An Unexpected Travel Advisory

Hello there Fearless Readers (or Dawn, Ray, Andrea and our parents!)

I wasn't planning on writing this blog post, but then again, I wasn't planning on doing a lot of things in the past couple of days.

The travel advisory isn't about drinking the water in some country, or not traveling to some country because of disease or war. Nope, it's about knowing that in some countries, or some restaurants in some countries you need to prepared for free food.

It's NOT FREE!!!

(Truth be told, this wasn't the blog post I was referring to when I said I wasn't planning to write it. Truth is that it's just after 8:00 AM in London, and I'm hungry and I'm thinking about food. It's something I do a lot. Think about food. I love to think about food. Meals past, meals present, fantasy meals, ideal meals, best meals.....)

Well, the "free" food I'm referring to is the food you get at the start of a meal in Spain, Portugal, Italy and also Indian/South Asian restaurants. In Spain, you might get olives and something else. Ask how much they are, as they're rarely free. In Portugal, again, it's olives, cheese and something else. Again, rarely free. In Italy it's bread. Bread at the start or bread during the meal.

Folks, READ the menu! Look for couvert/cover/service/bread/pain/pane on the menu and it will often tell you how much things are. If you're not sure, ask.\

"How much is this?"

Last night was the three lovely sauces we got upon sitting down at a GREAT Indian restaurant near Whitechapel Station on the Tube in London. Whitechapel of course makes me think of the line from the Beastie Boys "Slow and Low" and "White Castle fries only come in one size". And also "Harold & Kumar go to White Castle". But that's me. So the three sauces came and so did four popppadoms.

The poppadoms were on the bill.

No biggie. But ask so you aren't surprised when the bill comes. And the food at Tayyabs was REALLY good and REALLY reasonable. Not cheap. Reasonable.

Back to the unexpected blog post.

As you may have figured out, we're in London. It seems our bags will meet us in Tel Aviv at Anne/Arie's. Jodi's aunt/uncle and two AMAZING people. If you were at the wedding Arie is the mastermind/creator of our ketubah (wedding document or Jewish pre-nuptial agreement).

We were supposed to fly easyjet to London's Gatwick from Milano's Malpensa at 4:25 Thursday afternoon. When we checked just before leaving our hotel, our flight was set to go. Upon arriving at the airport, we found it was cancelled.

Our choices were to change our flight or cancel our flight. Both options were to be done online. No other way to do it. To say that travel has changed in the electronic age is an understatement.

So we pulled out the netbook, paid 10 euros and tried to change our flight to later in the day. No luck. Only chance to fly on easyjet from Milan to London, where we had a room booked, was to fly out Friday night. We really wanted to be in London (as we are meant to fly to Tel Aviv early Sunday morning) to meet friends, do some things in the "English" world and enjoy a city we've been in twice already on this trip. Still, no guarantee that the easyjet Friday night flight would go from Milan to Gatwick.

We searched a site that we've looked at before (edreams.com) and found a relatively cheap flight on British Airways from Milan Malpensa (Terminal 1 versus 2) and Heathrow versus Gatwick (more runways and therefore a better chance of flying, PLUS if we were cancelled with BA, we'd get put up in a hotel and fly out the next day, versus being stuck with no options.) But we didn't want to book with them, because if the flight didn't go, we weren't sure if we would have any "standing" with British Airways.

So, we cancelled our easyjet flight, but we're not 100% sure we're going to be get our refund because we first tried to change our flight and didn't just cancel it. We looked on BA's website and found the same flight that we found on edreams.com for a little less, and we booked it.

We then moved all our worldly belongings from Terminal 2 to Terminal 1, and looked for the British Airways counter. After walking all around, we finally found it. Now when I say walking around, I mean walking around. It's a fair-sized terminal, and we walked up and down it twice. With our rucksacks (mine is just over 20 kilos (45 pounds for you Imperial folks - and while I'm at it...if the Americans were so pissed off with the British that the American Revolution happened, when are you still using their units of measure?!?!?! Just asking yo! And Jodi's is a few kilos less.) and we each have a carry-on bag.

The British Airways counter was near the guys with guns. We found out later that El Al was near the BA counter, and that means there's heightened security. So there are guns. I should be more used to guns, since I've seen assault rifles of differing forms in Gatwick when flying to Amsterdam and all over Italy. Guns, guns, guns. Tonnes of guns. And let's remember that I'm heading to Israel, where I will see more....anybody? GUNS!

Back to the counter. We picked a good time to stand in the VERY short line, because ten minutes later it was a VERY long line. About 40 people long in fact. There was one guy sitting at the desk/counter. One guy and a lot of people. He got heckled a little bit, and BOY did he ever shoot back a long and deadly stare. He could have been a teacher. Or a librarian.

We got our boarding pass and our luggage was tagged, but couldn't check it in because it was too early. We were then meant to fly out at 7:45. So, we sat down and had our lunch. Yep, we made a lunch. Buns we bought in Venezia, with basil olive oil we bought in Siena (?), with cheese we bought in Siena, with prosciutto we bought in Milano. I also found it necessary to buy a 500 mL bottle of peach San Benedetto iced tea, a 500 mL bottle of Chino from San Pellegrino, a 660 mL bottle of Nastro Azzuro beer, a 660 mL bottle of Moretti beer and a litre bottle of milk (lactose-free milk it turns out, since I only was able to make out "milk" and "partially skimmed" in my not-so-good Italian).

We still had our rucksacks, so I was able to use Jodi's Swiss Army knife to open the beer instead of having to use my teeth (which I wouldn't) or try to find a counter-top to do the macho/cool guy bottle opening trick that I'm not too good at, for obvious reasons. I usually break the bottle neck, and that's really wrong at the best of times, but especially when you're in an airport and there are guys with guns nearby.

Long and short of it, we ate our lunch, drank some beer, drank some chino (Keeno, for those of you following along at home!), ate some yummy cookies that Jodi wanted. Nutella filled chocolate chip nuggets of goodness, checked the web/email/British Airways and Heathrow sites, and checked in our luggage around 8:30, and FINALLY flew out at about 10:20.

We landed in London around 11:30 local time and waited a bit to be granted a stand to be let off the plane. They've been backlogged because of the awful cold, snow and ice in London/England, and it's been devilishly awful. The captain was AMAZING, as he chatted along the flight, telling us if he was going to go right or left at certain points, and informing us a lot while on the ground about the situation we were in. Truth is, we were some of the lucky ones, as we were ACTUALLY able to fly in to Heathrow/London! We were off the plane after midnight, I do believe.

We then had the pleasure of standing in the customs line at Terminal 5 for well over an hour. I don't know if you've been in this line, but about 1/4 of the way along there's a sign that reads, (something along the lines of) "You're 45 minutes away from the front of the line". We finally got through around 1:30, and headed to the baggage area.

Which is when we found out that the bags weren't coming off the plane, and had to leave the baggage area. There were cops with guns. I thought the Brits didn't have cops with guns. As with so many other times on this trip, I thought wrong.

So, there we are. Our carry-on luggage - which doesn't have our toiletries! - and the clothing we've been wearing all day. In both our cases, the clothing we were wearing wouldn't quite qualify as "spring-time" fresh, and was washed using soap. As in handsoap, not laundry detergent.

At the best of times, to get from Heathrow's Terminal 5 to Bow Road Station would be a long trek. Jodi figures about 90 minutes to 2 hours. But, the Tube (subway) stops running at 11:30 pm.

We then waited in line for a taxi. A long line. In the cold.

Around 2:00 or so.

The cost of the cab from Heathrow to our hotel near Bow Road Station?

90 pounds, or about 150 dollars CDN.

So, no bags but a bed.

Thanks to my friend from Toronto (Mariza), who lives in London (until the end of the month, when she moves to Athens, Greece with her fiancee), and Skype and the British Airways customer service woman from Ireland, and the front desk fella at the hotel.....we were able to figure out that we would/should go shopping for clothing/toiletries while in London.

UNIQLO (Japanese clothing store we love) and BOOTS (formerly in Canada, for those of you old enough to remember)!!!

Yay.

So, we had super duper South Asian lunch down the street from the hotel (Bengali "fast food" heaven!!!) and super duper South Asian dinner (with Mariza and Ilias) at Tayyabs near Whitechapel Station. So we've been well fed. In fact, the leftovers from lunch are going to go well with some green onions and mushrooms for breakfast.

We went shopping and I got new socks, underwear, jeans (Jodi likes 'em!), shirts and a hoodie from UNIQLO, and new toiletries from Boots. I certainly got things I wanted/needed and in some cases, things that I needed and would have bought in London regardless.

Still need to get a few more things, like another bag to travel with, since we have lots of liquids that can't go on the plane, but we're doing well. Mind you, I wouldn't normally be walking around in a city in my hiking boots, but....can't win 'em ALL!

So, that's our story from here.

Oh ya. I've been craving GOOD beer since we were in Belgium and wanted to get a pint or two of real ale from The Little Driver, across the street from our hotel. Jodi wanted to get home, so we popped into the Co-operative (one of my FAVE stores!) and got some bits and pieces for breakfast, licorice allsorts, gum and two bottles of beer. SO GOOD!!! I can't wait for the real ale tonight, PLUS we're going to Vinopolis (Mark, we're actually going!) on Jodi's brother's suggestion, and I'm psyched for that too.

Borough Market is something that's been suggested by quite a few people, so it's on tap for today. We fly out STUPIDLY early tomorrow, so we're not going to be doing much, other than dragging our asses out of bed and getting to the airport.

THOUGH, with the snow that's expected today/tomorrow, we may not be flying out tomorrow.

ARGH!!!

It could be worse. We could be on easyjet.

"Sorry. Your flight has been cancelled. You have to rebook or get a refund. Online."

To think how f**ked we would have been without the netbook.

Thanks again Joe and Alessandra!

Things I've learned/realized/appreciated in 3+ months away

Things I've learned/realized/appreciated thus far, while away for three-plus months.

The best licorice allsorts and wine gums are in the UK.

Getting socks on a British Airways flight is a good thing when you're in Bologna, Italy three months later and need socks. Navy blue or otherwise.

You appreciate a good meal, whether it's unexpectedly on an airplane, train, you make it, it's made for you, or in a restaurant that you didn't expect to enjoy so much.

Good airplane landings should not be taken for granted.

The UK has some REALLY good food. Marks & Spencer has good deals on lunches (sandwiches, crisps/chips and drinks) but their drinks have "nasties" - artificial sweeteners that make them taste....nasty. Pret a Manger (now in NYC) and Wagamama come to mind has SUPERFLY! Pret's drinks don't have "nasties", and it's where I got the term "nasties" from!

Russell Peters may joke about the Indians running after the English when they left (wanting to feed them!), but some of the best curry I've had has been in England (Shampan in Brick Lane, The Wee Curry Shop in Glasgow and Melati in London come to mind), though it was top-notch in Lagos, Portugal too. Probably 'cause there are so many Brits there!

I like Uniqlo best in NYC. The Paris store was expensive and PACKED, and the London store wasn't as big and fabulous.

I don't like bunk beds and I don't like dorm rooms.

I like museums that aren't in the "salon style" (Louvre!) and LOVE free ones (London in general).

I love Robert Mapplethorpe and am thankful to have seen his work side-by-side with Michaelangelo's, as I found it inspiring and life affirming.

I appreciate well-dressed people, especially when I'm carting around a rucksack!

I appreciate good/sexy beer, since I haven't had any since Belgium - which seems like a lifetime ago!

I appreciate cheap flights from Ryanair and Easyjet, and CERTAINLY appreciate the more lax weight restrictions on Easyjet (20 kg for checked luggage, versus Ryanair's 15) and British Airways (20 kg as well).

I appreciate having brainstorms (I've had one or two while away) like buying a bag in Gatwick in order to meet the weight restrictions imposed by Ryanair.

I have a new appreciation for football. Not American football, but "soccer". I want to play when we're back at home. Great game. No, I don't have a favourite team. I suspect my favourite team will always be the Pittsburgh Steelers.

I appreciate a Netbook, Flickr and an external hard-drive, in order to hold the thousands of pictures that we (me) have taken while away, and Facebook to share them with friends/family easily.

I appreciate good tours. Walking tour in Edinburgh ("free" - pay what you think the guide is worth. GREAT idea!), Belfast Black Cab tour, distillery tour at Glenmorangie, Porto port tours, a good sherry tour at Tio Pepe (Uncle Joe) in Jerez (versus the interesting tour at Sandeman's that was...interesting) and a fantastic tour of a Brunello winery in Italy.

I appreciate the work that Stonewall UK is doing for gay/same-sex rights in the UK and LOVE my new t-shirt.

I appreciate the opportunity to learn more about mom's mom's family ancestry and the chance to see where my grandmother grew up in Shettleston, (Glasgow) Scotland.

I appreciate that all we've used McDonald's for while away is a bathroom and photo ops.

I appreciate a good clean room and a good bed.

I appreciate Jodi being healthy.

I appreciate a good cup of tea. BOIL THE FREAKIN' WATER IF YOU'RE GOING TO CALL IT TEA!!!

I appreciate an "Irish Shopper" recycled plastic/reusable shopping bag that we've had since Enniskillen, Northern Ireland.

I appreciate my hate/distrust for industrial meat, produce and Wal-mart more and more every day.

I appreciate a good meal, but not paying a lot for it is even better.

I appreciate things of beauty, but a) I want to be able to photograph them (Michaelangelo's "David" and The Sistine Chapel come to mind - and I did photgraph both of them!), and b) am getting sick of churches, but still think they're beautiful.

I appreciate being on a farm, but think that being on a farm should mean that you're not burning plastic period, let alone for your family/children to breathe in. That is, instead of paying to have it picked up with the garbage.

I appreciate children that aren't annoying, parents that parent when necessary and people who aren't obnoxious when drunk in public. "VIVA JOE!!!"

I appreciate good transportation, that runs on time (Italy!) with informative signage (every country except Italy).

I appreciate, for whatever reason, that the UK drives on the left side of the road while the driver is on the right side of the car, but think the car rental agency should inform you what to do if you can't get the ignition to turnover. THANK YOU to the Germans for the assistance at Loch Lomond. And for those of you reading this, it's the "other" side of the road, not the "wrong" side of the road. Mind you, it's not the "right" side of the road either, and that's a pun. I try not to be punny. That's dad humour.

I appreciate good food prices.

I REALLY appreciate good wine prices - Spain, Portugal, France (Pyrenees mainly) and Italy.

I also really appreciate good scotch prices in France and Spain. Well, almost everywhere except....Scotland.

I appreciate the good coffee we've had in Spain, Portugal and Italy, but especially Italy.

I appreciate Starbucks, but mainly for their WiFi in the UK and Northern Ireland.

I appreciate farmers' markets and so should you. If you don't already.

I appreciate that I didn't have my credit cards and/or cash in my wallet when I lost it, or was pickpocketed, in Milano.

I appreciate home cooked meals. Thanks to Alex, Jon, Deb and Maya!

I apprecite unexpected coffee and pastry - thanks Andrea in Naples (which our server in Siena called "Nipples", and it was his hometown. This made me giggle.) for that.

I appreciate the sane driving in Toronto after being in Naples and seeing the insanity that is the norm.

I appreciate being a pedestrian in any city except Amsterdam.

I appreciate modern art and don't like boring old s**t.

I appreciate that the Glasgow city council has hired translators to aid in interpreting what Glaswegians are saying. In English apparently. Which is sad, since it's the language I speak. Mind you, my Italian accent is pretty good.

I appreciate all the places we've been, but wonder what some of them are like in the summer/good weather. Some I don't ever want to see in the summer with the insanity that I'm sure runs amok.

I appreciate/expect free WiFi if there's WiFi in a hotel. Sorry, that's just me.

I appreciate English language TV and am amused (and frustrated at times) when I see English language TV shows dubbed into the local language. I ESPECIALLY appreciate when they're closed captioned with the local language and I get to hear the English.

I appreciate when I don't have to listen to the f**kin' accordion, which has been pretty much every city/country we've been in.

I appreciate a lack of exposure to lousy street performers, especially the "statues" who expect to be paid for standing still.

I appreciate that beggars in Toronto don't approach you with a cup and expect to be given money for no reason at all. Begging in the name of a saint is even worse. In my eyes.

I appreciate HelpX and Jon/Deb for potentially saving our time away.

I appreciate the doctor in ER in Barcelona who gave us Valium. Not that I've used it, but to have it was reassuring.

I appreciate Corinne in Lyon for being so generous and potentially saving our time away.

I appreciate the generosity of Pedro, who just reinforced how beautiful the Portuguese are. Or maybe it's just the Portuguese I know, and/or Marcos' family!

I appreciate our e-doctor panel of Rachel, Brigit and Zarya for saving us for good, while in Spain.

I appreciate that Jodi likes overnight trains, but the coffee served with breakfast is not enough to overcome the bunkbeds, narrow aisles and constant freakin' jostling. THOUGH, I'm sure the people standing on lonely small-town platforms in Lisboa and Madrid appreciated my mooning them!

I appreciate guide books, but hate when restaurants/bars I REALLY want to go to don't exist. Or, when the really well-reviewed places are impressive to high-school/college students who think having access to a microwave is a chance for some "fine dining".

I appreciate Jodi's sense of direction, since I'm a wee bit spatially/directionally (NOT like Emily's issues with left & right though!) and it's been a saviour. Not to mention her already existing ability to speak French and newfound ability to speak Portuguese, Italian and Spanish. Oh, and she speaks Hebrew too, which will come in Handy in Israel!

I appreciate grocery stores, but farmers' markets make me much happier. THOUGH, farmers' markets rarely, if ever, have wine for between 1 and 5 euros that is some seriously good s**t.

I appreciate small towns. I appreciate big cities. I appreciate places in-between. I'm a big-city kinda guy though. I love to people watch, and that's hard to do when there aren't any....PEOPLE!!!

I appreciate family and families. I also appreciate parenting when done right/appropriately. I can't begin to count how many times I've said, "If I would have done that when I was a child...." while away.

I appreciate all the churches we've seen (this is my second time sitting down to write this, so there may be some repetition. Deal with it!) but the Gaudi was my fave - though we only saw it from the outside. Jodi was sick in Barcelona, and I didn't want to pay and then leave. Kinda like Eddie Murphy in "Delirious" when he's talking about the black family and the haunted house. "Okay, gotta go!"

I appreciate that people are willing to try and communicate with an Anglophone, through whatever means they have readily available. This has been a delight. That and the fact that Jodi seems to understand every freakin' language under the sun.

I have enjoyed listening to all the native languages being spoken while away, but Portuguese makes me giggle and Glaswegian is just "royally" messed up! I like to pretend to talk most of the languages we've heard while away, but by far Italian is my best accent, Portuguese is my favourite to pretend I know (well, next to Italian!) and while I'm not good in Spanish, I think I'm better in Spanish than French. Which I took from grade 4 - 10. Go figure.

I appreciate that every freakin' town/city has had an Irish pub and Chinese restaurant. We've even had Chinese in Sintra, Portugal and Bologna, Italia.

I appreciate that people like fried food, and we've had some, but generally speaking not too much. The Spanish seem to like to fry a lot, as do the Portuguese. Oddly though, we didn't have much fried stuff in the UK, where they'll fry a lawn chair or hammer if someone will eat it and/or pay money for it.

I appreciate a good sandwich, and ANYONE who knows me knows this. I've had packaged sandwiches in London, Scotland and Northern Ireland, bocadillos in Spain and panini in Italy.

I miss my bed at home.

I miss my slow cooker. (Thanks again Mark & Ray!)

I've appreciated all the native alcoholic beverages, but especially port in Portugal.

I've appreciated passion for food and drink, much like I have, and I firmly believe it's contagious and that food should be more than merely a means to cease your hunger or enable you to continue on with whatever activity requires calories/nutrition. Food is life, life should be passionate, and therefore, food should be passionate.

I appreciate books and magazines in English, even if I end up finding them in a pile near a garbage dumpster in Firenze, Italia. It's great when you can get UK Cosmo, Elle, Penthouse (a few good stories/articles - pig hunting (feral (wild) pigs (not sexual at all, though he was REALLY into it!), the real Sopranos from New Jersey and some other little blurbs of interest, National Geographic (no nudity) and Stars & Astrology (or some other goofy title like that).

I appreciate free publications. In English. I will read just about any free publication that has news and other stuff in it. I don't read free classifieds though. UNLESS they have Companions/Singles Ads in 'em. Then, I'll read those. I suppose that's about where I draw the line.

I appreciate public transit that alerts you to the next stop. There have been lots of examples of this, and a few where we had to scurry off at the last second. "And don't you do that again!" Like I'm going to miss the stop again? Well, I might, but Jodi wouldn't!

Every city's cathedral/basilica/duomo was the first/biggest/tallest/longest/best at something. Just look around or ask someone, and they'll be more than willing to tell you why it's best. It's like local cooking in Italia or football (the real deal!) anywhere (A-N-Y-W-H-E-R-E!!! in the UK and/or Europe!).

I appreciate "free" breakfast. We paid for the room, it's not "free", it's INCLUDED!!!!

I appreciate good Indian food. Lagos, Portugal and Mijas, Spain come to mind. Probably the large numbers of Brits that are there.

I appreciate public nudity. I haven't seen any as of yet. Other than inappropriate butt cracks on women bending over, or homeless men that is.

I appreciate tasty food, but can do without some of the salt that seems to be so prevalent in Portugal and Spain.

I appreciate a good movie, whether in English or not. "Scarface" (Pacino) was great in Italian, and "Cobra" (NOT Stallone) was funny and all in Spanish.

I appreciate a good trivia night, ESPECIALLY when the questions can be answered by non-Europeans/Brits.

What the F**K is up with gypsies?!?!? They were camped, YES CAMPED, on the platform in Tunes, Portugal for a few hours. I just don't get it. I appreciate nothing about gypsies. Except that this culture seems to have given us "Snatch", and I loved Brad Pitt in that.

I appreciate Wally & Gitta Rice. They're great people, and I wouldn't "have" Jodi if not for them. I appreciate that they put up with me. I think they appreciate that I put up with them. (Kidding!)

I appreciate that I have a spatial issue, which tends to rear it's ugly head when I'm driving (I also have a habit of walking into door frames, but usually with my right shoulder. Mind you, that's not the shoulder that's giving me issues right now. That's the other one, the left one (for those of you playing at home. I think it has to do with the pickaxe work in the Pyrenees. I suspect some physio is in my future!). Not really just driving, but turning/parking/reversing in tight situations. My brother knows this from 1987 when I scraped up Plymouth Scamp in the Branson parking lot. The Rices know this from the Alhambra parking lot. Goldcar in Malaga, Spain knows this as well, but really didn't seem to care about it. As long as the under-carriage, windows and roof were fine, they were fine with whatever other body damage occured. If renting a car, try to see if there is a "GOLDCAR" in business there. That's G-O-L-D-C-A-R!!!

I appreciate a shower with warm/hot water. There seemed to be a shortage at times in Mijas and Roma. Oh well. I ended up cutting my head in Mijas, and used the sink in Roma for my audience with Benny.

I appreciate when people aren't drunk and yelling "Viva Joe!", when I'm out to dinner in a "nice" restaurant. Though, to be honest, it was amusing to see the drunk dude, who looked like a cross between Roberto Benigni and Gilbert Gottfried, toast the newly 25 year old Joe. SEVERAL TIMES!!! It ceased to be as amusing as eat toast went on.

I appreciate it when Jodi understands that we don't have to do all the same things together. UNLESS I don't speak the language or will get lost. Then we do.

I appreciate that every language/culture seems to have a version of John or Joe.

I appreciate that people consider it cold in Italia when it's not. But the herd of fur coats isn't necessary. No matter what the temperature is.

I appreciate that people consider the Pope to be an important figure, but the high school football pep rally atmosphere at the weekly Wednesday papal audience was SUPER DUPER weird. The Mexican high school boys biting each other was entertaining though. The girl beside us writing in her dictionary about hating traveling with her parents and that she was broken was sad. But entertaining nonetheless.

I appreciate/love good gelato, and there's been tonnes in Italia. I'm psyched to go home, since I know there are some really great spots in Toronto. Though it's not the same.

I would GREATLY appreciate it if people would learn how to use their (digital) cameras, since EVERYONE seems to have one now, so that they DO NOT use their F**KIN' flash when taking pictures in musuems/churches where it says "NO FLASH" and even shows a picture of a camera, with a BIG BOLD "X" through the flash part of the camera if you do not read the language, or the four others posted. In case you didn't know this, you are destroying the artwork of the world with your reckless and inappropriate use of THE FLASH! YES, YOU!!!! YOU!!!! YOU!!!! (Can you tell this pisses me off more than a little bit?)

I appreciate Maya for saving us in the awful weather that messed up our HelpX and miss how much Sarah enjoyed the attention she got from me. If only more women were like Sarah (the German Shepherd)....well, I won't finish that sentence.

Why is it so hard to find dill and/or cilantro in Italia and/or France?!?!?! ARGH!!!

If I see one more Nativity scene AKA presepe I'm going to scream!!!

A Product of My Environment

(A tip of the cap to MC Serch and PM Pete Nice AKA 3rd Bass, for the post title)

I feel like this is a relevant/necessary post.

January 14, 1970 will be my 40th birthday.

My father was 40 when I was born.

I have always had an issue (resented is too harsh a word) with my father's age, but I'm not sure if it's his mental or physical age that I've had the issue with.

Obviously, I didn't know my dad when he was 20 or 30 or 40. From what people tell me he was a little bit wild 'n crazy and a whole lot of smart. As everyone reading this knows, we all make decisions in life that affect us later on. In my dad's case, he chose to dropout of high school and never went back. I suspect there have been times when he looked back, but that really hasn't been a conversation we've had. I'd like to have it in person when we're back in February. I even tried to convince him to go back to school (high school or university) when he was in his early 60s, but he declined.

Those of you that know me, and I mean KNOW me, know that I can be a "boy". I giggle in staff meetings when people bring up having "yard duty, stair duty, basement duty" because they usually say "doodie" instead of "duty". I think it's funny when people burp or "bum burp" (fart, and one of my new fave expressions thanks to Martin and Tamara!), though I think it's all about time and place really. Mind you, I seem to do it everywhere. Just ask Jodi. I have been inappropriate my whole life, and sometimes it's not having the editing function needed, while others it's just about doing what I want to do, when I want to do it. As I've gotten older, I've aged more like a (fine?) wine (whine?) versus a vinegar. Or at least I think this to be the case. But for those of you who may find my behaviour sour, I'd like to think of myself as a well aged balsamic, in that there's some sweet in the taste, and it's not all acidic/sour.

Oh, and I love naked women. I think they're GREAT! But as my friend James says, "EVERYONE loves breasts!"

I have never played catch with my father. I've played catch with my mom a few times. I've played catch with Jodi's dad, and Wally is in his 70s. I've heard that my dad rode his bicycle to Hamilton from Toronto one day, but I don't remember seeing him on a bicycle.

Don't get my wrong, my dad has given me a lot. Maybe more than he'll ever know. He has been a kind, loving father and husband. A man who made sure his children and wife were provided for, no matter what he needed to do. We never went hungry, always had a roof over our heads and clothes on our backs. We were taught right from wrong, and whether or not we chose to follow this was not his (or my mother's fault)!

My father has always had a love for music. Opera and classical often filled the house on the weekends when we were cleaning or lazing around. The blues and jazz were a close second. Without these things, I would be sorely lacking in culture. This was the base for me to fill in the blanks on where rap/hip-hop came from, and to know who Howling Wolf and Muddy Waters were, when I stumbled across their London Sessions with The Stones and Clapton, among others.

I know that my s**t disturbing side is thanks to my dad. For better or worse I suppose. For those of you that like this about me, it's him. For those of you that don't, it's him. Deal with it. He's got a sense of humour too, in a "dad" sorta way.

My dad grew up in Toronto's Kensington Market, the son of Polish immigrants and his first language was Yiddish, or Jewish. (Not Hebrew, for those of you unsure of this distinction.) As a child, I fondly remember going downtown with my dad to Chinatown for lunch or dinner. Sometimes we'd even have the pleasure of going to Sam The Record Man, where my dad would seek out Sid Sniderman (Sam's brother), who he knew from "the 'hood" and they'd kibbitz and we'd get a discount. (Yes, my desire/ability to score a bargain also comes from Stan The Man AKA my dad!)

I've always eaten Szechuwan or Cantonese "authentic" food because of my dad. It was never "gwai lo" Chinese for us, and I have always (ALWAYS!!!) turned my nose up (yep, I'm a snob and damn proud of it!) at Ho Lee Chow (now out of business on Davenport!!!!) or food court Chinese. Unless it's been in Markham, where it's heavenly. I learned how to cross the street "Stan Style" in Chinatown. It involves sticking out your arm like you're at a crosswalk, and walking. No, there isn't a crosswalk, but like my friend Saul says, "If you go, they have to stop."

In theory this works, and thus far in practice as well.

We have driven from Yonge/Steeles (AKA Home) to Finch/Weston Road for a hamburger. (Really only relevant for Torontonians, and even then, most wouldn't know how far that is. Trust me, it's far to go for a hamburger.) We have gone from Home to Knob Hill (R.I.P.) at #7/Woodbine because mushrooms were on sale. Now some of you might better understand why I go to T&T in Thornhill or Trader Joe's in the U.S.!

One major thing that I have to give my dad props for was his analysis of Wal-mart. When they announced they were coming to Canada, he said that they come to a city/town, set up outside of the city centre and one-by-one the local shops go out of business. I argued with him (as I was much more conservative/pro-unfettered capitalism and consumerism) and told him how wrong he was.

He was right.

I was wrong.

Wal-mart sucks ass.

I have "kitchen talents" because of my father. He would do one of two things. The usual was to take what was around in the fridge, pantry and freezer and make something. This "something" was usually good, rarely bad ands sometimes GREAT!!! But he never remembered how he made it, so subsequent attempts to recreate it would usually far short. Or, the second, was to find a recipe and make it. He wouldn't always follow the recipe, and the deviations would often result in HEAVEN!!! Refer to the first one for what would often happen when he tried to recreate them.

I'm not so good at following recipes, but thanks to Jodi getting on my case about it, I now try to write stuff down when I'm creating things, or what changes I've made to a recipe, that in theory I'm following.

These are things that I would consider to be mainly positives.

Ah, the other side.

My father is a quiet, conservative man who has watched the past twenty years sorta pass by. In the early 90s, he was working at Pascal Furniture, selling....furniture. They went out of business, and he was suddenly out of work. He worked at a few places for a couple more years, but the momentum/way of life that he had when at Pascal - the routine, the people, getting out of the house - was gone.

He started watching "The Fresh Prince of Bel Air", "Family Matters" and "Oprah", and spent more time on the couch or in "his" chair, than anywhere else. He had dealt with physical issues - his back, hips and legs - for a few years, and this started to get worse. In large part probably owing to his not being overly active, but his diet being that of an active man, his weight didn't help, as he began to be less able to get up and go, and do things.

For a man who could do the "muscle dance" (I can do it. In fact, pretty much anyone with a bicep can do it. Ask me, and I'll show you how!), who painted/wallpapered the whole house, did the hardwood floors when the carpet was torn up (I helped!), and any manner of other super duper handy things, it's hard not to be able to do what you once could.

The work room has gone "dark" as the handy items don't get used any more.

My dad and I agree on less and less as we both get older. I suppose it's natural/normal, but I also think it's part and parcel of who he is, as to who I am.

I have consciously spent the last half of my life trying not to be my father. I have become outspoken on issues that I consider to be important for me, and "my world". I want to be an agent of change, and don't tend to accept status quo as good enough on several levels. Whereas my dad would shrug his shoulders if encountering something, I speak up. I yell. I try to rally the troops. I live my life with some sense of righteous indignation and look to smote "evil" with wrath. (Now I'm channeling Samuel L. Jackson in "Pulp Fiction".)

I purposely try to stay connected to my friends. The people who augment my existence, complete me on several levels and make my life better. Like the fresh ground peppercorns (change your peppercorns/spices every year at the very least for a better "spice" experience!) I want to be connected to them. Being away from home for three-plus months hasn't meant being away from them, thanks to Facebook, email and Skype. Oh, and thanks to Joe and Alessandra for the great Netbook wedding gift, it's been even easier! Sure, I miss getting together with my folks, Saul, James, Marcos, Emily, Steven/Noam, Jen/Noam, Martin/Tamara, Jean, Daniel, Meredith/Asa, the Montreal, Ottawa and NYC crews - to name but a few, and time with my siblings, Julie and the nephews/niece.

I am passionate about life and living, because I have seen my dad seem to lack the passion that he once had. The passion for life that I've heard about from people who knew him "back when". I suspect this is normal for many as they age, to lose aspects of their life that they consider important, as other things become more important. Or when you're just not able to do what you once could. I can't see that happening with/to me. I sense that I'm too connected to the things that make up who/what I am to lose that grasp on them.

I don't know what lays ahead for me. No one ever really does. Life has a habit of throwing some unexpected curveballs, or high-inside fastballs. Not to mention that when you try to throw that heater down the middle, sometimes it's "just a bit outside".

In twelve days I turn 40. Jodi and I are talking about having children. There's a possibility that I could become a dad at the same age my dad was when I was born. This does not scare me in the least. Only death scares me. Heights freak me out, but only death has the ability to put it's cold, harsh hands on my psyche and make me sweat. It's not all that much different from the kids in "Fame".

"I want to live forever....."

But I know I won't.

I do know that when I lay my head to rest, and they put me six feet under, I don't want to "go" with regrets about what I could have said, could have done, could have been.

I was concerned that my dad was going to die the weekend of our wedding. Truth is, I was more than concerned. I was fairly certain of it. I had a sobbing phone conversation with my brother, while driving home from seeing my mom in the emergency room in the hospital when my dad was taken in by ambulance. I was concerned that my dad would not see one of the most important days of my life. For those you that were there, you know that it wouldn't be an easily explained day/experience, and I'm thankful beyond words for the sacrifices that my mom and other people made in order for my dad to be there.

Like many people I went to junior high and high school with, I'm an under-achiever. I'm okay with that. As Jake Duncan says, "I'm a classic gifted under-achiever." I enjoy life, I enjoy living, I enjoy the people in my life (generally speaking, but we can't always remedy ALL the people we don't want around - after all, that's called homocide, and illegal pretty much everywhere!) and most of all I can look in the mirror and like the person I see.

All-in-all that's because of my dad. I've both embraced and rejected who my dad is. Thanks Stanley (no middle name - he was the oldest and said his parents couldn't afford a middle name!) Kruger.

Buon Anno a Tutti!

Buon Anno from Bologna's Piazza Maggiore!

Some Thoughts

Okay, to refresh, we're in Italy AKA Italia, and we've been away from our fair Toronto for more than three months. It seemed like it was time for reflection on things we've encountered in different cities/countries and what I felt about them. You know me, I don't have too many opinions.

To recap, we've stayed in London (twice), Dublin, Galway, Tubercurry, Bundoran, Belfast, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Carstairs, Amsterdam, Brussels, Brugge, Paris, Lyon, Bedheilac, Barcelona, Madrid, Lisboa, Porto, Lagos, Mijas, Sevilla, Milano, Roma, Firenze, Padova, Napoli and we're (currently) on the train to Siena, then Bologna for New Years, Venezia, maybe Verona, back to London, Tel Aviv, maybe Greece, probably Amman (going to Petra) and back in February. Not that you asked, but I do like to share. I'm good that way.

So, let's see. First? Alcohol. We haven't had any real ale in London yet. That's on "tap" for our next go-through in a couple of weeks. Ireland? we went on a tour of the Guinness brewery at St. James' Gate, and the beer isn't going to get any fresher than that! But, beer in Ireland, along with a lot of others things is expensive. Five euros a pint easily. Beer was less expensive in Northern Ireland, but the selection was somewhat lacking. We also didn't find that Irish whiskey was as challenging/interesting as Scotch whisky. (Note the "e" in whiskey is dropped from Irish to Scotch, which could be part of the reason why Glaswegian is such a hard "dialect" of English to understand)

Scotland? WOW!!! The beer was cheap as borscht and DEE-LISH! Sadly, we couldn't get to BrewDog, but we did have some super sexy microbrews that were DYNO-MITE! For about two pounds ($4) a pint. The scotch? YUMMERS!!! Great tour at Glenmorangie, where we bought some wee bottles that were gone by Paris, but the tour at The Macallan wasn't quite as stellar. I think it had to do with the woman at Glenmorangie really enjoying what she did, and she fed off the interest and passion of the people on the tour, and the woman at The Macallan just doing a job. The scotch at The Macallan is worth going for, as they really do have some of the world's best. That we missed our appointment for the tutored tasting is one of the disappointments of our trip. But hey, s**t happens!

There is some great bottled beer to be had in the UK, Amsterdam and Belgium, but the quality drops off quite a bit in France, Spain, Portugal and Italy. It's not to say that you can't get some "good" beer, but there's not much GREAT beer to be had. The beer in Amsterdam was good, but nothing really stands out like Deuchars IPA or Belhaven's Best in Scotland. The France beer was particularly lacking in quality, but the inexpensive wine in the Pyrenees from Aldi (the German supermarket chain that owns Trader Joe's in the U.S.) is not to be scoffed at. VERY drinkable wine for one-to-two euros a bottle. 750 mL and sometimes 1 litre! Red was the preference, and has been along most of the trip.

The wine in Portugal was inexpensive, as it has been in Spain and Italy, and the port in Porto was HEAVENLY!!! Again, the tour at Taylor's was better than Calem, but one tour did a good job of filling in the blanks, or reinforcing a point/concept that was said at the first. The port/chocolate tasting at Kopke was really nice, and inspired more of the same back at our hotel.

Sherry in Jerez, Spain was an experience, as the Sandeman tour was a bit of a farce, and the Pepe Tio one was an adventure, but much better. Still, I'm not much of a fan of sherry, and wasn't much of a fan of French brandy (I prefer cognac) and Spanish brandy didn't move any more than the French has.

We haven't done a grappa or wine tour, though we're hoping to do both before we leave the country, but the wine has been PHENOMENAL!!! Again, red, but the prosecco has been very nice. ESPECIALLY in/on the first class cars while riding on our (now expired Eurail pass). FREE wine/prosecco is a perk that makes the ride that much better. Then again, so does the two or three euro bottle that gets opened with the Swiss Army "jack" knife, that has come in handy in the hostels we've been in. More on that later.

We hope to do some form of a wine tour in Israel, but we'll see about that.

So that's alcohol. I've been drinking a lot, that's for sure. But because it's not cheap to drink "out" in most places, we've been doing more buying of bottles (beer and wine) and having our drinks that way. I don't know that I've been "drunk" once. I've been legally intoxicated, but haven't been driving (other than the adventure(s) in Scotland and Spain), so I haven't had to worry about that.

Food. London: SPECTACULAR Bengali/Indian at Shampan (Thanks John Arvanitis!!!) and Jodi already knew about Wagamama, but HOLY COW! What a great place. Not to be missed. "Fast food", Asian fusion, relatively inexpensive and fun. 'Nuff said. The food in Dublin was pretty good, but not great. Galwasy was the Oyster Festival, and otherwise we ate a MASSIVE baked potato that was quite over-priced. But remember, everything in Ireland is expensive! Tubercurry was our WWOOF experience, and an "experience" it was. The food wasn't great, but hey, we didn't go hungry. LOTS of tea. If there's something we've learned, the English know how to make tea! For starters they boil the friggin' water, which my mom has always done. She probably learned from her Scotland-born mom.

Bundoran was an out-of-season seaside town, and I made some mean pan-fried trout on Jodi's suggestion. Belfast was a mish-mash of things, which included me making a pasta/salad that i didn't much like. Jodi said it was good, but maybe it's because we were sleeping in twin beds that she was feeling overly generous with compliments. I wonder if she was afraid of this becoming a sleeping habit, since she does dig the cuddling (WHO DOESN'T!?!?!) but doesn't dig the snoring.

Edinburgh was SUPERB fish 'n chips, but painfully disappointing salads, which is a theme that seemed to continue through much of the UK. They don't seem to place much emphasis on good raw veggies. Oh well. Live 'n learn. While the Scottish will (and do!) fry anything/everything, they do make some good food otherwise. Another GREAT curry experience in Glasgow at The Wee Curry Shop. So good, that I went twice. Once with Jodi, and once on my own, after the Hajj to Granny Grey Goose's (AKA Aggie Baggie AKA Grandma AKA Agnes Balfour nee McIntyre) first home. Which I'm not 100% sure I found, but the car was stolen/graffiteed and I wasn't jacked for my camera. So it was an overall success. Not to mention that I navigated from Carstairs to Shettlestone to Glasgow. On my own. (I'm currently patting myself on the back, with my damaged (?) left arm. I think it's from pickaxing in the Pyrenees. More on that later.)

Carstairs was Jamie...errr.....Alex's fine food. He made a tasty haggis and neeps, and I'm psyched to try to make haggis from scratch. When we're in our own place. Which we need to find, since we sold our place in Toronto. Alex & Zoe's place in Carstairs was fantastic. Great people, good fun, and they just got engaged. It's about time she made an honest man out of him. He loves Jamie Oliver (and even though a certain Brit living in the Pyrenees calls him a fat tongued f**ker, Jodi and I dig his style too!) and has some "fun" hair likes Mr. Oliver's.

Amsterdam and Paris were two cities were we didn't eat out much, but instead put the money into "culture". Museums and metro passes mainly. In fact, we didn't eat out in Paris, but for the baguettes we got daily around the corner from our apartment in Montmartre.

I don't remember much fantastic food-wise from Brussels and Brugge, but I do remember the tourist-trap restaurants in Brussels, pushing their mussels. The mussels in Brussels were good, but not great. Better than a Jean-Claude van Damme movie, that's fer sure!

Lyon was SPECTACULAR, thanks to Corinne, who took us out to dinner at a fantastic place called Les Olivier. SO GOOD! This was also when Jodi was recuperating from a bout of stomach issues, which started up again in Barcelona. Speaking of Barca, we didn't each much in Spain other than bocadillos (sandwiches) as we were trying to balance Jodi's stomach unhappiness with my need/desire for food. MUCH jamon and queso, AKA ham 'n cheese. BUT GOOD!!!! SOOOOOO VERY GOOD!!!

In Bedheilac, at the gite/B&B, we ate well. Lots of homemade yummy food. Between Jon, Deb, Joe (Joe's WORLD FAMOUS pasta!) and myself, there was no one going hungry. We were cooking and baking and eating dark chocolate and drinking red wine and working hard (sometimes) and having fun (most of the time).

In Portugal and Spain, there is a lot of fish to be had - well in the south of Spain - and we ate a lot of fish in Lagos and some in Porto and Lisboa. It's salty, but tasty. REALLY tasty. Simply prepared and inexpensive - along with the wine - at just about every restaurant we were in. The salads weren't much better in Portugal, but at least they were larger. MUCH larger, but with iceberg lettuce, tomato, onion, carrots and sometimes egg and tuna. Ugh with the egg and tuna, but hey, it's food. So I ate it. Canned corn too!

None of us were overly impressed with the food in the south of Spain, but this could have to do with the English and Germans who seem to own a lot of real estate. Hipercor, the grocery arm of El Corte Ingles (just for you Gitta!!!) is HUGE and tonnes of fun. If you like to grocery shop. Their Scotch was cheap too. Oh ya. If you're going to buy Scotch in Europe, go to Spain. For some reason it's cheaper than France, which is MUCH cheaper than Scotland. Taxes are the issue. A bottle of $200 Cardhu in Ontario is $50 (30 euros) in France and $35 (22 euros) in Barcelona. Generally speaking though, the selection is lacking.

Also, duty-free in Gatwick and Malaga weren't very good. Duty-free between Canada and the U.S. is VERY good, and I'm hoping that Heathrow's is as good as advertised by others. That said, because of the European Union, you can only buy duty free in Europe when leaving the E.U. Just an FYI.

The food in Sevilla wasn't super as Spanish cuisine, but we did have a very tasty (and annoyingly entertaining) meal with Wally & Gitta. We had some really good tapas in Marbella , disappointing tapas in Fuengirola and so-so tapas at El Plaza Mayor (an outlet mall with an enh Nike outlet).

Italia. Well....we've had SUPER pizza in Milano, ORGASMIC pizza in Napoli (we went back again because it was so good! 'A Pizzettata di Sandro e Peppe) and so-so pizza in Napoli. We've had feh risotto in Roma, and SPECTACULAR pasta in Roma (Ditirambo) and at 'A Pizzettata in Napoli (Gnocchi in a rose sauce). We haven't been looking much for salads, but their side veggies have been YUMMERS!!! Spinach, eggplant and escarole to name a few that come to mind.

Maya made a yummy Israeli curry in Padova, and I have now made my brownies in two countries on the trip. I think Israel is next. It's amazing how difficult/stressful it is to bake in someone else's kitchen. Corn syrup, cocoa, demerara brown sugar and baking powder are four ingredients I take for granted at home. Also, salted butter isn't always easy to find and not everyone has a Kitchen-Aid "mixmaster".

There has been a lot of panini (sandwiches) being eaten in Italy to go along with the pig 'n cheese theme established in Spain. In fact, it's very easy to eat carbs 'n meat 'n cheese with every meal here.

Speaking of meals, I would be remiss if I didn't mention coffee. The coffee, of which I am a big fan, has been REALLY wide in quality spectrum while away. Starbuck is a fave at home, but I do love to make a pot of drip coffee (I miss our old coffeemaker, but we'll get a new one when we're back. I hope that Em has been using it!) and enjoy it while doing whatever at home. Starbucks was a bit of a godsend in the UK, as BT (British Telecom) has a deal with them, that if you have a Starbucks card in good standing, that your WiFi is free at their locations. So, we bought one in the UK and one in Ireland, and we had WiFi if it wasn't where we were staying.

I don't miss the fact that I haven't had Starbucks in months. The coffee otherwise has been great. When it's percolated/brewed and not made with hot water and instant coffee. Homey don't play that!!! Caffe con leche in Spain is great, since they heat the milk, and I do love espresso, thanks to Sheila getting me on to it years ago at her parents' place in Bolton.

Sleeping. Hmmmm....there have been good and bad experiences, and just because hostelworld.com or booking.com says one thing, doesn't always mean it's the case. We have had better than expected experiences, like fresh/yummy pastries and coffee made for us in Napoli, great breakfasts and large rooms with great showers and bathrooms, and less-than-stellar experiences - musty rooms, noisy beds, tiny rooms, construction dust coming in, shared bathrooms, no toilet seats, flooding showers....

It's to be expected when you're traveling on a tight budget for 20 weeks.

People. If you're able to handle/enjoy Toronto, Montreal, Chicago, L.A., New York, you'll be fine in London and Paris. The only thing is that speaking (some) French comes in handy in Paris. Just as an FYI. Dublin and Galway had genuinely nice and helpful people, and what they say about the Irish and their charm and talking the craic ("crack") is VERY true. Belfast, because of it's long history of violence and religious/political issues was a place we were warned about, but it was GREAT! We met some great people and it was delighful. In a big city way.

I was psyched about Scotland and I wasn't let down. My enthusiasm for the country was evident/obvious and people picked up on it, which helped a ton. I loved Edinburgh and Glasgow, even if Glaswegian might as well be Swedish or Dutch as far as understanding what people are saying. The city is now employing translators to help native English speakers to understand what Glaswegians are saying. Now that's funny!

Amsterdam and Belgium were great, and the people were people. Not much to say. One thing I've discovered is that if you try to speak a few words in someone's native tongue, and ask if they speak English, you can usually figure out what you need to know. Even if it involves drawing pictures, writing down numbers/letters or miming.

Barcelona was a city that had us paranoid, as Jodi was robbed of her day bag 15 years ago, but like Madrid, it's a big city with charm. Like Paris or London I suppose, but with the edge of the fear of being pickpocketed.

The biggest surprise for me was how much I loved Portugal. I'm planning on going back there, as I consider it a "home", the way I do Toronto, Montreal, L.A., Chicago, New York and Scotland. I just belong there, because it feels "right". The people are fantastic! So helpful.

Italy's been interesting. GREAT people everywhere, especially the warm hospitality in Napoli with Andrea, and the way that people walk arm-in-arm and kiss like crazy. Guys, girls, men, women, kissing cheeks and making out like mad ALL OVER NAPOLI!!!! Napoli's a bit rough around the edges and chaotic, but an adventure.

I guess that's about it. I've been at this for an hour and I figure it's time to edit some photos. OH YA!!! Pictures. THOUSANDS of pictures. Some experimental, some planned. Some where I missed the shot(s) and some where I nailed it. Jodi's been doing a great job of finding more of a "photographer's eye" as the trip has gone along, probably having to do with spending more time with the D-SLR/Canon. She shot well before, but having more time, desire and better subject matter would seem to bring out the intangibles in most of us.

I've been shooting reflections, shadows, low-light for "movement" in the shot, urinals, bathroom signs and any manner of other nonsense that amuses me.

Transportation. Italians don't sign their Metro or train stations well. Ryanair was a rougher landing than Easyjet (but we still have an Easyjet flight to go!). Second-class trains in most countries are better than most Portuguese trains. Overnight trains aren't all their cracked up to be - EXCEPT for the breakfast coffee between Madrid and Lisboa. Don't automatically buy city passes for transit and museums until you're sure you're going to go to the sights AND they're open the days you want to go. Some countries aren't very diligent in checking tickets on the trains (Italy) or Metro (Napoli - open gates are GREAT, but the station employees who just wave you through and/or open closed gates for you when you either don't have a ticket or your ticket expired, are even better!) but it's a good idea to have them. Also, in Napoli, say you have the "Arte Card" but forget it in your room and you'll probably be able to travel for free.

Photos. No flash means no flash. That is unless you're everyone else who doesn't seem to know how to turn their flash off, or use their camera without a flash, in which case they just ignore the signs. No museum/gallery/church/sight seems willing to do anything about it, other than say, "No flash" or better yet (Sistine Chapel, are you reading this?) "NO PHOTO!!!" ('cause they want to sell postcards) UNLESS (that is UNLESS UNLESS UNLESS) the guard knows you, in which case you not only take a picture, but with flash no less. F**KIN' hypocrite jackasses.

Some people (Pompeii) thought it was a good idea to enter "NO ENTRY" zones to pretend they were back in ancient times. This is not only a foul idea, but a bad picture. Wearing modern clothes doesn't make you look like you're back in 79 AD. Maybe if you strip naked in the brothel and simulate a position shown on the wall. That might be a good shot! Otherwise, just stay on the "right" side of the barriers. After all, it's people like you that are destroying the art/monuments of the world.

It's not people like me, who take no flash shots of the Sistine Chapel, David and probably a few other famous things. Things that need to be shot and shared, so that people will continue to visit them and be in SHEER and UTTER AWE OF THEIR MAJESTY!!! Oh well, they probably need Saul Colt (AKA The World's Smartest Man - which isn't saying much since men are dumb!) to help them word of mouth marketing. http://wwww.saulcolt.com. Enh. Who am I kidding? The whole world knows about the Sistine Chapel and Michaelangelo's David. But the whole world doesn't know about the Cappuchin Crypt, so it's a good thing I shot that when i wasn't supposed to!

Right?

:)

Oh ya, LET THE INGREDIENTS SPEAK FOR THEMSELVES! This is something I've learned in Italy, and will practice when the ingredients are good enough to stand up on their own. Otherwise, they'll need layering of flavours.

That's it for now.

La Dolce Vita or Living La Vida Loca

First off, I left off on the way to Roma.

Roma, Roma, Roma.

The land of the Pope. By the time you're reading this, you will have heard for sure that the Pope was knocked down by a woman during Christmas services. It wasn't Jodi!

Our place in Roma was quite nice. The staff were great, and it was a few blocks from a Metro station, and around the corner from the Vatican. We did spend some good quality time at the Vatican, with Benny - who we had an audience with. It was kind of surreal to be there. Not just because I'm Jewish, but because I haven't experienced a high school pep rally religious event.

The Pope held court, well....as only the Pope or Queen (or a queen!) really could. He sat in his seat/throne, and there was cheering, signs (B-E-N-E-D-I-C-T-E!!!), balloons, flags and the like - much like you'd expect before an American high school football game. He read his shpiel in Italian, and then it was translated/synopsized by him into French, English, German, and then some other fellas did Polish and Portuguese. It's great that's he's able to do so many languages, but I wonder if people that speak Portuguese and Polish feel that he's giving them the shaft. And no, that's not a slam at the pedophile Roman Catholic priests.

Honest.

Getting the tickets, which were free, was an adventure. Jodi said that we should see about getting tickets, on the Monday before the Papal address. I went online and found a website that said you should order them a few weeks before. Minimum. WELL...I played the newlywed card, and emailed them in the hopes of getting the tickets. Not that I'm religious, let alone Catholic or a believer that Jesus Christ was anything more than a Jewish fella who had a following. Much like me. I'm a Jewish fella that has a following, but I'm not able to walk on water, turn water into wine, or any of those other miracles Jesus is purported to have done, but I have some crazy mad skills in the kitchen.

But enough about me, my delusions/visions of grandeur, and sugar plum fairies dancing in my head.

They emailed me back and congratulated us on our wedding (I left out the Jewish part!) and told us that we could indeed come to the church and pick up the tickets. Which is great, except for the fact that we went to the Vatican to pick up our tickets. We spent some good quality time going through security checks and talking to several groups/pairings of Swiss Guards (Nice outfits fellas!!!) who had no idea what we were talking about.

We knew that we had to get the tickets before 6:00 or so, and it was almost 5:00. (That's 18:00 and 17:00 in European time, which they're fond of over on this side of the Atlantic!) So, frustrated, we went back to our B&B to check and see if I could find the website again, to see what we needed to do to pick up the tickets.

Not only had they sent us an email that had the address for the church (Santa Susanna), we also had until 6:45 to go find the church and Father Tom, who had the tickets. With Jodi's superb navigating skills (and I may give her the gears about getting us lost from time-to-time, she's got a REALLY good sense of direction, reads maps really well and dammit, is nowhere near as geographically challenged as I am!) we got there, found Father Tom, made a 5 euro donation to the church for the tickets - that and the money for the Vatican Museums and climb up the dome at St. Peter's Basilica is the last money the Roman Catholic church is getting from me until they realize that abortion and homosexuality are not wrong/sins, and that they need to enter the modern era.

Quick, fast and in a hurry. No worries. Flavor Vision ain't blurry. (This Public Enemy break has been brought to you by the word "Gay", the concept "Womens' Right to Control What Happens to their Body", and enough with the church not dealing with the problem of pedophile priests. There's obviously something wrong with the "system" if priests are molesting children/boys. Fix it, or perish in a fiery inferno of wrath and righteousness. But that's just my two cents worth.)

The audience was weird, in that I don't attend services as a Jew. Though, I have been going to Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur services with Jodi and her parents the last couple of years. It's interesting, in that I don't pray (I can read Hebrew, but I don't know what I'm reading!), but end up looking around and sort of spending time thinking about me and my life. That reflection is good and healthy, but I've been doing a fair bit of that while away on this trip and suspect that I'll be doing more of it when we return from our travels. It's part and parcel of being an educator, to be a reflective practitioner, and something that I spent a lot of time doing last year while in a difficult spot of having a tough class, in a different division (4/5 (junior) versus kindergarten) and obviously new curriculum, and teaching styles needed as a result.

I don't know that I have much place for religion in my life. I know that I was born Jewish, and that my grandmother was born Scottish Presbyterian. I know that I have cousins who are observant Jews and cousins who are living with non-Jews. I have a Jewish brother-in-law and a non-Jewish sister-in-law, and those of you who know me and my life, know that Jewish doesn't make anyone better or worse in my life.

So, me and religion are currently on the outs.

I think that churchs displays of ostentatious wealth - the gold, silver, marble, statues, paintings and the like - is disgusting. Don't stand up on the pulpit and preach charity when the killings and starvation that have occured (and continue to occur) in the name of relgion have left our world in a sad state of affairs. The wealth of the Roman Catholic Church (and the monarchies of several countries - England namely) would go a long, long, LONG way to help developing countries and continents, and aid with global warming.

It's beautiful, and nauseating, pretty much simultaneously.

The churches/basilicas/duomos are huge, yet barely get used. I'm not suggested tearing them down, but perhaps it's time to re-evaluate the role of religion in the world. I'm just throwing it out there. Believe me, I know that I'm not expecting people to jump up and applaud, but I think it's a dialogue worth having.

Roma was also the continuation of my leather bag quest. A satchel. A man bag. A murse. We had been looking at several places while in Milano, but they were either too expensive or not what I was looking for. It was the same in Roma. Except far too often we'd chance on a store with leather bags that looked like they might do the trick, but the store was closed, and we weren't returning to that neck of the woods again.

The showers at our place weren't great. They APPARENTLY had 50 litres of hot water, but there only seemed to be about 2 or 3 by the time I got in the shower. Morning, afternoon or night. So, shaving for my Papal audience involved a lot of cold water. Thankfully, I didn't cut my head, like I did in Malaga. Jodi made us some MEAN cappuchino. I didn't know she had the crazy mad barista skills, until she reminded me that she worked at Second Cup about 20 years ago. We had some yummy wafers from their "breakfast bar" - chocolate and vanilla - that I kept putting into a sandwich bag and we'd eat them through the day. And night!

We ate some enh to REALLY good food in Roma. We were looking for a place in our book that gave free wine with dinner. Maybe they went out of business for giving away the free wine, but we ate at the place that replaced them. This place was owned by the same people that had the place across AND down the street. In fact, Jodi had to go down the street to use the loo. In any event, there was us and an Asian guy in there. The food was enh. We at a super yummy place called Dititrambo (no connection to Sly Stallone so far as I can tell!), and started with our pattern of sharing a salad, and having a pasta/primi each. In Italy they serve a primi (starter) and secondi (entree). Some places have larger primis and secondis, much like you'd find places all over that serve larger portions. It was really hit and miss, and no matter what your guidebook(s) say, you only learn by experience.

TV in our room was an adventure. Once we figured out how to turn on the TV/satellite, we had about 1000 channels, of which about ten were in English. EVERY language under the sun, including a myriad of Arabic/Middle Eastern channels. We watched WAY too much BBC World News, but their programming is pretty good. Some good interview shows. A WWII POW who is 93 and a great interview (done by a new fave: Steve Sackur (sic), who also did the next one), and a chippy chap with a bunch of people involved with the Copenhagen talks - the head of the Maldives, the South African Environmental Minister, the Swedish (?) leader and Mexico's leader. I can never remember who has a PM and who has a President, so we'll go with leader and head. REALLY interesting panel discussion. My bottomline on the environment is that everyone needs to get their S**T together before we really destroy the Earth. We're certainly well on our way to do that. Those of you that know my love for Joe Rogan standup have heard my sandwich/bacteria analogy, and I stick to it. We're bacteria and the Earth is a sandwich. All we're doing is eating it up.

We're eating the freakin' sandwich!

There was also entertaining porn ad channels, that rotated between women talking on the phone (or pretending to talk on the phone) or women slowly taking their clothes/bikinis off. The latter was FAR superior to the former, but still painfully inferior and lacking in quality. In any event, if the BBC World News was something I'd seen - they also had a great piece on athletes and depression - then I'd flip channels. Oh, and the women talking/pretending to talk on the phone would often have pretty good music in the background, frequently from the 80s and 90s, which made the channels somewhat (SOMEWHAT!!!) more compelling.

We ate some good pizza in Roma - Hostaria Da Dino and Bafletto come to mind - and some KILLER gelato. San Crispino for sure.

We went to the Colisseum (the outside) and couldn't quite figure out how to get into the Forum or Palatine Hill - which is just as good, since I probably would have found them PAINFULLY boring. I'm not too good with "old stuff" that isn't overly interesting. Seeing something because it's old and famous is like going to see that older relative who smells like rose water or moth balls. Except you have to go see that older relative and that old thing while away isn't mandatory/the "right" thing to do.

But that's just me.

In Firenze (Florence, not to beconfused with "Mel, KISS MY GRITS!!!" Flo, from "Alice") we wandered around, and found THE LEATHER MARKET!!! But we didn't have any money. Which is where the adventure began, since I didn't want to find the bag, AKA THE BAG!!!!!, only to find that we couldn't pay for it.

Both our cards were not accepted in any bank machine. We probably tried a half-dozen, until we were outside the Duomo and found a bank machine that would allow us to withdraw money. Maybe it was divine intervention, or maybe it was just a good connection with our bank. Regardless, we had euros and went off in search of dead animal skin.

After looking at about 50 booths, Jodi bought a purple purse (the "in" colour in Europe this season, and both of our fave colour, along with green. Go figure, they were our wedding colours!) and I got a black satchel/man bag. (Thanks to Carly and Lavinia for suggesting Firenze's leather market on market day!)

It seems that Italy has a thing for toilets with no seats, in restaurants. It may have to do with men peeing on the seats, or something else, but it's something we saw quite a few times.

It was cold and snowy in Firenze. Even by Canadian/Toronto standards. Not quite by Montreal or Winnipeg standards mind you, which is why it's called Winterpeg by so many. And to think that we're possibly going to be house-sitting in Montreal in February! Since we sold our place in Toronto, we're homeless. YAY!!! We're not stuck with our place anymore. Mind you, we also have no place to go back to AND we're also going to need to go house shopping in a reviving market. Ugh and yay, I suppose.

We went to go see my namesake in Firenze. At the Academie is the original. There was also a Robert Mapplethorpe exhibition, which I really enjoyed. I've always admired his work, and to see his work compared to Michaelangelo's (side-by-side) was really cool and quite a highlight. Yes, I took a shot of David, as we were on our way out. It's strictly forbidden, but I still took one! That's how I role. Then we saw a copy in Pizzale Michaelangelo and also in Piazza Della Signoria. THREE DAVIDS IN ONE DAY!!! I had a lot of fun snapping all three of them, and got several shots of the copies, all in different light.
On our way up to the Pizzale Michaelangelo, the steps were SUPER icy, and that's when I found out that Jodi is afraid of walking/falling on ice!!! A Canadian woman who goes skiing, but is afraid of ice. Sure, none of us want to fall, but after a life in Toronto and Montreal I'm surprised by this.

Piazza Della Signoria was fun, as the Italian art seemed to be just as much art as porn. Well, in my mind at least. I tend to view things just a wee bit different from others. Those reading this should know this by now.

We had planned to go to Camucia, and another HelpX/farmstay, but unfortunately owing to the snow/ice they couldn't get the gas delivery through. That meant to hot water or cooking fuel, and not much by way of quality of life. So, we got in touch with Jodi's cousin Maya, who is studying vet meds in Padova (Padua), and she told us we could come to stay with her - which we were going to do anyway, after our farmstay.

So, we had a good time with Maya. Had a Jewish/Israeli Christmas dinner, which was interesting and fun, to say the least. We wandered around. Lazed around. Grocery shopped in the market - not cheap, but hopefully local - and like other markets, it was very tasty and fresh. The peppers liked delicious, the cabbage was crisp and yummy, the onions were ONIONY! Yum.

In Italy they have their own version of "Deal or No Deal", which is SUPER WEIRD, but it's weirder not knowing the language. In HD it's even more weird, as you see all the bad makeup jobs that the people did themselves.

And so now, we're on the train from Padova to Napoli. Going for pizza. 6.5 hours for pizza. Okay, maybe more than just pizza. We're hoping to get a HelpX with a couple in the south. REALLY in the south. If they're not interested in taking us, then we'll probably head to the Amalfi coast and figure our time out from there. We've been looking to head to Venezia (Venice) and maybe Verona, but that might be on the way back to Milano.

Who knows where the wind will blow us.

Me and Spain, Spain and Me

Spain and I have a complicated relationship.

It started back when I first traveled there with my friend Rachel, in the heyday of our youth. We took an overnight train from Paris, and spent a sleepless night in upright seats, punctuated with a stopover in the Basque Pyrenees, on a tiny, freezing train platform waiting for a midnight connection – we did not know that France and Spain do not share train systems (still true).

When we arrived in Madrid, we experienced the culture shock inherent in moving from a country where you do speak the language to one where you start to rely largely on sign language. I still retain strong – and highly amusing – memories of a very helpful tapas bar employee who signed “pollo” (chicken) and “pescado” (fish) for us quite graphically. We stumbled around in the heat of siesta looking for a laundromat that was open; we stumbled upon a free open-air pop concert by a local star. We visited museums and I tried in vain to get a glimpse of the Guernica past a wall of oblivious Israelis on a guided tour they were paying absolutely no attention to. So Madrid was a bit of a mixed bag.

Seville was definitely a highlight, full of ochre-coloured winding streets flanked by romantic balconies and filled with patios of students enjoying glasses of tinto de verrano and sangria. Our little pension was adorable, and lively with like-minded budget travellers with whom we sought out, and found, small bars with spontaneous flamenco performances.

We spent only enough time in Granada to visit the Alhambra, which was magnificent, and my only other memory of that city was that they wouldn't let us sit on the grass in the parks; the police were very vigilant, but there weren't many benches as alternatives.

Then we hit Barcelona. The morning of our arrival from Granada, on an overnight train via Madrid, my daypack and all its contents were stolen from beside me as I sat on a bench eating, distracted by some gypsies playing with a newborn kitten in the square (yes, it's an old trick, but I was a new traveller). We had to leave ASAP to get my passport reissued, and we didn't return.

So I have mixed feelings about Spain. On the one hand, I know there are all sorts of things to love about it. On the other, it just doesn't seem to want me get too close.

This time, we arrived in Barcelona after an awesome stay in the Pyrenees. I was looking forward to giving Barcelona a second chance, but when I woke up our first morning with a crippling nausea that soon became a full-fledged bout with gastroenteritis, I came to the sad realization that Barcelona and I just aren't meant to be.

Sick throughout our short stay in Madrid, too, I was pretty glad to head to Portugal and give Spain a rest for a bit. We'd be heading back, with a focus on the southern area of Andalusia, when my parents joined us at the beginning of December.

David's recapped most of Portugal and some of Spain. I'll add some of the videos we took in Spain for some additional highlights. Fortunately, Spain mostly redeemed itself in those two weeks we spent with my parents, though I have to agree with Dad in that southern Spain's cuisine just doesn't really do it for me in the way that some other local cuisines do. But the weather was great, the scenery spectacular, and the cities definitely worth visiting. Just take our advice: don't try to drive there.

We stayed in a town called Mijas, about a 20 minute drive from Malaga, in a little place called Casita Janine. It was a cute little guesthouse up a very steep hill above the town, and the view was unreal – on a clear day you could see as far as the mountains of the Moroccan coastline. It also had its own little olive and orange trees. David tried the olives without realizing that they're not usually very good unless they've been brined. But he also decided to try the oranges, despite a disappointing encounter with the oranges free for the picking all over Lisbon, which were VERY sour (I kept telling him they were ornamental only, but he didn't believe me).



Among the things we did that I hadn't done on my last trip to Spain, we decided to go to Gibraltar, just for the novelty of it, and it is indeed a pretty odd experience to walk across a border where the guards basically just glance at your passport as you hold it up. It really is just a rock jutting up out of the ocean off the coast, and absolutely packed from stem to stern with people trying to take advantage of the shopping there. Truth be told, we didn't see much in the way of bargains, plus they give an awful exchange on the Euro and none of us had brought any pounds sterling.

The other main thing to see on Gibraltar is the “colony” of Barbary apes, which are really a species of tailless monkey. While signs all over the place warn you that they are wild animals, they're pretty tame, and wander past tourists nonchalantly, doing their own thing (much to the amusement of said tourists).

They play



and groom one another



and just generally frolic and are cute. And that was Gibraltar.

Seville lent itself most to video, although sadly there's none of the flamenco show we saw because we were specifically asked not to take video (though we were encouraged to photograph).


We had arrived in time for a major festival day – the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. I'm not really sure why it's an important festival, or why the Virgin Mary's lack of original sin would be cause for all the kids to be out of school, and all shops closed, but the major street was closed off for endless processions of marching bands!

The band that was playing when I took out my camera had a Mary Poppins repertoire, but they didn't oblige while I was filming, so you can kind of ignore the latter part of this first clip:



Check out the guys salsa dancing in the background in this one (starting at about 0:45):



And, just one more, cause marching bands are fun:



Seville also has the stunning Alcazar, a royal residence that's still in use. Its gardens sport one of two surviving hydraulic “singing” fountains in Europe. We were in time for a performance of that, too!





Our second night in Seville we went to a restaurant recommended by the clerk at our hotel. The restaurant itself was very nice, and the food quite good, the service attentive; however, the space was largely taken up by a family celebrating a birthday, and one of the family members was obnoxiously drunk. We gathered the birthday boy's name was Joe, and that he had turned 25, mainly because Drunken Lout Family Member kept toasting him with barely-decipherable but obtrusively loud cheers of "Viva Joe!" I tried to get some discreet video/audio, but he wasn't obligingly obnoxious during the few seconds I was filming. You can hear how loud he is, still.



At one point, he was so bad that I think the maitre d' went over to their table to express his concern, possibly about his getting home ok.

After they cleared out, the restaurant staff were very apologetic. But they didn't realize that, in fact, we'd been provided with some prime entertainment! Nothing like drunken locals for your local colour of the night.

Our local colour the next day came unexpectedly in the form of some UK football fans who had come down to Seville for a match that afternoon or evening. We could hear their chanting in the streets even from inside the Cathedral (which I'm sure thrilled the folks who like to keep their cathedrals nice and quiet and, you know, sacred).



On further investigation, we discovered that they were, to be precise, Glasgow fans, and David shared a bonding moment with them, revealing to one that he had Glaswegian ancestral roots.



I would have liked to get video of the dancing Andalusian horses we saw in Jerez, but they were very vigilant about cameras. I would also have liked to get video of our tour guide at the Sandeman sherry winery, but our tour guide was awful and self-conscious enough with her English already, I think, that to subject her to filming might have made her thoroughly unintelligible instead of just moderately so.

Cordoba didn't have much to film, though I bet the lady who had the grilled chicken stand would gladly have obliged, since she was very happy to give us an impromptu Spanish lesson with our order!

So anyway, our second (third?) go at Spain was clearly much better, but I still wonder if another try someday might improve my overall appreciation, or if, really, I should just let it lie and stick to other countries.

Like Italy! (Which is where we are now.)

P.S. - I've added a map to our blog so you can track all the places we've been to since the beginning of our trip. I'll try to update it each time we update the blog.