Tales of Me and the Husband

weekend links.

Parker, doing as the Italians do, and wetting his hat in the fountains on a hot day.  I love how these spouts are located throughout the city at random spots, and how they’re safe to drink from too.

“A mother wears the burden silently. Deep within you, always, always, you are fighting back the desire to not let them go.”  I resonated so much with this.  Do all mothers find it as heartbreaking as I do?

Changing gears.  There is probably no meal I’d take over a good burger.  Here’s some tips on perfecting yours.

“When was the last time your traveling friends posted about insomnia due to flight anxiety, or feeling out of sync with family members back home?”  The dark side of traveling!  (And, it’s true.  The first night in Milan when I was in a pitch black hotel room, hungry, with Anders awake and Steve snoring… well, I didn’t instagram that.)

Alice Waters’ ten favorite books.

The Brass girls (Katie and Jay) are so great.  I’ve had the pleasure of hanging out with them (for work?  Can hardly call it that!  But you’ll see me over on their site!) twice now and it’s just so much fun.  The last time, they put together some video of me–scroll down!  (Anders makes a cameo too.).  Thanks ladies!

The green ones!  Ooh, or these, which are so pretty (I’ve been eyeing Soludos for awhile, any owners?  Like them?).

These 12 lighting DIYs are so great.  I could not pull even one of them off, however.  Okay, maybe the Ikea bowl one.

Have a good weekend!

American breakfasts, gelato, and rain in Orvieto.

Tonight it rained and immediately everything cooled down.  It came fast and furious and windows were swinging shut and we were racing around the apartment closing them, deciding which direction the rain was coming, opening them again to invite the cool air in.  
When evening came, Anders started to stir after I thought he’d be down for the night, so I suggested we take a walk with him.  I put him in the sling in only a diaper (cool, yes, but not so cool yet; it had been 100 degrees!), and Steve and I went out.  There was live music, and a big group of people heading into the theatre.  There were empty wine glasses, sometimes several on one tiny table, and laughter.  People stopped to look at Anders, he gives them a smile.  I had randomly come across Marlena De Blasi when reading something on Orvieto online and then, who do I see sitting there with her husband eating at a cafe on the Via del Duomo, but her (I bet you guessed it.).  I haven’t read her books, so it didn’t mean much to me.  Mostly just funny that I had come across her name moments earlier.  (Any fans out there?)
We need to watch our spending–especially when it comes to eating out (such an easy place to unknowingly spend so much)–and so we decided against everything but a small gelato.  I said, “Piccolo, coppeta.  Pistachio y stracciatella.”  I string these words together, smiling while I do, almost like an invitation for them to laugh at me if they want to (need to!), but still it does get my point across because, lo and behold, I got a small cup with pistachio and stracciatella!  I’ve had three gelato so far, and this is my favorite combination and the one I think I’ll keep going back to.  I usually stick to fruity flavors–lemon, strawberry.  But I can’t shake this combination.  
While we walked, I had one of those hypothetical if-you-had-all-the-money-in-the-world conversations with Steve (do you have those?).  “If we had tons of money, would you buy an apartment here?”  He said yes, perhaps, but that he’d want to have a purpose, a business.  We decided on an American breakfast joint.  Eggs, bacon, hash browns, enormous pancakes with blueberries, smoothies, giant cups of coffee, cold half-and-half in silver pitchers placed on every table.  Nothing against the Italian breakfast (that I am happily partaking in on the reg) but there’s definitely nothing like an American breakfast place anywhere (at least in Orvieto).  Do you think it’d go over well?  Would the Italians come?

Italian Train Travel, what we’ve learned so far.

Italian Train Travel…what we’ve learned so far.

Bridget asked me, “the husband” in “Tales of Me and the Husband”, to write this post. I’m not sure why. In any case, let’s begin.

Italian trains are a bit tricky. Getting from Milano to Orvieto, for example, is not as simple as you might think. You’re thinking, “just go to the web-site, and book your tickets.” Having tried that several times now, here’s what we’re saying about that suggestion: Forget about it. Evidently, the Tren Italia website was designed by an Italian lover, not a Swiss engineer. Even on the English version of the site one encounters all sorts of frustrations, including all sorts of words—indeed, crucial words!—left un-translated. In addition, it’s hard to figure out if you’re actually getting the “familia offerta” (which we desperately need); and then, of course, you need to know the differences between the Regional trains (Regionale), the Inter-City trains (IC), and the High Speed trains (Frecciarossa–that one is fun to say), as all of them appear to have their own ways about them too. So, instead of beating your head against a key-board, we have found it really helpful to pop into a local travel agent (watch for the Tren Italia signs out front). These helpful folk are scattered all over Italian towns and, as you’d expect, they know the “ins” and the “outs” of the system. And all the ones we’ve spoken to so far have a pretty good working knowledge of English too (I know, shame on us for not knowing Italian better—but we’re improving as we go, so back off!). For their help you will pay an extra 5 Euro or so for your tickets. But you will also get tickets to a train that is going North to Varenna rather than a train that is going East to Verona; and when you want to go to Varenna, that seems like a pretty good deal.

Of course, you still need to get on the right train at the station and, frankly, that can be a bit tricky too. Here is Milano Centrale, the enormous Station right in the center of Milano. [Insert my pictures of the beautiful station here, please, Bridget?]

[Historical off-topic detour. Here are some fun facts related to Milano Centrale: the station was commissioned by Mussolini in the 1930’s. In 1945, after he was killed (by Italian anti-fascist partisans? British secret service? It doesn’t seem like anyone is really sure), his corpse was hung upside down (with one of his girlfriends and some others) at an Esso gas station just a few miles from this spot. Apparently, Italians wanted to see him dead and throw rocks at his body. One more thing, Mussolini was actually shot just a couple of miles from where we stayed on Lake Como, near Tremezzo, as he tried to escape into nearby Switzerland. Ain’t history grand?]

In any case, as you can see, Milano Centrale is massive (like Lord Farquaad, was Mussolini over-compensating?). Everyone in the station is moving really fast. And everyone looks lost. Everyone. Ask someone for help? Forget about it. And, by all means, don’t let one of the luggage porters outside help you with your bags!! We made that mistake on day one, when trying to get to Lake Como. For his ten minutes of help, he demanded 40 Euro (not 2 like he seemed to indicate when we asked how much when we got out of the Taxi). So, rather than getting in a fist-fight right there in the station, or, worse, having him run off with my daughter like “Taken”—who am I kidding, I don’t have Liam Neeson’s set of skills—I just paid the man. Extortion, plain and simple. Live and learn.

Anyway, we were taking an Inter City train from Milano to Orvieto. But the big, electronic Board you see Bridget looking at here didn’t mention Orvieto at all [insert picture, Bridget, here].

People, Listen!! Italian trains are listed in order by time of departure and BY THEIR FINAL DESTINATION! “Of course”, you say. But when you’re scrambling to find a train to Orvieto, A TRAIN THAT LEAVES IN 15 MINUTES AND IN A MASSIVE STATION A MILE WIDE WITH PLATFORMS A MILE LONG, you gotta know this crucial detail. Your ticket doesn’t tell you that information either. So looking at the board for Orvieto is a waste of time. That’s where your train number and departure time come in really handy. So, when we found those on the board, we saw that our train was listed as Napoli (i.e., Naples; aside: why do we Anglicize some Italian city names? Why do we call it  Rome, when we could call it Roma? Seriously.). And then next to that information, in smaller print, is the scrolling list of stops. If you stand there long enough, you’ll see yours. There was Orvieto right there somewhere in the middle. Thanks be to God. That’s when we got our Platform number too—number 10. More walking. And there’s our train! But wait! Before boarding—did you validate your ticket??? Parker, did you validate your ticket?

Our tickets told us we were booked into coach #7 (a specific car on the train, so watch out for that), and we had specific seats too. Now each little compartment on the train has 6 seats and a door. We didn’t book six seats, because little Anders is free. In hindsight, that’s a mistake. The 6 of us were joined (with all our gear for three months) for our entire 5-hour train-ride by an old Italian fellow who did nothing except offer candy to our kids. Sweet, I know. But after a while, you, as faithful readers, can imagine how Bridget reacted to this. “No grazie”, she kept saying, her voice becoming more animated each time. And then, of course, when Parker realized he was not getting any more free candy (after gelato and cookies already that day–Bridget insists I add), he would begin to whine and cry. At which point, the man would make the offer again (seemingly to make Parker happy), as if he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation (that’s sugar!) or the increasingly emphatic “No grazie.” Well this vicious cycle repeated itself several times during our 5-hour ride.

Add to that annoyance, this: the train kept stopping (sometimes in the middle of nowhere) and when it did, they (who?) would shut off the AC. Was this person not also on the train? or did they do this remotely from some AC’ed HQ? Sitting inside a piece of steel on a nearly 100 degree day with no AC gets to be a bit much. So bring water, dear reader, lots of water. Prepare to enter a flop-sweat.

But don’t drink too much or you’ll need to use the WC (the toilet) on the train. And THAT’S another story all together. How does one say “House-keeping!!” in Italian? Having never been to one, I’m assuming this particular toilet approximated what one might find in a Russian gulag. Important tip: while you’re technically not allowed to use these when the train is stopped at a station, you definitely don’t want to use these toilets when the train is up to speed. I don’t understand the physics of it, but if you use it then, you’re gonna get wet, since the toilet appears, at least on this old train, to be nothing more than a hole straight down to the tracks (maybe it’s like spitting into the wind?). Male readers (are you out there?), I beg you, do NOT stand and pee. Big mistake. Huge! I, for one, will not make it again. Ever. If you do, bring lots of wet-wipes too. And a change of clothes. (P.S. We have been on some other Italian trains where the facilities were immaculate.)

ITALY IN TEN, no. 1.

Italy has the prettiest tomatoes. // And front doors, too
Walking back from Meta with groceries // Our first rainy day in Tremezzo
 
So many Instagrammable vignettes here, it’s ridiculous (also ridiculous?  That I said vignette) // Raspberry gelato at the Milan train station
Parker watering the garden in Tremezzo // Used a Bialetti for the first time and loved it!
Behind the scenes: vacationing with kids // Way too hot to be touched by another human being but Anders don’t care

A new series, ok?  We all love a series (or hate a series; it really goes both ways equally.)  Italy in ten iPhone pictures and in ten facts.

1. Seeing a lot of these in Italy and thus declaring, we’re not so different in fashion after all.
2. Get the milk or yogurt that says Intero on it.  Whole!
3. Italians love babies.  What is that?  It’s a primarily Catholic country so surely there is not a shortage of babies.  Is it the blonde hair on Anders?
4. In Orvieto, almost every day there is something to bring out to the road for trash: glass is one day, plastic another, compost another, normal trash another, so on and so forth.  Every day is trash day!
5. Wine, cheap!  1/4 litro for 3 euros at almost all restaurants.  It’s enough for a glass for both Steve and I and a little more (for me).  You’d be silly not to order it and drink liberally.
6. There’s nothing like lunch meat here.  Salami, prosciutto, yes.  Normal American lunch meat, no.  Steve ordered 5 euros worth of salami the other day and we ate slices as we walked down the street.
7. You know how there’s literally no savings benefit when you go to an American farmer’s market–but you will actually spend top dollar there?  The farmer’s markets here are actually cheaper!
8. Croissants for breakfast–plain, or with cream, with jelly, with chocolate in the middle.  A croissant for everyone!
9. I found bacon at a grocery store.  I bought it.  (ETA: I cooked it and it was more pancetta like and not crispy bacon after all.  We ate it anyway!)
10. When people come up to see Anders, they wave backwards.  The way in the U.S. we wave with our palms facing out, they wave at him with their palms facing in and their fingers bending towards their wrist.

Tremezzo, Lake Como, Italy. Part three.

The stairs up and down to our airbnb.  
And yes, the same stairs that we spilled apples and oranges down while 
the sweet Italian couple were witness to it all.
Villa Carlotta grounds and mansion–beautiful!
Parker’s first gelato of the trip at Villa Carlotta–fragola!  Or strawberry.  
He said, “Mom, I like gelato better than ice cream.”
The perfect angle to see my awesome postpartum hairline!  C/o Anders!
That night we went down to the Greenway–a big green park right along the lake–for swimming.  
It was awesome.  Definitely one of our favorite things we did during our few days there.
If you go, take an entire day to lounge and swim at the lake!  
There’s a little snack bar/restaurant right there too.
Three nearly identical pictures in a row but how is a mother to choose?!  
He’s playing with his Zoe Organics everything balm–
I was sent a travel kit before we left and I LOVE it.
Jumping in!  The water is surprisingly warm for it being so close to the mountains.
A pleasant discovery.
Tremezzo details:
From Milano Centrale–a roughly one-hour train ride to Varenna, then a 1/2 hour ferry ride to Tremezzo (stops along the way and you can hop on and off–e.g. in Bellagio, etc.)
We stayed here at this airbnb.  Highly recommend!  Within a short walk from the greenway, the lake, a pool where you can pay to hang out for the day (Hotel Brittania), small grocers, wine bars, coffee, the beautiful Grand Hotel Tremezzo, Villa Carlotta (20 euro for a family), and various hikes both big and small.  Mattresses aren’t awesome, but otherwise no complaints!
We wish we would’ve rented a boat and had a guided tour (so many really cool villas along the way that, if the history was explained, would’ve been super cool for examples the Villa del Balbianello (Casino Royale and Star Wars), but the one we looked into was 160 euro and we decided against it.  If we knew the tour guide would’ve been awesome (hit or miss!), we maybe would’ve sprung for it? 
Please feel free to ask questions.  I know how many crop up with trips like this and I would love to answer any if you’re considering one yourself–with or without kids!  

Breakfast with Annie’s.

Interrupting Italy posts to bring you some breakfast goodness.  Breakfast is one of my favorite meals (but sometimes my most slow-to-get-my-act-together time of day).  I need a decent sized breakfast or I am ravenous by… nine.  I also like options!  A little of this, a little of that.  A breakfast buffet if you will.  Especially when prepared by someone other than me (k, Steve?  I don’t see the kids taking up this responsibility so it’s all you.)  BREAD AND BUTTER AND BERRIES AND EGGS AND YOGURT AND GRANOLA AND MUFFINS AND BUTTER.  Butter was twice on that list for good reason.  Not a mistake.

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Tremezzo, Lake Como, Italy. Part two.



I’m quickly realizing, if I allow it, the blogging of our big Italian adventure could be pictures pure and simple, with no (or little) words to accompany it.  And while some of my readers might be pleased by that, the journal-loving English major in me would look back disappointed.  There’s so much more than just the sights!  I’ll get it down as fast as these fingers will type.

So here’s some Tremezzo in words.  Words and pictures.  Because the photographer in me can’t go without the pictures either.
It’s weird, arriving to a place you’ve heard of forever.  What were my expectations?  We hear about the George Clooney Lake Como, that it’s a beautiful big lake in northern Italy but… what else?  I’m not really sure.  It is beautiful, it is big, and I haven’t seen George Clooney.  I haven’t really been looking either.  There are colorful towns on the lake, they remind me a little bit of the Cinque Terre villages minus the sea and salt and plus a little more grandeur.  The fact that they’re immediately backed up by these beautiful mountains really makes the whole scene pretty spectacular.
There’s a lot of smoking.  It’s funny that I notice this, but these days, I can go weeks without smelling cigarette smoke in the States.  We don’t live right in a city so perhaps this is why, but neither are these little towns along the lake considered a big city and yet, cigarette smoke.  I’m beginning to not notice.   Lots of pizza e pasta e panini on the menu.  I always scan for a vegetable.  I am not my best self on carbs and carbs alone.  Today I got pizza rucola, or pizza with bunch of arugula on top.  Check the greens off the list.  Steve called it a pizza for a rabbit.  I’ll have the last laugh when he’s sleeping lunch off!  I drizzled olive oil all over it, because it’s delicious.  We ate right on the lake.  Practically everywhere is right on the lake.  Motorcycles zoom by, some with engines reminiscent of a chain saw, and they pass cars on the left willy-nilly.  No beeping, no swearing, no one minds.  It’s a wonder more vehicles don’t go plowing into roadside cafes dotting the landscape.  Are Italian drivers just better than us?  I’m not sure.

There’s fewer rules here, it seems.  For instance, a boat went speeding by us the other day while we ate.  Right up front, a girl sat on it.  The bow?  Anyway, “that’s illegal in the States,” Steve says.  There were big floats in the pool, absolutely no “no diving” signs, and, after handling these enormous raw cuts of beef, the butcher down the street quickly grabs four loaves of bread, throws them into a bag, and hands them to Steve, no hand-washing in between.  It begs the question: is all of our rule-following necessary?

Steve and I snuck out last night for a quick drink and a slice of torta della nonna.  I am a sucker for anything lemon.  I looked at the menu, and decided to do something unexpected.  “A negroni, per favore!”  When in Rome!  (Or Como.).  I declared it not my drink.  I want to like Campari, it’s the Italian way, but alas, Campari and I are not to be.

We haven’t found a big grocery store, though I know even when we do it won’t be like the ones in the States.  But I would like a giant vat of plain yogurt.  Plain yogurt with granola is my go-to in all hunger emergencies.  It’s my go-to for Parker too, and I’m always mindful of the next sugar crash.  I stashed apricots underneath the stroller the other day, a banana too.  Anders had his first banana, a portion anyway, on a dock on the lake and I thought, “How grand.  His first banana on Lake Como.  I’ll tell him this one day.”  When we got produce the first day we were here, rainy and cool, an old man (I’m almost certain his name is Luigi based on what our rental owner told me) grabbed an apricot and told Parker, “Vieni, vieni.”  This means come, right?  He began to walk away, the man with the apricot, urging Parker to follow him.  I went with, as Parker was not about to go it alone, and just ahead he stopped at one of those little spigots that you find all over Italy.  He turned it, washed the apricot, and gave it to Parker. Meanwhile, Steve tells me that his wife, who was busy bagging our groceries, says, in good humor, “My husband.  He give too much away!”  Parker finished the entire thing, leaving only the pit behind.  “Grazie!”  Luigi told me the translation: “apricotta.”  I’m sure I’m spelling it wrong.  
It’s little moments like these I want to remember when the going is tough, which it is sometimes, which it will be.  I routinely go between, “This is incredible.  We’re in Italy for three months,” to, “What are we, crazy?!”

Tremezzo, Lake Como, Italy.

The view of Varenna as we took the ferry to Tremezzo.


I just suggested today that we tally the number of pizzas eaten per person during this trip.  
We’ve already each eaten three?  Been here about that many days too?  
The towns on the lake are so gorgeous.  

The streets leading up to our rental.  Luggage had to make it up there too.  And a stroller.  
We feel a bit like a circus sometimes.  Funny story: William, Parker, Anders, and I walked home the other day and before climbing these steps, grabbed some oranges and apples at a little fruit stand run by this sweet old Italian couple.  As we carried the stroller up the steps, the apples and oranges tipped out of the stroller and all but one of them went bouncing all the way back down the steps while the sweet couple, who were sitting just at the bottom of the steps, watched.  We all couldn’t help but laugh.  Circus, as I said.  
Sitting on our little porch in the morning light.


Parker’s having a rough time adjusting to the time schedule.  Not so much in sleep (he’s sleeping through the night already and on a fairly normal schedule) but more in… behavior.  We’re trying to get some good one on one time with him to help him with the transition.  Trips like this are not without their challenges, eh?


My “Go me for pushing a stroller up all these hills!” pose.  And white pants.  Brave.  
Brave and stupid.  I do recall saying I was avoiding white as much as possible for this trip…
This is where we get everything but our produce, for the most part.  It’s the sweetest little place.  And today Anders and I walked there and ordered in Italian.  The man who runs it doesn’t speak much English so I came prepared.  It was a simple order–burro and formaggio (butter and cheese!  To go with the eggs Steve had already bought.)–but still, I was proud of myself.  Small victories.
And that’s Tremezzo so far.  More to come!

ETA: I’ve had a lot of questions about my sandals — They’re Birkenstocks but I got them here on Amazon!

our arrival in milan, italy!

we made it.  we made it and all our baggage made it too.  i’m calling it a success so far!
where do i even begin?  i feel like i have enough stories for ten blog posts so far but i’m going to try to sum it up.  the flight over was fabulous.  we flew direct from jfk to milan.  my least favorite part of all the many, many hours of it was probably the traffic in brooklyn when we were within an hour of jfk.  anders was over it.  and honestly so was parker.  in the stop and go traffic, the poor kid started to feel sick (carsickness is not new with him) and before we knew it he had thrown up right on himself.  saddest.  i had gotten him and anders matching pajamas for the flight over and they were already in them.  his first words after he threw up, “but my pajamas were the same as anders!”  it broke my heart.  we cleaned him up, had a change of clothes–a whole suitcase full of clothes, actually–and proceeded.  but, it wasn’t the best start.  once at jfk, it was pretty smooth sailing (flying) until our destination.  anders and parker both slept most of the way, while the rest of us caught a few moments here and there (the many movie options were too enticing for william or lindsey to close their eyes for too long!).  it was a 10:20 pm flight.
so, there we were in milan, at noon their time but feeling like we were in some weird time-warp-middle-of-the-night thing.  parker knew we were in italy and anders thought we just woke up in a place that looks and sounds a little different from home.  we tried to be the tough and resourceful travelers and we began walking to our hotel–mind you, our phones weren’t working yet–without any real sense of where it was.  steve says he knew, but between you and me, i’m not so sure. there we were, asking questions and hauling way too much luggage (we actually did okay luggage wise, but will be doing even better when we can drop some off at our home base).  so, luggage is rolling, and we are hot and tired, and i’m cursing steve for buying that stupid $70 luggage at marshalls that does not look like it’s going to hold up for much more of this.  anders is off and on crying and so i’m off and on nursing while we’re off and on walking.  “200 meters that way!”  the italians who helped us were so kind, but do you really have a sense of what meters are?  i don’t.  gimme the “it will take you and these three hundred pounds of luggage approximately sixty two minutes to walk there so call a taxi now.”  that’s what i want to know.  
(side note: i hate going to other countries and forcing them to speak my language.)
we made it so far, we got so close, when anders was just over it.  i really hate to push him past his breaking point just because he’s so nice about it.  his threshold is really high, so you feel like a real jerk taking advantage of him.  the kid had traveled for what felt like days already.  let him get in a real bed!
so we grabbed a taxi.  and the man laughed because… we were like 1 1/2 minutes from our hotel.  okay, maybe 2 with our luggage.
did we still want that taxi?  yes we still wanted that taxi.
steve basically ran-walked beside the taxi with the stroller and still beat us maybe?
was it worth the 10 euros?  it was worth the 10 euros!
so there we were at our hotel and happy to be there.  

and now we’re in tremezzo and i’m going to share more later because that’s enough for now and it’s 3 am and i can’t sleep but really should be trying to sleep.

ciao!

family pictures 2015!!




the sweetest mama bear necklace c/o rebekah gough.  i LOVE it.

it’s a miracle!  i wrangled everyone together last minute before we all head in different directions, called on my fabulous friend jenny who’s also great with a camera, and asked her to take some shots of my people at this stage in our life.  i’m obsessed with pictures and i’d love to do family pictures more often (our last ones!  ages ago!  and in that post i say i’m going to do it every year.  i lied real bad.) than we do.  it’s just hard with all the different ages and stages in life to get everyone the same place at the same time but it’s so worth it.  i love these people and i love these pictures.  mark my words, everyone… we are doing this again before 2020!
thank you so much to my friend jenny for capturing these moments for us!!!
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