Day 201

Home sweet home. Sweata weatha.

Day 200

One step closer to picking grapes on a rolling hillside under the Tuscan sun.

From Niccolo:

Hey bellissima!

I'd love to organize a rendez vous! We can do in NY or maybe Detroit since I haven't been...Otherwise you two can always come with me in one of my next trips to california and Vegas... Now you know enough of Testamata that you can do the presentations with me!

Let's plan it! When does it work for you?

N

Day 199

Every winter, the Chaldeans take turns going to each other's betha (house) to make tons and tons of eekhala (food) to store in the freezer and eat during the winter. 

They made kibbie. I made pictures. 

Day 198

Maid-of-honoring!

We've come a long way since Brody Hall circa year 2000. Dark lipstick, out. Dark advertising industry-tainted souls IN. For now. But nothing marriage and unemployment can't cure.

Day 197

I cooked the Chaldeans a big fat Italian feast tonight with ingredients strait up from the market in Firenze. Cherry tomato, crushed red pepper and sausage pasta, porchini mushroom risotto, spinach and pomodoro noodles with a light herb cream sauce, toasted crusty bread with black truffle spread, sliced salami, sundried cherry tomatoes, and chicken (nugget) parm for the kids.

Because I can't bring myself to buy any more t-shirts and key chains and mini monument statues from the places I visit. I prefer souvenirs of the edible variety. 

Day 196 P.S.

My little Parisians. 

Day 196

Back to reality. O! There goes gravity.

Laundry at 7am

Dentist at 9am

Bank at 9:30am

Pharmacy at 9:45am

Unpack from 3 weeks of European adventure

Pack for 1 MORE week of adventure in the city formerly known as the Paris of America. 

Next flight leaves in T minus 4 hours. 

Go. Go. Go. Go.

Day 195

Woke up in Madrid on the vacation that just won't quit. I don't know my holas from my bon gournos from my bonjours anymore. Or my por favors from my sil vous plaits. I think that means it's time to go home. I'm down to my last toothpaste. My last euro. My last underwear. And probably my last artery. 

My head is spinning. Was I really dancing on top of Tuscany a couple weeks ago? Ziplining through the Alps, playing cards with Russians, skinny dipping in the Mediterranean with two of my best friends, slamming whisky with Spaniards, and dangling my feet over the Seine? 

Hell yes. And I'll do it again. (Once I replenish my devastated bank account.)

But right now, all I want to do is walk up my little stoop, up to my little bed, in my little apartment on my little brick-paved, tree-lined street. God bless America. With it's predicable toilets and resistible pastries. 

VIVIR BIEN

Day 194

So many ways to flush a toilet, so little time.

There are a thousand things I could have done today. Musee d'Orsay, Musee Carnavalet, the Catacombs, etc etc etc. But all I really wanted to do was spend my last afternoon in Paris as I had spent the first five. Wandering. So I did. I revisited all my favorites. There was an almond croissant at the Jewish Bakery on Rue des Rosiers, another walk along the Seine via Pont Louis Phillip, another look at Chez Julien, more ice cream on the Ile Saint Louis (I mean, why stop now?)...

...and my last meal in Paris? French onion soup. Slimy. Salty. Cheesy. Not how I wanted to remember the French. So I went hunting for one last macaroon before my flight to Madrid (and 16 hour layover...oops).

I can't imagine a better way to end three of the most invigorating weeks of my life. There's nothing I can say about this city that hasn't already been said but I can say I now know why everyone falls in love with it. Even though we've just met and even though I've only scratched the surface. It is intoxicating. I already can't wait to return. 

Day 193

The Luxembourg Gardens were just that. Lux. Well manicured. Colorful. Flowery. Quite perfect (read: boring). I didn't stay long. I prefer sitting by the Seine. Where there's people and water and the perfect amount of dirty. 

Came back to the hotel for a conference call with the place I have been freelancing with. The price was right. So as of October 13, I will officially join the rest of the robots. Not gonna lie, I'm pretty pumped about health insurance and 401K and unlimited free lemon Snapple. And even more excited to start saving for my great escape. Just as long as 300 other things fall into place like visas and jobs and housing and deciding where I want to live. I thought this trip would help me decide which country or city to live, but it has only made me more confused. 

In a perfect world, I would live in Paris with Italian people who speak Spanish. And I'd have a tomato garden on my rooftop and moonlight at the Jewish Bakery down the street when I'm not slinging English lessons. 

 

Day 192

Tourist time. 

I probably walked the entire perimeter of Monmartre Cemetary without seeing a single tombstone. Hell if I couldn't find the damn thing and after an hour going in circles, I didn't want to anymore anyway. I was hot and tired and I had to pee like a muther. I went left like the sign said. Then what, sign??? You left me hanging! After walking down 4 blocks of XXX shops and peep shows and everything! You and your damn arrows. Lies. All lies.

Luckily the Louvre and Champs Elysees were where they said they were. And...wow. I've seen a thousand pictures of the Louvre but like the Eiffel Tower (and Venice, and The David, the Trevi Fountain,  Sistine Chapel and New York City in a taxi from JFK at night) nothing can prepare you or compare to the moment you see it with your own eyes, and no picture you take can fully reflect the magic of these places.

I tried anyway. 

And like the Eiffel Tower and the David, etc etc etc, just when you think you've captured every possible angle, you walk away 10 feet and it's like this whole new thing. Requiring you to stop in your tracks as if you're seeing it for the first time. Requiring a new round of pictures, too, because now trees have entered the scene or the lighting is different here and the Thing is brand new without ever changing.

I sat there today on the fountain at the Louvre (eating a macaroon filled with fresh whole raspberries) looking at all these people with their maps and cameras and guidebooks and money belts. Art has this amazing way of bringing people of all ages and colors and religions and continents together. I know there are much deeper levels on which you can and should appreciate a painting and a sculpture. But mostly, I just dig it's power to bring people together. We're all here to see something amazing. And we all did. 

As for dinner, I found myself in my favorite part of the city (and my home base for the last week), Le Marais. On my favorite cobblestoned street, rue de Rosiers, in the heart of the Jewish neighborhood. Never have I seen more yamakas or falafel joints in my life and never have I been so delighted. I ate at Chez Marianne and it might be the best meal I've had yet (if you don't count the macaroon at the Louvre or my plate at the Marche du Enfants Rouge). The kefka, hummus and olives were perfect but it was the atmosphere that I will remember. I will be back. 

Day 191

To the market

To the market

To take pictures of people buying a fat pig

People still do this. In some corners of the world, there are people who wake up early on weekends and go to the market and the fromagerie and the patisserie and the marche du flours. And I went looking for them today. Because I love them. 

I haven't been to the Louvre, the Champs Elysee, Versailles or the Musee d'Orsay but I've been to just about every market this side of the Seine, in search of the market I saw in the movie Two Days In Paris. I didn't find The market. I didn't get the pictures I wanted. I did get lost. A lot. I did in 7 hours what should have taken 1.5. It was a miracle I made it back to my hotel. I walked in and the hotel clerk (the black Lerche) shook his head and mumbled "should've gone to Versailles like I told you...". I know, Lerche, I KNOW! 

A couple hours later I was showered, with Nutella crepe in hand, with my feet dangling over the Seine. Thinking this can't be real. Watched the sun set. Watched the lights flicker on underneath the bridges. Watched people watch other people. Wishing I had my people next to me, some booze and some cloves. Next time...

I love Paris. But who doesn't.

Day 190

NOT at the Ray Lamontagne concert tonight in Paris. But I am in Paris, so I'll try not to let that bother me (even though it is really really SUPER hard not to).

I started my day as I would start every day if it were up to me. At a market. And in particular, Marche des Enfants Rouges, the oldest covered market it Paris. Is it bad that this was almost more exciting than Notre Dame or the Eiffel Tower (which to me is much more enchanting when you see it peaking over rooftops or trees than in full body shot view). Two hours, a hundred pictures and some food from My People later, I was wandering around Le Marais looking for a Picasso Museum that had been closed for 2 years for restoration. Ooops. But by happenstance, came across rue de Rosiers, the heart of the Jewish neighborhood. I went into a real Jewish bakery, heard an amazing men's choir through the windows of a synagogue, and bought a couple vintage dresses from some super adorable old man in a resale shop--ones that I was only able to try on once I got back to my hotel and ones that subsequently will never see the light of day. On me at least. 

Tonight I headed across the Seine to the the Ile St. Loise for salted caramel ice cream (yeah you heard me) and a cheese plate at some brasserie on the water. Because I couldn't understand anything else on the menu. Crossed back over the bridge to find a wine AND cheese festival along the banks of the river. How did I not see or hear this before! I could have been eating my cheese with my feet hanging over the Seine. C'est le vie. Maybe tomorrow.

Also by happenstance, on my way back to my hotel, after meandering through hoards of teenagers swigging champagne along the Seine, I found the restaurant I feel in love with in the New York Times article a while back. It made me melt when I saw the picture. It made me melt when I stood in front of it, taking my own. I can't wait to come back here for dinner next time I'm in Paris. It's kind of place you want to share with someone. 

Day 189 Part Deux

This is my third holiday in Europe but only my first trip to Paris. I was saving Paris. For when I was in love and blah blah blah. Silly I know but that's how I imagined experiencing it. And here I am. Not in love in the traditional sense but kind of in love with life. I am somewhere a little too beautiful to be true when life feels a little to good to be true. When every idea I get in my head materializes. And things keeping falling into place, granted at their own pace not mine. 

I know life will suck again at some point. It has to. That's it's job. But I think I've learned how to make it good again when it does. Less thinking, more doing. And remembering that when one day or week or year sucks, there's always another day. And the next day could rule. And everything can change. 

I heard this song today. Coincidence? Couldn't have said it better, Jack. 

Who's to say
What's impossible
Well they forgot
This world keeps spinning
And with each new day
I can feel a change in everything
And as my mind begins to spread its wings
There's no stoppin' curiosity

I wanna turn the whole thing upside down
I'll find the things they say just can't be found
I'll share this love I find with everyone
We'll sing and dance to Mother Nature's song
I don't want this feeling to go away

Who's to say
I can't do everything
Well I can try

Day 189

Holy cow. I'm in love.

Day 188

It rained again but I had to see the old Madrid one more time. Before I took off for Paris. I got soaked and had to wear wet shoes for my flight. And was worth it. 

And whoever invented this combination should be shot. Or made a saint. I can't decide.

Day 187

And then there was one. Nicole bid Vivir Bien adeiu. And I slept all day at the Munoz's three story casa, recovering from vivir-ing too much the night before. And the whole time, I just kept thinking, I wouldn't be here in this amazing home in this amazing city with these amazing people had I not gotten laid off from buzzkill of a job. Just yesterday my first ESL class was ending and Raquel was inviting Myriem and I to Madrid. A couple months later, here were are. 

It rained in Madrid for the first time in 2 months. So we got bundled up and headed out for a mini roadtrip to the medieval village that Raquel's mom was born in, Avila. The walls are a thousand years old and she told us how they would run around at night playing cops and robbers. The only thing they had to play with were stones and their imagination. 'Que abburido!' (how boring!) she kept saying but to me it's just amazing. Like a movie. 

Day 186

Last night I met Madrid but it wasn't love at first sight. I mean the buildings were ornate. There were people and cafes and holas and adios' but it wasn't what I imagined Madrid to be. Too big and metropolitan and flashy. Too could-be-any-city-europe.

But Today I found what I was looking for. Saturated color. Slanted arches. Fading signs. Crooked cobblestone. Cracks. Imperfections. Traces of another time and another people. And I was happy again.

And hungry again. Because we hadn't eaten in 27 minutes. So Raquel and her amazing friends fed us. There was a lot of paella, whisky and th's and rrrrrr's. 

It was a pleeeeaaaathuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeeee.

 

Day 185

Our work here is done. Onto Madrid.

Day 184

I came to Barcelona 6 years ago to see a place that, until then, had only existed in my imagination. A country that I was sure I was from in another life. How else do you explain my love for chips and salsa and dark olive-skinned men? I've been retracing my steps for the past few days and life here is just as sweet and colorful as I remember. Maybe more. 

Day 183

All Gaudi. All day. A lot of form, not a lot of function. But function is overrated.

     

Just when my legs were gonna call it a day, we got to the real sightseeing. We saw more cheese. More olives. More bread with a sauce we'll just refer to as crack. And many shades of sangria. 

And then there might have been some skinny dipping in the Mediterranean Sea. Under the moonlight. With an audience we could have done without. 

Day 182

And then there were 3. Me and two of my favorite people crammed together at a tapas bar in Barcelona like we were at the Woodward Avenue Brewery circa 2006 waiting for an order of pretzel rods and nachos, talking about how we were going to get out of advertising one day and do something cool. We didn't know what, we still don't. But a weekend in Barcelona ain't bad for starters. We've come a long way from 1/2 off pretzel rods at the WAB. We live in different states now. Have different jobs. Different relationships. Different hair. But the same damn good time no matter where we are or what we're doing. Which is usually eating. 

 

Day 181

By midnight we were showered and comfortably seated in a tapas restaurant in Barcelona with a plate of cheese, sausage, mushrooms and lots o' wine to wash it down. 

And suddenly it didn't matter how the day started. Woof. 

Or that we traveled for over 14 hours strait among just as many modes of transportation. Including EasyJet which should really be called AssholeJet. That was behind us. Also behind us was a table with a 9 year old. I am in a country where it's perfectly normal for a family to sit down to dinner at 1 am on a weekday. Hola Barcelonaaaaaa. Where have you been all my life?

Day 180

Just makin' some homemade pasta in Chianti. In a home that's about a thousand years old and has seen a lotta pasta and heard a lotta cantare by generations and generations of one lucky Tuscan family. 

It was the best pasta I have ever had in my entire life. And I don't even like pasta all that much. Just some noodles, halved cherry tomatoes, red pepper, garlic and loads of olive oil. Loads.

Day 179

Mission accomplished.

Two months ago, a guy came into the wineshop with his salesman to show us his wines. It's hard to say what was more striking...him or the photo album of the vineyard he brought with him. A vineyard surrounding a castle on the highest hill in Tuscany, overlooking the entire city. Last night I danced the night away in that very castle with that very Niccolo and the winemaker and his winemaking elves after tasting the first of their new vintage with people from all over the world. 

If I didn't have pictures and videos and giant mosquito welts on my arm, I wouldn't believe it ever even happened. I still kind of don't.

We walked onto the terrace as they were still preparing for the harvest party. The winemaker greeted us in a t-shirt and flip flops while his little girls clad in polka dot underwear picked grapes out of barrels and helped set the table. One of the most humble and gracious and kind people I have ever met. A guy that just gets a kick out of what he's doing and an even bigger kick out of sharing it with others. He has happy eyes. So refreshing to see people live so simply (as simple as you can live in a castle at least) and truly just love and appreciate each other and their work and even a good roast pig now and then.  It was a fantastic night and I left the castle inspired. And drunk off olive oil and Testamatta.