Sicilia- A Misadventure for the Ages

Don't get me wrong. Sicilia was tremendously fun. But with that in mind, every plan Gina and I made went awry. More often than not, this was to our benefit. To explain this phenomenon, all I can offer is that Sicilia is a place unique unto itself, with a life and spirit of its one.

My Sicilian adventures started on easter day as I boarded my flight out of Portugal back to Milano and was informed by the lady at the check-in desk that I must check my guarenteed universal carry-on bag. Considering I was due to arrive in Milano at 6:30 and my flight to Sicilia boarded at 7:15 (with the bold printed warning on my boarding pass "IF YOU'RE LATE, WE WON'T WAIT), thus began my State Of Panic. I arrived in Milano, waited at the baggage carrosal for my checked carry-on, finally grabbed it, rushed toward the boarding gates and was told I must go back upstairs and go through security again. I ran upstairs, got through security and was informed with a very pessimistic tsk that I was in the wrong terminal and needed to catch a shuttle over to the second terminal located way out in nowhere land. By then it was 6:57. I ran through the rain, jumped on a shuttle and sat and waited for 5 minutes before the driver decided to drive at a snails pace across the airport to my terminal. Upon arriving I bolted out the door, ran (at this point feeling the burn) through the crowds, and was told at the security line that I must fit my "purse" inside my carry-on bag. 7:16- Purse stuffed into a now bulging bag, I ran up to security and proceeded to get chatted up by a very interested inspector. Looked up at the departure board (my flight was flashing "now boarding"), I tersely answered that yes, like my passport said, I was from America, yes I liked Italy, no, I'm actually living here, and was eventually rewarded by the returning of my passport and the reassurance, "don't worry, you have plenty of time." 7:23- bag in hand, boots back on, I flailed down the hallway toward my gate and arrived to see a que of people jostling onto the plane. Flushed and still coursing with adrenalin, I carried my bag up the steps and was on my way.

I arrived in Palermo to find the last bus had left an hour ago, and was forced to stomach the expense for a Taxi to Trapani where I was to meet Gina at our pre-reserved B&B. After driving around the streets of Trapani for 20 minutes, my driver finally agreed to talk/yell with the B&B manager and we eventually arrived at Viale Don Matteo, a street too small to drive on. Fortunately, my taxi driver needed to use the restroom and therefore accompanied me down the small dark alley, into the dank kitty-litter odored entry, up the steep, rickety, marijuana odored staircase into my reasonably cute, decent smelling, but chilly damp room. Taxi driver paid, keys received, I was left alone, in my chilly room, unable to contact family or Gina on Easter night. Fortunately, Gina arrived about an hour later, we laughed about our "charming" budget accommodation, and went to sleep.

TRAPANI...

We set out exploring the next morning, walked the beach, were appalled at the pervasive garbage, arrived at the ruins of an old villa and met some very friendly, very high German boys currently camping within the ruins.

From there we headed inward, purchased some blood oranges and olives, and set home. We somehow ended up on the opposite side of the train-tracks, which had no crossing point until well into the boringly ugly, utilitarian modern city center (ugly construction said to be the fault of the unchecked mafia presence). We crossed the tracks, followed sign and trudged along a long dusty road the desolate Industrial District. About a half hour, 5 car horn honks, 1 dead cat carcass, and much delusional laughter later we finally ended up reaching the port near our B&B. So overjoyed arriving and seeing water, we promptly sat at the waters edge and ate all of our groceries. As it turns out, part of the reason our trek through the doldrums of Trapani had seemed so forlorn was that it was siesta hour(s) and the town was vacated as all the locals had fled on post-Easter day-trips. Allora...

We recovered and rallied and explored the entirety of every nook and cranny of the very charming, very, very small historic city center in a few hours.

It has some pretty ocean views.

The locals started to emerge in the growing cover of dusk. We ate and with lack of an alternative and no desire to stay in our damp room, we headed back out to re-explore the city center, running into the parade of local young-people in cars and vespas at every turn. Apparently that is what they do for fun in Trapani, they drive around together for hours on end. That pretty much sums up Trapani. We were very excited to catch the bus to Palermo the next morning.

PALERMO.

We arrived in Palermo, found the entrance to our hostel without too much trouble, opened the immense outer doors and entrained into a dilapidated barren courtyard. Gina and I exchanged looks of panic, but dragged our bags up the four flights of stairs and rang the bell. We were pleasantly surprised to find a bright, clean, comfortable hostel with a very helpful owner who drew us up a map with all the highlight of the city. As per usual, Gina and I first set off to find some food, and ended up finding our favorite part of Palermo- the food market.

Fresh fruits, veggies, biscotti, cheeses, olives, meat and fish crowded the streets. We purchased our food and then explored the other markets and the historic cites of the city.

If it appears to you that Palermo is slightly dilapidated and showing its age, you are correct. Between piles of garbage on the streets and obvious neglect, Palermo is a city that is literally crumbling apart. It is a city that bears its heart on its sleeve and assaults your every sense with its essence.

That night, Gina and I met up with some friends she had made in Malta that were actually from Palermo. As it turns out, they were serious recreational salsa dancers, and very eager teachers. On the way home, we got pulled over at a National Police road-block. Yup, we are dangerous criminals needing deportation. After a full night of being twirled and spun every which way, Gina and I stumbled to bed and slept away the good part of the morning. The next day we once again hit up the markets, scoring tropo cibo, and visited the Catacombs of Cappuccini (that's right, we saw dead people). We walked around all evening and ended up hanging out with two Germans and an Irishman at our hostel. The next day we made our farewell visit to the market, I purchased 2 euros of oranges which ended up being more than I could carry (luckily the Germans ran into us and I unloaded a third of my bag).

CATANIA.

Note to anyone traveling to Sicily: the only direction you will ever get out of a Sicilian is "Siempre Drieto" or "always straight". Unfortunately for Gina and I, things are not always "siempre drieto", and we ended up dragging our overflowing bags up and down every curb in Catania in an hour long circle around town to our hostel that was literally within sight of the bus-station. This probably was the low of the trip, at one point we ended up on the right street, in a Piazza with half of the correct name, sitting on the curb looking at each other in near destitution. Thankfully, I couldn't have asked for a better travel companion, and we did make it to the hostel without any tears, swearing, yelling or anger toward each other. We explored the beautiful, Clean, city center, sampling local pastries along the entire way.

The next morning we rose early and took the only bus up to Mt. Etna at 8:15. The bus drops you off at the base, where Gina and I both quickly invested in another layer to stave off the bitter cold (our Spring Break clothing didn't quite cut it). We purchased a ticked and went up the venicular. This is what we found. A path cut through the snow.

Engulfed by clouds- very disorienting.

But onward and upward we trudged until we reached a refuge, into which we followed a paying tour group. We hung out for a bit until everyone left, and as we were leaving, one of the mountain guides, little Nino, noticed Gina's eyes (2 different colors) and we all became friends.

Little Nino, pictured above, took us on a free private tour of the crater. His brother Salvo was very chivalrous and gave Gina and I each a half of his coat (hey, it helped). We felt the hot spot created by the heat of the crater- and were very hesitant to move- cosy.

But we went inside and old Nino gave us some of the steaming hot pasta with fennel and beans the guides were eating for lunch! Best pasta ever. Then we got a tour of the crater, the old lava-squished refuge, and...

We got to climb into an ice cave! And After that, old Nino made young Nino make us coffee. Then they closed up for the day and we all went back down the mountain in their extreme mountain jeep, the guides singing and teasing us the entire way. OH, and yeah, all this happened while speaking ITALIAN. THE WHOLE TIME!

Gina and I spent the next day killing time as we were forced to take a much later train than intended, at a higher cost of course. We wandered through the markets and I learned that if you wear a skirt in Sicily the men will loveeee you and stare and chat and give you samples of everything whether you want it or not, and the woman will give you death glares. Somehow, we still had room for dinner and had a secret, apparently contraband, picnic dinner at a castello, got kicked out, and headed home to Milano.

And that was Sicily. Whew! I'm glad I'm still alive.

Ciao for now,

Katie

Portugal Part II- Adventure in the Algarve

After leaving the land of fairy-tales, we headed to the land of swashbuckling sea stories, aka the southernmost part of Portugal, the Algarve. We stayed in a modest pension in Lagos, a town that is a veritable mash-up of people and cultures all united by their love for the sunny waters. Proof of the cultural variety is found in the gloriously diverse cuisine- we had Mexican food the first night! Though it was far from authentic, and served by Australians, after months of being inundated by carbs, this was pure heaven for me. The next day we eagerly hit the beach, starting out on a big, long beach perfect walking beach (don't worry, taken full advantage of) with fine sand. After a few hours, the wind drove us to seek a calmer spot and after a gelato break (all I have to say about that is gelato outside of Italy just doesn't cut it), we found this beautiful cove.

The rocks extended on either side like arms hugging the beach. There were tunnels between the string of coves, perfect for exploring and imagining.

This second round of soaking up the sun pushed my poor miserably pale winter skin over the edge, and I ended up with quite the painful reminder of the glorious day. After applying copious quantities of aloe, we headed out for dinner and ended up at a organic "fusion" restaurant called Origins. It was perfect for me; if you can get a beautiful, organic, fresh gourmet meal for around 10 euros, something is wonderfully right.

The next day an ominous looking cloud cover graciously prevented us from further torturing our skin, so we opted for a more historic, scenic day at Cape Sagres.

Beyond being breathtakingly beautiful, Cape Sagres is fascinating on quite a few levels. From as far back as prehistoric times, Europeans thought Cape Sagres to be literally the end of the earth, the last land before an endless sea.

In the ages of nautical exploration, Cape Sagres served as the starting point of most expeditions and the location of Prince Henry's navigational school. We caught the bus over and explored the cape and the vestiges of a very well positioned fort. Here we are in full exploration mode ready to spot any advancing pirates:

Though no longer the nautical hub it once was, Cape Sagres remains important beyond a historical context. As the manager at our pension told us, "Cape Sagres is an important place to the Portugese because it is a place where man still feels small". In this day and age, it is a gift to be able to so thoroughly humbled by His creation.

Another value adding aspect for the locals, apparently the cliffs make a great fishing spot. Eek! Honestly, does this look like a wise idea (also factor into account the fierce wind that literally suspended bird in flight)?

Further proof:

All in all, Portugal surpassed my wildest dreams and expectations. It is by far my favorite place I've visited, and I can't wait to go back. Between the cosy and magical architecture, the mystical forests, the brilliant beaches, Portugal will serve as the setting of my dreams for years to come.

Ciao for now!

Portugal Part I- Real Life Fairytale

Once upon a time, there was a girl living in a big, grey city full of fashion, business and traffic. Upon the bequest of one of her dearest friends, she set off to the foreign land of Portugal in hopes of a break from the concrete jungle. What she found was a enchanted fairy land with enough charm and beauty to fuel a lifetime worth of dreams.

Lisboa- with Kate and Amanda- was a city that felt the backdrop of a love story. It was as though someone had dreamed up a city for the sole purpose of creating feelings of coziness and glee.

The buildings were either cheerfully shabby pastels, or beautifully tiled.

The churches were beautiful and glowey.

The monastery's ceiling looked as though it had been crafted by a sculpting spider.

The door ornaments were works of art.

The streets were interrupted by what looked like magic portals to other lands.

The sidewalks looked like stoney oriental carpets.

The graffiti enhanced the beauty rather than marred it.

The towers looked as if borrowed from Disney movies.

Sintra- the magic continued- but in a more rural, Grimms brothers, enchanted forest type of way.

With town-halls more akin to castles than upstanding institutions.

With manors poking out of the trees.

With castles perched on top of the hill that look as though they've been constructed straight out of the imaginations of children-

With grounds created as playgrounds for nymphs and forest creatures.

Truly, I felt as though I was in a place that was as near to perfection as man had ever come. Though 99 times out of 100 I prefer a nature scene to building, Portugal was somewhere that truly and effortlessly managed to bridge the gap between man and nature. It was a place allowed the achievements of man to seem natural and right. Sintra even had a cafe that made me feel as though I was back in the Northwest- a place to sit and stay, to relax and enjoy good quality fresh food. I truly was very sad to leave, but seeing as how our next stop was the beach, it wasn't that much of a tragedy...

Ciao for now, Part II is coming soon,

Katie

Culture and Cuisine- Cremona, Parma, Mantova, Castello D'Aquarto

Whoops! I forgot to post this from before spring break... This is from an IES field trip to experience the "Culture and Cuisine of the Lombardy region". Sound official? It was very informative, and mostly interesting- A very educationally rich beginning to Spring Break 2010. We started out by experiencing all sorts of cultural gems in Cremona, visiting their Duomo, the street market, and a traditional violin maker. Check out the awesome forced perspective in the dome in the Cremona cathedral! It looks like you're witnessing an awesome party in the heavens.

Contrary to my expectations, the violin maker's lecture was very interesting. We learned the history of the instrument, the technique and craft-manship that goes into each instrument, and that Cremona is the place to go for a top-notch instrument. After that we saw a beautiful theater (be assured, The Most Beautiful And Important Theater In Italy, this one's claim to fame is in having the longest back-stage).

As interesting as the theater was, by the time the tour drew to a close we were all absolutely dying of hunger and decided a picnic in the park to be the most important next order of business. Please note this was one of the first sunny days we experienced in Italy- for proof see that the color of my skin matches my shirt.

That night we were treated to an amazing dinner at a local trattoria- a dinner filled with all things Lombardian- including Parmisiano Reggiano cheese, a special sausage (which I naturally passed on), local wine, and delicious home-made tiramisu!

The next morning, we hit the road early to fill up on some more culture. This time I was genuinely excited because we went to Mantova/Mantua to see the Gonzaga Ducale Palace. And what exactly is so special about the Palace, you might ask?! It's only home to the Mantegna's Camera Degli' Sposi!!!!!!!! Oh, you haven't been in a Renaissance art class this semester and heard about this room nearly constantly since the start of the semester? Well, let me tell you. It is a Very Important Frescoed room that demonstrates many principles and themes throughout Renaissance art. Now you know. And they wouldn't let us take pictures, so you'll have to take my word that is was cool. Actually, to be honest, it was much smaller than I expected, though being that close to something I had been studying for so long was surreal. It's a whole different experience to be able to see and feel the art in person, especially when the art is in its intended location.

Nearly as exciting as fabulous art, we decided to indulge in some fabulous local cuisine, Sbrisolone. Sbrisolone is essentially a buttery crumbly shortbread, baked in a nice foil tin that can be easily transformed into a ball when later playing in a waterside park...

As you might have guessed, the Sbrisolone was followed by a walk in a lovely lakeside park where we once more delighted in the fact that Italy could in fact be sunny. We even found some fun ruins to climb around on and admire the view from. Well, to be honest, I climbed around on the rubble (I am going through serious rock withdrawal), and Gina mustered up enough courage to make it into a picture.

The final day was mostly devoted to Cuisine, which is definitely a dominate part of the Culture of Italy, so I guess its all cyclical. Seriously though, especially in this region, it is often hard to tell where one ends and the other starts. Regardless, we ventured deep into the heart of Parma farmlands to see a Parmesan cheese factory. I can't remember the last time my nose was so besieged by so many unwelcome smells in such a short amount of time.

I could tell you in extreme detail the process of creating one of these big bad boys (meaning the wheels of cheese, to clarify). But unless you specifically ask me, I'll keep it short and sweet. The production of official Parmigiano Reggiano cheese is amazingly basic and natural. The only ingrediants in a wheel of P.R. is the cow milk (a combo of day-old skimmed milk and fresh whole milk), whey, and salt from the curing process. The cheese wheels undergo rigorous testing (or thumping rather) before they are graced with the P.R. Brand as depicted above. If the cheese doesn't pass inspection it is still sold off, but not as official P.R., rather as mere cheese. Once passing inspection, the cheese is aged for at least 9 months (like a baby- ha) and sold off to delighted consumers looking for some lactose free, low fat, delicious cheese. Now you know.

We then headed to a cute entirely medieval town called Castello D'Aquarto. The town was everything you would think a hilltop charming historic town to be, but my camera died, so you don't get to see it.

Sorry. Aside from the fact that is was a great example of Romaneque architecture and very cute, it's not really much to talk about, so I'll end it here.

Our brains filled with all sort of Culture, our bellies filled with Cuisine, we headed back to Milan, and I headed off to Portugal!

Ok, regazzi, Ciao for now!

When In Rome...

The last few weeks have been an absolute whirlwind for me. I had midterms, then my family came to visit, then I had spring break. All that considered, the blog has been neglected and is now due for some major updating. So, back to the beginning of the craziness (well, after midterms, those aren't worth mentioning), the Hamachek Family Visit!

As soon as my wonderful family arrived in Milano, we grabbed some gelato, a quick picnic lunch, and dashed off to Rome! Within their first few hours in Italy, my family had eaten the best of the food, conquered the metro and taken advantage of the fabulous train system. Talk about immersion!

We arrived at our beautiful B&B (oh the joys of traveling with Parents- you get to upgrade from hostels), ate dinner and set out to explore the city a little. Our B&B was located mere minutes away from the Spanish Steps.

And was similarly close to the Trevi Fountain! Everything was so beautiful and light up and relatively less crowded. It was an incredible introduction to Rome, to be able to first see some of the major sites in a more intimate way. Though they had put up a commendable effort, the family was a little travel-weary (and I had mid-terms burnout), so we headed in early and got a full night sleep.
The next day we hit the ground running (literally, running toward meeting points as we somehow always found ourselves on the verge of being late for the tours...). We started off with an incredible tour of ancient Rome, seeing the forum, Palatine hill and the colosseum. Though I've become a fairly self-sufficient traveler, having our fabulous tour-guide, Mandy, really made the city come alive. We saw and learned about more history, monuments, etc than we ever could have seen or appreciated on our own. As I'm sure anyone who has read most of this blog already knows, I'm a huge fan of knowing the history and context behind places that I travel, so having someone there to tell us all the background information and details on everything we saw was such a wonderful treat for me!

Here's a panorama my sister Tori took of the forum,

We learned all about the ancient Roman culture, learning the back-stories on ordinary looking piles of rubble. One of the more interesting details was the palace of the Vestal Virgins. These women were selected at a young age from amongst the elite families of Rome, and given the honor of protecting and guarding their chastity and the sacred flame of Rome. Failure to uphold either resulted in live burial. Now, if you're anything like me, you probably are thinking these women were given the bad end of a deal. But before casting judgement, there are some more facts to consider. As it turns out, these women weren't just some glorified, objectified figureheads of a bygone era. The VV's were the most powerful, revered women in ancient Rome, bestowed with privileges and power given to no other women. For example, their power of pardoning ANY prisoner allowed them to save the live of Julius Caesar. Paradoxically, through submitting to objectification, these women gained tremendous agency. Here's a picture of the temple that housed the sacred flame the Virgins had to protect.

Here's a picture of the whole family in the colosseum.

And fortunately for my family, and me of course, the weather was fairly nice and there was even some evidence that spring was finally arriving in Italy!

After that tour we grabbed a disastrously quick lunch (suffice to say jet-lagged brains didn't understand my explanations of the lack of a "quick bite" in Italy), and we raced to our next tour at the Vatican with more or less empty stomachs. The Vatican tour was incredible! I saw so many pieces of art that I've been studying all semester long in my Renaissance Art History Class, the experience was literally mind blowing. I do have to admit though, being packed into such crowded quarters took away some of the magic of seeing artwork in person. None the less, we admired the School of Athens by Raffaello, la Cappella di Sistina, and even saw a courtyard by good old Bramante (a favorite of the Milanese).

This is the pine-cone courtyard by Bramante, so named for the prominent Pagan pine-cone statue at the front. Interestingly, the Vatican has installed some modern art smack dab in the middle of this historic place. I haven't entirely made up my mind, but I have to say there was something pleasing about the paradoxical contrasting coherence. Anyone else want to weigh in on this relationship of new plus old?

After having our brains wonderfully packed full of all sorts of history and art and culture (when I, self admitted nerd, am becoming weary of that, you know everyone else must be bored stiff), we headed off to get a treat and take a break. After recharging, so to speak we headed off to a recommended restaurant for dinner. What we ended up with was a full on traditional Italian meal experience, complete with antipasti, primo piati, second piati, and dessert. The waiter took immense pleasure in both playing practical jokes on the entire table, and in trying to confuse me with my limited Italian. I have since concluded he must have been largely speaking in the Roman dialect as I truly didn't understand most of what he said!

Day 2 of tours was much more relaxed and history-light. We once again had the privilege of being led around by Mandy who mangaged to show us all the rest of the must-see sights in Rome as well as take us to her favorite gelato shop!

We saw temples turned into city buildings,

Beautiful courtyards,

and of course the Trevi fountain, actually a monument to celebrate the faithful aquaduct that survived time, neglect and war and still brings water and prosperity to the city of Rome. Here's Tori and I throwing our coins into the fountain, wishing to return to Rome!

And that, more or less, was Rome packed into 2 days! It is an incredible city that I'm so glad to have seen. The sheer quantity and extreme proximity of so many generations upon generations of history was amazing to experience. And from there, we headed back into Milano to let the family get a taste of my typical daily life in the city!

Ciao for now,

Katie