Flying Dinars

An amazing thing happens when you go to Tunisia. The currency starts flying! No, it doesn't sprout literal wings...but it does manage to escape your pockets at an incredible rate.

How do we know? This past week we enjoyed a sort of second honeymoon in Mahdia, a beach resort town on the coast of Tunisia. The "all-inclusive"--more on those quotation marks later--trip was organized by the tourism agency on base. (While I normally like to plan my own travels, I jumped on this opportunity: it was something brand-new for both of us, the price was right, and it was just in time for an anniversary vacation).

We ended up discovering a huge portion of the country. Despite being one of the more economically and socially advanced countries on the African continent, most of Tunisia is decidedly still developing. I was struck by the poverty which manifested itself in many ways:

-Trash everywhere (like Naples, you may say...except this place has very few trash cans)
-Few cars in the villages, most of them decades old; instead you will see many donkey-drawn carts
-Piles and piles of rubble; run-down buildings
-Lack of industry/shops/banks; few advertisements
-Eerily empty streets in some of the villages; when you do see people, many are sitting idly in what little shade they can find

One of the most apparent signs of need is the presence everywhere of peddlers of low-quality or counterfeit goods. You also see many people insisting on a tip for little to no service rendered. Hence my reference earlier to flying dinars--you can expect to shell out a coin or two for any of the following: using the restroom (this happens in Europe, too, but normally only when the WC has been cleaned/supplied with toilet paper and soap), taking pictures at any monument (or typically Tunisian sight in the street), getting a (non-alcoholic) drink at an "all-inclusive" buffet...

You've heard of street vendors...have you heard of beach vendors? This is what we heard again and again as we lounged on the beach: "'charpe, 'charpe" (I think he was referring to écharpe, the French word for "scarf"); "banana uva banana uva"; "nice nice" (referring to necklaces); and the almost ubiquitous "English?"



Nevertheless, we did cave to one of said vendors, who was smart enough to offer hats.





There was even a guy selling baby camel rides!



Overall, we were pleased with the hotel. The rooms were very basic and outdated, and the bathroom did not have the hair dryer I was expecting. But they were reasonably sized and equipped with air conditioning (something we have been living without here in Naples...boohoo!).

The food in the restaurant was buffet-style. Every morning we had access to breads, pastries, eggs, meats and cheeses, omelets and crêpes. Lunch and dinner were international, offering daily pizza and pasta (Italians made up a big percentage of the guests) and other Western European selections. We preferred to stick with the Tunisian dish of the day, as we wanted to explore local cuisine. We ended up eating a whole lot of couscous, chickpeas, cooked bell peppers and carrots, and beet or lentil salads. Meat was mostly chicken but I think at some point they slipped in some camel! (It is more economical than beef, which tastes similar but is too expensive for most). My personal favorite was a mutton stew called Mermez.

There was also a large selection of appetizers and cold salads (I avoided many of those; they hadn't been "cooked, peeled, or boiled" and frankly I didn't want to use the Pepto-Bismol we brought along). The staff put a lot of effort into presentation:



But this is what really got me in trouble. Each day I would have a double dose of fruit pie AND chocolate mousse. What is vacation for, if not that?



We also enjoyed the lounging areas outside. The pool was very popular, despite (or because of) the loud music and activities (water aerobics, etc) going on almost nonstop. I especially enjoyed African night, during which I (tried to) learn a dance routine led by a guy in a funny cutoff giraffe costume. I wish I had pictures of THAT!



Speaking of beachfront activities, that was something I really enjoyed during our stay. There was an entire crew of animateurs working 'round the clock (entertainers: during my resume-correcting days at HEC I had to laugh when I'd see "animator" listed in French students' experience section...I always had to work at convincing them that "animator" conjured "Disney" more than "camp counselor"!). This enthusiastic team led games of beach volleyball, Bocce ball, archery, soccer, and more. We tried to take advantage of these free activities as much as possible--it was difficult to get bored. Even my weak attempts at tanning were really pleasant, as there was a constant breeze moving at all times.

That's it for now. In my next post I'll discuss the excursions we took outside of the resort. Yes, it was a busy trip--it's been tough getting back into chore mode!

Anniversary Picnic

In celebrating our anniversary last Sunday, we opted for simplicity and sentimentality over a fancy ristorante outing. I had aimed for the same at our wedding reception, using wildflowers and gingham-lined baskets to create a picnic theme.





As our street is lined with little salumerie offering affordable wines, cheeses, and cured meats, the way we'd celebrate year one seemed obvious.

First we documented the happy occasion before changing out of our church clothes:



Then I arranged the spread: baguette and an assortment of cheeses, salami and prosciutto, cured olives and marinated artichoke hearts, watermelon slices, and of course, a glass of red wine. The unfortunate thing was, as I was chopping up lettuce and beautifully smelling grape tomatoes for the salad, our plans were spoiled by a downpour of rain.

No big deal--our balcony may not be green and flowery, but it has the same view as the park down the road. Add hubby's pretty rose bouquet to the mix, and we've got ourselves a picnic!





One thing was missing from our one-year party: the frozen slice of wedding cake. Obviously, the logistics were a bit tricky... so unfortunately, we didn't get a second taste of this tasty lemon beauty:



Instead, I decided to put my own cake-making skills to the test. (Those skills, by the way, are virtually nonexistent...but thanks to the step-by-step instructions in a cookbook from my good friend [and brand-new Doctor, hooray!] Emily, my efforts were met with success).

...But not before I suffered a blistering burn and a couple of cuts. What can I say--love hurts!



Hours of work and piles of dirty dishes later, here is the finished product: a four-layer genoise cake with lemon buttercream frosting, garnished with candied citrus zest. My only regrets? It may have tasted good, but I could use a few pointers on cake-decorating. And...maybe we would have eaten more had we not been painfully aware of the ungodly amounts of butter and sugar that went into this thing.



It was a great way to spend a special Sunday afternoon: good food, fun in the kitchen, and of course, good company.

Ode to the Two Leads in my Life

Today is a very, very special day for me. For one, it is Fathers' Day.



Of all the duties in a father's life, I imagine bringing his child into the world is one of the easiest. (Apart from a few tight hand clenches from his laboring wife, all he has to do is be the most enthusiastic and encouraging audience she has ever had). I can also imagine that leading his daughter to the altar on her wedding day must be one of the most bittersweet duties. And in between those two big days, well, that's the true test of a father.

In between my birth and my wedding day, Dad was always there. Maybe not always physically, as he tirelessly went on business trip after business trip. But in spirit, he was always thinking of his family--whether it be providing for us; whisking us away on vacation; giving us his undivided attention when we needed advice from our old man or just a shoulder to cry on; being a strong, dependable rock for us--with a heaping side of corny Dad-humor.

We may no longer live under the same roof, but Dad's lessons continue to guide me through life as an adult. Case in point: all those times he went over how not to stall during a Saturday morning driving lesson? Those translated into my present-day (almost) fearlessness when I go bumper-to-bumper with Neapolitan drivers.

Perhaps most of all, though, I owe my wedding day to my father. I'm not really referring to the cake and the flowers and the imported cheese. It's more what got me to that day: watching my father be a good husband and dad day in and day out. Because I had such a positive role model in him, I was very confident in the "I dos" I pronounced exactly a year ago.



Now I am blessed to have a second cheerleader by my side.



Dancing in front of crowds of people may not be his favorite activity, but he has proven to be a fabulous lead all the same. I think I appreciate his contagious grin more than anything: I can't help but smile inside and out when I see it. Or maybe it's the calm he exudes in any situaton: it's a much-needed foil to the stress I tend to create for myself. Or perhaps it is his giving spirit. I knew it was a good sign when he showed up with flowers on our first date almost 6 years ago. Since then I have not wanted for flowers, or anything else for that matter. Here again, it's not really the actual gifts I'm referring to--it's the endless ways he finds to assure me of his love.

I am proud to be your wife, Alan. I'm proud when we go out and you treat perfect strangers with the same consideration you show your family and friends. I'm proud when we come home and you compliment me on dinner or help with the dishes--even though you're the one who got up at 5 AM to go to work. I'm proud that you looked beyond my faults and said "I do," too.



Thank you for a really fun year. From a honeymoon on pristine Prince Edward Island to discovering how to make a home in chaotic--but ruggedly beautiful--Naples, you've encouraged us through this first year of adventure with humor and patience. Happy First Anniversary--I can't wait to see what year 2 holds!

We are the Champions

If you’re trying to pinpoint where you’ve seen this expression before, let me help you. Bear Bryant. Don Shula. Phil Jackson. This is the face of tenacity. This is the face of a coach who wants to win!

Last Saturday, Alan and I attended the last Little League game of the season. Having won every game but two thus far, his team—the adorable New York Mets of Naples—went on to win the Championship. While Alan was blessed with several talented players (especially pitchers—a key factor at this age, he tells me) and a well behaved group of boys, he had to overcome a few obstacles. For instance, his players were not only some of the shortest in the league, but also the most numerous.

But through dedication and pure love of the game, Alan ended up having a fabulous first year as coach. During games, the team parents would always confirm what I knew already: that Coach had a great temperament for coaching—he was patient, kind, and positive. He was enthusiastic even though he himself did not have a child on the team--apparently this is rare--and he had a contagious smile.

Congratulations, Alan and all the Naples New York Mets! It was a wonderful baseball season. Maybe more than anything, I should congratulate you for doing the near impossible—something an old college roommate of mine did with basketball a few years ago--you managed to make a fan out of me.



ps Alan had nothing to do with the bragging in this post, but I must admit to asking him for a few names of legendary coaches...

The World at our Fingertips

Today was one small step for Telecom Italia, one giant step for linking this household with the world outside.

Yes, my friends, the long-awaited day is finally here: we have internet!

This is no small victory for me. Months ago, in light of the not-so-measly $10/month service fee the base charges its clients (that's on top of actual usage charges), I decided to go through the Italians instead.

And boy did those Italians take me on a fun ride. After I finally got up the courage to make the call--I was afraid of how my passable knowledge of Italian would measure up on the phone--I made it through a half-hour session of signing up for internet senza limiti. At the end I finally got an appointment with a tech guy...2 weeks down the road. When I asked the customer service rep for an earlier date, he had the temerity to reply, "In Italia, le cose si fanno con calma." Basically, here in Italy, we're not stressed out by deadlines.

Nevertheless, the phone call went well enough, and gave me a big boost of confidence. The problems came afterward. I missed several calls from technicians, but from special numbers my phone could not call back. Consequently, Telecom Italia inferred that I was declining service and cancelled my thirty-minute appeal for internet. When I finally got the technicians to come out, they installed a phone line...and that was it. Apparently that was only a "first step" in getting internet.

To make a long story short, I was treated pretty rudely by several phone reps who had no patience for my stammering Italian. (One guy even told me to call back in three days--he never explained why he couldn't just give me an appointment). Late last week I ended up finding a nicer person to talk to, and set the whole thing up all over again. The process had taken so long that the new techs had to reset our phone number, just so we could fully benefit from the introductory rates.

This means that we can now Skype, Google, and GChat to our hearts' content. No more need to depend on my unreliable mobile internet, or schlep myself to the base library for wi-fi! Landline, check. Wireless internet, check. The next order of business will be getting Italian TV (the easiest route is to actually purchase a TV from here) and absorb the language...then maybe next time I won't be so nervous to dial Telecom's number. In the meantime...I am very available for Skype dates. ;)

Family Reunion 2010, or the Most Alan Ever Ate in a Single Weekend

Here, in pictures, is what Alan and I did the last weekend in May:


ate and slept chez our gracious host, aunt Geneviève


took a walk through the shops of downtown Mulhouse…here Alan is pictured with a modern interpretation of the Schweistissi (Alsatian for “the sweaty worker”), one of the symbols of the region


picked up Jacqueline and smelled the roses in her gorgeous garden before heading to the mountains


met up with the rest of the family (17 in total—minus sister Christine and cousin Emilie, who were sorely missed)


toasted to the rare event (it’s not easy to get everyone together for a single weekend)



ate (pictured: poached eggs with bacon, warm Munster cheese on little toasts…I took the second option as we were just a few villages down from its namesake)

A word about Munster. If you think you are well acquainted with this deliciously smelly cheese, think again. A good à point (ripe) Munster has nothing on Chuck Norris. Just a small whiff will literally knock your socks off—in a good way, of course. Even in cheeses that have the same name, I have never encountered anything close to the real thing back in conventional American grocery stores.

Along the same lines: even with all the specialty grocery stores available to us, achieving perfection in ethnic foods can be quite difficult if you are not actually on-site. Example: My mother has tried for years to replicate certain baked goods (Black Forest Cake, Bûche de Noël, Epiphany Kings’ Cake…) that, were she still living in France, she could simply purchase at the local bakery. (For many dishes she must make substitutions, as you don’t always find the same ingredients everywhere. Thankfully, she says, worldly shops like Dean & Deluca—and even local supermarkets—are offering more and more international selections nowadays.) Mom has spent such a large chunk of time executing these delicate recipes (e.g. using floss to slice a cake into several layers…) that she has become quite the baker, and—go figure—I actually prefer many of her creations to “the real thing.”

Crossing the ocean into Europe, you run into the same phenomenon. Were it not for the grocery store on base, I would not have access to many American staples. You have to jump on canned pumpkin and fresh cranberries, because when the season’s up you won’t find them out in town. I could make a laundry list of hard-to-find ingredients here, as Italians are gastronomically pretty conservative. The stereotype rings true at our local grocer: the shelves are stocked with myriad types of pasta and tomato sauces. Fresh mozzarella di Bufala and Parma ham do not cost an arm and a leg. But, go out for dinner and your primo piatto will taste nothing like what you get at The Olive Garden.

Which brings me to my next point: the first time I bit into Italian-cooked pasta, I realized I had been doing al dente wrong all along. I warn all my visitors of this when they come, and most give me a look like, “You poor girl…you didn’t know? Everyone knows to cook their pasta al dente!” Then I take them to a restaurant, they dig in, and after chewing harder than expected, they admit they’ve never had pasta cooked this little. So forget what the package says and start shaving minutes off your pasta-cooking time. It is much tastier…for most of us, anyway. I know of a few Americans here who ask for their pasta “ben cotto” (well done—American-style).

Sorry for that lengthy aside. I can’t seem to separate travel writing from food writing. To continue with the reunion...


We ate some more

And some more

When the weekend came to a close, Alan reported that he had never been at table for so many hours in a row. (I believe Sunday lunch came close to 4 hours—it also happened to be Mothers’ Day in France, so the place was packed). We did break up the weekend with a short trip to Munster for church. We were delighted to see so many cigognes (storks) nesting atop the buildings: another symbol of Alsace.




It was a wonderfully convivial weekend, and I was so glad the newest member of our family could join us (even if I had to translate a whole bunch). :)



After we said our goodbyes, we finally made it over to the Mulhouse Automobile Collection. I had been telling Alan about this place for years, and as one of the largest antique car collections in the world, it did not disappoint. For an engine-obsessed 20-something male, what is there not to like?

The automobile through the ages (the first dates from 1892):









Merci à tous et a toutes who made our trip fabulous. Until the next meeting, we will miss you!

EuroTrip (rated G)

Wow, I really can't keep up with this thing! I have wanted to write for at least a week, but life on the road has kept me from sitting down to a quiet afternoon of blogging. I am happy to get a little spare time for myself, but it is bittersweet as the past few weeks have been simply delicious.

About two weeks ago I happily boarded the plane to meet my parents and brother in Alsace. They had come to check out the European hotel management scene (Henry's specialty), a family reunion, and finally, a visit to Naples. I'm afraid I have time only for the first part today, but I promise to record my other memories and pictures asap.

The first leg of our Euro-road trip was approximately 6 hours to Nîmes, a sunny city in the south of France with some well preserved Roman ruins at its center. (I should mention that, as much as Naples is growing on me, it is always wonderful to get some fresh air elsewhere, walk litter-free streets, and drive more politely).

We were pleasantly surprised to find that we had caught the tail end of the Nîmes feria (Spanish festival). Our stroll downtown started with a taste of Spain:



I must admit my mom's Paella is better, but I simply couldn't pass up those shrimp and mussels staring me in the face. As we digested during our post-meal walk, our eyes feasted on the architecture all around us:


-the Roman amphitheater-


-loved the wrought-iron work on the balconies-


-happy family-


-i know this does not count as architecture, but we loved these really big overalls all the same-

We saw all of this in a very festive environment, taking it in along with music, dancing, Spanish-themed markets, etc. It was a great throwback to my study abroad days in Sevilla and inspired me to book the real thing sometime in the near future...



Near the end of our promenade we explored the local gardens a bit:


-happy to see (big) little bro again-

The following day, before heading to Switzerland, we stopped by the Pont du Gard, an impressive aqueduct dating back to the Roman Empire (and a World Heritage Site!).







Of particular interest was a gnarly olive tree near the bridge...does that stone really say it was born in 908?!





Next on the agenda was Montreux, Switzerland--a charming resort town with breathtaking views (even for the likes of me...I am partial to the Amalfi Coast) of the snow-capped Alps overlooking Lake Geneva Bay.



My interest (stomach?) was piqued by the local Musée de l'Alimentation (food museum), so I spent a few hours in the building next to this giant fork:



It wasn't the most intellectually stimulating of museums, but there was a nice homage to chocolate, as well as a few old books with rather odd themes...





Our last evening in Montreux, as we were looking for dinner through the raindrops, we took shelter under a pavillion where the Swiss Lakes Classic Car Show just happened to be going on. I figured hubby would appreciate a picture of this "lady in red":



I, on the other hand, appreciated my Swiss mountain dinner of pungent fried cheese and potatoes:



Eventually our whirlwind road trip came to a close and we found ourselves off to Alsace again. We were all exhausted--especially dear old Dad, who had driven practically the whole time--so we were happy to sit back and relax in the Loetschberg Tunnel. Inaugurated in 2007, this tunnel is "the world's longest overland tunnel" (http://www.huliq.com/24815/switzerland-opens-worlds-longest-tunnel-under-alps). It cuts travel time that would be otherwise be spent rounding mountain and lake curves by hauling parked cars through a 21-mile-long tunnel (literally) in the Alps.


-what it looked like as we emerged from the mountain-


-snowy peaks against the clear blue of the sky-


-waterfall cascading between the rocks-

Until the next installment, buona giornata!