Hiking In The Dolomites: Day 2

For our second day of hiking, our Backroads leaders had chosen the Sennes Loop, which would take us up 3000 feet in elevation. I had spied the road that would comprise the first part of our hike the night before, and I was already dreading the first part of the day. Still, I had breakfast to look forward to first, and breakfast on hiking days can be as indulgent as I want, right? Gotta have energy for the climb, I reasoned. So, after an Italian buffet breakfast of speck, cheese, fruit, and pastries accompanied by espresso, we were off. The road, which was unpaved and switchbacked its way up and over the valley, immediately became my Everest. It was steep. I am used to being the last one up a hill because I take medications that elevate my pulse rate, which means my heart often gets to racing more quickly in comparison with my fellow hikers. Steve was his usual gracious self, hanging with me each time I stopped and waited for my heart rate to drop again.

Although being the last person up used to make me feel bad about myself, I’ve learned to find the good in it. One of the best parts about being at the back of the pack on a trip like this one is you usually end up alone with a guide. Everywhere we travel, I find opportunities to have conversations, real, meaningful conversations, with people from the area we are visiting. The easiest way to do this is to take a tour and strike up conversations with the guide. On this day, we had Francesca and a naturalist named Lucia to walk with. Talking about southern Italian culture with Francesca, a native of Puglia, made my uphill battle less odious.

Once we got to the place where the road leveled off, we veered off onto a small path rather than continue along the road. We were taking the scenic route. It was cool and overcast, many of the peaks around us obscured by clouds. This pushed our focus to the green pastures and wildflowers. We walked along at a quicker pace now, trending upwards still and stopping to take photos as we went. We weren’t slowing anyone down, so why not enjoy? It wasn’t long before we heard bells ringing along the hillside. We were still below tree line, though, and I couldn’t see what was causing the racket. Then they appeared, a herd of goats with long, curved horns. They regarded us with some curiosity but no alarm, one following me up the path a bit before rejoining its amici on the grassy hill. I determined there is no hike more charming than one that includes animals wearing bells.

The path had become easier, and I was feeling confident about my chances of finishing this hike with zero problems. Then we came around a corner into a clearing and ahead of me I saw another damn hill. Yes. I knew I was in the Dolomites and there would inevitably be more hills. Francesca simply hadn’t warned me about this one which, in hindsight, was probably wiser. Ahead of us on the path, I could see some small dots, the rest of our group steadily making their way. This would be our last uphill I was told, and at the terminus of this section we would arrive at the Sennes hut where we would stop for lunch. I was all about lunch by this point, so I decided to attack that hill rather than saunter.

Near the top of the climb, Rifugio Munt de Sennes appeared around a corner. Hearty South Tyrolean fare loomed ahead, and I could not wait. Would it be another fabulous lunch feast with choices like beef goulash on polenta and fresh pasta with just-picked chanterelle mushrooms? Of course. We finished our meal with more strudel because vacation. I reflected for a moment about how hospitality is Italy’s gift to the world. I mean, here we were, hiking at 8000 feet, and continually happening upon establishments with comfortable rooms to rent, excellent dining options, and clean bathrooms with flushing toilets, in mountainous areas unreachable by car for part of the year due to snowpack. Damn, Italy. La bella vita, indeed.

We left the hut and crested the hill just beyond it and were treated to a panoramic mountain view before we hit the descent to our overnight lodging. Lucia was with us for the afternoon, and she informed us about the political climate in Italy under far-right Prime Minister Meloni. She talked about peaceful student protests that had turned violent earlier in the year due to brutal police crackdowns on demonstrations. Lucia remarked it seemed eerily familiar to what she had learned about life under Mussolini. We discussed our mutual concerns regarding the slow but steady erosions of personal freedoms in our countries and what could be done to stem the creep of authoritarianism. It was a deep conversation for a serene day in the Dolomites, but it made the last few miles as much about education and global understanding as about exercise and nature.

When we finally reached our lodge, Petra told us we should soak our feet in the icy stream that ran in front of the hut. She said it was “medicine,” which would help us recover more quickly for the next day. So we dropped our packs in our room, donned flip flops, and padded our way to the stream. Certain my feet would thank me later, I braved the frigid water. I’m no stranger to just how cold a mountain stream can be, yet I was still surprised at how quickly I had to pull my feet out of that water and onto the dry gravel to regain feeling in my toes. Steve and I spent about 5 minutes there, making bets about who could hold their feet in the water the longest. Steve won. Those five minutes turned out to be about as difficult as my climb had been that morning,. They were also just as beneficial. I felt refreshed.

With our hiking chores done for the day, we went up to shower. Wine o’clock was calling, and we didn’t want to be late. The rifugio offered house wine on tap that was a meager €2.5 per generous glass. It would be a crime not to support this local business family by having a glass or two of house merlot before dinner, and then maybe another glass or two with dinner. Steve and I strive to be goodwill ambassadors for the U.S. while we are abroad. It’s a responsibility we take quite seriously.

Posted on 10/08/2024 by Me

Hiking In The Dolomites: Day 1

“Only where you have walked on foot have you really been.” ~Reinhold Messner

We’ve known for years that we wanted to visit Italy’s Dolomites. We’ve also known for years that we wanted to take an active trip with Backroads. Backroads, founded in 1979 and based in California, will conduct over 4500 guided trips in 2024, allowing travelers to cycle, hike, and kayak their way through stunning locales worldwide. The trips are not inexpensive, so we’d been dreaming of this for about a decade. When we learned our sons planned to stay in their college town in Washington for the summer, we realized we could use our usual 4-person trip budget on just the two of us and decided to splurge and turn our dream into a reality. With the destination chosen (we can’t seem to get sick of Italy), the next decision was whether we wanted to cycle or hike our way through the Dolomites. We settled on hiking and chose to do a “hut-to-hut” trip where we would traverse from valley to valley, up over mountain passes, getting a close-up, personal experience of nature rather than a whiz-by-on-a-bike experience of it. We made the right choice.

On this first morning, we met in the lobby of our designated hotel in our departure city, Bolzano/Bolzen, in South Tyrol, Italy, to begin our exploration of the northwest area of the Dolomites. The Dolomites have contained a blend of Italian and German cultures since the end of WWI when the area once held by Austria-Hungary was ceded to Italy. In Bolzano, approximately half the population speaks German as their native tongue, while the other half speaks Italian. Truth is, though, most people in the area speak both. Here you will find schnitzel, dumplings, and strudel on the menu aside polenta, risotto, and tiramisu. Best of both worlds, really. Our guides, an Italian, Francesca, and a Slovenian, Petra, gathered up the 15 of us, gave us a brief description of the day, and loaded us onto a bus that would drop us at our hiking trail. As we headed north out of Bolzano into the foothills of the Dolomites, the landscape began to change dramatically. The canyon walls got closer, the vegetation became more lush, and we encountered some light rain. We were dropped at the entrance to Fannes-Braies-Sennes, the Dolomites’ gorgeous nature park, a UNESCO World Heritage area. Backroads schleps your bags between lodgings, so we donned our rain jackets and small daypacks and began our adventure. We would hike 7 miles to our lodging, stopping for lunch midway.

The rain fell lightly and we watched our footing, traversing cautiously over slippery tree roots and damp terrain. Wildflowers brightened the hike. We struck up easy conversations with our fellow travelers who hailed from across the U.S., from Washington to Vermont, Maine to Florida. We were hiking near a stream, under a canopy of tall pines, and the hike appeared to us like one we might do in our Colorado Rockies back home. The rain eased on and off repeatedly as we walked along. Soon we found ourselves at our lunch spot, set up outside a charming inn nestled in a cozy valley.

This was the first moment we experienced firsthand what Backroads does best. They spoil you. Waiting for us next to a small lake at the back of the inn was an elaborate picnic lunch set on two sheltered tables. The table was loaded with foods: sausage slices, cheese wedges, a variety of salads and breads, fresh fruit, and strudel. Petra told us it was our first strudel, not our last, and jokingly called our trip a strudel-to-strudel hike. Turns out she wasn’t kidding. So. Much. Strudel. While we ate, our guides shared with us a bit of information about the hearty Ladin people who live and work in the Dolomites and whose ancestors have resided there for thousands of years. Now a population of only about 30k, the Ladin people still employ their own, unique language and work to retain their cultural traditions and population by marrying within their community. These hardworking people maintain the land and the ski lifts and inns that dot the Dolomites. Their hospitality is gracious and efficient. Food is definitely their love language.

After we had polished off most of what had been presented, we picked up our hiking poles and set out again in the rain towards the Rifugio Pederü, our lodging for the next two nights. We were walking uphill, but it was a gradual climb and a perfect way to warm us up for the hiking that would follow the next two days. I was fully unprepared for the setting where we landed. The rifugio (Italian for “shelter”) was set at the back of a box canyon, which immediately made me a bit leery about how difficult our next hike might be. The only way out was up, way up. We settled into our room on the top floor (stairs are good practice for the climbing, right?) and opened the shutters to the most picturesque view from our balcony. We’d been told our lodging would become increasingly more impressive, but I was struggling to imagine how.

These “shelters” are rustic on the outside but well-equipped on the inside, so we helped ourselves to long, hot showers and headed down to dinner in the restaurant where we were treated to a welcome champagne cocktail and a menu as heavy as the one in a Cheesecake Factory. I’d recovered from my huge lunch on the hike and was so hungry by then I didn’t even bother to take a photo of my meal. Come to think of it, I didn’t return from our trip with many food photos at all. So at each meal I must have been too weak from hunger to lift my phone or too eager to wait. One thing about a Backroads adventure, there will be no lack of food or opportunity to earn it if that is your desire.

After dinner, we returned to our room and set out clothes for our early morning breakfast and departure. I’d spied our path out of the valley earlier in the evening and knew the next day was going to test me, so I checked off the accomplishment of Day One and mentally prepared myself for the challenge of the Day Two. So with the sun at last setting and the windows and drapes open, the fresh air of wild Italy filled our lungs and sent us off to sleep.

Posted on 02/08/202402/08/2024 by Me

Cinque Terre: Hiking From Manarola To Vernazza

Our second full day in the Cinque Terre was earmarked for hiking. Our group was split on the routes. Because Julie and Alec were leaving for Rome the next day, they planned to hike from Monterosso back to Manarola. I had zero interest in a hike that long, so Steve and I opted for a hike to the town just to the north, Corniglia. The Blue Path, which requires a Cinque Terre hiking pass, is the easiest route to Corniglia. It’s a 1.5 mile hike with 428 feet of elevation gain. Sadly, that route has been closed for years due to a landslide. The alternate route to Corniglia takes you up the hill rather than around it, sending you through the town of Volastra, before descending into Corniglia. It’s classified as difficult because it’s twice as long and there is 1338 feet of elevation gain. Steve and I figured we were up to the challenge, being used to the rarefied air of Colorado and all. Our legs might fail us before our lungs.

To avoid the heat of the day, we began before nine without any espresso on board. We decided that espresso in Corniglia would be the reward for our efforts. The hike begins relatively flat. Then you reach the steps. These are the steps. Well, this is a small section of them anyway. They are not level. They are not all large. Good hiking shoes are a must. We wore new trail runners with plenty of grip. Still, I was fairly certain my legs would be sore the next day.

The first part of this hike gets you up and above Manarola. As we climbed, I stopped to look behind us and capture a few photos. (Can’t reiterate enough that photo breaks are the key to resting while not appearing you needed a rest). The lower section of Manarola closest to the sea disappeared from view early on. I was able to pick out our rental and its balcony from this viewpoint.

Our rental in the upper part of Manarola

We reached a flat spot with the view I had been waiting to see, up the coast to Corniglia and beyond. Alas, we were not finished gaining elevation. Volastra was still uphill and out of view, so we kept on trucking.

At last we reached Volastra and glimpsed Nostra Signora della Salute (Our Lady of Health) church, which dates back to at least 1240 AD. Volastra is very small, two main streets, so you aren’t in it long before you are back on the path, which opens up and allows you to spy Corniglia as she looms larger.

From this point, the trail skirted the sides of the terraced hills, weaving its way between vineyards growing the grapes of the Cinque Terre’s famed wine, Sciacchetrá (sha-keh-TRA). A sign found among the vines beckoned: “The vines of the Sciacchetrá find you on the road to celebrations. Here the grapes are born for a wine for special occasions. Come and try it.” Sciacchetrá is a sweet, dessert wine, often enjoyed with biscotti that you dunk in the wine. It’s tasty and became my go-to dessert. Think of it as Italy’s cookies and milk, but drunk. Parts of the trail beyond Volastra found us walking near the edge of cliffs above the sea. The railings made it feel slightly less precarious, but only slightly. We kept our eye out for the marker, two stripes (white over red), that let us know we were still on the right path.

We began our descent towards Corniglia, becoming more and more driven by our desire for our morning coffee. The trail took us through a small, forested area with lush vegetation before Corniglia grew increasingly larger in our field of view. We’d made it!

Corniglia, the smallest of the Cinque Terre towns with approximately 150 residents, was beginning to see an influx of travelers who had arrived by train. We wove our way through them and found a small cafe serving avocado toasts and espresso. We took a few minutes to enjoy our caffeine, Steve with his cappuccino and me with my doppio espresso, before beginning our exploration of life in a small town. We traversed the quaint, narrow passageways and found it to be not so different from life at home. Traffic. Laundry. And the ubiquitous bubble tea establishment.

We had planned only to hike to Corniglia but, when we checked our messages, we learned the rest of the gang were nearly finished with their hike to Vernazza. So, we thought, “What the hell? Why not hike there? It’s all downhill from here.” We pointed ourselves toward the trailhead to Vernazza we had seen on our way in.

The hike to Vernazza was along the Blue Path, so we got to show our hiking pass to the guard before we headed out. We felt very official. This hike was was 2.1 miles and rated moderate. Aside from the rising temperatures as we pushed towards noon, the hike was indeed easier and we had picked the right direction from which to start. Because it was later in the day, there were many more people on this hike than on our previous one. Still, the views were good, and I was excited to step foot in our last of the five towns.

We reached the heights of the town after descending what felt like hundreds of stairs. On our way to meet everyone, we passed a quaint restaurant with a patio overlooking the town and made a mental note of it. We found our people hanging out near the beach, where my sister, Julie, had made good on her promise to get into the sea. I wanted to wander around a bit and shop, but Vernazza was packed. It was, by far, the most crowded town we visited. We wandered down to the sea to get a photo of the town and then tried in vain to find a restaurant with an available table close to the water, but no luck. By this time, we were all famished from hiking, so we set off back up the hill to find the place Steve and I had passed on our way down. It was one of the happiest random choices we made on the trip. When we arrived, they had only recently opened for lunch, so we had our pick of seats. We chose bar top seating facing the sea and ordered Aperol Spritzes. While we were enjoying our well-deserved beverages, it began sprinkling. Fearing another deluge like the previous day, we asked if we could move further in, under the patio structure, to avoid having Julie get soaked again. That also turned out to be a good choice as the rain began to fall steadily as soon as we began ordering our meals. We’d taken the last tables under the shelter, so today it was someone else’s turn to get wet. Steve ordered the white lasagna and I ordered trofie al pesto, a local specialty I formed a deep and lasting relationship with. The plan had been to share the food between the two of us, but we each loved our own dishes so much we refused to share, although we did agree to one bite each.

Stuffed with pasta, the others decided they didn’t need to do any additional hiking that day and en masse we opted for the short train ride back to Manarola. We bought some additional groceries from the local store and trudged our way back uphill to our apartment where we planned to prepare dinner later and enjoy another sunset from the patio.

After dinner, Mother Nature gifted us a gorgeous sunset before we tucked ourselves into bed. We were exhausted. Just before I put my Apple watch in its charging space for the night, curiosity got the best of me and I checked my exercise stats for the day. No wonder Steve and I were wiped out. I hoped my legs would be up to hiking up and over the hill between Manarola and Riomaggiore in the morning.

Side note: The next day my brother-in-law sent me this photo of me hiking up toward Volastra the day before. I think it gives a good perspective as to our uphill stair climb.

Posted on 22/06/2023 by Me

Cinque Terre: Ferry Ride To Monterosse Al Mare

On our first morning in Manarola, Steve and I left the apartment early. It’s well documented that early morning exploration is one of our favorite things to do in Italy. Before 9 a.m., towns and cities are still quiet. It’s a perfect opportunity to get to know the area, as well as take photos not filled with hordes of travelers. Plus, the early bird gets the espresso. That morning, the sky was clear, the photo ops plentiful, and the espresso perfetto.

As a group, we had decided the previous night that we would spend our first full day in the Cinque Terre getting an overview of the towns so we could decide which hikes we wanted to do the next two days. We planned to take the quick, two-minute train ride to Riomaggiore, explore for a short bit, and then take the ferry from there to Monterosso al Mare, thereby seeing all the towns from the sea. So, after some espresso and pastries from a local shop, we headed out.

It was around 11 when we arrived at Riomaggiore. The first thing I noticed is that the main street in town was not nearly as steep as the one in Manarola. It was dotted with shops and restaurants. We had been told by friends we had to try the fried anchovies in the Cinque Terre so, feeling a bit peckish, we got some and a couple lemon granitas to share. The anchovies came wrapped in paper, heads missing but tails in place. I am not the biggest fan of fish, but I gave it a go and ate three. While they were not my favorite food of the trip, I could understand the appeal. We spent about an hour exploring the town before buying our ferry tickets and heading to the dock.

My sister’s boyfriend, Alec, unbeknownst to most of us, had set a goal for himself on the trip. As it was his first time in Europe, he decided he would have some wine on every train. That also applied to boats we found out, when at the dock he pulled a bottle of wine from his bag. Once we boarded the ferry and were on our way to the port at Manarola, Alec opened the bottle and we shared it. We had no cups, so we were swigging straight from the bottle. We got some sideways glances, but it made the journeys more interesting. I decided Alec is welcome to vacation with us anytime. The ferry trip from Riomaggiore to Monterosso al Mare takes about 45 minutes, stopping at Manarola and then Vernazza along the way. Corniglia is perched high on a cliff, so the ferry does not stop there. It’s honestly amazing how close to one another and yet how isolated they are, at least in terms of space between them. The trains and ferries make travel between them simple now, but the view from the sea made me think about how much harder it would have been to have to hike to exchange goods or see family in the other towns.

The first thing you notice when you reach Monterosso by sea is that it is the flattest of the five Cinque Terre towns. We disembarked and headed toward the bustling shops and restaurants waiting for us just beyond the beach chairs, umbrellas, and swimsuit-clad vacationers. We walked through shops and narrow alleyways trying to figure out where we wanted to eat. As we were waiting for a table space for the six of us to be cleared, it began to rain. As we were being seated, the sky let loose a deluge and people started ducking into any doorway or open shop they could find. We were happy to have seats under a couple awnings right along the wall of the restaurant. Others scrambled while we perused the menu. We ordered drinks. The rain continued. We ordered lunch. The rain continued. Lunch arrived, and still the rain did not relent. We were all staying fairly dry except for my sister, Julie, who unfortunately ended up just beneath an overlap in the awnings where rain eventually began to overwhelm the canvas and seep through in an annoying trickle onto the table near her. The food was delicious. I had some large, house-made gnocchi covered in local pesto, and my husband and I shared a Caprese salad with fresh mozzarella. The rain finally did abate right around time for dessert. All in all, it could have been a much wetter experience for us in Monterosso. We were grateful to have escaped mostly unscathed.

After lunch, the sky was blue again and the bustling crowds had dispersed with the rain. We wandered the two parts of town, which are connected by a tunnel that allows both pedestrians and the occasional vehicle. We spent a fair amount of time strolling through the old section of town with its cramped alleyways and side streets. My sister and I stopped to buy some linen clothing for ourselves and souvenirs for others before we walked en masse through the tunnel to emerge at an even larger swim beach along a flat coastline with the pristine water of the Ligurian Sea. We talked about returning later to rent some chairs and have a swim before we departed the Cinque Terre.

We took the train back to Manarola and cleaned up. The guys discovered they had all packed essentially the same shoes for dining out. We were starving again for our dinner at Da Aristide. One thing you can’t do enough of in Italy is eat. The entire country is a giant buffet. The most difficult part of any meal is simply choosing what to eat and then trying to save room for the tiramisu you know you are going to have because you can’t not have it. You’re in friggin’ Italy, for Christ’s sake. Mangia!

Fortunately, after dinner we had our steep, uphill walk to the apartment to help us work off some food before bed. The night was cool, clear, and lovely. I had to stop a few times to take photos.

(Insider travel tip: a photo op is the best excuse to stop and rest without letting anyone else know you are stopping to catch your breath. You’re welcome.)

Posted on 21/06/2023 by Me

Cinque Terre: Our Stay In Manarola

As if our once-in-a-lifetime trip to the Monaco Grand Prix had not been enough of a proper birthday celebration, we’d decided to follow it up by heading to the Cinque Terre. My sisters didn’t have a preference for which town we stayed in. After a lot of research on my end, I decided to go with Manarola as it was consistently listed as one of the most picturesque. I felt pretty comfortable about my choice after having eliminated the other four for various reasons: Corniglia (too small and not on the water), Monterosso al Mare and Riomaggiore (too big), and Vernazza (too packed with visitors). I absolutely made the correct choice. Manarola is big enough to have some wonderful restaurants and cute shops, but small enough to be peaceful at night. The size of our group necessitated reserving a large lodging. I chose one with a sizable terrazza with picture-perfect views down into town and on to the sea. At least that is what the Airbnb photos led me to believe.

We arrived late afternoon after a day spent on trains, which hugged the Mediterranean Riviera coastline offering either jaw-dropping views or no views at all (tunnels). The towns of the Cinque Terre are car-free, leaving only charming pedestrian streets to wander. They can more easily be accessed via regular ferry service and frequent trains. We landed on the platform in Manarola with nothing but mentally saved Google images creating expectations.

We followed the crowd of travelers from the full train down stairs and then up stairs on the other side of the platform. From there, it was a long tunnel walk to the vantage point on the other side where we were able at last to view Manarola. Much like my experience with Positano, it was love at first sight. The town is set in a narrow valley between two terraced hills and ascends precipitously from the sea, providing dining, shopping, lodging, and grocery options along the way. Part of the town exists to the left when you exit the pedestrian tunnel, closer to the sea, but the majority of the town rises beyond the tunnel on your right.

We met the rental staff for our lodging and began the climb with him to our temporary residence. If you want a view, you have to go high, right? To be honest, I knew the town would be uphill, but I really did underestimate exactly what that meant. To reach our rental, we climbed up the steep, well-paved street from the tunnel, which then rounded a sharp bend and continued up to the town church. Beyond the church, the road ended in a fork, one branch leading to the area where cars were parked behind a gate at the top of the town and the other branch heading up a stairway, wide at the bottom and narrow as you entered the pedestrian street. I never counted the number of steps, but I am certain it was at least 30. It was an insult-to-injury kind of situation.

We had been able to roll and pull our bags for the first part of the uphill journey, but the real muscle work hit when we had to slog 35-45 pound bags up those stairs. You may wonder if we wished we had packed smaller bags, and the answer is of course. Sadly, the trip we had arranged, a combination of F1 race, fancy dinners, and hiking in the Cinque Terre required bigger bags. I mean, you can’t exactly hike the Cinque Terre in a dress and heels, but you wouldn’t want to eat at a Michelin restaurant in Nice in shorts and hiking shoes. Still, we were grateful we were only going to have to traverse the stairs two times with bags during our visit and hoped the daily climbs to the apartment would become easier as the days rolled by.

Our guide led us to our door and showed us how to work the lock and handle. Doors in Europe don’t uniformly unlock and open the way ours do here in the US. With one door in Spain, we had to spin the key three times in the lock to get it to open. Here we had to turn the key and then put the handle in either a 45 degree angle up or a 45 degree angle down depending on if we were locking or unlocking the door. We were worn out from our Grand Prix weekend and our day of travel, so we nodded and said we understood it all and he left. We went in and checked out our digs. There were three bedrooms and three couples, so to keep it fair we drew numbers for the opportunity to choose from the rooms. From there, it was straight onto the terrazza we had fallen in love with through the rental listing. Would it prove as scenic as it had on the Internet? Definitely. I patted myself on the back for my find.

When we had settled into our new environs, we descended into town to get the lay of the land and to find a grocery store from which to purchase food and wine suitable for dinner on a warm, early summer day with a view. We happened upon a gelateria, of course, and some of us (the men) decided to have a pre-dinner snack. You can’t really blame them.

When in Italy, you gelato. Gelato consumption is compulsory before you are allowed to leave Italy. They have sensors at the airport that separate those who have eaten it from those who have not. Those who have skipped out are required to ingest some from an airport vendor before boarding their international flight. This is how they ensure you will return to Italy.

Next up was a stop near the harbor to take in the town from below. It was every bit as picturesque as I had been led to believe. A first Cinque Terre selfie was a must before heading back uphill to the store to choose ingredients for charcuterie and salad, you know, dining-on-the-patio food. I love shopping for groceries in Europe, be it at large open-air markets or small corner stores. Their choices are almost always more fresh and their packaged foods are prepared with better ingredients. So with fresh tomatoes, local cheese, basil, olives, crostini, pesto, salami, prosciutto, mortadella, a few bottles of red wine, and some limoncino in hand, we went home to enjoy the pleasant evening on the terrazza and wait for the sun to set on our introductory day in the Cinque Terre. Oh…and to drink too much and play Never Have I Ever and learn more about each other.

Posted on 13/06/2023 by Me 2

Life At Sea

Before I jump into the activities and adventures we did and had in our ports of call, I thought I would clear up the notion of a Sea Day. Until I took my first cruise, the idea of days at sea with nothing to do troubled me. I thought I would be bored. I assumed days floating at sea would be a waste of time and money. Many of my friends who have said they would never take a cruise vacation claim the “wasted days at sea” as their reason. I get it. I felt the same way until I had a day when I had nothing to do, no one to answer to, nowhere to rush off to, and the freedom to do exactly and only what I felt like doing. How many days do adults get like that in their busy lives? Not many.

A day at sea allows you to truly relax. It does not mean you will lack for things to do. Many cruise ships are like floating theme parks with water slides and zip lines and climbing walls. Cruises on Celebrity are aimed more at an adult crowd, though, so their sea day amenities are more about pools, spa treatments, casino time, and fine dining, but the lack of children tearing through the passageways and screaming and splashing at the pool more than make up for that. Cruise directors load the day with potential activities for those who want more and are looking for distraction. There are lectures and art classes, wine tastings and friendly on-board competitions (passenger versus crew pool volleyball and putting tournaments, for example). There are movies and games and ship tours too. At night there are karaoke sing-offs, live music performances, theater shows, comedians, and plenty of opportunities for dancing. If none of that appeals, you can read a book or nap in a deck chair facing the sea or play cards or watch for sea life. We enjoyed searching for dolphin pods and seeing them race and jump and flip alongside the ship. If you get bored at sea, you have no one to blame but yourself.

One activity that costs extra but is well worth the investment is a behind-the-scenes ship tour.Our tour took us through the galleys and into the belly of the ship where food is stored. We learned about how the ship processes recyclables and waste, does epic amounts of laundry, plans their shopping, and stores the food for the journey. On our ship, there were 1500 people employed for food preparation and service alone. We learned about what cruise life is like for those who live on the ship and work in its service. We visited the engine room and learned about what powers the ship and keeps it running smoothly and on time. The final stop on the tour was to the bridge where we learned about what training the captain and officers undertake for their careers, as well as how they bring these huge ships into port. It was fascinating.

When we finished our ship tour, we grabbed some lunch, gawked at the desserts, and then went to a wine tasting with premium wines and cheeses. After that, we sat on deck and enjoyed the view and the peace and each other’s company until it was time to dress for dinner and head to the Raw on 5 restaurant for Joe’s birthday dinner choice….sushi. We topped off our day with some silent disco because why not?

If the notion of a sea day or two on a cruise, where your every need is catered to, vexes you, perhaps it’s time to reassess your priorities. Do you not deserve a day where you don’t have to cook, clean, or care for anything or anyone other than yourself? Have you not earned a day or two with no obligations and thoughtfully prepared, delicious meals served with whatever cocktail calls to you? Come on. Live a little. Become reacquainted with yourself. When the sea day is over and you wake the next morning to find yourself in another exotic port of call, rested and ready to explore, you realize this is why you took this vacation. You’ve let yourself go in the best way possible.

The silent disco is a vibe

Posted on 29/06/2022 by Me 1

The Cats of Italy and Greece

My family returned late yesterday afternoon after a glorious 11 days in Italy and Greece. I’m jet lagged, watching a Stanley Cup Final game, and not feeling 100%, but I have a plethora of photos from our travel and thought I would go ahead and share some. So, in this light-and-fluffy post (quite literally light and fluffy), I submit for your viewing pleasure the cats of Italy and Greece. And in the upcoming days, I’ll write about the our travels and the memories we made on this family trip celebrating our youngest’s high school graduation and our oldest’s 21st birthday.

We started taking photos of cats (and some dogs) on this trip when we came across the Torre Argentina Cat Sanctuary in central Rome. I had no idea such a thing existed or we would have made a point of finding our way to it rather than just stumbling across it. The sanctuary, which has been in existence since cats moved into the excavated area of Torre Argentina in 1929, relies on donations to stay afloat. Approximately 125 cats a year are adopted into loving families through the efforts of the sanctuary every year. If you want to support their mission, you can do so here. I took this photo of a lone cat resting on a wall in the ruins. I was pretty proud of my effort. A couple days later, Joe showed me this.

Hope he has at least one of those nine lives left

I mean, seriously? Santorini is pure magic. Joe’s composition here was on point. Of course, his brother would tell you he gets at least partial credit for spotting the cat in the first place. We found so many cats to photograph in Greece, both of feral and the family varieties. Without our dogs to provide our daily dose of furry love, we substituted the cats we met along our journey.

Shade seeker in Rhodes on a hot, sunny day

When we arrived in Rhodes, the cat competition took off. It seemed we couldn’t turn a corner without finding another feral cat that needed to be captured by our iPhones.

Although Rhodes was fertile ground for our cat photos, we hit the jackpot when we arrived in Mykonos Town. So, so many cute cats in one of the most photogenic locations of our vacation. Joe and I disputed who took the better photo of this cat. I will grant that Joe’s composition is better, but I like my photo’s focus on the cat rather than its place in the environment because ginger kitty pops on that whitewashed step when he is the focus.

But we weren’t finished battling it out yet. The photo opportunities kept coming.

This next cat, though, he took the cake. Well, actually, he nearly took my phone. While I was trying to photograph him through the slats on a porch railing, he reached out and stuck his claws into my phone case. I went ahead and pressed the shutter button for him since he lacks opposable thumbs, and we ended up with this green-eyed kitty selfie (and some damage to my phone case). That is the price of art.

So many cats, so little time in Greece. Anyone who knows me well, though, knows I am a dog person first and foremost. I can’t publish this post without giving a little love and attention to a canine furball. So I shall leave you with this fluffy pooch hitching a ride on a scooter. Man’s best friend indeed.

Posted on 20/06/2022 by Me 1

And Just Like That My Calendar Feels Like 2019

The pandemic. Am I right? I lived the vast majority of my life never using that word. I vaguely remember reading that word in history books once or twice before I hit 20, but that was as much as my brain ever considered a pandemic an actual thing. In the past two years, however, I don’t think I’ve gone an entire day without mentioning it. Honestly, I am sick of the word. Sick. O. It. I am almost as sick of the word as I am of not having a day alone in our house, watching my hands bleed from relentless hand washing and sanitizing, running out to buy more hand lotion, wearing masks, hearing people complain about wearing masks, getting vaccines, hearing people complain about getting vaccines, taking Covid tests, hearing people complain about taking Covid tests, and trying to explain how science works to others and remind myself about it, as well.

I know. I know. We are not out of the pandemic. (There’s that word again). No one has any idea when we might be out of it. So we are in limbo. We’re going on a cruise next month. At least, we think we’re going on a cruise next month. It all depends on whether we can manage to stay Covid-free between now and then, even as cases are on the upswing again. Now, if this was 2021, I’d say that would be no problem. We’d just hole up at home and skate our way onto the cruise with a clean bill of health. But this isn’t 2021. It’s 2022, and 2022 is apparently 2019 again. No masks. No crowd size limits. No restrictions whatsoever. It’s a free-for-all. Everything is back up and running. Sold out playoff hockey games. Sold out concerts. Parties. Dining out. It’s all back, baby. And we are here for it. We are SO here for it, so ready to be here for it, that our May calendar is packed. No lie. Here is is.

Oh, wait. I have one free day on 5/23. Woot!

As you can see from the tiny dot underneath every date (save 5/23) between now and May 31st, we have something going on every day between now and the end of the month. I plan to keep the 23rd open for the nervous breakdown I will be having. Why is our calendar so full? Well, let’s see. There’s senior prom and all our usual appointments for therapy and haircuts and doctor’s appointments and the like. Then hubby and I are flying to Pasadena to see a concert, booked a million years ago before we had anything on our calendar. We get back late on Sunday night and then Monday I load a different, pre-packed suitcase in the car and drive to Washington to pick up oldest son from his sophomore year at college and then drive the 1,085 miles back home across five states. Then it’s our youngest’s 19th birthday. Then there are graduation parties for friends’ children and more events for our own son’s graduation. We are going to another sold out concert (in our city this time) on the 24th. The 27th is my damn birthday, but that should be low-key because hubby and I are in class that entire weekend trying for get scuba certified. Then it’s basically June, and we have graduation practice and will have family in town. Then it is graduation and woohoo! We’re almost done! But we aren’t because we are hosting a graduation party for Luke and his friends. Then on the 6th we have to clean the house for the house/dog sitter, buy dog food for our security beasts, shop for what we need for the trip, find our passports, pack, get Covid tests to prove we can take the trip, upload results of said Covid tests to the Celebrity Cruises web site so they will let us board, and get on a plane to Rome on June 8th. Did I mention we still have a puppy who is, well, a puppy and a senior dog who is, well, not exactly a puppy? What the hell was I thinking? Finish strong and you can collapse on a boat? They have limoncello and ouzo where you are going? Hold on, sister. You can make it. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

I realize this is a lot of sniveling from a white woman with an embarrassment of riches in the areas of wealth and good fortune, but it’s my full calendar and my introverted, whiny butt will complain about the lack of quiet, sit-in-bed-all-day time if it wants to.

Just please don’t remind me that in 2020 and 2021 I begged for my life to be, and I quote, “back to normal,” because of course I did. Who wasn’t wishing for that same thing after being stuck at home with spouses and children and pets for months on end? We all wanted out. Now we’re getting what we asked for. Don’t remind me I did this to myself. Of course I did. Be kind and please say a silent prayer to Jesus or Allah or Vishnu (or even the Flying Spaghetti Monster God of Pastafarianism) that my heart holds out, at least until we get to Santorini. Then I can die, exhausted, happy, and at peace at long last in an ouzo haze.

Puppy exhibiting how I can attempt to hide from those dirty obligations and celebrations

Posted on 06/05/2022 by Me

I Need Six Months Of Vacation Twice A Year

“I want to live in a world where searching for plane tickets burns calories.” ~Unknown

I have spent most of my day researching travel. We have a week picked out when we can skip town (or the country, as luck might have it) to celebrate Luke’s graduation from high school. We have a decent-sized budget for this trip and had originally considered going to Italy. We had two trips we were trying to decide between, one to the Amalfi Coast and one to the Cinque Terre and Tuscany. I spent a lot of time vacillating between those two before I found one in the French and Italian Alps that piqued our interest momentarily. We had a couple family FaceTime sessions, trying to get everyone’s input and buy in. For some reason, I still wasn’t able to pull the trigger. So I took a break for a few days. Then I tossed it all out the window and started looking at trips to Costa Rica or Belize. Then I thought maybe we could take the boys to Machu Picchu. After that, I landed on Iceland and was busy researching that before I came to my senses and decided I didn’t want to go anywhere I might need cold weather gear. And all the back and forth and hemming and hawing landed me squarely in analysis paralysis.

Then tonight, for giggles and also apparently because I was trying to avoid writing this post, I started searching Mediterranean cruises because I am certifiable. And there, on the Celebrity Cruises page, on the exact date on which we hoped to start our vacation, was a cruise leaving Rome and visiting Santorini, Rhodes, Mykonos, and Naples before landing back in Rome. Hold up. Hold up. Hold up. This was hitting all the boxes we’d previously discussed. Italy? Check. Pompeii. Check. Boat. Check. Swimming opportunities? Check. All-inclusive. Check. Within the budget? It appears to be. I floated the idea by Luke. He was thrilled. I asked Joe, and he said he was down. Steve too said it sounded like a good balance of relaxing and eventful. Is it possible that all four of us agreed on something? Might my relentless search finally be relenting? I crossed my fingers and took a deep breath.

There were all sorts of things I should have done today rather than sitting at the kitchen island obsessing over air fare and trip insurance. But not one of them would have been more interesting or a better escape from the news. And, in the end, if it gets us out of the country for the first time since 2019 and we get to go on an adventure, it won’t have been a wasted day at all.

Posted on 03/03/2022 by Me

Live Now and Zen

Because even when it seems like a gag gift, the present is still a gift