Museumsufer Fest

This is the biggest and last of the Frankfurt Summer Street festivals. And it's completely unlike any street festival I've ever actually seen. In Chicago, people walk around drinking beer from plastic cups in baseball caps and shorts, it's really only a group of 20-somethings and 30-somethings heading out to get drunk for the afternoon (or often although you can do lots of other fun things too), somehow it seems kind of dirty and crowded and overwhelming . . . In Frankfurt, people walk around in such an orderly fashion drinking wine and beer out of actual glasses (glass glasses! no plastic cups here, folks!). Old couples, young couples, couples with kids, teenagers in summer romances, you name it they're here and they're here until the early hours of the morning. No one bats an eye at little kids wandering around because everyone is so well behaved.

Music is playing in the gardens behind the museums but if you make your way down to the riverside you find stages with club music and dancers (scantily dressed dancers) going until the earliest hours of the morning. It's great. Somehow civilized and yet like a club all at once.

My friend Francesca took me out to the festival and we spent an hour or two wandering around the booths, I managed to get a wooden ring stuck on my finger (for a full 30 minutes mind you, the guy used both oil and dish soap to get the thing off my hand). It was great. Really gorgeous jewelry and decorations from Columbia to South Africa (some of it was the usual tourist junk, but there were some amazing finds if you spent enough time looking).

It makes me sad that I didn't make it out to more of the festivals this summer, but there's always next year!

Lost in Italy: Relaxing on the beach and racing back to Bologna

It was the last day in the Cinque Terre. We decided to chill on the beach for a few hours before heading back to Bologna. This amazing stone sculpture of Atlas was nestled into the rock face above the beach and the stretch where our hotel had a dedicated section was packed with people sunning under umbrellas and splashing in the swells. Unfortunately it was an stone beach so it didn't make climbing into the water that pleasant, but the water itself was wonderful.

There's something about swimming in the ocean that just makes me happy. Maybe it's that you don't have to work as hard as you do in sweet, fresh waters or maybe it's just the fact that the salt tang you catch on your tongue or lips is just so delightful. Whatever it is, I like it.

We left a little later than we planned though and I have to say it was a white knuckle (for me) drive back to Bologna. But Nick is a pretty exceptional driver (I think it might have something to do with having access to roads like the Autobahn) and somehow we made it to the airport in time for me to catch my flight. I hesitate to share the drive time given that I know we were going far, far over the speed limit.

All in all a pretty exceptional holiday though, planned last minute but almost complete perfection (except for the pillows in the hotels. . . oh the pillows truly were horrible). I can't wait to come back again in the summer for another Italian adventure, maybe next time I'll focus on Southern Italy . . .

Lost in Italy: Hiking the Cinque Terre

You look at the pictures, you read the words of other visitors, you think you know what to expect, but somehow I wasn't fully prepared for how beautiful the Cinque Terre were going to be as we hiked from Monterosso to Riomaggiore.

We started kind of late this morning, I guess we were tired from the excitement of the Palio, or maybe it was that we really just didn't sleep well on account of the crappy pillows, but it didn't really matter. The sun drifted in and out of the clouds making it a really beautiful day to hike along the cliffs.

Cinque Terre is laced with well marked and well trodden paths some take you high up along the ridge line and others lead you along the coast. The trail we chose is probably the most famous of the Cinque Terre paths, it is the Sentiero no. 2 or Sentiero Azzuro. About 11 kilometers long, it takes just around 5 hours to walk the entire thing. The trail winds its way up and down the swells of the coast connecting each of the five villages in the Cinque Terre: Monterosso al Mare, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola and Riomaggiore. According to the map we received at the trail entrance (5 euros a person to hike the entire trail), the total change in elevation difference is 500 meters between the highest and lowest points of the trail.

The first bit is pretty steep and seems to be the most rugged, but that didn't stop the parade of women in high heeled shoes, older couples chatting away in Italian, backpackers from Australia and the UK chatting away the afternoon, families with children that couldn't possibly have been over the age of 3 from traipsing along the narrow path that edges the sheer cliffs. Truthfully with the steep drops on one side I don't think I would have been brave enough to bring kids that young on this walk.

It was amazing looking down on one side at the sheer cliffs, they just seemed to drop straight to crashing waves and hazy, cerulean waters. On the other side I kept finding the source of the faint lemon air that kept teasing me, row upon row of lemon trees, bursting with bright pale yellow fruits, almost the color of the sun that kept slipping behind the clouds. A little while later and we were walking along rows of grape vines or olive trees. And stretched between these pastoral pursuits were the villages. Pastel postcards nestled along the cliffs, some perched on top of a bluff, some cozied into the bays created by the water.

The beaches were few and far between in these villages, mostly they were rock beaches where you could see people sunning themselves on boulders, occasionally taking a moment to plunge into the water to cool off. Tourists sunbathing aside, when we got away from the town squares it was so easy to imagine what it must have been like when the only way to get from village to village was to walk along these footpaths. People still live in tiny houses amongst the groves that must have been there for many, many years and while they are now mostly connected by roads, they still walk the paths between the villages.

By the time we got to Riomaggiore, which was by far the most touristy feeling village of them all, we were pretty tired so we decided to take the train back. In less than 20 minutes we covered what had taken us more than 5 hours to walk. But it was ok, it was a lovely gorgeous day and a beautiful walk along the ocean.

Lost in Italy: Monterosso el Mare, Cinque Terre

After a long, traffic filled drive along the coast, we wound our way up through the hills and back down through the narrow serpentine roads until we saw our first glimpse of the sea. It was beautiful.

The village that we are staying in, Monterosso, is tucked down by the water, edging back up the hillsides like waves slipping onto the beach as the tide comes in. The houses in the sunset light look like pastel paint splashes against the green trees of the slopes. I think we might be staying in a postcard.

Although there is no doubt this is a tourism destination, somehow it feels less so because mostly it's Italian tourists with a few Germans and Brits sprinkled in for good measure. From what I've read the Cinque Terre tourism trade exploded a few years ago when UNESCO named it a world heritage site. From what I can see so far, it doesn't feel like the village has been overwhelmed by a locust cloud of tourists. It still feels like a place where you might only go because you live a few hours drive away. The perfect long weekend escape during the summer.

After getting settled in our next hotel (better than the one in Siena, but still, horrible pillows!), we wandered down to the harbor to see what we could find for dinner. A tiny little restaurant called Restaurant Miky tucked away by the beach seemed like a good fit for our first meal on the coast. And it was, they served beautiful foods. I had a local specialty, dorade baked in salt. When they brought out my fish and began pulling off the salt crust and lifting out the flesh I could barely contain myself. I did manage to ask for my favorite part of the fish, the cheeks. They are so tender and so flavorful, I love them. When all the flesh was off the bone, our waiter brought over a selection of olive oils, all locally grown and pressed. It was beautiful oil, spicy and green. Young, the way olive oil should be to compliment a baked fish. That was all there was to my dinner, the simple moist flesh of the dorade drizzled with piquant local olive oil. Mmm, I can still taste it now.

Of course we also ordered a bottle of wine. I mean what dinner in Italy would be complete without having a bottle or two of vino? So we picked out a really delicious D.O.C. wine from the Cinque Terre, a crisp bot not too dry white. The area is actually known for the D.O.C. white wines they produce and this was a pretty good starting place. Sadly I forgot to pull the label off, but I'm going to try to track down a few more bottles to bring home with me.

The other food the area is known for are the lemon groves that line the hillsides along the cliffs. So of course, dessert had to be lemon tart made with locally grown lemons. They are in season right now and I love nothing more than eating local, seasonal foods. . . .

After all that food a stroll along the ocean seemed about right, so we wandered down the boardwalk for about an hour before calling it quits and heading back to the hotel. I can't wait to hike along the cliffs tomorrow. I hope the weather cooperates.


Where we are staying:

Villa Adriana
http://www.villaadriana.info/
Address:
Via IV Novembre, 23
19016 Monterosso al Mare
Phone: +39 0187 818109

Although the pillows are awful, it is perfectly located in the village and the staff has been very kind and helpful so far.

Restaurants:
Ristorante Miky
Via Fegina 104
19016 Monterosso al Mare
Telefono/Fax: 0 187 817 608


Helpful links:

Cinque Terre Information

Wikipedia

WikiTravel

Lost in Italy: von Pisa nach Livorno nach Viareggio

OK, so Livorno has been a complete bust. Reading my guidebook (well Nick's guidebook in German), I thought it would be a really pretty stop along the way (ok slightly out of the way), to the Cinque Terre.

Boy was I wrong. The only thing to see in this town is the shipyards. So we turned right around from the waterfront, got back in the car and picked a new destination: Viareggio. Much better.

This might be the quintessential Italian beach town. When we finally made it down to the waterfront, we wandered up the main strip by the water. It is all tourism, a relief after seeing Livorno although I'm really hoping that the area we're heading next, the Cinque Terre, aren't nearly as crowded. We walked out to the water and it was packed with people. If there hadn't been a designated boardwalk down to the tide line I don't know if you could have actually walked to it without stomping on someone accidentally.

The sea was beautiful though. And there's something about Italians at the beach. You can be thin, chubby, young, old and it doesn't matter. They're all wearing itsy bitsy bathing suits if they're wearing anything at all! OK, so I'm exaggerating a little here, I did see plenty of guys in more American style suits, but there were still plenty of Speedos to be seen!

A short stroll along the water and it was off to the Cinque Terre. I've convinced Nick to drive along the coastline. I hope the traffic isn't too bad . . .

Lost in Italy: Pisa

We left Siena behind us today to head for the coast. But before we go to the Ligurian Sea, I decided we had to stop and see the most famous of all leaning towers, Pisa.

Now truth be told, Pisa is not the most beautiful of cities. It's dirty and rough and full of tourists once you get to the tower itself. Not a place you actually want to linger, but the tower really is beautiful. And if you can get past the crush of tourists wandering about and lounging on the grass (despite the signs in 3 languages that practically plead on their hands and knees for people to stay off the grass), it really is a lovely stop along the way.

We didn't linger very long before we both agreed it was time to move on to our next destination: Livorno!

Lost in Italy: Bruco loses and Leocorno is triumphant

Amazing! Absolutely amazing! The Unicorn has won the race! After who knows how many years!

We watched the race from bar (Dario's suggestion so we could actually see the starting line politics) but the energy was unbelievable. If you look closely you'll see one rider get unseated on the escond turn. That would be the Bruco rider.

After the race finished people flooded the streets singing, waving flags, beating drums. We followed the crowds along to the Duomo to see the winner be blessed by the bishop. He was literally carried on the shoulders of the Leocorno contrada all the way to the church.

Then it was off to dinner. Great food (is it possible to get bad food in Italy? I don't think so to be honest. And if someone out there has had bad food in Italy, I'd be curious to know how . . . ). I started out with poached calamari stuffed with seasoned sardines, then onto an incredible wild boar in a red wine sauce. Just gorgeous. If I'd actually remembered to take some photos . . . . but I was a little preoccupied with the wine and the celebrators who were walking by every few minutes.

The celebration seemed like it could never end. Drums rattled through the streets until the sun rose.

Lost in Italy: San Gimignano

So today we ducked out of Siena for a few hours to see a nearby town called San Giomignano that my German teacher recommended to me (vielen dank, Petra!). It's a beautiful medieval city (as many of them seem to be here in Tuscany).

The big draw of San Gimignano is 15 towers that were built in the city way back in the day. Originally there were 72 towers, but most of them now are broken or cropped, still the remaining are enough to give an unmistakable mark to the town.

It was a nice break from the touristy madness that's surrounding the campo in Siena right now. I continue to be amazed by the fact that if you just step off the main drag in these towns, all the tourists just up and disappear. Nick and I had such a nice time walking through the city today on all the back streets before we climbed up in the town and then high tailed it back to Siena so we didn't miss the actual race (wouldn't that just be the story of my life??).

Gorgeous town though, nice for a quick day trip if you happen to be in the area.

Lost in Italy: The Trials and the Bruco Dinner

So I stumbled back to my hotel last night at about, oh, 3am only to find the hotel key taped to the door with a note that it was for my room. We got home just a touch too late and the hotel owner/manager had already gone to bed and locked everything up. I'm just glad we didn't get locked out!

But the night! Wow, first the trials. Dario gave great advice on where to watch the festivities before everything kicked off, so we got to see all of the contrada who would be racing the next day parade through the city in full medieval regalia. Beating drums and waving flags with the rest of the neighborhood following along decked out in scarves and shirts, young and old, everyone was chanting and singing as they marched through the streets around the campo. The star of each contrada was of course the Horse, decked out in contrada silks, who stopped at each bend in the street and was turned around and shown to the crowd a loudly cheering mix of locals and tourists.

Slowly the parade moved around the outer ring of the campo before each contrada passed into the square. As soon as the Bruco horse had passed, Nick and I found our way through the crowds into the Campo itself. Thousands of people were already standing within the center of square, most if not all of them bearing the colors of their chosen contrada. We stood on the hard dirt track looking around at the stands pressed up against the buildings. Masses of cheering locals stood waving their scarves and flags, wave after wave of song moved through the stands bouncing from once side of the track to the other as the men belted out the of anthem of each contrada.

It was raw. It was real. It was honest.

I could feel all of the passions that are tied up in this horse race, into this city. Hundreds of years of tradition, alliances and rivalries. Absolutely incredible.

We stood in the center of the track to watch the trial. After the color guard entered and road around the ring the contradas that would be racing the very next day entered the track and cantered slowly around once and then once more. Showboating for the crowds, feeling out the speed of the track. As soon as it was over, we were pulled into the masses and started looking for a stream of Bruco supporters to follow to dinner.

Oh and what a dinner it was. . . an exercise in Italian hospitality with 1200 of our newest and closest of friends at the Bruco headquarters. After we made our way back through the winding streets to a steep, narrow road lined with Bruco flags, Dario met us with our tickets and we entered the Bruco Gardens. There were rows upon rows upon rows of tables lined up, with place setting after place setting and what looked like endless cases of wine distributed along the tables. After sitting down we found on one side an Italian couple who didn't speak a word of English and on the other an Italian couple that spoke English but stopped as soon as Nick said he was Austrian (apparently there were some bad feelings there that I just didn't quite understand).

The ceremony for the dinner was such a random mix between small town America (think super local Fourth of July celebrations) and this sense of being part of an ages old tradition. The President of the contrada stood up and gave a long speech about winning, imploring the contrada members to make a donation and help refill the Bruco coffers so they could pay their jockey if by some strange chance Bruco won the contrada yet again.

Then a series of performances began to take place as we were served dinner by the younger members of the contrada. I was amazed at all of these teenagers taking time out to server food and clean up after the dinner. Dario explained to us later that to be born into a contrada means you never leave it. But you are born into a contrada based on where you live, not what contrada your parents belong to, so parents will drop their kids off with the kids' contrada and then head off to dine with their own contrada. The contrada basically acts like a second family for all of these kids as the grow up. The most important life experiences like christening, first communion, confirmation, marriage, all take place with the contrada. And all of these kids just volunteer their time because it's just what you do when you're part of the contrada.

Dinner went on for hours. After all of the main meal had been served and cleared away, and many, many bottles of red wine had been consumed, the kids started working their way around the tables distributing bottles of prosecco, 2 bottles for every four people. The corks started flying into the air, shooting up towards the stars like bottle rockets. Laughter filled up the night sky while people tried to catch the corks on their gravitationally mandated journey down (I saw more than one person get smacked in the head by earthbound corks).

As we finished up our last bottle of wine (and yes we did finish more than a few bottles between the two of us), Dario made his way over to our table for one last drink. Or rather two or three more. He started to explain the intricate politics and alliances that take place during the race itself. How this year, the long time Bruco jockey who had been under contract for €2 million had defected to ride one of his last races for his own contrada. That although Bruco had hired the up and coming young new jockey (the protege of the former Bruco jockey) who had won the July Palio, the chances of winning were very slim because there had probably been a deal made with the old jockey and his protege. Although! There was still a chance. The enemy of the old jockey's contrada was willing to pay for the Bruco win since they were not racing in this Palio. And on and on and on. . . I was both fascinated and completely lost by the time we stumbled out of the Bruco headquarters at oh, close to 3am. But we left full of Dario's advice for the next day and slowly made our way back to locked up hotel through the maze of Siena.

I so love Italy.

Lost in Italy: Siena and the Palio

After a long day at work and a scramble to get to the airport on time I arrived in Bologna and jumped right into the car with my friend Nick (crazy guy, after a 7 hour drive from Vienna he agreed to pick me up and drive another 2.5 hours) to make the first stop on my Italian holiday: Siena!

So as I mentioned before I managed to locate some unbelievable luck in getting accommodations for this trip. There's an Italian holiday on today and it just so happens that tomorrow is the second Palio in Siena.

Now you may be wondering to yourself: What exactly is this Palio thing she's writing about. . .

Glad you asked. You can read all about the Palio on Wikipedia, but I'm going to give you the insiders scoop from my experience so far. Basically all I know about the Palio I learned from a guy named Dario Castango. He is a former tour guide, author, olive oil maker, documentary maker and passionate member of the Bruco (Caterpillar) contrada in Siena. A few years ago when my father, brother and I toured Italy (a tale not for the faint of heart), we had the luck of having Dario take us through Chianti country. Over lunch that day he starting sharing stories about the Palio, a famous medieval race that takes place twice a summer (July and August) in Siena. It was a story of rivalries and alliances, deal making and politicking, and loyalties stretching back generations. I was hooked as I listened to him talk. After that trip I dreamed of making it back to Tuscany to see the Palio for myself, this mythic horse race in the Siena campo. . .

Of course, as you know I decided to try and plan this trip last minute, but as soon as plans started to shape up I emailed Dario and reintroduced myself to see if he had any suggestions. With a warm welcome (and a gentle chastisement for leaving my planning so late in the season) he told me that I had to see the trials the day before the race and then I should head over to the Bruco headquarters for dinner. So pointlessly long story short I decided then and there that I would do just that.

Now here I am, in Siena about to witness the trials and then head to the Bruco headquarters for dinner. Gotta love living in Europe . . .

Life at the Castello

Well, it truly is Andrea's last weekend in Lausanne, it's hard to believe that she heads out to the States next Saturday. But it wouldn't be life with Andrea if we didn't have some spectacular final weekend in Lausanne. And what a weekend it was. . . .

We kicked it off in Geneva for the afternoon wandering around the city. I know it's hard to believe given how often I fly in and out of that city, but I had never actually seen it before . . . and then thanks to her lovely friend Marco (he of the Mexican party, who unfortunately was absent for the weekend) we had a gorgeous house to relax and drink many bottles of rose at right on the lake.

It was a gorgeous weekend, bright blue skies, lots and lots of sun and of course the best company, the best conversation and such good friends. Ilham was almost recovered from her emergency appendectomy, Vanessa was back from the States after her 3-week, cross-country vacation and of course there was Andrea.

We hung out with the girls, walked to Pully and Lutry along the lake shore, drank wine with our newest friends Nikolas and Paulo who just moved to Lausanne from Argentina, and even managed to catch up with an old friend Santi who was back visiting for a few weeks.

Gorgeous and hard to leave, but pretty perfect. I can't wait until Andrea comes back to visit. . . .

Vacationing in Italia

Well, leave it to me to decide to go to Italy last minute, in the middle of August, the week there happens to be a national Italian holiday.

This is my life.

However I seem to have pretty good luck these days because somehow I've managed to score a room on Il Campo in Siena for the August Palio and a room in Monterosso for next weekend so I can hike along the Italian Riviera . . . Of course I had to get my co-worker to book the hotel for me because they didn't speak a word of English or German . . . but hey, that's the joy of working in an international office!

Viva Italia!

Say "No!" to Nazis

So last month there was a Nazi/Anti-Nazi rally in Frankfurt. I admit I didn't actually get to see any of the marching, but little signs of the event were scattered throughout the city afterwards on streets and buildings.

I find it really interesting how how the Germans I know react to this particular history chapter. Some of them respond by just not knowing that much about it, others just refuse to talk about it besides a really brief acknowledgment. It's interesting. Anyway, a friend of mine encouraged me to stay away even though I wanted to go and get some photos of it, as he said, "If you're close enough to get pictures, you're close enough to get into trouble." I thought he meant with the Nazis, but he actually meant the anti-Nazis. I asked him why and he said it was just the difference between anarchists (the anti-Nazis) and communists (the Nazis). The anarchists would always cause more trouble . . . .

Chickens on Parade

Ah weekends in Frankfurt, when all the Chickens come out to play.

I'm looking for good chicken quotes, jokes, insights to put with this picture . . . so if you've got 'em, share 'em here.

Sunday BBQs

Finally a gorgeous weekend in Frankfurt, one where it actually felt like it might be summer! The perfect weather for a BBQ in fact, which is exactly what I did with a few friends from work, Birgit and John Wilson, Michael and Daniel, and the fantastic BBQ stylings of my friend Jon.

Never a dull moment, Jon arrived around 1pm to get the fire going, lit the coals, and promptly set fire to the charcoal bag which lit from sparks that blew out of the grill. I, up to my elbows in hamburger meat, turned around to ask him something just in time to see him stomping madly on the flames. Oh fortuitous beginnings . . . . but that was by far the most dramatic part of our day, with my throwing of the pickle jar coming in a close second. (Ok, so maybe it just slipped out of the fridge when I was grabbing something else, but the shattering jar and splashing pickle juice was fairly spectacular) Fortunately there aren't any scorch marks on my deck. I can't imagine how I might even begin to explain that one to my Hausmeister.

Lunch was a full spread of food: veggie skewers with tomatoes, onions, peppers and fennel, classic all-beef burgers (hard to find straight up ground beef in Germany that makes good burgers, it's all too lean so it often doesn't taste quite right, but these turned out pretty darn good!), brats made Wisconsin style (Midwesterners, you know what I'm talking about here, brats cooked up in beer and then grilled to get that perfect smokey charred taste), German style potato salad and of course classic condiments like relish, Heinz ketchup and French's mustard to really make it an American style bbq. Oh, and to finish off we had my newest dessert creation: Grilled Peaches with Honeyed Mascarpone Cheese and Balsamic Reduction. (You can find the recipe at the end of this posting.)

Several hours eating, drinking and sharing good stories was a pretty perfect way to cap off one of my rare weekends in Frankfurt. I'm just glad the weather actually cooperated for once. Next time I'm around I think it might be time for a pancake brunch, after all Birgit and John have already promised to bring the Bloody Mary's . . .


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Since I claimed initially that this blog was going to somewhat be about food (it is one of my favorite topics after all), I figured I would include my newest recipe. So if you've got a grill, try this out. I think it's delicious and it seemed to go over quite well with my friends:

Grilled Peaches (or any stone fruit) with Honeyed Mascarpone Cheese and Balsamic Reduction

Serves 6

Ingredients:
3 Peaches (half of a peach per person), not too ripe, they need to be relatively firm to withstand the grill
1/2 cup Mascarpone Cheese
1 T Honey
1 cup Balsamic Vinegar, gently simmered until it has reduced to about 4 Tablespoons
1 T finely ground White Pepper

- Combine the Mascarpone and Honey and whip together with fork.
- Clean the grill (you don't want the beaches to taste like burgers or something). The coals should be cooler than when grilling meats but still hot.
- Slice the peaches in half and remove the pit. Brush the cut side of the peaches with a little bit of olive oil.
- Place the peaches cut side down over the hottest part of the grill and cover it with the grill lid. Wait 2-3 minutes. Open the grill and turn the peaches a quarter turn (so they have nice grill marks) and close the grill again.
- After another 2-3 minutes. Turn the peaches over, close the grill and give it five minutes. You'll know the peaches are cooked because if you give them a little squeeze with the tongs they will feel soft.
- Remove the peaches from the grill and sprinkle the cut side with a pinch of White Pepper, top with 1 T of Honeyed Mascarpone and drizzle with some of the reduced Balsamic.
- Serve warm.

If you try this out, let me know what you think. . . you can leave comments here on my blog (Just click on the little link that says comments), or email me.

The Summer of Rain

When the summer started, Andrea predicted that it would be a cold and rainy summer. Little did I know at the time how right she would be. It has been an unbelievably cold and rainy summer in Frankfurt.

Everyone I meet claims that this is not normal, well everyone who is actually German that is. All the expats I know who have been living here for a while say that this is normally what the summer is like . . . although even they will admit that it has rained a bit more than usual. They claim that the Germans forget how cold and rainy summer is just like in Chicago we all forget how miserably cold the winter is during summer.

I think they may be right.

Truly not a single day (almost) goes by with out at least one rain shower. And the temperature! Don't get me going. One day it over 90 degrees and the next it barely reaches 60 degrees. Lately it's smells like Fall when I leave the house in the morning for work. Not really summer I have to say.

Oh well, maybe it means we'll have a good winter for skiing if there's this much precipitation. . . that wouldn't be such a bad thing.