Family schedules were jumbled this year, so Terri and I celebrated Christmas by ourselves. Christmas Eve was cold and blustery and snowy, so we woke up to a sunny white Christmas. The highlight of our day was a traditional holiday meal: nothing says "Christmas" like a big plate of spaghetti carbonara and a bottle of Taittinger Domaine Carneros bubbly.
It's been a good travel year. So good, in fact, that we made Platinum in the American Airlines AAdvantage program. We started the year in Las Vegas (celebrating our tenth anniversary), then Barcelona (for my 60th birthday), Philadelphia (we wanted to see the Barnes before it moved), Washington D.C., London (we rented an apartment in Islington), Buenos Aires (our usual month in Argentina to escape the Texas heat), Chicago, and Rome (carbonara!). We even made it to Paradise (Texas). (Links are to Flickr photos.)
My son Zachary and his girlfriend Melanie will be coming up in a few days, and my daughter Sydney and granddaughter Josie will visit in mid-January. Beyond that, we have no plans, not yet, but it's early.
Happy New Year!
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
When in Rome...
It's a big holiday weekend throughout Italy. Tuesday is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, and Italians are making a four-day weekend of it. While there are few foreign tourists this time of year, Rome is mobbed by Italians visiting their capital. Tour groups are swamping the popular sights and some exhibits and events are already booked up.
Italians do not understand, or adamantly refuse to acknowledge, the concept of a queue or line. Whether boarding a bus or train, buying tickets, entering a museum, or passing through security, it's always a mad dash as they all try to jostle their way to the front. This denial of line courtesy is pervasive throughout both genders and all ages: Italian matrons are as guilty as teenage males.
We're seeing new things this trip, going to places we've never seen before. Last Saturday, for example, we went to Palazzo Madama, home of the Italian Senate. It's only open to the public on the first Saturday of the month, and all the visitors are Italian. Our guide, a Senate employee, gave a witty tour of the building (in Italian, of course). I say 'witty' because all the Italians in our group frequently chuckled and we, of course, chuckled along to fit in.
On Sunday we visited the Palazzo Quirinale, the official residence of the President. It's only open on Sunday mornings and, because of the holiday, it was jammed. We waited in line for an hour and a half. The palazzo's baroque ostentation was not to my taste, but I was in awe of the guards. There must be a minimum height requirement, as they were all at least 6 foot 4 and more buff than Paris policemen. Some were in gaudy uniforms, some in elegant long black wool coats, but they were evidently ready for any tricks you might try to pull. So don't even try, buster.
Also on Sunday we went to the Centrale Montemartini, a great museum created inside an old power plant. Much of the machinery has been cleaned up and left in place, used as a background for displaying Roman Republican statuary. On a busy holiday weekend, it was deserted; even Italians are not aware of all their cultural assets.
More photos have been going up on Flickr.
Italians do not understand, or adamantly refuse to acknowledge, the concept of a queue or line. Whether boarding a bus or train, buying tickets, entering a museum, or passing through security, it's always a mad dash as they all try to jostle their way to the front. This denial of line courtesy is pervasive throughout both genders and all ages: Italian matrons are as guilty as teenage males.
We're seeing new things this trip, going to places we've never seen before. Last Saturday, for example, we went to Palazzo Madama, home of the Italian Senate. It's only open to the public on the first Saturday of the month, and all the visitors are Italian. Our guide, a Senate employee, gave a witty tour of the building (in Italian, of course). I say 'witty' because all the Italians in our group frequently chuckled and we, of course, chuckled along to fit in.
On Sunday we visited the Palazzo Quirinale, the official residence of the President. It's only open on Sunday mornings and, because of the holiday, it was jammed. We waited in line for an hour and a half. The palazzo's baroque ostentation was not to my taste, but I was in awe of the guards. There must be a minimum height requirement, as they were all at least 6 foot 4 and more buff than Paris policemen. Some were in gaudy uniforms, some in elegant long black wool coats, but they were evidently ready for any tricks you might try to pull. So don't even try, buster.
Also on Sunday we went to the Centrale Montemartini, a great museum created inside an old power plant. Much of the machinery has been cleaned up and left in place, used as a background for displaying Roman Republican statuary. On a busy holiday weekend, it was deserted; even Italians are not aware of all their cultural assets.
More photos have been going up on Flickr.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Why I Go to Italy
There are many reasons to visit Italy, any part of Italy. Here in Rome there are Roman ruins, beautiful churches, incredible art, and the energy and activity of a world capital.
Last night, however, I was reminded of my favorite reason for coming to Italy: to eat.
We got to our hotel around 9.30 yesterday morning and chatted with Alberta, the owner. We napped and relaxed and then walked around the neighborhood. (Imagine being able to walk down the block and turn left, and see the Colisseum.) Besides enjoying being out and about, we were already plotting the main event of the day: where would we eat dinner?
After checking several places Alberta had mentioned, we settled on La Carbonara, a little neighborhood place a few blocks from the hotel, on Via Panisperna. We went about 7.30, early by Roman standards, but a crowd was already building.
Since we were still a bit frazzled by jet lag, we wanted a fairly light dinner, say an anti-pasto and a primo piatto (an appetizer and a first course, usually pasta). Terri chose frittura (mixed fried, battered vegetables) and penne arrabbiata, and I got two very Roman dishes, carciofi all Giudia and spaghetti carbonara. The house red was a Tuscan wine, from Maremma, a merlot/sangiovese blend.
Carciofi is artichoke, in season now, and 'alla Giudia' means 'Jewish' style. A whole young artichoke is deep fried, then put on a plate and drizzled with olive oil. That's it. You eat the entire artichoke, starting with the crisp outer leaves and working down to the soft heart, and the stem, too.
Spaghetti carbonara is not as simple, but almost. Sauté olive oil, garlic, and pancetta (Italian bacon), then pour over freshly cooked pasta. Then add raw egg. The hot pasta cooks the egg. If you've never had carbonara, you may be wary. But if you have had it, you know it is one of the greatest things to ever enter your mouth and go down your throat.
Two delightful dishes, a delightful dinner companion, a delightful bottle of wine in a delightful little restaurant. What a delightful way to begin our latest visit to Italy.
Last night, however, I was reminded of my favorite reason for coming to Italy: to eat.
We got to our hotel around 9.30 yesterday morning and chatted with Alberta, the owner. We napped and relaxed and then walked around the neighborhood. (Imagine being able to walk down the block and turn left, and see the Colisseum.) Besides enjoying being out and about, we were already plotting the main event of the day: where would we eat dinner?
After checking several places Alberta had mentioned, we settled on La Carbonara, a little neighborhood place a few blocks from the hotel, on Via Panisperna. We went about 7.30, early by Roman standards, but a crowd was already building.
Since we were still a bit frazzled by jet lag, we wanted a fairly light dinner, say an anti-pasto and a primo piatto (an appetizer and a first course, usually pasta). Terri chose frittura (mixed fried, battered vegetables) and penne arrabbiata, and I got two very Roman dishes, carciofi all Giudia and spaghetti carbonara. The house red was a Tuscan wine, from Maremma, a merlot/sangiovese blend.
Carciofi is artichoke, in season now, and 'alla Giudia' means 'Jewish' style. A whole young artichoke is deep fried, then put on a plate and drizzled with olive oil. That's it. You eat the entire artichoke, starting with the crisp outer leaves and working down to the soft heart, and the stem, too.
Spaghetti carbonara is not as simple, but almost. Sauté olive oil, garlic, and pancetta (Italian bacon), then pour over freshly cooked pasta. Then add raw egg. The hot pasta cooks the egg. If you've never had carbonara, you may be wary. But if you have had it, you know it is one of the greatest things to ever enter your mouth and go down your throat.
Two delightful dishes, a delightful dinner companion, a delightful bottle of wine in a delightful little restaurant. What a delightful way to begin our latest visit to Italy.
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