you pay the fine in cash on the spot. Seventy-four Euro later, ($100) we were on our way....but with no more direction than we had when we arrived. We decided that no matter what happened from that point further we would hide the maps and just look for the biggest roads we could find.

Siena's origins were founded some time between 900 and 400BC, and its main plaza and cathedral are considered some of the most beautiful in Europe. We passed them both in a blur. Nothing was going to be more beautiful to us than the big, industrial autostrada (freeway).

Things improved dramatically from that point. We sped along the autostrada to Pisa, where we had an 11am appointment to climb the tower. Making it with minutes to spare, we arrived in the walled portion of the city that I had only previously seen in history books and study abroad brochures.

The tower is beautiful. Most of the outside is free from scaffolding, and the carvings are beautiful. Appointments are required to climb the tower because it's a very narrow set of stairs allowing one person to pass at a time. When you first enter, you see very steep stairs with deep grooves where millions of feet have traveled. Galileo climbed these stairs centuries ago to test theories of velocity. To (literally) follow in those footsteps was pretty heady stuff.

There are 284 steps from the base of the tower to the top. I made it about 20 steps before I decided that I didn't need go all the way. While I am more than willing to admit that my lack of regular exercise played a role in this decision, the fact that there were no hand-rails, very steep steps and very narrow corridors was the real reason. I may not be the speediest stair climber in the world, but with enough time I can go forever. Up is not a problem, but coming down is a serious problem. After I broke my leg in 1998, I have been very cautious on stairs. Call me crazy, but I just have no interest in seeing my calf twisted and backwards halfway down my shin again. I just had mental pictures of going slowly down the stairs with 25-50 angry tourists backed up behind me.

Even though I only climbed a fraction of what the rest of our group did, I had the odd sensation of leaning with the tower as my brain tried to resolve the differences between the pull of gravity and what my eyes were perceiving as the right angle at which to hold my body. It was really really wierd. And as someone with balance issues, I have absolutely no regrets about not going to the top.

After everyone had their fill of the inside of the tower, we went outside to take some pictures. At first we scoffed at the people taking cheesy photos that played with the perspectives of people in the foreground and the tower behind. At the right angle, you could take a photo that appeared like a person was holding the tower up. But it wasn't long until each of us were taking that very same photo.

We grabbed a quick lunch in town and then started back to the car past the tower, where we happened to pass some college kids from Pittsburgh, who were proudly displaying their Pittsburgh Steelers "Terrible Towels" and taking pictures.

PJ has been a huuuuge Steelers fan for at least as long as I have known him. When he saw the towels he got all excited and started (loudly) cheering them on. They got a kick out of his antics, and invited him over to take photos with them. We have shots of him with the others, and one of him holding a towel of his own, showing his Steelers pride, even in Italy.

Our car had been parked in a lot adjacent to a supermarket, and PJ went in to pick up some bottled water. Michelle, Christy and I waited in the car. Now before I explain what PJ came back with, I must take a second to describe the state of our car. When packed with us and our luggage, it literally could not take on an additional thing. The back cargo area is so tightly packed that you couldn't fit a business card in there. The back seat passengers have bags both on their laps and between them. The only one in the car without a least a bag on their feet was the driver.

So we were somewhat surprised when PJ came back with water, sodas and several bottles of wine. They had apparently been on sale, and he felt that it was too good a deal to pass up. It was then we knew we would have to spend a lot of evenings drinking wine so that we would still have a place for our feet when we traveled. :)

Our last appointment of the day was a tour and dinner at a winery just outside of Cortona. This had been set up with a friend of PJ's from Atlanta, who worked with a relative of the owners. Armed with a map, a case of wine, and a new-found knowledge of exactly where we weren't supposed to drive, we made a very valiant attempt to find this winery.

Given our track-record that day, it should surprise no one that we had trouble finding the winery. And shock of all shocks, our phones did not work either. So we stopped in to a Euronics (the Italian version of "Best Buy") to pick up a cheap cell phone and call the winery for assistance.

Before I left on this trip, I joked that the movie "Under the Tuscan Sun" was more of a personal life plan than movie. Now having seen Tuscany, I was more committed than ever. So when we met a woman at Euronics who tried very hard to get us to buy her parents' villa, it was kind of spooky. She tried to get us to go out and visit the place. When we explained that we weren't interested, she insisted that we at least go to her website and take a look. Here's the link:

A Charming Farm in Tuscany

The slide-show is really neat, and now I'm kind of sorry we didn't take a look.

Our disposable cell phone (from a company called "Tim"...which became the phone's name), worked well enough to get through the winery, where the owner offered to come to Euronics and get us.

This woman was charming. She spoke a little English, though she seemed very confused as to who we were. Her vineyard doubled as a hotel, and I got the impression that they thought we were there to stay. They had opened up all of rooms and gave us a full tour....and I got the impression that they thought we were there to stay. There was also no restaurant on the property, which I thought was odd considering that I thought we had made reservations. But any confusion was short lived because they could not be more welcoming. We tasted their wines, toured their entire property, and managed to leave with 8 more bottles (in addition to what PJ bought earlier in the day) and added a new place to stay the next time we were in town. Will have to get the details from PJ for my records.

We thanked the owner and her parents for their tour and their wine, and heded back to our hotel's restaurant for dinner. Now warm, full, and exhausted, I'm ready for bed.

Tomorrow we're headed to Cortona, the actual town from "Under the Tuscan Sun."

Will write more tomorrow. ;)

Day 1 - Makin' Memories

Well, our first day in Italy is over, and after a couple of misadventures we are safely ensconsed in our hotel in the little town of Montalcino. This is in Tuscany a few hours north of Rome.

Rome to Montalcino

Didn't get any sleep on the flight, but still was wide awake when I arrived. Adrenaline is a beautiful thing. Armed with my carry-on stuff and my passport, I joined the line for customs. The last time I traveled overseas to England, the customs agent asked me all kinds of questions before stamping my passport. In Italy there were no questions at all. I don't think that the lady even looked at me in the 2 seconds she had the stamp and my passport in her hand. That was fine by me, but it seemed strange.

Our little foursome, PJ and Christy Perdaems and friend Michelle Miller all met at baggage claim and were on our way to the rental car. The Rental Car (an Alpha Romeo) is a stick-shift, and I have never been more grateful not knowing how to drive one. Granted, I know one of these days I'm going to need to have this skill, but after a few hours on Italian roads I am quite confident we are much safer without me behind the wheel.

Driving in Italy is a real adventure. In spite of the fact that there are electronic police cameras everywhere, no one seems to pay any attention to them. Going 80-90mph means that you're going to be left in the dust by some Grandma out on her Sunday drive. Lane lines are merely suggestions, used only when there are a lot of other cars in the road. It's basically a free-for-all. They think nothing of passing you on a blind curve, and there are a *lot* of curving mountain roads.

Michelle is one of the most organized people I have ever met. She has a binder with every reservation, plan, map and activity printed, tabbed and highlighted. She, PJ and Christy have done an amazing job in planning this all out. My method of traveling has always been to go where the wind takes me, but given how much we want to see and do while we're here, I'm thinking this is probably a better way to go. ;)

All the planning in the world, however, didn't quite prepare us for the day's adventure. Getting to Montalcino was relatively easy. I say relatively because while it wasn't easy, it was the easiest part of the day. Finding our hotel was a completely different story.

Using the map we found a sign pointing us to "Piombaia," the place we were supposed to stay. The fact that it was off a dirt/mud hole road was a minor concern, but the fact that our car didn't have enough ground clearance to make the trip was a major concern. The Alpha Romeo doesn't have much ground clearance to begin with, and loaded to the gills with 4 people and their luggage didn't help. At one point we were scraping the ground, so all of us but Christy had to get out and walk for a while until she navigated the bumpier parts of the road.

We eventually came upon a gate with a sign that said "Piombaia" and a lovely farmhouse set amidst acres of grape vines and olive trees. PJ got out of the car and went to the gate's intercom to ask to be let in.

A very elderly woman responded on the intercom, and spoke no English. PJ kept asking to be let in (my rapid Italian courses didn't gover gate entry :) ) and she kept saying "Si." without opening up. It took a few minutes for her to understand, but eventually the gate opened and we drove up to the house.

We must have interrupted her siesta because she arrived at her top step in a night-gown, and was just tying on her robe. We all piled out of the car, and I went up to her porch to try and explain that we had a reservation and needed to know where our rooms were. She was very frail, clutching my arm as she tried to get me to understand and point the right direction.

She continued in rapid Italian that I had no clue about. I showed her our binder and the printed reservation, and she seemed to register some understanding. PJ started unloading the car, and she got very animated, pointing to a shed out back, repeatedly saying, "Roberto." "Roberto."

This is Christy and I trying to explain the situation. The woman is standing just behind Christy in her blue robe.

Like a dolt, I assumed that Roberto was going to show us where our rooms were and help us out, but I was a little wary of just wandering off to find this mystery man out in the shed. In a few seconds however, Roberto appeared, looking almost as confused as the woman.

Thankfully, Roberto spoke a little English. I showed him the reservation, and he explained that we were a couple of miles from where we needed to be. This woman had absolutely no connection to our hotel, and this was her private home.

We were of course, really embarrassed, and thanked them both profusely. We quickly got back in the car and got out of there as quickly as we could. Thinking back, I wonder what would have happened if Roberto hadn't been there. How long would we have continued to unintentionally torture this poor woman?

Armed with new directions, we decided to stop for lunch. In our first attempts to find our hotel, we stumbled upon a restaurant that a friend of Christy's recommended highly. Set amidst rolling hills and grape vines, we decided to see if they were open for lunch.

We were greeted by Kevin, the waiter, who inspite of being from Great Britain did not appear to have a firm grasp of the English language. Tough to explain. But he was very nice and showed us to a table near a huge window that gave us an amazing view.

Italian Travel Tip: When looking for a place to eat, do not go to a "Ristorante" if you are looking for a quick bite or a casual meal. "Bars" are sandwich (not drinking) places, and Trattorias or Osterias are for casual, relatively inexpensive dining. Ristorantes are dress-up places where you are served multiple courses and are usually really expensive.

This lunch was amazing, duck soup, risotto, pasta, beef. Every single thing was amazing. Even the bill...my lunch was 45 euro...which is about $70. I was hungry enough to eat/pay anything, but we didn't do that again.

Full from lunch we struck out again in search of the hotel....which wasn't too hard to find once we made it to the right place.

The hotel is an old converted villa in the middle of grape vines. We have a small apartment with two bedrooms, one bath and a living room that's private, and a larger sitting room with a fireplace downstairs that is accessible to the other guests. We're here in the off season, so there are no other guests.

Once checked in and settled, we went into the city of Montalcino to do some sight-seeing. There's what we could call a castle there, but in reality it was more of a fortress. When the Medici's or other mauraders would come to rape and pillage, the town would flee to this fortress for protection. They would stay within those walls until the danger passed.

We didn't stay in town very long. There's not that much there, and we're exhausted. Our hotel has a little restaurant (less expensive than the lunch place :) ) where we decided to go for dinner. All of the options on the menu looked great, but for reasons I can't explain, I decided to do something different and selected an item about which I had no clue. All I knew was that it wasn't going to be fish...and really I was so tired and hungry at that point I really didn't care.

It turned out to be amazing. It was hearty beef and barley soup with some sort of bread filling the bottom of the bowl. After roaming around out in the cold, this was exactly what I was looking for. I may do this again, but I don't think I'm going to probably get that lucky a second time. :)

Well, it's roughly 8pm and I can no longer keep my eyes open. The adrenaline is gone, and after a filling dinner and a glass of wine I'm ready for bed. My little internet card has a 250mb limit, for the entire month, so I won't be posting many pictures until after we get home. But there's three cameras at work here, so there will likely be more than you could ever imagine over the next couple of weeks.

I really can't believe I'm here. Tomorrow we are headed to see the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Will write more later.

Finally on Vacation - A Day in Boston

"Let us not forget today that we are the heirs of that first revolution." - JFK

Over the summer I was in Washington D.C., soaking up as much history and sightseeing as I could. Boston was a continuation of this quest. As a life-long history nerd, I could not believe that it took me this long to visit the cities that played such a pivotal role in the foundation of our country. Boston is also an important city in terms of my family's history, so when I had the opportunity to go there, even for a few hours, I jumped at the chance.

Both Boston and D.C. have great tour busses that you can hop on/off at any point along the route. $20 buys you a pass for the entire day, so I listened to the tour guide without stopping on the route, then stayed along on another lap of the city to get off at the places that I found interesting. I went to Quincy Market, Bunker Hill, the Old North Church, Boston Common...it was wonderful. It's November, so all of the fall colors were in full bloom and the air was extremely brisk, just short of snowing. It was wonderful to stroll through history like that on my own. I didn't get to see a fraction of the things I wanted to see, but at least it whet my appetite for a return trip as soon as my schedule will allow.

My reasons for visiting Boston were not exclusively meant for sightseeing, however. I used it as a way to break up a long flight from LAX to Rome, where I will be spending the next 2 weeks with friends PJ, Christy and Michelle going all over the country. Italy is another place I have not yet been, and the prospect of having 2.5 weeks off is dazzlingly appealing. Never in my life have I taken this much time off from work at a single time...when there wasn't some sort of hospital involved. Keeping my fingers crossed that it doesn't turn into that at a later point. :)

I flew into Boston last night at 8pm, spent the day touring the city and I'm exhausted. My flight left about 6 tonight from Logan Airport and will arrive at 7:30am tomorrow morning. My hope was that I would wear myself out running around Boston so that I would instantly fall asleep when I got on the plane. If that happened I would then wake up in Rome and keep the jet lag to a minimum.

Sadly that has not been the case so far. I am seated across the aisle from a woman who has proven herself to be quite crazy. Shortly after takeoff she started ranting and raving about how loud the people were talking a few rows ahead of her were being. I was only half listening to her when she looked to me for moral support, and she took my lack of comment as agreement. She then started yelling at these people to be quiet, saying that they were bothering both her and myself. Personal mortification aside, her ire quickly redirected to the man sitting behind her...who had the audacity to politely request that she not jam her seat back quickly without warning because he had been hit in both the head and the knee during her various tirades.

She became offended, and started arguing with him. The woman sitting behind me joined the fray, and the argument was on. They have been fighting for almost 5 hours now, and at times the stewardesses have come over to attempt to settle them down. Normally they would move the combatants, but this is a completely full flight so there's really no where to go. All I know is that I would really like some sleep and I'm strangely not at all tired.

More than 1/2 way to Rome. How cool is it to say that? Can't wait to land. Will write more when I have a break. :)

New Orleans 2008 - "New Year's Eve Part 1 - Gator for Lunch, Snails for Dinner"

The plan for day two was to start out with beignets for breakfast down at Cafe Du Monde, and then see what tours and activities we could do to entertain ourselves until things got rolling later that night. Unfortunately, everyone else in town wanted beignets too, and the line stretched much longer down the block than we were comfortable with.

Our alternative was a restaurant off of Jackson Square called "The Alpine." Our Katrina group ate their the last night we were in town, and it was just enough off of the beaten path such that we were able to walk in and get a table without a wait. This is what a gator po boy sandwich looks like:

A little on the spicy side, but very very good. Nothing beats New Orleans French bread.

Now well fed, we were up for a trek out to Chalmette to see what had happened to the houses I worked on after Hurricane Katrina. We grabbed our maps and the rental car and hit the road.

I had originally estimated that the entire trek out there would take about 2 hours. Forty five minutes out there, and 45 back, with a few minutes for pictures at each place. The group I had worked with was eager to see photos and learn all that had happened since we were there. Kristin and I quickly realized that this was going to be a more daunting task, as none of the street signs blown over or around in the storm had been replaced. There were a few more people on the roads, and a few more businesses open, but overall very little had changed since we were there almost 2 years ago.

I figured that one of two things would have happened in the time since we were there. Either the houses would have been demolished entirely, or they would be rehabbed and have happy people living in them. What surprised me most was that little to no progress had been made at all.

Our first stop was at Rowley Elementary School, where Hilltop rescue had established their base camp. At the time, the school's first level had been washed out, and there was nothing but raw studs and limited light. Chain link fence surrounded the school to protect it from looters. A FEMA camp next door housed approximately 100 trailers, with armed guards posted at the entrances to prevent the infiltration of gangs and drug dealers.

Today, the school is back to normal. The barbed wire is gone, and lower windows are no longer boarded up. However there are not enough children in the area to support it as an elementary school. It's currently being used as an alternative school, with the hopes that at some point it will be needed for it's original intent in the future. You will note that more than 2 years later, the FEMA park still stands.

This house, which faced the school really moved me. While many people spray painted their cell#'s on their houses as a means for contact, these folks clearly were not going to be coming back. There is a sign written on the wall in the car port that says, "Don't worry- Mom is OK."

Today, it is the only one on the street that was demolished. A handful of residents have moved back.

From there it was on to Mr. Duffy's house, which was difficult to recognize since there were only about 5 houses in the entire neighborhood still standing. Almost everything in the area is now a concrete slab, but the Duffy house and the house across the street are still standing.

This was how it was when we first got there in 2006 and worked:

Today, the grass has been cut, and the tools outside of the garage give the impression that someone is working on it, but it clearly is not inhabitable:

I was pleased to see that my personal favorite house across the street had been rehabilitated and had residents living in it. This was the house where we took our breaks at ate lunch on the steps:

This was it in 2006:

And this is it in 2008. I definitely like the former color. :)

We saw the same thing at the LaMarque House a few blocks away. Unlike the Duffy neighborhood, where most of the houses had been demolished, the shells of houses still stood with a few more residents.

This was the LaMarque House in 2006:

Here's what it looks like today. The windows have been replaced, and the interior has been covered in plastic, but the search insignia is still painted on the wall next to the garage.

That was all we had time for that day. I made one more trek out to Chalmette before we left, and was able to find the street where the shrimp boat landed in the middle of the neighborhood. This tract of houses backed to the levy, and had the most damage. The boat below landed here, 15 miles from its mooring, or any other body of water that could support it.

How would you like to see this coming at your front yard? The boat burned down about a year sgo, so I didn't take photos of that area. Very little on the street has changed. Time prevented me from getting out to the last house, but overall I felt the trek was successful.

While I was happy to see that none of our work was demolished the moment we left town, I was somewhat disappointed to see so little progress in that time. All the more reason to go back soon.

But there was little time to dwell on it, it was time to get ready for new year's eve. Talk to you soon,

K

New Orleans 2008 - Day One: "Hurricanes and Horse Drool"

So almost 2 years after the Katrina trip, I was able to join Kristin and PJ for some New Year's fun in New Orleans.

The traveling process itself was uneventful. My parents generously donated some expiring miles to allow me to ride in first class, which I'm coming to believe is simply the section for rich alcoholics. Yes, I know the booze is free, but that doesn't mean you have to double-fist it the moment yout roller bag is stowed in the overhead compartment. In my limited first class experience, I have yet to have a flight where at least one person sitting around me doesn't get completely plastered before we reach our cruising altitude.

This trip was no exception. I was originally seated next to a 12 year old, who switched seats so that he could sit near his mom. My new seatmate, an executive in her 50's, explained she was happy the kid moved to another row because "She didn't feel comfortable drinking in front of children." I nodded sagely and went back to my book. She summoned the flight attendant and asked for the first of what would be about 4 vodka and Sprites for the day. She would then spend the next 2 hours telling me about a family tragedy she had suffered over the holidays in graphic detail, ignoring my politely dismissive nods, and my nose firmly planted in a book. Did I mention it was 7:30 in the morning?

We had a plane full of football fans, as I believe everyone from the state of Hawaii left the islands to see their home team play in the Superdome. We took off from John Wayne early Sunday morning, and arrived in New Orleans at about 4 in the afternoon. We got the rental car, and were on our way to a weekend of what we hoped would be a symphony of food, drink, football and general merriment.

Our hotel, the Homewood Suites, was a very nice hotel a block or two from the Superbowl. Since it was the holiday and two big football games were coming, security measures were stepped up in the hotel. All guests needed to wear a green wristband and have a room key to even get into the lobby of the hotel. If you didn't have both, you were out of luck. We were also given red wristbands to any guests we would want to bring in. We were given three each, and in an homage to Seinfeld, had to determine whether or not individuals were " Wrist-band worthy."

The desk clerk at the hotel was friendly, as almost everyone in New Orleans is, and gave us the rundown on what we should and shouldn't do in the city. We were told that it was perfectly safe in the city because (and I quote) "we have the National Guard here and everything." Yeah, I had seen enough news stories and episodes of "Cops - Mardi Gras" to know that keeping an eye out for trouble at all times was a good idea.

We caught up with PJ a short time later, and made dinner plans. K and I were both starving, but the big group couldn't meet until a bit later. We decided to grab a quick bite at McDonalds to tide us over until we could eat the big meal with everyone.

Going to McDonalds on Canal Street was something of an experience. It was packed with people, and employed by six of the least motivated individuals I have ever seen. Having lived a couple of years in the south, I realized that things moved a lot slower here than they did back home, but this took it to the extreme.

Strawberri (the actual name on her badge), the only one working the cash register, greeted customers with the same level of interest I have for cleaning the cat box. She spoke in a mumble, and having to repeat herself seemed like a terribly arduous chore. We waited about 15 minutes for her to take the orders of three customers. In that time we listened to two older gentlemen harrassing the rest of the workers in a somewhat friendly manner, and were approached by a man looking for a dollar. None of us could get out of there fast enough.

On the walk back to the hotel, we found this little hole-in-the wall bar, "Marie Laveau's Voodoo Bar" manned by a 20-something bartender named Sabrina. She was extremely friendly and sat and chatted with us about the city for quite some time. She also made a deadly lemon drop, with which we toasted the start of a fantastic trip.

PJ had three people working for him, two of which came to dinner with us. When everyone was together, we took a cab down to the Garden District for Hurricanes and hamburgers at a bar that was the first to open after Katrina. One bite of the burger and it was easy to see why the place was packed. Just fantastic food, and wonderful drinks. The hurricanes came in 32 ounce glasses and while they were almost entirely alcohol, they tasted dangerously like Hawaiian Punch. Then it was a slow walk back to the hotel through the French Quarter, taking in the sights and working our way through the crowds.

The thing I love most about the French Quarter is its cacophony of sound. Stop in any part of the Quarter, and you can hear at least 4 different live bands playing at the same time....and all of them are outstanding. Jazz, zydeco, blues, rock, it all blends together and draws you in. I could walk along and listen there for hours.

The majority of Burbon Street was packed with people, getting drunker with every passing hour. Boosters from Hawaii, Georgia and LSU rented balconies, and packed them with bead tossing fans. Naturally people were gathering below to cheer, talk smack and try and catch beads. This blocks off the street, and makes it very difficult to get past. Threading your way through the crowds can be a challenge, but not terrible.

We did have one incident where we unwittingly walked into the middle of a fist-fight that had started in a bar and made its way onto the street. Two guys wrestled each other to the ground right in front of us...and PJ, who never misses an opportunity to stir the pot, makes a comment suggesting that they belonged in the gay bar at the opposite end of Bourbon streets. .....and then continues walking.

What he didn't see (but Kristin and I did) was the fact that one of the drunken rednecks took exception to the fact that PJ questioned his heterosexuality, and started to go after him. A couple of his buddies stopped him before a punch was thrown, but it was a tense moment.

It was at that point when we decided to call it a night. We started working our way through the crowds back to the hotel, and a felt something brush against the top of my head. Kristin pulled me out of the way of one of the NOPD mounted police horses, who was kind enough to get horse drool on the back of my head. Though horse drool is probably better than some other bodily fluid, it wasn't the souvenior I was hoping to take home with me that night.

Came home a little after midnight, looking forward to a fun New Year's Eve. Will share more with photos tomorrow. ;)

K

Vegas Baby!

Had a great time in Vegas for Susan and her sister Casee's birthday. The few photos I took are posted to my online photo album under the "Links and Photos" link on the right side of this page.

Lots of stories to tell, but too tired to write them right now. All I will say for now is:

1. No, we were not in the NYNY casino when the crazed gunman started shooting.
2. We WERE on the street when the SUV caught fire and started to make popping noises
3. The overnight low did never go below 90 the entire time we were there, and it was 125 when I drove through Baker.
4. We got very little sleep, but had a ton of fun.

Talk to youn soon,

K

My favorite photo of the entire trip.

Taken between dives off the Kona Coast

Best afternoon ever.

http://www.jacksdivinglocker.com/

Hawaii - Day 4 - Yes, I did in fact jump off the back of a boat into the ocean at night to swim with sea life.

I have always been fascinated by marine life. There is not a Jacues Cousteau special I have not seen, I live for the Discovery Channel's Shark Week, and absolutely love going to Sea World. So when PJ asked me if I would be interested in going snorkeling off the Kona Coast to see the Manta Rays, I said yes. Now, don't get me wrong, I had a slew of reservations, but this trip was about getting out of the comfort zone and trying something I haven't done before.

Nine of us loaded up in cars and headed to the marina to meet the staff at Jack's Diving Locker. The first step was to sign releases saying we won't sue anyone if we get gobbled up by the sea life. From there it was on to the equipment room for a snorkel, mask and fins. We were also asked if we wanted wetsuits, which most decided to use. The water temp was 78 degrees, and I assumed I could get by without one. I was against getting a suit for two main reasons: First, trying to find one that would fit was not high on my list of fun things to do, but second, and more importantly, I am seriously allergic to the material that wetsuits are made from. A small amount of material from an ankle brace against my skin sent me to the emergency room a few years ago, and I had mental images of going into anaphalactic shock in the water, and/or having to fly home covered in red welts. The crew (some of whom went without as well) didn't see it as a major issue, so I took my gear and boarded with everyone else.

So we set out of the harbor into open ocean, and the further we get from shore, several things start going through my head.

1. I am not Jacques Cousteau, Marlon Perkins or even his dim-witted buddy Jim.

2. I like swimming pools.

3. That water looks really deep and really cold. I really should have gotten a wetsuit

4. Jump in there? Are you kidding me? That's Jaws' House. I would really rather not intrude.

But again, this was about getting out of the comfort zone, so I put those thoughts out of my head and focused on what we were being told.

Members of the crew started telling us the plan. We would have 1 dive/snorkeling trip at 4:30 while the sun was still up. They would be going out in the water with us, but told us to stay in a particular area. (which apparently did not include the bench seat on the bow) Everyone would test their equipment and skills for a couple of hours, and we would then come back on board for dinner. After sunset, we would go back in for a night dive with the manta rays....which can have a wingspan of up to 25 feet. (Not a typo). The ones local to this area of the island could be as much as 13-15 feet....which still happened to be wider than the boat we were currently occupying.

*gulp* Comfort zone, comfort zone!

It is here that I re-assess my love of marine life. I love it, but prefer it to be behind 3 inches of shatterproof glass.

Now, manta rays are NOT the ones who killed the Crocodile Hunter. They feed on plankton, and have no teeth and no stingers. They are gentle giants who are simply there to eat the plankton, and have no interest in humans.

Riiiight.

Those who were diving suited up for the afternoon dive and jumped off the back of the boat. Then the snorkelers put on their gear and one by one, we screwed up the courage to jump in. I fully admit to wanting to chicken out up until the very last second, but still took a deep breath and went for it.


It was *great.*

The water was warmer than a lot of swimming pools I have known, and once I got the hang of breathing with the snorkel tube, I entered a new world. The water was perfectly clear, and I saw all sorts of multi-colored fish and coral, and some even saw a sea turtle or two. The water was about 30-40 feet deep, but there was still plenty to see both close up and far away.

I really can't say enough about the crew. They were *wonderful,* and patient with all levels of divers and snorkelers. They made everyone feel welcomed and comfortable, regardless of skill levels. It would have been very easy to spend time with the advanced divers and mock the beginning snorkelers, but every single man on the crew (4+ Captain) spent time explaining and helping everyone. Their boats can seat up to 35, but they never take more than 15-20, so that everyone gets the attention they need. I would highly recommend this company to anyone interested.

Before we knew it, it was time to get out and eat dinner. There were sandwiches and chips for everyone. The Captain, a retired Navy Seal regaled us with diving stories while we waited for the sun to go down. There was also time for photos:

Captain "I'm not into rules, Man" Roger:

PJ with his "ball and chain"

The dive boat at sunset:



Just after sundown we had a briefing on the night portion of the dive/snorkel experience. Everyone, divers and snorkelers alike, would be in the water with a high powered dive light. The divers would go down to the bottom (about 30 feet) arrange themselves in a circle and shine their lights upward. The snorkelers would stay on top of the water over the divers and shine their lights downward. What this would do is create a giant shaft of light that would attract the plankton. Plankton are tiny little sea creatures that are, like moths and insects, attracted to light. The manta rays eat the plankton, and therefore are attracted to the light.

Now, one of my bigger phobias has always been swimming at night. I really don't much like it in a pool, let alone the ocean where things can come at you from any direction. But we were again assured that we would be watched over, and that it would be an unforgettable experience. So embracing the fact that I really liked the first snorkeling sojourn, and armed with nothing more than snorkel gear and a dive light, I put my faith in the crew again and stepped off the back of the boat into the deep.

Several other dive boats were there, and all had divers and snorkelers with lights. Everyone arranged themselves as directed, with color-coded glow sticks tied to our tanks and snorkel tubes to track us.

The sight of the column of light alone was spectacular. It illuminated shades of blue that I had never seen before. A school of several hundred silvery fish swam around in the light, eating plankton and making everything shimmer. It was like being in a Wyland painting.

It didn't take long for two giant rays to emerge from the deep. With a wingspan of about 12 feet, they corkscrewed slowly through the light with unbelievable grace. They were flying through the water, turning circle after circle around the divers below. It was truly breathtaking. It was obvious that we were seeing something truly magnificent, I can't describe how awesome the feeling was to realize how small we were compared to some of the other wild creatures of the earth.

I didn't have an underwater camera, so I don't have any shots of them, but the dive company did have video of us that they will be sending us soon, and I'll post the footage up when it comes in a couple of weeks.

After a while, one of the divers took his lights up towards the surface to draw the rays up towards the snorkelers. As completely neat as it was, I really didn't need to see them face to face. and started getting nervous as they came within a few feet of me. But we watched them feed for quite a while. I honestly was reluctant to return to the boat.

We returned to the harbor awed but exhausted. We said farewell to the crew, and went in search of any restaurant still open at 10pm on a weeknight.

We were turned away from two places before we were able to find a place. The only one willing to seat us was the Hard Rock Cafe, which somewhat begrudgingly kept its kitchen open until our party of 10 had ordered and eaten. Most of were leaving the following morning, so this was our farewell dinner. While we had intended it to be a raucous karaoke evening, we were all so hungry and tired, that we just had one nice mellow dinner as a group.

After dinner we said our goodbyes and wished everyone safe journeys back home...which included Boston, Atlanta, Amsterdam, Texas and California. As tired as we were, everyone left with smiles on their faces.

Leaving one's comfort zone rocks. :)