A Week in the French Riviera

Each night Frank and Joelle set up the trays for the next morning's breakfast at Hotel Patricia, and so this is how we begin each day.  The baguettes are chunchy on the outside, and the perfect amount of chewy and airy on the inside; the butter and jam, ideal companions. The pain au chocolat: a tasty conclusion that pairs perfectly with our last sips of coffee.

Hotel Patricia sits on the top a penisula called Cap Ferrat.  During our stay, we were fortunate to make friends with a lovely Brazillian couple living in Piedmont, Italy.  One evening they drove us out to the peninsula for a stroll; the views were spectacular as we gazed out at the northernmost point of the Mediterranean Sea and across the bay to beautiful Nice.

Our hotel is situated between the towns of Beaulieu and Villefranche, both with their own flavor. Beaulieu has been good for practical purposes: a wonderful boulangerie where we found sandwiches for lunch, and grocery markets where we found supplies for our picnics.  Villefranche-Sur-Mer: more tourists, and slightly more charming than it's neighbor, with colorful alleys filled with quaint restuarants - mostly overpriced, and shops selling various soaps, handbags, and other travel whimsy.  

                                                                                 

And of course, what first week in
France would be complete without a meal of steak frites?  This is topped avec une sauce aux champignons blanche.  It was delicious.

The picture below was taken on the bridge that links Beaulieu to Villefranche.  On the bottom of the image you can see the beach where we swim.  All of the beaches are wonderful, but that one is our favorite. The water is much warmer here than in Italy; it feels like a theraupeutic bath. Ariel and I like to wear our goggles so we can submerge our faces in the water and see the fish swimming all around us.  

Kayaking, Ferrying, Eating, & Hiking the 5 Terre

Today is a travel day, and we are getting ready to leave the Cinque Terre region, heading north and west to Villefranche-Sur-Mer which is a town in the French Riviera seven kilometers east of Nice. Last night Ariel and I reflected that we really did the Cinque Terre.  There are many ways to approach the region, and since we had an adequate amount of days we were able to partake in several modes.

First the ferry, which has access to four of the five islands; Corniglia doesn't have a port.  For 15,00 we move between the four towns by ferry for the whole day. The sights are beautiful as the ferry cruises along the 5 Terre region with bright green folliage, sailboats, and seabirds swooping down for their next meal.

Ready for lunch in Riomaggiore, we found a fun little spot called Te La Do Io La Merenda. We were drawn in by their colorful foccaccia toppings, but we quickly changed our tune when we realized they offered paper cones filled with delicous fried things. I chose the spicy chicken and Ariel had the mussels with fried pepper rings, which we loved. Both cones were finished with course sea salt that was reminiscint of eating a soft pretzel at the fair.

Until recently, it was possible to do the full hike from Monterosso to Riomaggiaori, a 12 hour undertaking, but in 2011 the Cinque Terre experienced a terrible storm resulting in debilitating mudslides.  Now, it is only possible to hike from Monterosso to Corniglia.  

As we hiked into Vernazza off the rigorous trail, we found ourselves on the main road, and were greeted by this pizza; I knew by its beauty we had to have it for lunch, but first we went for a refreshing swim in the Mediterranean.  We were so happy we ate at Pizzeria Fatelli Basso, as I rated it my second favorite pizza we've had in Italy to date.  You might recall Forno la Renella in Rome.

And so, it is time to leave the beloved 5 Terre; we are sure to return someday.  Until then I hope to remember: deep water swimming in Manarola, the creamy pesto, and the gorgeous colors which dress up each town, giving them the unequivical charms the Cinque Terre is known for.

Goodbye Rome, Hello Monterosso.

We have made it to Monterosso: the northernmost in the chain of towns in the Cinque Terre, a wonderful stretch of villiages built into the cliffside on the Mediterranean Sea.

Having been in Rome for a month, there was not much we felt we had to do prior to our departure, except to have one more stop at the city fountains.  There, we took one last guzzle and filled up two bottles each for the four hour ride to our next destination.

Looking back a bit, this was the pasta we had at the final banquet which was held for Ariel's creative writing class.  I was lucky to be able to attend this delicious feast; it was easily one of the best meals I had in Rome.  When I asked the server to describe the dish, it was difficult to understand because she only spoke a little bit of English.  But, what I did gather is that the homemade pasta pouches were filled with two differnt types of cheese along with pear, and it was accompanied by one creamy sauce, and one carrot sauce; it was heavenly.  It also seemed to me that there might have been some sweet potato in the filling.  Either way it was fantastic, and we plan to recreate it when we get home.  

Our hotel in Monterosso is a short walk north from this beach.  If you look in the back right of the photo, you will see the ferry that takes people from village to village. Ariel and I plan to take the ferry to Manarola in the morning.  We heard there is some great swimming there.

This morning Ariel and I kayaked from Monterosso to Vernazza, the village just south of us, about 3,5 km.  It took about an hour and twenty minutes, and only cost 15,00; it was a wonderful expedition that reminded us of our honeymoon kayaking near San Diego.  I only wish I could have brought my camera, but I didn't want to risk getting it wet in the boat...everything else got soaked!  

The walks down the narrow streets in Monterosso are stunning.  The apartments are all brightly colored, looking particularly beautiful against the natural backdrop.  There are gardens all along the cliffsides, which appear to be growing an abundance of tomatoes, eggplants, and lemons, (among other things I am sure).  We are wondering if the food is being grown for the restaraunts.  The freshness of the food here is one hint it might be.                                                                                                                              






The pesto here is incredible.  So far we've tried it on bruschetta and trophie pasta.  Confession: I was not the biggest pesto fan prior to coming to Italy, but those times are over now; I'm pretty sure I can't get enough of the stuff.

A Continuing Narrative

Our time in Rome has played out like a story.  At the beginning, we were delighted to be here and everything around us felt incredibly romantic. The whole city radiated vibrancy, and steeped in ancient dust.  Days past, and life here began feeling like rubble as the heat and the culture shock claimed us.  Ariel and I had some days where it felt like our sanity had spewed all over Rome.  Refreshingly and unknowingly, that madness was our climax.  Conversely, the falling action was rich as we intimately acquainted ourselves with our favorite parts of the city. The next few days promise to be a compelling conclusion.  

Last week I went on some adventures with Ariel's class.  This shot was taken in Adrian's Villa, which was built as a retreat for the Roman emperor Hadrian during the second and third decades of the second century AD.  Adrian's Villa was inspired by the emperor's love for the Mediterranean and was comprised of over 30 buildings, covering approximately 1 square kilometer.  The complex included palaces, theatre, temples, pools, libraries, state rooms, and quarters for the royals, the guards, and the slaves.   

At the Villa I reflected: it feels like a graveyard, a temple / one man's vision, one lifetime. / Here a thousand lifetimes feel like one breath.

The roads in Rome are amazing: laid with rich, charcoal cobblestones.  In a BBC article I read, "Only the tourists and the angels love the cobblestones unconditionally. The rest of us, those who have the stones under our feet or under our wheels every day, detest them, or fear them...or admire them from a distance." 

Despite the cons the roads inherently offer, we were constantly inspired by the tenacity it requires to uphold a the tradition of the stones. Especially as we imagined the alternative: giving up and paving the streets, losing the feeling of history we felt with each step as we walked the streets of Rome.  

Scattered about the Jewish Ghetto, one of my favorite neighborhood in Rome, there are places where cobblestones have been replaced with commemorative bronze cobblestones.  The bronze stones were laid to remember the Jews who were taken from their homes and assassinated in concentration camps during World War II.  It is impossible to imagine the horror and loss that occurred during that terrible time, but the tiny gravestones helped bit-by-bit, as I said a small prayer for each stone I encountered.

Our food adventures have continued to blossom in Rome.  In my last post I talked about Aristocampo, a sandwich shop that quickly became one of our favorites.  Ariel discovered a branch in our neighborhood, so of course we had to try it.  For dessert we had our very first slice of true Italian Tiramisu; it did not disappoint.

Ariel picked out some Rigatoni on one of our market adventures, so I decided to make a meaty rose sauce to coat the pasta.  I simmered the sauce with white wine and finished it with cream.  This is going into our Italian food files back home.

A couple nights ago, we went on a wonderful walk at dusk to the Janiculum: a beautiful green space that overlooks the city. The views were magnificent and the light, sweet evening air felt intoxicating...it quickly became one of my favorite places in Rome.  

Going Back

It's been an interesting experience being in Rome long enough to go to places more than one time.  In some cases the going back experience has been comprable, like the sandwhich I ate at Aristocampo.  Ariel discovered it at first by the aroma, but what really lured him in was Pink Floyd; they were rocking The Wall.  He raved about his porcini panino for a couple of days, and then he took me there.  I had a wonderful tuna and fresh mozzerella panino.  Like Ariel, I daydreamed about that panino for days, and then I had another; it was just as warm and crunchy and oozy and delicious as the first sandwich I'd had at Aristocampo.

However, the first time I went to the produce market near our apartment, I felt like I had just barely passed a major exam.  Ana and I were walking by and I decided to pop in to get some fruit for breakfast; it was busy.  People were shopping hard, the produce guy was checking out multiple people at once, and other guys were filling orders for local restaurants.  I felt like I was shopping at Frank's in Pike Place market, except that everyone was speaking Italian.  As I approached the entrance I felt like I was about to step into a busy street with no crosswalk or signal; I went in.  I said buon giorno to the produce guy, and silently began gathering fruit.  I asked the guy for strawberries, and then struggled to get my money out to pay him. It was blazing hot, and I managed my way through a market transcation with two words.  The other word I knew was grazie.  For my third day in Rome, it felt like a valliant effort.


It took me awhile to want to go back to that store.  A few weeks later we had a thumderstorm, so the city was cool and there was still some residual drizzle in the air.  I walked in and there was just one other customer.  I said buon giorno to the produce guy, and he replied in a way that made me feel welcome in his store.  I gathered the items I needed as I thought of them.  "Cucumber, baby lettuce, no romaine would be better, no the red leaf looks the best," I thought to myself - as I find i do in Italy because I am having way fewer conversations here than I have in America.

I motioned to a guy about which bag I should use for my lettuce; he helped my bag it.  The owner motioned for me to set down my purchase.  "Grazie," I said.  As I was finishing up, I saw they had soda in the case!  I had just bought popcorn from the natural food store, and imagined how great the soda would taste with the popcorn.  "To go with my popcorn," I told the guy as I set down two Fantas for Ariel and two Cokes for me. He smiled at me as if he could read my thoughts.

When it came time to pay, my total was 10,70, but I only had 15,00 with not enough change to equal the cents part of the total.  They are big on change here, meaning: they always want you to have it, but rarely want to give it.  He said, "you have no change?" I said, "no," as I looked back into my almost-empty coin purse.  He told me, "you bring 70 cents tomorrow." I was stunned at the man's kindness towards me. I wondered, "can I do that? Can I come back tomorrow?"  Then I thought, "of course I can come back tomorrow.  I will because that man just made me feel good by including me in his community," a feeling that has been rare in Rome because it is hard to connect with people when we don't share the same language.  I left the produce market with my shoulders a lot wider, and my heart a lot lighter.  It was a morsel of proof: living the good life truly means getting to bask in the small moments that make life good.

Other places I want to visit again soon:

Forno La Renella for the roasted tomato, green olive, oregano and olive oil focaccia.  They also had a coconut macaroon I loved.

After being in Rome a few weeks, we were craving Asian flavors.  We decided to follow the advice of an international student who gave Ci-Lin a rave review.  We began with the hot and sour soup, which tasted incredibly light compared to the hot and sour soup commonly served in the states.  We loved the pan-fried dumplings.  Each one had a tiny meaball tucked inside; they were delectable little bites.  The bamboo paired with chicken and mushrooms appeared to be hand-cut in a way that neither of us had ever seen.  As we left the restaurant that evening, the chef and the waitress graciously waved goodbye.  We loved Ci-Lin's.  

We have nine more days in Rome, and we look forward to discovering more places that make us want to go back.

More Roman Life

I have come across very few tyes of water I would constitute as being delicious, but Rome's water is delicious.  It does not matter where it comes from: the tap, bottled, or from one of these glorious structures scattered throughout the city.  The first few days we were here, I bought water.  These fountains are so amazing, I didn't even see them.  Now, I carry around an empty bottle everywhere I go and enthusiastically fill up whenever I see one.

Ariel was excited to show me what he learned from watching all the old Roman guys: if you don't have a bottle, you can plug the hole where the water comes out.  It will reroute to a hole on the top of the spout in order to take a sip; he looks like a natural.

Our neighborhood is called Trastevere, which means beyond the Tiber [river].  It was traditionally a working-class neighborhood, beginning at around 509 BC housing fishermen, sailors, and immigrants.  Today, the neighborhood is home to several unviversities, artists, foreign expats, and according to Wikipedia, famous people like it here too;) 

Wandering around in Trastevere often feels like navigating a maze.  Last night we were walking to dinner with a group, and we starategically combined my intuition with Ariel's compass; a winning combination we learned.  

I decided to dip down into this road as I walked to meet Ana at our spot which is on a pedestrian bridge above the Tiber.  I was glad I did because it made me happy to see these towels drying in the breeze.  

We've had some great meals in our home, and this soup was no exception.  Inspired by some dried Canneloni beans I found on one of my shopping excursions, this meal proved to be a comforting end of another long day in Rome.

Romans are very particular about what they injest, and when.  Morning time is a cappuccino with sugar, standing at the bar with lively conversation to start the day; breakfast is a sweet pastry.  No substantial meal happens until at least 1 pm; coffee is never served during a meal.  Dinner happens sometime after 8, but usually after 9. On Saturdays people stay out later than normal, and on Sundays the streets are sparce and most markets and shops are closed.   

Last Sunday morning, Ariel and I had planned on making an American breakfast at home, but we needed to shop for food first, so we decided to stop at a cafe instead.  People sitting around us on the patio were eating their morning snacks, along with coffee and juice; some had beer.  It was quite warm already.  Ariel and I decided to go out on a limb and order burgers with patine, a selection surprisingly found at the very top of the menu. At 12:30 PM the kitchen had not yet opened, so we were told we would have to wait a few extra minutes.  We were fine with that; we were in Rome, after all.  Turns out the patine were made with a potato similar to a Yukon Gold. They were sweet and crunchy, and everything I was missing in a fry.  

The silverware and napkin came in a paper bag, the condiments in packets. My Americano had sugar in it, without the cream I usually deam necessary.  It was the closest thing we are likely to find to an American breakfast in Rome.  It was absolutely perfect.