Retrospective Post #3: Family Get-togethers in Alsace, or My Plate Runneth Over

Last post I mentioned that, in all my travels since November, I have mostly been revisiting favorite spots. While I’m ready to venture more into the unknown, there is one place that will always an extra-special place in my heart. I don’t think I will ever tire of going back to Alsace, where I have many fond memories of long summers en famille: Climbing cherry trees in my grandparents’ backyard. Riding the grand-huits with cousins at Europapark. Devouring a post-hike pie of freshly picked blueberries in the Vosges Mountains. Walking to the Super U supermarket with my grandmother and always coming back with something just for me, whether it be a piping hot croissant or a barrette for my hair…or both. Putting too much whipped cream on my strawberries—or for that matter, never refusing dessert of any kind. Taking in the crazy fashions in the window-shops and laughing at poorly dubbed American soaps with my aunt. Getting tongue-tied as I talk excitedly for hours with aunts and uncles, who will inevitably throw in the occasional, extremely cute “’ello! ‘ow arrre you?” or “Zank you!” Growing up, reunions with my relatives were tearfully joyous, and my sad trip home meant a little uncertainty as to when I would return.

Fortunately, between my internship at HEC Paris and Alan’s orders to Italy, I’ve been able to see my extended family a lot more than I expected. Thanks to my very flexible schedule and direct flights from Naples, I’ve already been back twice this year alone. Each time, I am greeted with wide-open arms…and endless plates of charcuterie (a typically Alsatian spread of sausage, cured or smoked hams, and other meaty confections for serious carnivores only). Since I didn’t eat much of this as a kid, charcuterie and I have a slightly ambivalent relationship. While I relish the rather rare degustation of said products, they are pretty darn heavy on my raised-on-health-foods stomach. It really is tasty stuff…but the typical Alsatian’s concept of daily meat intake is, I think, a little different from my own.

As is always the case when I visit family, I was very spoiled during my trips…in the kitchen and out. When I arrived for the first time in February, the air was significantly chillier than in Naples, and dustings of snow lingered on the ground. What better way to warm up than to enjoy a steaming plate of Rabbit with Leek and Chanterelle Sauce, atop a bed of Spaetzle (a delectably doughy Alsatian pasta)?



The salad kind of throws off the balance of the plate…that was my fault. The French prefer their salads à part—on the side.

And here is Grandpapa, who has become quite the chef:



After enjoying long catch-up chats with my Grandparents (it had already been more than a year and a half since my last visit…how time flies!), it was time to see my aunt and uncle in the campagne (countryside). There was significantly more snow on the ground there, so we stayed in most of the time. We did brave the cold briefly to go to downtown Mulhouse…only to warm ourselves in the shops. Here I am with my (tall!) cousin Vérène, standing in the quaint Place de la Réunion.



Later that week I headed back to Mulhouse to spend some time with my aunt Geneviève. Despite plummeting temperatures and menacing skies, we also enjoyed warming up in the shops. (I even scored a pair of free rain boots! It must be because they thought I was too cute. Actually, it was the last pair, and one of the shoes had been discolored by the sun.) We hit the movie theater as well, where we saw George Clooney’s latest film (which was mercifully subtitled, giving my language-fried brain a bit of a breather). On our way home from the movies—surprise!—the snow was really coming down. Having spent my last two years in Jacksonville, I can’t say this was something I saw every day, so I was enamored with the beauty of each dancing snowflake. But I was also cold…so we booked it back home.




That’s what it looked like from the comfort and warmth of my aunt’s home. And this is an example of the aforementioned charcuterie:



This is pâté-en-croute (not the sort of thing you would ask your Mom to cut the crusts off of), paired with a Mâche salad (that makes the meat OK) and my favorite cheese ever, the slightly pungent, ash-striped Morbier (it happily made an appearance at our wedding).

The following day, we had a lunch date with Jacqueline, who is such a close friend of the family I call her my honorary grandma. Unfortunately, what is beautiful to the eyes is not always beautiful for cars:



We decided to go for it, hoping the conditions wouldn’t worsen after seeing an overturned car on the way. Still, I couldn’t help but admiring how cute the Alsatian houses were under all that snow:



I was really glad we made it. It’s always a joy to visit Jacqueline, who at 80+ years has more energy than I do, and is a veritable font of knowledge in all things domestic. She is a master cook, though her methods are à l’ancienne—meaning she doesn’t shy away from using things like goose fat and lard. She is also a master gardener and seamstress, and on top of that has a wealth of helpful tricks stored up in her head. (For example, she hardly wastes anything. The crumbs from her breakfast tartine go not in the trash but into the mouths of her neighbor’s chickens.) One of these days I would like to be her apprentice. I’d learn everything from making jelly from the fruits in your yard to using garden shears to rid your flowers of slugs (that’s explicit enough, I think!) to ironing bed sheets and kitchen towels without going nuts. Move over, Martha Stewart. This is the real deal.

It goes without saying that we had a delightful lunch. We started with foie gras d’oie, with a little surprise on the side:



+




= DELICIEUX!

That confit d’oignons was new for me, but oh-so-wonderful. It is a sort of sweet onion marmalade, which provides a perfect balance to the creaminess of the goose liver pate. More, please!

We switched to red wine for the lamb (I may be able to roast one myself, but hers is way better) and accompagnements.





We had to rest our stomachs a little before the next part, made of apricots straight from last year’s garden:



I usually throw away that extra ball of dough when I make pie crust, but Jacqueline turns it into a simple lattice. Throw in some toasted nuts and coconut milk, and you’ve got a blue-ribbon winner!

Though I was sad to say goodbye, my stomach and I were happy campers:



On my second trip up, I had the pleasure of more chats over food with my Grandparents, learning the tricks of the trade at Jacqueline’s, and seeing my uncle from Strasbourg and his wife. Unfortunately, I didn’t get any good pictures of the rest of my family (I am too entranced, it seems, by the steaming plates in front of me), but on my next trip I’ll be poised to go with my Fujifilm. Not to mention my stomach. But most of all, I’m exercising my arms for more happy hugging.

Retrospective Post #2: Hiking la Costiera Amalfitana

I am ashamed to admit that, after more than 5 months here in Naples, I have not seen as many new things as I would have liked. True, part of it is that I am extraordinarily blessed to have traveled so much in my 26 years: I am revisiting many of the places written about here. But the other part is that since we live here, we are tempted to think time is on our side: why not just enjoy a quiet weekend at home, since we have so many other weekends to spend elsewhere?

Fortunately, our American neighbor and his Italian girlfriend like not only to explore, but also to invite others along for the ride. A few months ago, on a chilly but sunny Sunday morning, a group of us piled into a rented van and headed down the winding Amalfi coast for some hiking. The spot our neighbor chose was called “Il Sentiero degli Dei” (the Path of the gods), and the views were breathtaking. (That is saying a lot, as we are so spoiled with our view from the apartment).

The morning was clear and balmy, affording sparkling views of the coast for our eyes and, for our ears, distant clinking of the bells on the grazing sheep and goats. We wondered if the houses were actually inhabited, and how much farming actually gets done on the side of the mountain…





After a great lunch of vegetable omelets on bakery-fresh bread and clementines from our neighbor’s orchard, we continued hiking in search of a nearby gorge. It was OK that we never found it; I was quite happy taking in what was right in front of us.



Somehow we managed to lose the path and ended up on a set of precariously small steps overlooking the road below. We had a hard time judging how far, how steep, and most importantly, how accessible this road was. Meanwhile, the sky had turned an ominous grey…




We nevertheless stopped for a photo op:




I can’t get enough of this rugged flora against a dazzlingly blue sea (see where that road is in comparison to where we are):



And see what the path looked like once we had strayed from the markers:



We had been doubting ourselves for a while when we finally decided to get back before nightfall. Not five minutes into our return, the skies opened up and dumped everything they had on us. I was the only one with an umbrella, and felt bad about using it when everyone else was getting soaked to the bone…but not too bad! I ended up drenched anyway. It was at least a good half hour before we made it back where we had started. Luckily, there was a nearby café open where we could warm ourselves by the wood stove and get some hot chocolate in our bellies. (By the way, the Italians don’t play around with their cioccolata calda: it’s literally a mug of very dense chocolate sauce, so thick you need a spoon—or better yet, a biscuit or two—to “drink” it).

Despite the unpleasant experience of sloshing around in soggy shoes, it was definitely worth the trip: I got to see something new and beautiful, know new friends, and get some exercise in the process. The Amalfi Coast definitely lives up to the hype, and fortunately for homebodies like us, it is close and cheap to get to. There is so much else to see there, while we are gearing up for longer trips outside the country and, ahem, the pandemonium of Easyjet.



(roughly translated...I hope I got it right):

“Starting from the very Path of the gods, from that road suspended over the magic Gulf of the Sirens, [I am] plowed through still today by memory and myth.” –Italo Calvino

“This is the path that, from the peak of the Path of the gods, opens our eyes: it is the scenery of the Amalfi Coast’s final bend that looks toward the west, toward the isle of Capri, that steep and sultry coast, with crystalline mountains where you abandon the gods of today and you discover yourself again, the Mediterranean being that you once were.” –D. H. Lawrence

Retrospective Post #1: All Roads Lead to Rome

The next few posts are going to be a bit retrospective. I have been meaning to write about some of our winter trips for a while, but for some reason never got around to it. While it may seem silly to write about something that isn’t current, this blog is as much for keeping in touch with all of you as it is for recording memories of our time in Italy. I’m not very good with photo albums, but typing and uploading photos I can handle. :)

At the heart of this entry is what I consider one of our lesser-informed traveling decisions. Around Christmastime, we realized we’d been in the country more than a month already and still had not done any traveling outside of Naples. We decided to start easy with Rome: for us it is really just a hop, skip, and a jump away. Alan had some time off from work for the holidays, so we thought: what better way to ring in the New Year than to spend the first weekend of 2010 in the Eternal City? After all, we were both familiar with Rome, but had never gotten a chance to go there together.

In theory, it was romantic. In practice, hardly. Apparently, everyone and their nonni had decided to do the same thing. This experience is exactly why I tend to harp on touring in the low seasons.

We did get some nice shots of ourselves at the main attractions. Our smiles at the Coliseum mask the fact that we waited in a “line” (see my Easyjet posts) for over an hour to get inside…and then somehow managed to circle the Forum and surrounding buildings--if you’ve been to Rome, you know they are huge--without ever finding the entrance. Poor feet! Poor growling stomachs! Poor eyes, dizzy from map-reading and locating badly placed--at least that’s what we told ourselves--signposts!



By the time we finally reached the entrance to the Forum, they were just closing up for the day. (Our guidebook told us it closed at sundown, but it was clearly still daytime…) We looked at each other, thoroughly regretting our initial wrong turn and consequent body-aches, wondering what to do with the rest of our afternoon. For me, there was no other option but to head to my favorite spot in Rome, the Piazza di Spagna: a bunch of steps overlooking a pretty piazza and a shopping district where you’ll find all the biggest names in fashion. I’ve always liked this area because I equate it with taking a gelato break in the sun, resting my feet, and watching the people mill about.

But despite our hunger, there was no gelato break: it was too cold. And although we got to rest our feet, the people-watching was a little more than what we had bargained for:



Fun, huh?

Shortly after, we headed back to the hotel to regroup. We had gotten an early start, taking the train in that very morning and dropping off our bags at the hotel (after waiting about an hour for our room to be cleaned). The rest of the day had been nothing but waiting in line and trying to get around all the other tourists. Trying to make the most of our evening, I decided to locate a recommended hole-in-the-wall eatery, where we could escape the masses and get our strength back alongside the locals. There was one very close to the hotel, so we headed out, dodging the raindrops that started along the way. Once there, we found it locked with three men sitting and talking at the back. We had to knock to get a response from them: chiuso (despite what the opening hours on the door said).

I wanted to search for another recommendation, but we really needed to get out of the rain. So we stopped inside the next place we saw, where not a soul was speaking Italian and the service was quite impersonal. We got a hot meal, but I regretted having ended up in yet another tourist trap. My goal when traveling is to avoid these whenever possible, but it is not always easy.

That night was not the most restful. We decided to get to sleep quickly—while the rest of the city was just heading out to dinner—and gear up for a better day of touring. I had read good reviews about our combination hotel/hostel, but all of the comfort and cleanliness in the world could not have made up for the huge racket that went on next door. Apparently we had ended up next to a group room filled with partying college guys. At one point I got up to knock loudly on their door with a firm “Silenzio!” (as if I had not done that enough in the classroom!), but to no avail. That night, I decided that, despite our youth and our aversion to spending big bucks on hotels, we would think long and hard before booking a hostel again.

The next morning, things were starting to look up. We got up extra early to beat the tourist rush, and indeed, there was not a soul in front of the Monument to Vittorio Emanuele.




We ended up being the very first to enter the Musei Capitolini that morning. The ticket takers and security guards were exceedingly welcoming—I guess that wears off very quickly as the day goes on! It was my first time at this particular museum, so it was refreshing to see something new, and be able to enjoy it without half of Italy pressing us onward. Here are some of the highlights of the museum:

Romulus and Remus feeding at the breast of the She-Wolf:



A large equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius:



A fascinating collection and study of various ancient epigraphs:



A beautiful view on the Forum (we got see it after all!):




Even though we didn’t see everything in this impressive collection, we were happy to have a successful morning. I would definitely revisit this museum to find some of the treasures we missed the first time around. Our smiles here are a little deceiving: all we can think about is lunch!




After a quick pit-stop, we thought we would revisit some of the highlights of Rome.

The Pantheon and its impressively constructed dome:





The Trevi Fountain, where I no longer throw coins…I plan to return often! (At this point, I have seen Rome’s main monuments, churches and piazzas at least 3 or 4 times now, so I am looking forward to discovering new things upon future trips.)







At this point, we were starting to get lost in the crowd again. Not only that, but our gelato break did not turn out as planned: after navigating our way to what has been billed “Rome’s greatest gelateria,” we discovered the artisan ice cream there, though innovative, had a really different flavor. I think the gelato is honey-based instead of vanilla-based. Perhaps our palates are not all that refined, but we were nevertheless disappointed (as was our wallet—if I remember correctly, their prices started around 8 or 9 Euros!).

After seeing a couple of churches (the very ornate church of St. Ignatius and Basilica of St. Giovanni in Laterano), our time in Rome was up, and we headed back to Termini Station. How wonderful it was to go to sleep in “our” bed (we were still at the Navy Lodge), away from all the noise and tourists!

In short, I think travelers everywhere would agree with me: getaways are wonderful, but it’s hard to beat the comfort of your own home…especially in a land where restrooms operate on a pay-as-you-go basis, restaurant and shop hours are not always convenient, and public benches are sometimes sparse. To my readers who are thinking of visiting Italy for the first time, I don’t want to dash your hopes of a fabulously romantic vacation. This place is grand. I just want to challenge the highly romanticized view we Americans tend to project onto Europe, and enjoy it for what it really is. Just bring your Kleenex (here, it doubles as toilet paper), water bottle, snacks, and walking shoes, and you’ll have an easier time focusing on all the beauty around you.

Your Money’s No Good Here (plus Grandi Successi)

This morning at the toll booths, the money-taker hesitated a little before handing back our 50 cent coin. With a little too much passion for 6:00 AM, he repeated “Non è buono...È falso” until the confused look on our faces wore off. So we took the coin back and gave him another one. As Alan drove past the gate, I examined the counterfeit coin against a real one. Sure enough, it didn’t have the same thickness, and the grooves were a little different.

But riddle me this: we haven’t bought anything out in town for weeks. In fact, the only thing we’ve spent Euros on is tolls. We often break bills at the toll booth to generate more change. And, lest there be any doubt, we are not counterfeiters. Hmmmm…wonder where that little faker came from?! Sherlock, I don’t think you’re needed anymore…

On to something a little more fun: Italy's Grandi Successi, or Greatest Hits. My descriptions of Naples wouldn't be complete if I didn't give you some idea of the music that's playing on the radio here. The following are songs that were really big a few months ago when we arrived, and are unfortunately already being replaced by the latest hits. I can't keep up!

This first one is called "Sto pensando a te" (I'm thinking of you). I like this song because I understand a lot of it without a dictionary, and it showcases repeated uses of the conditional tense, which I learned during my Italian lessons a while back (cosa faresti tu). Yes, I'm a nerd.

The Italian lyrics show up on the video, but I've included a translation below:



I’m thinking of you
While I walk
While I talk
While I laugh
While I breathe
I’m thinking of you
While I wake up
When I run around
All day long
I’m thinking of you
While I undress myself
Of every pride
While I look at
My destiny
I’m thinking of you
When I remember
While still now
I smell your perfume
Na na na
What would you do in my place
If every thought
If every thought was me?
What would you do?
What would you do?

The next song, "Baciami ancora" (Kiss me again) is a love song of a very different sort. I like how poetically it expresses the high-on-life feeling you get when you first fall in love. The lyrics (both languages) are included below, but I was lazy this time and used a translation I found on the internet.



Un bellissimo spreco di tempo/ a beautiful waste of time
un’impresa impossibile/ an impossible undertaking
l’invenzione di un sogno/ the invention of a dream
una vita in un giorno/ a whole life in one day
una tenda al di là della duna/ a tent beyond the dune

Un pianeta in un sasso, l’infinito in un passo/ a planet in a rock, eternity in a step
il riflesso di un sole sull’onda di un fiume/ reflection of a sun on a river's wave
son tornate le lucciole a Roma/ the glow-worms are back in Rome
nei parchi del centro l’estate profuma./ in the midtown's parks the summer perfumes

Una mamma, un amante, una figlia/ a mother, a lover, a daughter
un impegno, una volta una nuvola scura/ a commitment, once a dark cloud
un magnete sul frigo, un quaderno di appunti/ a magnet on the fridge, a notebook
una casa, un aereo che vola./ a house, a plane that flies

Baciami ancora…/ kiss me again
Baciami ancora…/ kiss me again

Tutto il resto è un rumore lontano/ everything else is a distant sound
una stella che esplode ai confini del cielo./ a star exploding on the edge of the sky

Baciami ancora…/ kiss me again
Baciami ancora…/ kiss me again

Voglio stare con te/ I wanna be with you
inseguire con te/ chase with you
tutte le onde del nostro destino./ all the waves of our destiny

Una bimba che danza, un cielo, una stanza/ a little girl who dances, the sky, a room,
una strada, un lavoro, una scuola/ a road, a job, a school
un pensiero che sfugge/ a thought that escapes
una luce che sfiora/ a light that skims over
una fiamma che incendia l’aurora./ a flame that inflames the dawn

Un errore perfetto, un diamante, un difetto/ a perfect mistake, a diamond, a defect
uno strappo che non si ricuce./ a tear that can't be mend

Un respiro profondo per non impazzire/ a deep breath to don't go crazy
una semplice storia d’amore./ a simple love story

Un pirata, un soldato, un dio da tradire/ a pirate, a soldier, a god to betray
e l’occasione che non hai mai incontrato./ and the chance that you've never met
La tua vera natura, la giustizia del mondo/ your true nature, justice in the world
che punisce chi ha le ali e non vola./ that punishes who has wings and doesn't fly

Baciami ancora…/ kiss me again
Baciami ancora…/ kiss me again

Tutto il resto è un rumore lontano/ everything else is a distant sound
una stella che esplode ai confini del cielo./ a star exploding on the edge of the sky

Baciami ancora…/kiss me again
Baciami ancora…/ kiss me again

Voglio stare con te/ i wanna be with you
invecchiare con te/ grow old with you
stare soli io e te sulla luna./ be alone you and I on the moon

Coincidenze, destino,/ coincidences, destiny
un gigante, un bambino/ a giant, a child
che gioca con l’arco e le frecce/ playing with bow and arrow
che colpisce e poi scappa/ that hits and runs
un tesoro, una mappa,/ a treasure, a map
l’amore che detta ogni legge/ love that lays down the law
per provare a vedere/ to try to see
che c’è laggiù in fondo/ what there is down there
dove sembra impossibile stare da soli/ where it seems impossible to be alone
a guardarsi negli occhi/ looking each other in the eyes
a riempire gli specchi/ filling the mirrors
con i nostri riflessi migliori/ with our best reflections

Of course, like everywhere else in Europe, Italian radio is crazy for anything in English. In fact, every afternoon during rush hour, the station I listen to holds a contest to see who can translate English lyrics into Italian...I should totally call in. I'm not sure what's hot back in the States right now, but I really like these two songs:





I wonder if we are missing out on any Grandi Successi back home?

Domenica Ecologica

This past week I kept seeing signs on the Tangenziale—the main freeway of the city—which gave me pause:

DOMENICA ECOLOGICA
USCITE CAPODIMONTE, ARENELLA, VOMERO CHIUSE DALLE 8.30 ALLE 13.30

I wondered if I was regressing in my knowledge of Italian. Did that really say: “Ecological Sunday, Vomero/Capodimonte/Arenella exits closed from 8:30 AM to 1:30 PM?” Naples can barely handle its traffic with all its exits open…

Sunday morning on the way to base, I pointed these signs out to Alan. Like me, he couldn’t really believe that’s what they meant. If that was really the case, he said, that was a silly way to be ecological. I wasn’t so sure, because all I was going off of was these signs, and maybe Naples had something well intentioned up its sleeve.

On the way home around 1 PM, it hit me: today was Earth Day. And passing by the first closed exit, we realized that I had indeed translated correctly. The funny thing was that—surprise!—at each exit that had been closed, traffic was pretty backed up. Hoping to dash through the exits at the earliest possible second, carfuls of impatient Neapolitan drivers were staring down the workers as they removed each cone.

I didn’t really think idling for half an hour was a good way to celebrate Earth Day, so I suggested to Alan that we take one exit down from our usual one. He obliged, but only after pointing out that we’d be using more gas by going out of the way. Turns out he was right about the gas: not only did we sit in more traffic, but we also got turned around a bit trying to find our way home.

I guess the moral of the story is that nothing should surprise us here anymore. Just kidding! Actually, this incident made us reflect a little on what it means to be ecological. Going green has become quite the fad lately, but I’m not sure that’s always been a good thing. Young, ideological couples are spending too much money on transporting special foods, flowers, and other products to have a “green” wedding. Hybrid cars, at least for the time being, are maybe not as planet-friendly as we would like to believe. Thousands of companies are jumping on the “green” bandwagon and labeling their merchandise as such, no matter how loose their use of the term. And on base, we saw tons of flyers printed on colored paper, ironically touting the most obvious methods of saving the earth.

I don’t pretend to know much about pollution and the best ways to prevent it, but I guess that’s exactly the point: we don’t need fancy labels or methods to be kind to our earth. I could let fewer vegetables go bad in the fridge. Drink less bottled water back home (though with the questionable water content in Naples, I’ll stick to my bottles for now). Wear certain clothes a little longer before throwing them in the wash. Eat fewer packaged foods. I’m no model of environmental friendliness, but I’m glad the high utility bills in Europe are forcing me to take a second look at our consumption. Here’s one way I have been both Neapolitan and environmentally friendly (I guess there is such a thing after all!):



My laundry may be a little stiffer than normal, but it sure feels good to go outside on the balcony and enjoy nature--especially this time of year, when the birds are chirping ever-so-happily--as I stay active by hanging clothes. Try it sometime: I bet you’ll like it, and Mother Nature will thank you.

Capri, c'est fini

If you are wondering what the title of this post is all about, it’s also the title of a popular French song from the 60s. Even though I’ve heard lots of people sing it in jest, its lyrics are actually quite pained (scroll down for the English):



Nous n'irons plus jamais
Où tu m'as dit je t’aime
Nous n'irons plus jamais
Tu viens de décider
Nous n'irons plus jamais
Ce soir c'est plus la peine
Nous n'irons plus jamais
Comme les autres années

Capri c'est fini
Et dire que c'était la ville
De mon premier amour
Capri c'est fini
Je ne crois pas
Que j'y retournerai un jour

Parfois je voudrais
Bien te dire recommençons
Mais je perds le courage
Sachant que tu diras non
Capri c'est fini
Et dire que c'était la ville
De mon premier amour...

We will never go back
where you told me, “I love you”
We will never go back
You’ve just decided
We will never go back
Tonight it’s no longer worth it
We will never go back
Like the other years

Capri, it’s finished!
And to think that was the city
Of my first love
Capri, it’s finished!
I don’t think
I will ever go back

Sometimes I would like
To tell you, "Let's start over"
But I lose the courage
Knowing you will say no

Capri, it’s finished!
And to think that was the city
Of my first love
Capri, it’s finished!
I don’t think
I will ever go back...

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Anyway, this post has nothing to do with heartbreak, and everything to do with our trip last Saturday to Capri. (I’m pretty sure if I told my family back in France that we were there, at least half of them would break out into this song. It’s hard to resist!) Despite its dreamy island beauty, Capri is another one of those places I’d hate to see in high tourist season.



This is the Piazzetta, which my guidebook describes as “the place to ‘see and be seen.’” Honestly, most of the island seems this way—the same guidebook dubs Capri “the playground of the rich.” Indeed, all the shops in the city center are high-end boutiques: Dolce & Gabbana, Gucci, Prada, etc. Can you guess what kind of color schemes were in the windows?





Really makes you reexamine how powerful fashion is. I guess a touch of purple can be nice, but too much and you could end up looking like an overdressed grape!

Shops aside, the island really does boast one gorgeous piece of land: rugged crags in strikingly blue water. Picturesque hillsides of colorful vegetation and houses. Quaint, carless alleyways. Steep hiking trails with rewarding views along the way. Handpainted tiles for signage. Lively marinas and pebbly beaches. Happy couples--for whom Capri is not over!--kissing in quiet nooks. Relaxed tourists cooling off with a gelato or lemonade. No trash on the ground…!

Unlike the unfortunate singer of Capri, c’est fini, we went with the idea that we would return again soon. In light of the intense tourism we had just done in Florence and Rome, we did not really heed the guidebook and just wandered around at our own pace. Next time, I would really like to see the infamous Blue Grotto, a cave in which you’ll see the most dazzlingly blue water. I’ll also return with appropriate footwear and a map, so we can take advantage of the many hiking opportunities.

Here are some of our favorite moments of the day:

Debarking and getting some fresh air at the Marina Grande—





Petting cats all over the island (OK, maybe that was more Alan’s thing)—





Finding the pretty little garden overlooking the city and the deep blue of the sea—







Enjoying a sunny Saturday with my honey. Capri, ce n’est pas fini: we will definitely go back! (at the tail end of the season…)

Our Easter Meal: A Celebration of Springtime

Wow, three blog posts in less than a week! I wonder how long I can keep this up...

As with all other special occasions, we celebrated Easter with a little feast. (This travel blog is quickly becoming more of a food blog, but knowing my small circle of readers, that is probably more than OK…) At Church on Sunday morning we were told that if there was any day to honor by resting and enjoying each other’s company, this was it. That meant no laundry or mowing the lawn. (It was pretty easy to comply with that one.) A little cooking…well, that was OK.

I don’t know how literally I was supposed to take a little cooking, but I ended up in the kitchen from 10:30 AM to 2:30 PM. Not that any of what I was making was particularly complex—I blame it on the homemade mayonnaise I was trying for the first time: I’m ashamed to admit it took me 3 tries, not to mention oil by the cupfuls, to get it right. But once it was finally time to eat, Alan polished off several helpings, thereby letting me know it had all been worth it. It is easy to cook for someone who likes absolutely everything you make!

In light of the theme of new life, I tried to pick foods whose season was just beginning. Here I am pictured with my steamed artichoke, ready to dip its leaves into that tricky mayo:



Alan dug in with gusto:



The star of the show was the roasted leg (no kidding) of lamb. I think next time I will buy more meat and less bone! Here it is pictured alongside its gravy, mashed potatoes with carrots, and sweet spring peas.



It made for an attractive plate. Fortunately, the meat was cooked just right--beginner’s luck--and was very flavorful thanks to the little pieces of garlic tucked inside.



Anyone who knows me well knows my profound affinity for sweets, so I was glad that my favorite part of the meal turned out well. These strawberry tartlets were a bit labor-intensive, but worth every ounce of cuteness.



Hope your Easter was just as sweet!