Coming at you From the Left Side

Greetings from Eugene, OR!

Arrived yesterday afternoon after a relatively uneventful flight (except for the part where that four year old spilled water all over me, but it was only water--no big deal). After a short tour of our digs, Monkey and I met a couple of acquaintances for dinner at Bepe and Gianni's, a pretty nice Italian restaurant here in town. By 9 pm, I was feeling pretty sleepy, after an early wake up, a long day travelling, the two hour time difference, a handful of dramamine, a plate of ravioli in a bechamel, and one (yes, only one) glass of wine. By 9:30, I was sawing logs.

Today, an early run (so much cooler and less humid than NE) and then we're off for more visiting of old friends in Corvallis, just north of here. Tomorrow, we're off to Portland for more visiting, and Saturday, Andrew Bird and the Decemberists on their home turf. Should be spectacular. I will keep you posted!

Wholesome Goodness

Our weekend up north was great fun. Highlights for me include the seediest hot dog joint in America (said one diner: "It made me sick ALL DAY.") A groovy breakfast (best toast EVER) at the neighborhoodly Birchwood (If you put asparagus and fennel in my scramble, I will love you forever.)). An evening meal at Two Pony Farm that involved fresh greens, great cocktails, a tasty Mendocino wine (among others), and one (nearly) severed thumb (mine). Sleeping on the screen porch. Salted strawberries. A pleasant hike at Afton State Park. A second foray to the Blue Door Cafe (whose head honcho is a Lincolnite--go figure!). A nearly passed out trek to Izzy's for unique flavors of ice cream. And, a last morning chow of fried cactus and Cuban steak and eggs. In addition, Mr. Ambassador helped me clear my head and straighten my thinking on buying a new bike.

As usual, our hosts were awesome (and I know I am leaving out something). We will see them in a few months in Colorado, but, perhaps, we (or they) can fit in another visit.

The Unofficial Start of Summer

Monkey and I are heading north momentarily to visit the Ambassadors. We expect good driving weather and two days chock full of food, wine, and fun. I am laying in a new supply of allergy medication so that Frank the Cat and I can co-habitate. Looking forward to a good time (but not looking forward to driving after a tough week corralling the kiddos).

Rocky Mountain High (A Not-Quite-As-Long-As-The-Italian-Story Story, In Its Entirety)

Two Sundays ago, Monkey and I loaded up The Penguin and headed for Estes Park, Colorado. The Ambassadors had invited us to spend a few days with them out there where they spend their summer vacation each year. It was mighty generous of them, but, that's just the kind of folks they are.

The drive out took us a bit longer than we expected, after stops in Ogallala and three other places, most likely because we hit the congested area of I-25 and US 34 at a busy time, but, after an uneventful drive through Nebraska and southeastern Wyoming, we arrived at our destination. We had a nice dinner at a local establishment, walked around the town of Estes Park a bit (nice river walk), and then discussed the next day's plan over some wine.

We planned on a breakfast at a little place in a town just down the way called Allenspark, and then a hike to Ouzell Lake from the Wild Basin Trail Head. Round trip was about 9.8 miles.

Breakfast was tasty, and we were on the trail by about 9 am. It was a great hike, with wonderful views of several waterfalls, glimpses of distant (and not-so-distant) peaks, some good gains in altitude, and a idyllic lake at our chosen terminus (we could have hiked for another five miles if we'd chosen to).

This was my first trip to Rocky Mountain National Park, and it was astounding. It was also my first visit to a place with any altitude since Monkey and I were in Oregon in 2005. It was strenuous at times, not being used to the rarefied air at 9000 feet and above (I think our highest point of the trip was just about 12000). However, even with short breath and a spot of dizziness here and there, this was one of the best hikes I had ever been on.

The only negative to the hike was the thunderclouds that rolled in just as we got to the lake. Our return route (after a short pause for lunch--you guessed it: PB and J!) left us exposed for about three-quarters of a mile along a ridge. It's not good to be exposed in a thunder storm. The rain is a pain, but the real worry is lightning strikes. If you are standing on a ridge with no trees around you, that makes you the tallest thing for miles. Lightning likes to strike tall things. So, we covered that stretch on the ridge pretty quickly. It didn't really start to rain seriously until we were almost back into the tree line, so we also stayed pretty dry as well as avoided the lightning. Beside the danger of being hit by a bolt of lightning and a little bit of rain, it was a great introduction to the Rockies. And, I saw a blue grouse on the trail (that's a bird), and, I'd never seen one of those before!

We made pasta at home and ate copious amounts that evening and then retired early. The next morning we planned to rise at 3 am to try and catch the sunrise at a place called Chasm Lake.

I know I said that the previous hike was one of the best I'd ever been on, but the in-the-dark-of-morning hike to Chasm Lake was head and shoulders above that one! We left the Longs Peak Trail Head at 4 am, and, with our headlamps lighting the way through the trees, ascended pretty quickly to the treeline. The sky was just beginning to lighten as we broke out of the trees and continued to ascend across a broad open area. At one point, as Monkey and I stopped to rest, I looked off to the northeast and saw, silhouetted against the just lightening sky, a female elk and a calf. I pointed them out to Monkey just as we noticed that we were standing not 100 feet from a herd of perhaps forty or more elk. It was amazing to watch them slowly move off to the southwest, but, we were trying to make it another couple of miles before the sun was up, and it didn't look like we were going to get there in time.

We reached the ridge top in full sun, took some pictures and enjoyed the alpenglow on the face of Longs Peak. However, we still had another three-quarters of a mile to go to the lake. We had gotten out pretty far ahead of our companions, but decided (on their assertion) to continue on. We were even higher than we'd been the day before, and I still wasn't completely acclimated, I guess (or maybe I was just hungry). I had to stop at one point and sit down for a few minutes, but, after some water and a Cliff bar, I was good to go.

After my "recovery," Monkey and I were treated to what I think was the most picturesque part of the whole trip. After crossing a thin trail along the side of a ridge, which included a snowbank, we found ourselves in a beautiful alpine meadow, with a creek running through it, columbines and other alpine flowers growing all around, the mountains looming all around us, and a spectacular view into a pond-studded gorge to the east. I wish I could have stayed there forever. It might be the most beautiful place I have ever seen with my own eyes.

We paused just outside a US Park Ranger patrol cabin, smelling coffee and bacon. The lake was close, but our companions were nowhere to be seen. We decided to walk back, hoping to run into them on the way. We might have to double back again, but, at least we would be all together. After getting only halfway across the meadow, we saw them coming across the snowbank. We signaled to each other, and Monkey and I waited for them to come on.

From the meadow, there was one more challenge before we reached the lake. We scrambled up about 100 yards of rocks, accompanied by several yellow-bellied marmots, and there, just below us, at the foot of the peaks, was our destination. It was very cold and windy at Chasm Lake, so, after a snack and a really quick nap (remember, we got up at 3am), we made our way back to the trail head. Today's hike was about 8.5 miles.

After breakfast, we napped for about an hour and then headed to Boulder (about 40 miles) for some wandering and a really expensive dinner. Both were good. We slept well that night.

The next day, we took it kind of easy, making breakfast at the cabin and taking a drive around the park. Old Fall River Road, a one-way gravel road ascends to an Alpine Visitors Center at about 12000 feet, with many unbelievable views along the way. Here we saw more falls, more elk, the Never Summer Mountains, and, on the way down Trail Ridge Road (the other park road), three moose! Monkey was especially excited to see the moose, since that and bears are the two animals she always says she wants to see (I was especially excited we did NOT see a bear). We then toured our way down to Grand Lake, had some ice cream, and then were on our way back to Estes. More pasta at the cabin (good pesto!), and more "what shall we do tomorrow" talk, and we were off to bed.

The next day, Monkey and I were set to depart, but, we rose a bit early (6 am) and headed out to Glacier Gorge Trail Head for a short (5.4 mile round trip) hike to Mills Lake. This was not a better hike than the night hike, but Mills Lake was probably the most beautiful lake I've ever seen (and the second most beautiful place, next to that alpine meadow). This was a pretty gentle hike, just the way to spend your last morning in the park. And, we left early enough that we mostly avoided the huge crowds out and about on our way back--very busy trail! On our hike back down, we saw lots of families hiking using child carrier backpacks to allow their tiny tots to accompany them into the wilderness, and hydration backpacks (Monkey is contemplating getting one of these) and BPA-free water bottles (I gotta get me one of those!) to combat high altitude thirst.

We had another good breakfast in Allenspark with The Ambassadors and The Ambassadors' Children (who had arrived in the wee hours and declined to accompany us on our hike). While we waited for our food, one of The Ambassadors and I walked down to a place called the Fawn Brook Inn, where they have about a million bird feeders out. I was surrounded by hummingbirds (rufous and broad-tailed). I had never seen so many birds in one place in my life. It was amazing!

After breakfast, we packed up and hit the road, departing at about 2 pm MDT. A shorter drive home than on the way out, and we were home by 11pm CDT, certainly tired, but mostly grateful that we had the opportunity to see the Rockies!

For more photos, click here.

Taking It Easy (A Very Long Italian Story, Part Thirteen)

And so, we come to our last full day in Tuscany. We decided to make it an easy-going day, and slept in an extra hour before heading to breakfast. After a leisurely cappuccino, we spent some time at the apt reading up on any last minute places we wanted to head. Monkey wanted to visit a little town called Montechiello. We also decided to spend some time visiting a town we had passed each day in our Tuscan travels, San Quirico d’Orcia.

San Quirico was our first stop. Once into the town, our first stop was a small church with a little well outside of it. It was very rustic on the outside, and not very interesting on the inside. We spend about ten minutes inside. We then proceeded to the town gardens, which were described to us in a guidebook as “a fine example of a boxwood hedge” (I am paraphrasing, here). When we entered the garden, it was a ten by ten paved yard, with a couple of weak-looking shrubs. This wasn’t a “fine example” of anything. Undaunted, we walked up a little stone stairway and through an arch that led to some tree-lined paths. After some cool wooded strolling, we came upon some dilapidated fortress walls and, eventually, the actual boxwood hedges. And, yes, they did seem pretty fine to this boxwood hedge noob.

We strolled down to the piazza and visited a church known as the Collegiata. It was a white marble, with the unique feature of having three doors, two of which still contained the original sandstone columns and lintels from the original 1000 year–old church. Inside, the church is pretty bright (for a church in Italy, anyway). The interior was done in light colors and the décor was light colored, as well. Not much in the way of priceless art, but, while we were there, it seemed that a local artist was showing off his newly created rostrum and Stations of the Cross in sandstone.

After checking out a few shops in San Quirico, we headed down to Montechiello. There was not much doing here. It was a beautiful little town, and, much unlike yesterday’s “Tuscanyland,” there was not much in the way of tourists. We spent most of our time in Montechiello (which wasn’t much), just wandering the tiny twisting streets, and listening to the sounds of lunch being made coming through the windows above.

On the way back from Montechiello, we stopped in Pienza to pick up some wine for a light lunch of leftovers back at HQ. After lunch, we lazed about, until dinner (for which we had reservations) at Latte di Luna. Then, it was off to bed, since tomorrow would bring a drive to Chiusi and a train ride to Roma.

In the Footsteps of John Paul II and Killer Hamsters (A Very Long Italian Story, Part Nine)

Our next Tuscan destination, Cortona, took us about as far west as we would go in Italy, and introduced us to many Etruscan wonders. But first, we met a couple of Jayhawks at breakfast. Imagine, travelling halfway around the world to meet people that live about a hundred miles away from you. Strange, really.

But enough of our domestic neighbors. On to Cortona, a town much larger than any we visited the day before, and, it seemed to us, much steeper and higher. We parked on the street at the foot of the Public Gardens, which was really just a shaded park with gravel on the ground and walked a short distance to the Piazza Garibaldi, trying to use one of our guides to walk us through the town. It was a relative success.

The view from Piazza Garibaldi was big, but nothing compared to later views we would get from a higher vantage point. Frances Mayes, the writer of Under the Tuscan Sun lives in the area of Cortona. If you're ever in Cortona, and you're interested, according to our guide, her villa is behind a hill to the left of the view from Piazza Garibaldi. For me, not the most fascinating tidbit of info. I liked the hill, regardless of whose villa is behind it.

The one thing you notice during the first half of your visit to Cortona: you are always walking up. Steeply. From the main piazza, we found some level ground within the walls of the Etruscan Museum. We spent a couple hours in here, looking at clay pots, jewelry, helmets, weapons, rocks, mosaics, and various interpretive videos whose effectiveness was diminished due to our own ignorance of Italian. In addition, this museum also had some works by Severini, a son of Cortona, who gained some fame in the early 20th century as an artist and critic. The coolest thing in the museum, however, was a heavily decorated oil lamp from the 4th century BCE.

Our next stop was Santa Margherita, which is at the penultimate point of the town. As we made our way higher and higher, climbing along switchback steps that seemed to wind through neighborhoods and nowheres, we came across a marker that stated that Pope John Paul II had made this trek in the 1990s. I was impressed. I'm pretty sure they didn't roll the Popemobile up there, and, unless he was ported up in a rickshaw or on a pillow-laden platform, then, he was one fit old pontifus maximus. Of course, in my mind, it is more than likely that he reached the church on the back of some poor, yet infinitely grateful local, huffing his way up the rocky stairway, bearing his heavy-robed burden, and imagining himself on the white-lighted stairway to Paradise, a beaming Saint Peter standing next to an overcome-by-pride Saint Margaret waiting to punch his ticket and welcome him aboard. But, that's just my speculation. The church is not the town's cathedral, but the residents spend most of their time and money on the beautification and decoration of this church, because Margherita is a home girl. It is a very beautiful church, and choc-a-block full of Margherita relics.

From here, we did some backtracking (mercifully downhill), had some pizza, and visited the cathedral (not very impressive next to Margherita's final resting place) and the Diocesan Museum (you know, these church folk got some damn nice art). The museum is mostly the structure of another church (Chiesa di Gesu), reconstructed and with additional pieces from the diocese. Highlights included an Annunciation by Fra Angelico, an elaborate baptismal font, some stations of the cross by Severini, and a wonderfully frescoed lower chapel.

In Cortona, we did the same thing as the day before in Montepulciano, buying some local stuff to eat with the remainder of our pasta and cheese. We brought home a bottle of Cortona Sangiovese, but, we didn't like that quite as much as the previous night's wine.

That night, as I sat on the veranda, a fox walked right past me. I thought that was a nice sight. However, a few moments later, I spied the tiny head of an unidentified animal poke out of the bushes around my chair and seem to look up at me. I looked down at him, and he seemed to be unfazed by my presence. I decided to take that as a hint that it was time for me to go inside and go to bed. This unidentified mammal was dubbed, "The Wild Hamster of Pienza." This later became, after time and the predictable hyperbole that accompanies an unidentified anything, "The Killer Hamster of Pienza." So, future travellers of the Pienza area: beware the killer hamster!

A Spiritual Experience and Flashbacks to Catholic School (A Very Long Italian Story, Part Eight)

After a breakfast whose best part was the pastoral view outside the window, we hopped in the Punto and headed generally west to Montalcino, a tiny town famous as the center of a small region of Sienna Province that produces Brunello, perhaps one of the finest wines of Italy. Unfortunately for us, as one of Italy’s finest wines, Brunello is also really expensive. Like, arm and leg expensive. So, needless to say, Monkey and I did not sample any Brunello on our trip. We did enjoy a bottle or two of Brunello’s much more affordable cousin, Rosso di Montalcino. It is also excellent, at a quarter the price.

Arriving in Montalcino, we parked the car in a pay-as-you-go lot outside of the central district and prepared to hike up the slope to the main piazza. As we got out of the car, an older woman came over and pointed to a small lot just below the sparsely populated lot we had just pulled into.

“No pay,” she said, as she gestured.

“No pay? No biglietti?” I asked, using my ultra-limited Italian language skills, yet looking to be sure.

“Si,” she replied, “tutto il giorno.”

“Grazie,” we replied and pulled the car down into the lower lot.

First, we sought out the Tourism Office, where we secured a map of the regions wineries. This map was especially helpful: it helped us locate the restaurant where we had one of the best meals we’ve ever had, and it explained some of the differences between the regions wines. For instance, one of the greatest differences between Brunello and Rosso di Montalcino is that Brunello is not sold until six years after the grapes are harvested. It ages for a lot longer and is made from a very tiny percentage of the variety. The Rosso, on the other hand, is sold about a year after harvest, having aged for six months in a barrel and six months in the bottle. The cheapest of the Montalcino wines, Montalcino alla Box, is boiled for an hour and aged for one week in a plastic barrel before being packaged and served in quart containers that look like soy milk containers. (Okay, that’s not true.)

Anyhoo, we walked around Montalcino for a little while, hitting the cathedral and the Fortezza, home of a winery (imagine that). It’s a beautiful little town, but we had some more driving to do, so, after a spell on a town bench, watching the crowds go by, and a gander at the view from the parapets of the Fortezza, we headed a bit further south to visit Abbe Sant’Antimo.

Sant’Antimo is a 12th century church that is home to a small order of monks who have refurbished and maintained the church and the grounds. One of the most wondrous things about the abbey is that the monks, in the ancient tradition, pray six times a day (Lodi, Terza Messa, Sesta, Nona, Vespro, and Compieta). Their prayers are done in the (also ancient) manner of Gregorian chanting. We were fortunate enough to have timed our visit with a session of chanting. As I have mentioned before, I am not a religious person at all, but the experience of the chanting was the closest to a spiritual experience I may have ever had.

Inside this dark, cool church (in the middle of a June day), the first sense that is affected after the sight adjustment, is the olfactory, as the heavy sense of clove-like incense warms your nose. As you sit and listen to the chanting, it is next to impossible not to fall into a sort of meditative state. It is soothing, and, like meditation, centering, in a way. I did not see the cleansing flames of the Almighty in my mind’s eye, nor was I visited by the spirit of Saint Joan, but, for a short time, I was granted a sense of peace that I treasured. The analytic side of me later (not much later—more like ten seconds after I opened my eyes) considered how understandable it was that this Catholicism was so powerful in the Dark Ages. A world that was nothing if not brutal could be made sense of and kept at bay by the ceremony and dogma. If I spent all day gathering slop in the 800s, I’d have rushed to church six times a day, too. And we haven’t even begun to discuss the eight-foot crucifix or other devotional art in that context.

But, I digress, perhaps.

Of course, as my reverie was happening, Monkey was watching a scene of ignorant tourism unfold right in front of us. Apparently, despite the best efforts of multiple multilingual signs asking that there be no photography or video during prayer, a couple in front of us was doing just that. A very tall monk rose from his seat in the choir, approached the couple, snapped his fingers loudly (I heard it, but I had my head down), and, as the couple looked at him, sternly waved his finger. The couple ceased recording. Monkey said she had flashbacks to Catholic school.

We really enjoyed this abbey. The building was ancient and unique, the grounds were beautiful, and the experience of the chanting was one of those “living museum” type of experiences that was also meaningful in a way that I never expected it to be. Perhaps, had my religious experiences as a youth been more filled with the type of mystery and mysticism that I experienced in this church, I might have a different view of religion and cosmology.

After leaving the abbey, we stopped by the winery/restaurant Poggio Antico, to make reservations for a few days hence. Then, we stopped back at the casa, since we had to drive right by, anyway, for a short pause before heading further west to Montepulciano, another hill town, in a different region known for its top of the line wine, Vino Nobile. This also we did not sample, but, we did have the affordable relation of Vino Nobile, Rosso di Montepulciano. The winner, in our book, the Rosso di Montalcino!

Montepulciano was a hard spot to get into. We had to drive past it twice before we figured out how to get where we wanted to go, but, we did. Montepulciano is a bit bigger than Montalcino, and they have a few more churches and other views and sights, but, overall, each town is beautiful in its own right. We picked up some things in Montepulciano (some pici and a boar sauce, and some fresh pecorino di Pienza) and headed back to our HQ to employ the amenity of the tiny kitchen.

Dinner was a success, and we completed the evening by finishing our bottle of wine on the veranda, watching the sun set over the swimming pool and the amber hillsides outside our door.