Hoi An

Hoi An is a city of artisans, tailors, cobblers, silk makers, lantern shapeers, with a river that floods nightly. It has lovely beaches and terrifying bike rides. A hand made skirt costs 6$, a coat 20, tailored to fit. A giant bloated rat that I almost stepped on and motor bike ride by our sweet young tailor to find just the right buttons, such a charming city. River and ocean, great food, clothes, bikes.

The discovery of the "lighthouse" restaurant, and the pinnacle of my food experience in Vietnam. The "hot pot" a simmering brother of lemongrass, ginger, tomato, mushrooms, lemongrass deliciousness. You let the broth boil and add in lots of veggies and tofu!

Biking is quite the thrill seekers adventure. The roads have very few rules (and yes this is 'nam). 20 motor bikes going in each direction, no one has mirrors or looks where they are going, families, pigs transported on the two wheeled death traps. Sharing the road or rather fleeing like schools of fish every time . The dirt, black smoke and flies just about suffocate.

On the way back to the airport, we stopped off at Marble Mountain. It was a key strategic site during the Vietnam war, and was often used to house the sick and wounded. The mountain was an incredible site of temples and caves to climb, breathtaking views and calm. Vietnam's charm is nothing short of magical.

When in Rome. . .

Returning from a successful long weekend in Rome, my memories are quickly fading on the tastes and smells, thank goodness for capturing the sites.

The Colosseum was our first stop. We decided to get a voice guide, this is usually a good decision, best is almost always an actual tour guide, but if your are going cheap, it is a well spent 2 euro. The Colosseum is huge. Thinking about the battles that took place above the pathways below. One time they filled the space with water and had ship battles, another time they had hippopotamus fights with gladiators. It was incredible to think about how many animals had died in this stage, and how far they must have come from. The Colosseum now is a shell of it's former self, but incredible still.
The Roma pass does not cover the Sistine Chapel. One should know this and not follow the Spaniards lead. . . The actual chapel takes ages to get to, but the road is more delicious than the actual entree. Looking up and down is a favorite past time of mine. Many people focus on the walls, but in a building that ornate, the details of the ceilings, shutters, floors and window panes are what keeps my eyes busy.
Listening to a guide talking about the "School of Athens" by Raphael was a highlight. I snuck my way near them, the guide had a great voice, and an insight that captured my art filled mind. My favorite story, was that Raphael painted the great philosophers, but with his contemporaries heads. That in place of Plato, he painted Da Vinci and that apparently he painted someone else for Aristotle, but after seeing the Sistine Chapel, came back and chipped away the original head to replace it with Michelangelo's.

The actual Sistine Chapel was amazing for the grander and historical significance, but the paintings themselves, being so far away, were a little disappointing. It is sad to sy, but I have seen better detail on the side of a coffee mug. Still the shear size of the Chapel is astounding and to think of Michelangelo painting all that really is awe inspiring. Since being in Florence, seeing the Masaccio's Brancacci Chapel, as well as the "Lagrimas de Eros" at the Thyssen in Madrid, have been interested in differing depictions of Eve with the snake. What struck me, was that all the versions of the snakes are women or the heads of women. This did not break the rule. I guess we are the evil sex?

We stopped off, while wandering as we do, into a to-go pizza parlor. The common thing seems to be grabbing something to go, and sitting down on the steps of a church or a stoop to quickly eat a square of pizza. We randomly picked one with mushrooms, this being the best food decision, and least laborious we had. The pizza was perfectly seasoned with rosemary and marinated mushrooms that kept our tongue tingling with pleasure. And then later . . . we saw a pizza and pasta vending machine. I assume we chose the better option.

Letting ourselves get lost in the streets of Rome, we wound up watching some Italian break dancers. Mesmerized by their ability to use their bodies to defy gravity, we stood and observed their every move. Having taken a year of break dancing myself, I am always in awe with the ease they carryout each move. Having spent hours and weeks trying to perfect the 6 step and never carrying it out with much grace, I have the serious respect for the skill. Sitting on the Spanish Steps, listening to the melodies created by the babel of tourists. The sound is a bit jarring at first, and then as it becomes background noise, calming. The steps we sat on were smooth, worn away by the millions of people sitting on those exact spots. The white marble soft under my chilly hands. Watching the city turn from day to night, the lights dance on as the sky turns tints of orange and shades of blue.

The Center of Art

Florence

The slow paced city enveloped in art, surrounded by mountains and hills, the duomo towering over the tiled roofs, a city of magic and deep seeded art.

Walking the streets of Botticelli, Michelangelo, Brunelleschi, Dante, and Donatello, feeling the power of these great artists one is struck with how much was accomplished in one city. For an artist, and art lover, it is almost too overwhelming to bear. The city holds some of arguably the most important works of art possibly ever, but without a stretch for the Renaissance.

Seeing David in person was something that I could never have predicted would excite me as much as it did. The exhibit was interesting in that the curator had juxtaposed the roman masterpieces with photographs by Robert Mapplethorpe. In some ways it was a distraction, especially around the David, but next to other sculptures there was an interesting play between the ideals of the human body. After taking in David, I went on a search for the Vetruvian Man, a fruitless search. . . I guess I will just have to return to Florence.

(David at the Accademia)
Climbed up to San Miniato al Monte to look out over the city, the mosaic tiles glimmering in the obscured light. Chanting of the monks resonating in me. The light slowly fading on the city, going from red tiled roofs to silhouetted domes and spires. The night getting cool, the leaves soft as we walk back down. 

Meeting at Dante for a dinner with friends, every bite a taste explosion of flavors mingling and bouncing off one another. Orange and sage ravioli stuffed with ricotta cheese, and pear and Parmesan stuffed in pasta, combinations to excited the most adventurous foodie. The quaint restaurant made you feel like it was your discovery like you were the first to try these combinations, but the packed joint with a full house proved that man had been there before. Our host, a two year Italian herself knew well enough to take us here.
Since we were here for a conference, the night of the Gala, we all dressed to Florentine standards. Packed on some buses, we get to the gate of the gala where they realize the winding road won't fit the girth of our chariots. We are then put on to smaller vans and shuttled up to a mansion with a path lit by candles. Wine poured freely, feeling rosy, thinking fondly, exploring the grounds and never ending rooms.  (The Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore)

More Hot than Haute

Provence, France

The blues of doors, the teals and aqua shutters, the colors that dot the landscape are ones that are evident in the paintings of Van Gogh. The country side looks like a painting. A place that is full of such beauty, it inspires artistic creation.


The senses overwhelmed, colors, tastes, smells, the feeling of the sun, biting into a fresh fig, it was a road trip unlike any I had taken. We ate fanciful food, presented as artistic creations defying gravity. The sauces mingling, conversing on the tongue.
While in Les Baux, we went on an olive oil tasting, coating the mouth in oil like you would red wine, sounds disgusting, but I assure you, it was incredible. The different oils, peppery, green, light, delicious. I ended up getting a bottle of the most biting peppery oil, perfect for salads. Yum!
Unfortunately we had just missed the lavender harvest, but the sunflowers stood, drying out baking in the sun.

melt in your mouth crepe with nutella.

Listening to: