The Hills of Tuscany

Monday March 2^nd 2009:

The next morning we were originally scheduled for a bike tour, however since it was raining we decided to look into other options. The lady at the front desk helped us book a day tour into Chianti, San Gimignano, and Siena, literally 30 minutes before we were supposed to leave. We ran across town (which was somewhat difficult, since I had hurt my foot in Rome) but just made it before the bus departed. Since it is difficult to get to these places by train, especially some of the rolling hills of Tuscany, and it included three cities and a wine tour, we thought it would be a good way to get introduced to the magic of Tuscany.

Our first stop was a small town called San Gimignano. It was very quaint and cute, complete with little cobblestone streets, medieval buildings and a beautiful view of the Tuscan hills. This was probably one of the most cute and picturesque towns we visited, and we had fun just wandering the streets and taking pictures. On our way out, we made sure to visit the
"World champion” gelato place. I laughed at first at the name, but as it turns out it was well deserved. Kevin and I split a mixture of Mango and blackberry, and it was only $1.30, and absolutely fantastic. I had eaten gelato before, but this was by far the

best I had ever tasted. The texture was smooth and remarkably solid (not ice) and the flavor of each was poignant, only a small spoonful would overwhelm our taste buds.

Our next stop was Siena. We first had a tour by car of some of the most important sights. Our tour guide was very Italian, and quite longwinded. Siena was very “clan-like” and there were statues around the city stating the territory of the 17 clans in which made up Siena. It was also a banking district, and as our guide said, “There is no mafia here, the banks did well enough. The banks have no need to kill anyone, you can’t pay your bills if you’re dead right?” After our tour we had some free time to walk around the city, see the Demo, and “feel” Siena. It is really quite a beautiful city, and the Duomo is also gorgeous. It was interesting to learn that the construction of the Duomo was halted because over half of the population was wiped out by the black plague.

The next stop was Chianti, specifically a winery. This was a “bio” winery that produced wine, lavender essential oils and soaps, vinegar and olive oil. It was a gorgeous place which looked over more rolling
hills of Tuscany. It was interesting to see the distilling process of vinegar, some of which is aged up to 30 years. He also said that one of his sweet
wines comes from a recipe (that he found in a shed) from the medieval monks who previously owned the land. When we went to do the tasting, the different types of olive oil were already on pieces of bread. At first they immediately dismissed the possibility of finding an alternative way for us to taste it, until I deliberately asked for some olive oil in a spoon. He was a little surprised, but agreed. Their innate problem solving tactics were a little frustrating, but we still got to taste everything and it was delicious! We hit a “bump in the road” on our drive back to Florence when Kevin realized that we didn’t have our free olive oil that came with one of our orders. Our group was rather small, and we began discussing the possibilities of retrieving these items amongst ourselves. Our tour guides had stayed behind, so it was only the tour guides in training, the bus driver and the tour. We tossed around many ideas, but then one of the group members said, “Why don’t we just turn back? We’re only 10 minutes out?” And we did. Kevin was a little embarrassed (although it was the error of the winery) but everyone was very nice and understanding about it. Plus, we got our goods!

That night was pretty low key. We bought groceries and ate a picnic in our room, then wandered the streets of Florence, wandered in circles around the Duomo, and collapsed into bed.

From the Vatican to Firenze:

(Sunday March 1st 2009):

The following morning, we again arose relatively early and began to pack up our things. We again ate a beautiful breakfast of scrambled eggs, fruit salad, stuffed dates, orange juice and strong Italian coffee. Since it was Sunday, we decided it was the perfect time to see the Vatican on our way out of Rome. Kevin had his big backpacking backpack, and insisted on loading my little suite-case into it. “It is too difficult and stressful for me for you to be wheeling your little rolly bag along the cobblestone streets.” So in it went, and I carried our “one world café” day bag. We took the metro to the train station, and since we still had a little time left on our tourist bus pass, we hopped on it to go to the Vatican.


We arrived and for a while just walked around the square, taking in this little city it was a little rainy, but the buildings were still magnificent. First on the list was St. Peter’s basilica. Wow, I guess the Roman Catholic Church knows how to do Basilicas. It was so ornate and decorated that it was difficult to know what to look at. We walked around looking at famous paintings, the beautiful walls, ceilings and little chapels. Then we came across the famous statue of Mary holding the dead body of Christ. The way the body and even the clothing seemed to just drape over the figures was so lifelike. After the basilica, we tried to go see the Sistine Chapel, however we found out that it was closed. Truthfully we were quite disappointed and I am still a bit disappointed. But I guess we must revisit this ancient city again.

On our way out, we noticed that a lot of people seemed to be waiting in the square, under umbrellas and carrying signs. Seeing our quizzical expressions, on e of the guards explained to us that the Pope was about to give his weekly address. We decided to stay and see what the excitement was about, when we were we ever going to see the pope in Rome again? He eventually came out, addressed everyone, read a gospel passage, and welcomed everyone in Italian, French, German and English. He was actually quite high up, and it was difficult to make out the details. He actually looked almost like a hand puppet, and I could just imagine the giant arm going through the building to hold him up.

After having our fill of “ his holiness’s presence”, we decided to head to the train station to catch our train to Florence. We boarded a bus, which we didn’t pay for because according to Kevin’s roommates “you don’t pay for buses in Rome”. And we got what we paid for. We were packed into the bus like sardines, and at each stop there were more and more people trying to squeeze themselves in. I felt as if I was in the U-tube video of a Japanese commuter train where the guards littler were helping to pack people in so that the doors could close. Keeping a close hold on my bag, I watched how Kevin seemed to be able to seamlessly balance with a 90-pound backpack. I myself, counted the stops until we could get off of claustrophobia central.

After a quick snack, we boarded the train to Florence. The train was about 3 hours, and much delays, we got off at the stop that said “Firenze”. We had been reading the guidebook on the train and ripped out the map to use to orient ourselves. However when we got off, nothing seemed to make sense, so we just kept walking. We finally stopped and asked someone at a restaurant for directions. He said, “Hush, you are a little bit far.” And then told us to get on a bus headed for the center of town. Apparently there is more than one train station in Florence. It was fortunate that we didn’t try to walk because we were on the bus for about 20 minutes. There were very friendly people on the bus however who told us which stop we should get off. Ash sigh, the charm of smaller cities had begun. We then walked past the train station, and past the Duomo on to our hotel.

The Hotel Orchid was absolutely quaint and lovely. The receptionist was very helpful in checking us in and recommending a gluten free place to eat (there were many options in Florence!) Our room was very spacious, with pink walls, cute table and chairs, and even a window seat. We settled in, breathed a sigh of relief and then headed out to find this restaurant.


We arrived at this lovely, intimate, truly Italian place. He understood exactly what our needs were, and even had many options to choose from. After we ordered, he brought us gluten free bread and crackers, along with our lovely glass of deep red wine. First we had a small plate of penne pasta with a tomato peppery sauce, which was slightly tangy. Our main course was a chicken breaded with rice flour. The meal was delicious and we coined the term “friend with bread” to our waiter, since he had gluten free bread in stock.

Rome Wasn't Built in a Day, But Who Says We Can't See the Highlights in 24 Hours?

(Saturday February 28th 2009) :

We purposefully woke up early the next morning so that we could take a “special” walk recommended by our host. The ancient aqueducts happened to be just down the street from our hotel, and the beautiful clear morning light and crisp air made for the perfect opportunity in which to view them. They are quite impressive and beautiful structures, it felt as like we stepped into another world as we walked from the street to the dirt path leading to them. The aqueducts extending for quite a while down this wide-open meadow in the middle of the city. There were no other tourists, just locals taking their morning walk or jog along the path, which greatly added to the feeling of insider knowledge. The light glistened and beautifully lit up this structures as we walked along the path.



After our walk, we showered, and then were greeted with a tray of breakfast promptly at 8:30. We had scrambled eggs with wonderful olive oil, a fruit salad, strong and creamy Italian coffee, and special dates stuffed with walnuts (which he told us he picked himself.) We ate while looking out our window at the waking city below. We took the metro into town, and then bought tickets for the “green lines bus tours”. Yes, we road a double Decker bus. However, this was another recommendation of our host, since we only had a day in Rome. “You can waste so much time taking pictures of almost nothing in Rome. A specialized bus will take you to the important sights, and you can get on and off as you wish.” We boarded the bus armed with our cameras and sunglasses. Happy snappy tourists. We got off first at a piazza, then walked along the crowded streets, taking in the sights and sounds of the city. Along the way we bought roasted chestnuts from a street vendor. Although it wasn’t Christmas “chestnuts roasting on an open fire” were warm and delicious. We walked up these stairs behind the monument and found a beautiful overlook.

We kept exploring, and when Kevin figured out that most of these sights were less than a 30-minute walk apart, he decided we should walk most of the bus route. It was a beautiful day, and we saw a lot. Cathedrals, the pantheon, politically correct horse statues, the beautiful famous fountain, and of course the ruins, a guy dressed up as roman solider, and the coliseum. Rome had a grand, ancient and almost unreal feeling. To overlook, then descend into the ancient ruins was exciting. It is interesting to see such a juxtaposition of ancient and modern. The most startling of this perhaps was at the coliseum, which side by side was a structure from the cornerstone of western civilization with a hot dog stand. Nonetheless, everything was beautiful, and it was fun to imagine what it would have looked like thousands of years ago.




The day was quite physically exhausting, but rewarding. As the sun set, the city started to light up, and we walked around some of the sights to see them at night. The fountain was almost more impressive at night, the lights just lighting up the marble and water. We eventually found ourselves at another famous piazza. Kevin and I decided that this was a romantic place for appetizers and wine-The moon was bright, the buildings lit up, and someone was even playing guitar on a bench nearby. We wandered into the patio of a restaurant, and sat down right next to a heat lamp, looking out on this lovely scenery. We ate some grilled vegetables and had some Italian wine. Sigh. Beauty.

After appetizers we continued to walk, and headed to “treasure” which means “across the river”. It was a recommended place to go to eat, so we decided to check it out. The streets were smaller and cute, complete with strung lights. However, we had forgotten to look up gluten free restaurants, and no one seemed to under stand our question “dove un restaurante senza glutine?” So we searched in vain for a while, until we came across this whole-in-the-wall bar, and one of the bar tenders spoke English. He gave us directions back across the river and said, “you know the place with all of the cats, and it should be there.” We weren’t sure what he meant by all the “cats”, and never actually saw a heard of cats. We did however, follow his directions, and found a restaurant that was able to serve us some grilled meat and vegetables. We sat next to a heat lamp outside on the cobblestone street and enjoyed a beautiful glass of red wine, as our sweet waitress (who was only a year or two older than us but called us “kids”) clumsily broke an ashtray on the unforgiving stone streets. She laughed it off however, and after our meal we sleepily walked back to the hotel.

From Strasbourg to Rome

(Friday February 27th 2009):

We woke up gently around 8:15 am. My host parents usually are leaving the house around 8:30 for work, and I thought that we could stay out of their way by getting up slightly later. However, I forgot the fact that in France, everyone’s breaks are coordinated so since my host brothers had off, so did my host parents. I immediately noticed this fact when I heard my host mom asking Kevin “Tu veux Lindsay a préparer un petit déjeuner?” (Do you want Lindsay to prepare breakfast?) Kevin, still jetlagged, had no idea what she was saying and just replied, “Yes, I will wait for Lindsay” as he stumbled down the hall to the bathroom. It is funny how his responses were often very appropriate, which may have perpetuated my host mom’s idea that he understood some French. I then immerged and began to prepare my usual Strasbourgian breakfast of hard-boiled eggs, fruit, orange juice and coffee, and added some gluten free chocolate croissants to the mix. Although Kevin was eating Gluten and Dairy free, I still wanted him to enjoy some of Europe’s finest gastronomy.

After breakfast we headed to the train station, to travel to Baden-Baden. We had about an hour’s layover in Appenwier, so Kevin and I decided to explore. We walked about 20 minutes or so and found ourselves in a small little German town. Although it isn’t the cutest or oldest town I have seen, Kevin was beside himself with excitement over the giant pretzel sign and the store full of legos. From there, we took a train to Baden-Baden, then a bus to the airport. We waited for check in time, by eating some more Gluten Free PB&J’s which I packed and pacing down the hallway. Unfortunately however, Ryan-air has strict carry-on size and weight restrictions. Kevin’s bag was 2 kg overweight, so they made him pay to check it. Sigh, Oh budget airlines.





We excitedly boarded the plane to Rome Chiampiano. The flight was only an hour and a half, but quite hot and stuffy, and they kept announcing “specials”.
After landing, we took a bus to the center of town, then a metro to our bed and breakfast. It was actually about 5 miles or so outside of the city center, but a fun and “local-ish’ place to stay. We were greeted by a very friendly Italian guy, who showed us up to our room. The place was actually an apartment, converted into four separate bedrooms, and our room overlooked a view of the street outside.

Our host then asked us about our dietary restrictions (they recently joined the Italian Celiac Association, which is how I found the B&B), and when he learned that we were both gluten and dairy free he said, “Hmmm, I was hoping one of you had one allergy and the other had the other, but ok.” As he began to do his paperwork, and we began to set down our suitcases, we realized we had forgotten to write down the address for the place we made dinner reservations for. Kevin had decided that since we couldn’t be together on February 14th, we would celebrate Valentine’s Day our first night in Rome. He had laboriously researched and found a place named “Vini Ministrini”. I had called earlier that week and made a reservation via Skype. After a moment of panic, we decided to ask our host if he knew of the mysterious location of this restaurant. Our host did not immediately know, but picked up the phone and called a friend. After a minute of Italian conversation, he informed us that it was pretty far out of the way. Kevin then asked if he knew of any other celiac friendly restaurants, and he replied, “Yes, there is a pizzeria down the street. I can walk you there if you want.” We immediately jumped on this opportunity and followed him as he led the way. Kevin then asked, “If you had a day in Rome, what would you do?” He replied, like any good Italian, said laughing, “One day is not enough time! You need at least three. Next time, come for three.”

He escorted us to the Pizzeria and then started to rapidly speak to the owner in Italian, explaining our dietary restrictions. He leaves as we are escorted to a table. We order a bottle of wine and the owner explains what he can make for us. Our appetizer was a sort of bruschetta, some with olive spreads, an eggplant spread, proscutto and tomato. Our main course was two different kinds of pizza (without cheese), one with olive oil, zucchini and vegetables, which had a very sweet taste to it. The other was tomato based-which was very savory with lots of basil. The crust was thin, but stayed together very well, which is uncommon with gluten free items. After enjoying our first lovely, (and carbohydrate heavy) meal, we walked back to our hotel and went to bed.

Spring Break in Italy, Part I: Kevin Arrives

The excitement was almost unbearable. The 2-3 o’clock hour felt like a week, and 3-3:13 pm felt like an eternity. Kevin was about to arrive. I was to meet him at Blvd de Metz, right next to the train station at 3:45, when his Lufthansa airport bus was supposed to arrive. It had been quite an emotional rollercoaster up until this point, Kevin trying to secure the finances and the time off, deciding where to go-France? Germany? Switzerland? Then the decisions-the reservations, the hotels, trains, and the general logistics. After all of our long e-mails, web searches, and skype chats, we finally decided on an itinerary. We were to fly out of Baden-Baden (the closest Ryan air hub) to Rome on Friday, stay in Rome on Saturday, and leave Sunday afternoon for Florence. We would stay in Florence for Sunday night, Monday and Tuesday, and leave for Cinque Terre on Wednesday. The rest of Wednesday and Thursday morning would be spent in Cinque Terre, then we would head to Lausanne to stay with my former au pair Thursday night, Friday and Saturday morning. Then head back to Strasbourg on Saturday and Kevin would depart for Frankfurt and fly to DC on Sunday. Although it would be a whirlwind of a trip, and not really “conquering” any city completely, I felt it was the best decision for us. It was Kevin’s first time in Europe and I wanted to give him a “box of chocolates” sample of Europe, a quick taste of some of its unique flavors and textures, and all gluten and dairy free!

The weeks before his arrival were intense; we both (ironically) fell quite ill with the flu, one right after the other. Trying to make last minute preparations for the trip in the midst of an unquenchable thirst for sleep was a challenge, but we pulled through. We both fully recovered and he was about to arrive. I tried to keep my mind busy the week prior by planning everything I would show Kevin in Strasbourg, down to our walking route back from the train station. I had already packed, bought food for the plane, made dinner reservations and shaved my legs. I was golden. I walked to the train station to kill a few minutes before his arrival. After finding Blvd de Metz, and the Lufthansa sign I knew I was in the right place. Any minute now, he would be here. My heart was pounding and I was wringing my hands with anticipation. My heart leapt for joy when I saw the yellow bus come down the street. It stopped and I saw through the windows a figure of Kevin jump up and begin to run down the isle of the bus. He stopped briefly and thanked the bus driver and bolted down the steps, dropped his bag, and scooped me up in one of the most passionate embraces I have ever experienced. It had been two months since we had seen each other, two months since we had held each other in an emotional good bye at JFK. Now he was here, and I could put my arms around him instead of look at him through a computer. Not that I am not grateful for the invention of skype, it has made being apart remotely tolerable, but it is nothing like being in his physical presence. It was a strange juxtaposition of completely new and strange, and one of the most deeply familiar feelings, which are more deeply embedded than memory itself.

Hand in hand, eyes lit up, and grinning broadly I walked him back to my host family’s house through Petite France. I lead jet-lagged Kevin though the narrow doorway, and he was immediately greeted by excited, jumping labs and my host mom speaking to him in French in a narrow hallway as he tried to take off his shoes and bag. I lead Kevin inside and told my host mom that he spoke about five words of French. She either didn’t understand the connotations of that or didn’t believe me, but either way, she continued to speak to him in French the entire time. I let Kevin set down his bag and regroup while I fed him a small snack of Gluten free Peanut Butter and Jelly and Orange Juice.

After a brief respite, we headed back out into Strasbourg. I showed him the important highlights, the cathedral, the Syracuse Center, downtown and the beautiful walk by the river. After two months Strasbourg has begun to have a sort of familiarity to it. So needless to say it was fun to see the reactions of someone who had never been to Strasbourg, much less Europe.

After our walk around the city, we began to search for “Les fleur des champs” a restaurant that was recommended to me by a friend. I had been in e-mail contact with the owner and being gluten and dairy free would not be a problem. Having only vague directions we got lost down some of the narrow cobblestone streets of Strasbourg behind “Place Broglie”. Although Kevin usually gets frustrated in these sorts of circumstances, he loved every second of the exploration. We finally stumbled upon it, and entered a beautiful, quaint “biologique” café. I chatted with one of the workers and she pointed out a few things on the menu that we could eat. While Kevin and I were contemplating our dinner choices, a man came out of the back and introduced himself. He apparently was the owner whom I had been communicating with by e-mail. He was very friendly and outgoing (especially for French standards) and answered some of my questions about the menu. Not knowing all of the complex vocabulary I chose the “menu de la mer” (literally meaning “menu of the sea”) for Kevin and I. Dinner was lovely; we had a sort of bean soup first with seaweed, followed by a plate of a little fillet of fish with herbs and two little strips of seaweed. With a fresh salad, and little pilaf of rice flavored delicately with thyme. We had a Sylvander wine (an Alsatian specialty), which complimented the meal perfectly and even a “crème de chocolate” and a “crème d’amound” for desert. These desserts had the consistency of a sort of thick pudding, were made out of rice products, and were very true to flavor. Extremely delicious, and it was quite a novelty being able to order an entire meal. On our way out we chatted with Michel (the owner). He asked us where we were from and when we told him the Midwest her said “oh near Obama!” and became very animated. He gave us a peanut brittle bar on our way out and we thanked him gratefully for our wonderful meals.

After dinner I took Kevin over to L’artichaut, one of my favorite bars/café’s in Strasbourg. It is a cozy place with a hippy vibe and many wooden tables and a pool table on the top floor, and the lower floor was a small room for live music. Thursday night was jazz night, so after getting our drinks we went downstairs. The room was absolutely packed, but a group of people was leaving so we grabbed their prime second row seating. The music was beautiful and soothing. Perfect for that space and a wonderful atmosphere. There was a piano, string bass, drum set, singer and guitar. It wasn’t too loud like some big band music can be, but instead quiet and inspiring. It was one of my favorite live jazz performances I have ever seen. The pianist and the drummer seemed to be in sync, almost reading each other’s minds. The string bass player seemed to ride their brain waves, changing chords and sculpting progressions as naturally and reactively as a surfer rides and reacts to the waves of the sea. An absolute perfect close to the evening. After being filled with a lovely meal, wine, images of Strasbourg and beautiful sounds of Jazz, we made our way back, and collapsed into peaceful slumber.