Thursday, June 13, 2013

Amarena



Day 4, didn't take tours
Just boarded the train
Took a nap with no fake snores
and escorted my brain
From a place that was empty
to sunny skies of Firenze
the event reads
week long gelato festiv-al
Came into the city in sweats
and came out dressed in style
Our squad's art's odd
Artois? Pour me a Stella
Lasagna forno and prosciutto
at Tratorria Nella
More food I order
until to fit the frame, 
you'll have to move the borders
With a couple euro coins, keep your quarters
Opening more doors for myself than a porter
Standing taller than the statue of David, 
though my patience is shorter
First hand on the second note
Stepping over Ponte Vecchio









  Cursed by culture. That's how I'd describe it. My grandmother taught me right. It's worth spending a lot of money on a great meal, yet the rigorous constrictions of American diet perception has irrevokably altered my culinary exploration. This concept revolves around cheap food. McDonald's dollar menu, Denny's Grand Slam and the all you can eat buffet are American standards, so the concept of courses and a meandering pace is near blasphemy. Let us not speak such words in the chapel of IHOP. Preach! Tabernacle! If an American can't pronounce it, taste must be an after-thought in the dish The world is so much bigger and multi-layered than this foolishness.
 Tolerance is the key word for tonight. To butcher a Gandhi quote, something like this: " Don't hate ignorance, pity it." 
 It's easier to understand the universal disdain for Americans now. Fear of elitism racks most of my country. God forbid someone find out you shun the Olive Garden in favor of a Michelin starred restaurant. Someone might think you're too big for your britches and are extremely legal. This is the end of my rant. Now. At this moment. The end. Ok, nevermind. Splitting the check crap, getting change, we're money grubbing fiends! Now, I'm done.











There are many different types of Italian restaurants and after eating at a few of the varieties, I feel it is important to share their distinctions. 


  • Tavola calda: A very informal (and sometimes self-serve) eatery where you usually choose from a pre-prepared selection of hot dishes—like an olde worlde cafeteria. Great for a quick, light meal.
  • Trattoria: Usually a traditional, family-run establishment that serves fresh pasta and other home-cooked food.
  • Pizzeria: A casual restaurants where you go to eat pizza. Pretty obvious, but here are a few Italian quirks. Traditional pizzerie are open only in the evenings, and they don't serve much beyond pizza.  All Italian pizzas are pizzas for one, you don't order a pizza to split, or to share with the table. Each person orders his or her own pizza, and while they are pretty large, they usually have ultra-thin crusts so it's not too hard to wolf an entire one down. Plus, walking miles everyday will build up quite a hunger.
  • Ristorante: Restaurant. Again,  obvious, but it's useful to to know that eateries which call themselves "ristorante" usually have pretensions for  high prices. This is in contrast to a (typically cheaper) trattoria or osteria. 
  • Paninoteca: Fancy way to say "sandwich shop." And by the way, since the term has gotten so popular in the U.S., some clarification: a single sandwich is called a "panino" . "Panini"  is the plural. Asking for "a panini" is like asking for "some spaghettis"—it just sounds dumb.
  • Osteria or hosteria: Usually an even simpler, down-home local's eatery than a trattoria—though sometimes fancy restaurants use the word to try and evoke a simple, trendy charm.
  • Gelateria: An Italian ice cream shop—though calling Italy's thick, creamy, flavorful frozen treat something as banal as "ice cream" is deeply insulting to gelato.
  • CaffĂ©: Pretty much just another name for a bar, though there may be more of an emphasis on the coffee, and on outdoor tables.
  
  Nearly all Italian restaurants have an unavoidable pane e coperto ("bread and cover" charge) of anything from €1 to €15—though most often €2 to €5—per person that is automatically added on to your bill. This is perfectly normal, and perfectly legal, despite the feeling of a scam.





Train stations are wonderous places. It amazes me that public transit can me measured to the exact minute. While the train station in Venice was packed to the gills with travelers, the process of getting a ticket was simple and inexpensive. Simply walk up to one of a score of automated ticket booths, pick your destination, choose payment method and voila, you are now ready to sit down for the next few hours. I'm also blown-away by the casual nature of the station. I'm really only used to travelling in airports and everybody knows the level of security one must pass before you can even get near a plane. At the train station, you just walk in from off of the street and storm the place. Even needing a ticket seems a formality; it is only ever checked once, by a very disinterested looking man in a too-tight cap. It can't be too difficult to stow away on a voyage. Not that  it gives me any ideas.... Future reference though, if you head to Italy at any point, don't feel restricted to one particular region, as it's exceedingly easy and affordable to travel to one of Italy's distinctly different regions.

   





Mystery Flavor....on a waffle






This just an add-on to the Venetian entries; a series of videos highlighting my journey from Santa Maria della Salute, back to St.Mark's. This was tricky because the vaporetto, or water taxi, was suspended due to the festivities of the Vogalonga, a yearly protest against motorized boats going on its 32nd year. It's a very festive, casual boat race; mainly just an excuse for a nice celebration with your friends. Without further ado, I bring you: "Leg it Out" starring C.A.





Volume 1



Volume 2



Volume 3



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Volume 13








Needless to say, it was an awesome day. I will be in a boat with my friends on the lagoon

Nocciola


Day 3, hazy, 2013 A.D.
lazy, because I slept till noon
Stick to the script, give a great read
lone wolf ,break free
Don't misconstrue
I still bless the platoon
It's just I've gotta do me, never stress
you do you
God gave my Dad wings and said
It's best if you flew
Not best dressed but I don't give a F.U
C.K, walking to San Maria's is what I'll do 
today
Got my Pandora on, no Songza
walk along so smooth like the cruise of barca longas
Got to stay calm, give a cheers
Don't sing O Sole Mio like only one gondoleer
Emotion jerker, fondle tears
here's the swan song for my peers
Keep your beef, 
I'll just serve you with some wontons full of fear
Or tagliatoni, I laugh at you phonies
You're more far-fetched than a little girl's Christmas
asking for ponies
The reasoning for my seasoning, pepper/salt flow
is to connect you with the past like the bridge of Rialto


Here's the third installment of my "Italian Soundtrack by C.A":http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GIzBQA2F0E8


As I scrawl this in my notebook, I rest my bony ass on a nameless bridge in Rialto. it is the unassuming nature of this locale that attracts me; it's perhaps a slightly more authentic slice of Venezia. Chris A. is a fairly low-key mudasuckah. Therefore, hanging out somewhere is perfectly suitable. Plus, I can only walk fast and the amount of waddling dawdlers tends to irk me. And so , I relax.

I



 If you don't have full use of your legs, don't visit Venezia! the amount of stairs and uneven cobbling would make for the club-footed's worst nightmare. It's damn sure pretty though. The further I get form Per di San Marco, the more the city opens itself, revealing dozens of idyllic corners and crannies. I'm sitting in a dog park as I write this. Beautiful view of the lagoon, translating people watching to boat watching. It makes me want to buy a dinghy and island hop.


 I've started to pretend I'm a Frenchman. Since my shift in nationality, I have taken photos of six couples, all enquiring "Pardon, could you take zis peektour?" Once I reply with "oui", they smile without fail. It's fun to play the overzealous photographer in conjunction with my Marcel. "Un otre, un otre", I bellow, and again without fail, my energy level is matched by dramatic poses and beaming grins that I can feel tickling my soul. This is a place where people come to be happy. It's been that way for about five hundred years, ever since Venice lost it's military prominence and the silk road stole Venetian economic superiority. Magic Kingdom of history, Epcot of...Epcot, Hollywood Studios of fresco mosaics. Despite my compulsion to further humbug that's o.k. The source of it's mystique is not the architecture, but the sense of adventure a foreign locale brings and the camaraderie that comes with sharing that experience.

Camaraderie

My absolute lack of Italian has made me realize the true significance of my basic Spanish and French training. In either of these countries I'd be passing most any test with flying colors but I'm only managing it because of the level of tourism. Lanterna di Marco Polo is where I had lunch today. A simple panino and a cappucino really did the trick. Plus, I broke down and bought a Sprite.





Today's history lesson is on the gondola, as our group took a brief jaunt upon one. Gondolas are remarkably uniform. They weigh 1,500lbs , have 280 components and use eight types of wood - lime, larch, oak, fir, cherry, walnut, elm and mahogany. All have an oar  and a walnut forcola, or rowlock, each carved to suit individual gondoliers and designed to allow eight distinct manoeuvres. All are exactly 35ft' 6in long and 4ft 6in wide, and all have one side 10in longer than the other.
This last anomaly came late in the gondola's evolution, in the 19th century. Added to compensate for the weight of the gondolier, the imbalance lends the gondola its distinctive lean and lopsided appearance. By 1562, boats were so encumbered with decoration that the authorities issued a special law banning ostentation of any kind.
Thereafter, gondolas were a uniform black and their exteriors restricted to just three flourishes - a curly tail, a pair of seahorses and a multi-pronged ferro, or prow. These are still the gondola's only metal elements.

Definitely check out the iconic symbol of Venice but don't com into it with very high expectations. It's like a Disney ride for year olds and younger.




Today's gelato flavor was nocciola or hazelnut. This paired with a simple cioccolato was quite delicious. A nice hazelnut garnish plus a few strawberries and the picture was complete,  

Wednesday, June 12, 2013

Frutti di Bosco



On Day 2, I make due 
with a makeshift holiday
Turn Venice out like May 5th
I'm roaming, so don't call today
Refuse to have time wasted
I'll see more than the basics
I had a peche plate last night
when I burp, I can taste it
Cobble stone pavement
right next to Bareteri bridge
Is where I made this statement:
"I'm killing this vacation!"
Right here is where they'll bury Chris
Check my pylon placement
Weight on my shoulders, can't let what's carried slip
Amazement
is what you should endow every second with
I'm too nice
Go ask Professor Stern what the lesson is



I now bring you the Italian Soundtrack by C.A  pt.2:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g65oWFMSoK0


The lesson for today is have no expectations. A building is a building; the novelty resides in showing off via a picture. Second lesson: don't be a lone-wolf so much.
There are definite advantages, but in the end, you come-off as selfish. hell, I'm sitting in front of la Basilica de San Marco, kvetching about that very fact. I'm of the opinion that the group lost me, not the other way around. I'll admit though, being stationary is a beautiful thing. 
St.Mark's Basilica


Left:La Basilica di San Marco, Right: The Doge's palace

  
Venice's greatness has always been reflected in the Basilica's enrichment: during the centuries the Venetians embellished it with precious objects and works of art brought in from the most distant places, thus creating a grand, compact monument.This basilica is the one we see today. It was the doge's private chapel until 1807, when it became the city's cathedral.
It's distinguishing Byzantine character appears particularly on the great mosaics illustrating St. Marco's tales, as well as the scenes of the Old and New Testament. St.Mark's Basilica is also well known for the Pala d'Oro, one of the richest and most precious altar screens in the world. It is covered with more than 3000 precious stones and enamel icons inlaid in gold.



Done with pictures, I'm attempting to sponge up all of the sensory information. Would St.Mark have enjoyed his name being associated with Disney World? If not, too bad I suppose. A good few thousand traipse past me, maybe 2% being Italian. Would St.Mark appreciate the commercialization of his work? His name is literally used to generate boatloads of income. He never even heard of Venezia. the more I consider this, the more I lower a visor of distaste. St.Mark poured his lifeblood into establishing Christianity in Alexandria. I'm a long way from Egypt. His remains were stolen and shipped to Venezia as a political ploy, all as an act of compensation. At this point, the winged lion that symbolizes San Marco is dually representative of Venice. that's a bit pompous if you ask me. Just about everything in this square has a wing on it. Just about every person has a camera fixated on a winged bust.
 I would again like to reiterate that the group lost me. So, now I stand, in what to me is the most obvious location: one of three 30 ft. flagpoles. Unless these doe-eyed...individuals, pick another path, they'll spy me, translating my rants to paper. Frankly, I have never wished to have a tour guide, with one of those dorky flags, more in my life. As I feel the stress rise, I recall my mission statement. I'm gonna have a good time and if I don't, I'm still gonna have a good time.
The Campanile bell tower, rebuilt in 1902



Everyone takes the same pictures. what's the point in an amateur mashing their smart phones to take a picture of an arch? I understand if your family is in the foreground but dozens of individuals are simply on a click-and-move program, snapping crooked, blurred pictures of every crevice and crenellation. Buy a postcard. It's handicapping your memory people! Relying on a camera to visually record, will keep your mind blank when attempting a memory recall. if you're having fun, go for it, but there are way too many souls who stone-facedly stare at their digital displays, without a hint of enjoyment, or even a smile. Of course disregard this rant if you have to take pictures so as to pretty up a graded blog. 

I ended up on quite the journey, traveling southeast from St.Mark's square. Of particular interest was Vivaldi's church, Santa Maria Della Pieta, where Vivaldi lived and worked. Built in 1730, this church was adjacent to the renowned orphanage where Vivaldi's student-musicians lived.

I

The

The night was brought to a close with a healthy dose of gelato. Today I tried Frutti di Bosco which literally means "Fruits of the Forest." It's really just good ol' fashioned mixed berries. Not too shabby ladies and gents 





Stracciatella


Center stage on day one
Papa told me: "You'll be a mainstay son
Just put trust in me and what you've done
Moonlighting in Tuscany's sun
Until the day the money calls, then get in touch with your funds."
Sing a d-note to denote
You'll approach a pretty lady when on the vino
Ciao bella, here's a shot, see how we float
Cabernet swimming pools, drown in confidence with each dose
I swim hard through the vin-yard
If my inside was on the out, I would have my skin scarred
Mentally, in a pimp's garb
stay around me, you'll catch contacts like a sim card
North Italy, no olive oil, mix in lard
In fact, the fact THAT fact's the cream of the crop
Makes it ironic that these raps will have me skimmed off the top
Not to detract, once I begin it's a sin if i stop
Until then, I act rude to see statues,then grin at the rocks


Here's the 1st installation of my soundtrack. I wore my headphones nearly the entire trip, so to more fully understand my experience I bring you my "Italian Soundtrack by C.A":http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4kTei0XrCs

Day one and all that. I'm two 5-Hour Energy shots in and I'm still fading in and out of consciousness. Those two sentences took 6 minutes to create. Through the miasmic glaze of jet-lag, a swathe of the Veneto countryside is visible, swirling through my peripheral vision. After a momentary defeat in the battle against slumber, I have awoken to the sight of water. Our Mercedes Benz cargo van is plodding steadily on Ponte della Liberta, the only land bridge connecting the historical center of Venice to the surrounding countryside. A few minutes and a few precarious, evasive maneuvers later and we have arrived in some kind of bus stop. Of course it's raining, so this entry is being scribbled in one of the highly contested spots under an awning. One of these attendants, the woman on the left(for future reference avoid the woman on the left) made her disdain for our group quite visible and I utilized this visage in a practical learning exercise.Lady-on-the-left was producing what we experts in the field like to call: a Class A, Mean-Mug. Upon exclaiming this to myself and my colleagues, the adult faces I flew over the Atlantic with seemed a bit puzzled. So, I took the time to describe the meaning of the vernacular and my general amusement at proclaiming it loudly. Now that I'm writing this part back in the States I can tell you, that Professor Stern used the terminology on multiple occasions. The first few, hilariously inquisitive- "So.....mean-mug?"- the last few, comedically confident- "Chris, that lady was mean-mugging you!!"

   Vaporetto tickets in hand, the journey to our Hotel commenced. The only thing I was aware of was our hotel's proximity to the Rialto bridge. Out of the 409 bridges in Venice, the Rialto bridge is the oldest, the present stone crossing being completed in 1591. Suitcases suck on cobbled streets, just wanted to get that off my chest. A lesser bag would have been reduced to a frayed and splintered heap by the fourth day. After a bit of meandering, we arrived at our hotel ai Bareteri. The one quirk of this place, besides the bidet, was the requirement of inserting the room key into a specific outlet to enable electricity for the room. My American brain struggles with the thought. Shackled by fatigue, the only the thing our group was capable of was staggering to a nearby restaurant for dinner. A local restaurant had been warned of our arrival and prepared a large enough table for the thirteen of us. Already salivating, we ordered our food and gave energetic conversation our best shot. We waited.....and then waited.....and then waited. I could hardly keep my head off the table by the time I received my peche(fish) plate. Lots of onions. 
As we wait....
 We survived the ordeal, our sole motivation the thought of a bed's embrace. I snuggled into my bed approximately three inches from Patrick's and quickly began a vacation to sleepy-time land . Day 1 in the books, eleven to go.