Viva Italia - Day 11 (Coming to America)

SATURDAY, JANUARY 23RD

This morning is a clean slate - migraine gone and no symptoms to report. Thank God! We were packed and ready to roll out early from the night before, so we slept in as long as we feasibly could without missing our flight. 

There was one minor, annoying experience in Rome once at the airport and checked in - they made us weigh our bags and insisted they were too heavy to carry on. Without a logical answer to, "then how were we able to travel with them as carry ons on the way here?!" They decided that they were going to check them for us and soon they were being rolled away. We were handed tickets for each and advised that the bags would be in STL when we landed. We didn't bother fighting it. 

It was an early start to begin the first leg of our travels back stateside. Rome to Frankfurt - a quick 90 minute shot on Lufthansa to meet our connecting United flight to Chicago. Those Germans sure do run a tight ship. I've never had a delay on a Lufthansa flight, ever. You're pulling back from the gate promptly at your scheduled departure time, there is almost never a delay once on the runway, and you're usually arriving to your destination right on schedule (if not early). We were off - Frankfurt bound, the beginning of our three part journey home. I think we were subconsciously fasting for the next travel installment, as we both skipped the food and beverage service of our short flight altogether. We soon found ourselves in the Lufthansa lounge, taking a bathroom break and grabbing a quick cafe latte before heading to the next gate. 

I have to applaud my husband. He knows how to time a long journey with connecting flights, that's for damn sure. Had we experienced any sort of delay and come face to face with the domino effect of missed flights, I'd probably be singing a different tune. But we didn't, and thus he deserves some praise! 

Once again, I cannot begin to articulate the level in which the luxuries of business class travel take the stresses of even a nervous flyer like myself and make them obsolete. I know, total asshole comment, but when you don't pay for the tickets and use miles, that makes it okay. Right?! It's just so unbelievably worth it. Champagne upon arrival, constant food, ability to recline, movies galore. It really doesn't feel like flying.... Until you run into extreme turbulence over the Atlantic. When the flight attendants are asked to take their seats, as they are pouring your wine, on account of the bad flying conditions. I was not okay. I slammed my wine in a single gulp and tried to focus on my movie. The turbulence only lasted for about 30 minutes, but it felt much longer. 

On a lighter note, prior to the flight of fear, I randomly had an urge to open my window and look out. I did this JUST as we were flying over The UK and Ireland, starting out over the ocean. I don't know why, but I felt like that was such a cool thing to see on a whim and know exactly what I was looking at. I'm a geography nerd, I guess?! About 9 hours, two movies (The Martian and Sleeping With Other People), three episodes of It's Always Sunny and a few rounds of Sudoku later, we had touched down in Chicago. This is the first time we've done a big trip and not been "home" when landing here, so that was a little strange - one more flight until we were back in STL. 

Customs in Chicago is always a shit show, but we were relieved to find the line was not terrible! We got through quickly and were at the final exit when we had a slight altercation with the officer. We didn't have our bags, as we had been advised they would be in STL upon our arrival, but we were refused authorization to exit without them. The officer was a real dick, but turns out he was right. He could have been a bit more helpful and a lot less of an asshole in guiding us, as opposed to the scolding and combative approach he chose to take. Needless to say, we elected to go to a different line to exit, and proceeded to re-check our bags immediately thereafter. How efficient...

And then there was the terminal to terminal transportation.... Man was it crowded! Apparently the trains had some mechanical issues and were running slower than expected. Of course. Somehow, Brandon and I successfully pushed our way through and got seats on the next train. Within about 10 minutes we were finally in the correct terminal, but still had quite a ways to go to get to the gate. We had been sitting for 9+ hours, I guess it didn't hurt to get some steps in! Like clockwork, we had enough time to check out the sub-par United lounge, take a bathroom break and grab some water, before it was time to go to the gate and board the final leg home. 

Remember how I feel about the commuter jets? Yeeeeeea. We were only at about 20,000 ft cruising altitude, which makes for lots of bumps, but luckily it was less than an hour in the air. Wheels down, luggage received and in our car within approximately 30 minutes. As quickly as it begins - the countdown and anticipation, rush to the airport and fear that you didn't pack any of the right things - it's over. 

To cap off our Italian adventure, there was one thing we knew we absolutely needed for dinner when we landed.... Mexican food. Because we were soaked in gross airplane stench from the last 24 hours, we decided Taco Bell was our only remedy. What's more American than fake Mexican fast food, am I right?! Before even coming home, we hit the drive-thru... 

In a daze, we ate, unpacked, showered and climbed into bed by 10pm. I think we were both out almost instantly, likely dreaming of the wonders of Roma, Firenze and Venezia we had just experienced for ourselves. Until next time, viva Italia!

Viva Italia - Day 10 (Back to Rome)

FRIDAY, JANUARY 22ND

We woke up, started getting our bags packed and ready to go. We had planned on getting everything together, checking out, and having the hotel hold our bags while we hit up one last Venetian lunch. Brandon was really craving the lasagna from the first night, so we decided we would give Al Vecio Marangon another go. They were closed the last time for lunch, but we were hopeful that would not be the case today. Mostly, I would argue, because we were feeling pretty guilty about the whole tip situation and wanted to right this wrong before we left. 

It was still early once we had all of our things in order, so we stopped at Gino's for some caffeine and to mourn the official "death" of my very favorite pair of boots - it was a mutual decision that they should meet their demise in Italy, where they were "born" way back when. We had not previously come in here during the morning hours and it was completely jam packed. We managed to find a seat in the back corner, and took in the last moments of a Venice cafe before heading to lunch.

We took our time en route, window shopping along the way to make sure we hadn't missed anything spectacular the previous days. Also hoping to avoid the boarded up, closed sign that would have shattered our dreams had we arrived any earlier. As we turned the corner, the same waiter from night #1 was opening the doors of Al Vecio Marangon. We were the first customers in the restaurant, right at noon. We didn't even need the menus, we knew we were going to have the exact same meal as we did on our first night here. Minus the dessert and espresso (and only a half liter of wine this time around). 

The Caprese was as creamy and fulfilling as I recalled. Everything was falling into place, but I noticed the lights were starting to get small halos around them. This is usually a sign of one thing for me - a migraine is on the horizon. I'd been extremely fortunate the entire trip, having not had any migraines at all over the course of the past 10 days. Because I didn't want to do anything to make it worse, I took it easy on the red wine for the first time in Italy. I was going to have to adjust to life without Chianti Classico at every meal anyway, might as well start here.....

Our main dishes took some time - we were the first to arrive, and they'd not really been set up in the kitchen entirely. Other patrons had arrived, indulging in Venetian delicacies as well. I was somewhat drooling, watching everyone else stuff their faces with their eats while I waited on my own. Finally, ours arrived and we dug right in. We were watching the clock and knew we had little time to eat, get back to the hotel to pick up our bags, catch the water taxi to the train station and set off for Rome. Still, we knew we wanted to savor what was such a great meal previously. Brandon's? Equally as good. Mine? Not even close. The gnocchi was still perfect, but we had arrived so early that the bolognese hadn't really had a chance to cook and meld together. There's a reason they cook that shit low and slow and all day long. It takes time to be just right! I blame myself, I should have known better...

Making up for past mistakes, we tipped extra this time. As we were signing the bill, it's only appropriate that I looked to my left and made, what felt like, direct eye contact with none other than Bruce! He was coming down the alley, appeared to be alone, but we watched Simone join him as she scurried around the corner to catch up - and off they went! It's only fitting that we managed to see them every single day while in Venice. While I have no doubt his nails were still bright red, and he definitely had on his white leather jacket, he had exchanged the leather pants/shoes onesie for a very normal looking pair of jeans. I should disclose that they were acid wash in color, but hey, progress!

And just like that, we were floating along on a water taxi. Drifting further and further away from Venice, I finally had the realization that this was the beginning of the end to our Italian adventure. With only one more excuse to eat my weight in carbs remaining, I was starting to get homesick for Italy and we hadn't even left yet...

The 4 hour train ride was brutal for me - the constant pressure and popping of my ears as we were in and out of the mountains proved to be too much for my head to handle. By the time we arrived in Rome, I was with full blown migraine and all that comes with it. I was determined to make it to one last dinner, but absolutely had to take medication to even have the possibility of functioning. So I did, and we tried to give me some time to let everything kick in. I knew I was in bad shape, but also did not want this to be how we spent our last night in Italy. Brandon found a highly rated restaurant near our hotel, which we thought would be a safe bet.

Il Gabriello was on a side street, somewhat off of the main drag. It had felt good to get out in the fresh air, I was hopeful the meds were starting to work. That being said, almost immediately after we set down I could tell this was a less than favorable situation. We had no reservations, and there was an Italian argument over what appeared to be whether or not to seat us. Ultimately, they did, but by pulling a two topper in between two other tables that we could barely squeeze in and out of. They did get us water and took our order quickly though, so that was a plus!

After we ordered, I was starting to sweat and felt like I could throw up. Only problem, I couldn't easily get out of my chair nor did I know where the wash closet was located. I started to panic, fearing I wouldn't be able to make it to a bathroom if it did, in fact, come to that. Around the time I was imagining an American pile of vomit on an ancient Italian floor, our appetizers and liter of wine had arrived. Bruschetta and pruciutto. I couldn't even look at either without feeling ill, even though I so badly wanted all of it.  I was visibly struggling, so we decided that it would be best to ask if we could get our entrees to go. Brandon single handedly, and quite impressively, polished off both appetizers and drank the entire liter of red wine in a span of about 15 total minutes. I was feeling so bad at this point that I had to wait outside, while Brandon took care of the bill and got our carry out orders. I felt like a total asshole, but the wait staff was extremely sympathetic about it all. 

Our carbonara and cacio pepe e black truffle pastas in tow, we got back to the hotel without any public displays of projectile bodily fluids. Phew! I got in the shower as soon as we walked in the door, because that sometimes helps my head situation, and Brandon immediately ate his pasta as to avoid a seriously drunken situation of his own. I still wasn't feeling grand after the shower, but eventually I did eat my pasta - it was so good, yet cold as ever (and probably tasting no where close to what it would have if warm in the restaurant). Either way, it still hit the spot. You can't really ever go wrong with black truffles, a good lesson to take home with us!

I hate that this was how we spent our final hours in Rome, cooped up in a hotel room and in bed early because of my migraine. Even with this small wrench that was unexpectedly thrown into our plans on the final night, this trip has been truly amazing from start to finish. As much as we both would have loved one last pasta dinner of epic proportions, this gives us a reason (and need) to return. We have to be up and at 'em early tomorrow, so a good night's sleep is probably a blessing in disguise for us both - especially since we have no intentions of sleeping on the long flight across the pond!

Viva Italia - Day 9 (Venice)

THURSDAY, JANUARY 21ST

Still laughing from the specifics of last night, we got ready to take Venice by storm. While there are not necessarily a ton of "must see" items like we had in Rome or Florence, we knew that St. Mark's square and Basilica were two things that could not be missed. And a personal goal for Brandon, one that I am truly disgusted with, to have the pigeons flock to him like the crazy woman in Central Park from Home Alone 2: Lost in New York. I so wish I were kidding, but who am I to crush his highly attainable dream?!

The Basilica Di San Marco is beautiful. It is ornate and more flamboyant than any other basilica we have seen in Italy. With more gold and brighter colors visible, it almost looks like something you would find - or what I'm stereotyping in my head to find - in Russia. It just felt much more like a palace presence to me than a true place of worship. I guess one of certain beliefs would argue that they are one in the same though, right?!

We took position in the seats of an outdoor cafe, placed conveniently in front of the basilica and in the most heavily trafficked area of the square. Fully aware of just how touristy we were being, we ordered our drinks and soaked up the surrounding views with no shame whatsoever. Because it was so early in the morning, I ordered a cafe latte. Brandon had some other plans in mind as he plowed full steam ahead with an Italian spritz in addition to his coffee. I guess he needed some liquid courage in preparation for his pigeon encounter. I cannot say I blame him, birds are basically flying rats - terrifying!

After observing the successes and failures of our fellow tourists, I think Brandon was feeling good about his abilities to charm his flying friends. We paid the asinine bill of our 9 euro each coffees, and approached the square's center where Brandon was hopeful to become the main pigeon attraction.  What I feel necessary to note here is that, unlike many of the other tourists, Brandon had no food to offer the birds. He was relying on the expertise of his past 15 minute research alone. Ready for greatness, he removed his coat and entered the feathered crowd. While not quite as successful as the others around him - ya know, no food to keep them interested and all - he did manage to draw some attention to himself by getting a couple of pigeons to land on his arm and hover around him. I stand by this being a disgusting and terrifying practice, and I think Brandon's facial expressions in the moment support my opinions...

With that nonsense out of the way, we entered St. Mark's cathedral where we were warned countless times to take NO photos - no cameras, no cell phones or any other form of photographic device, under no circumstances acceptable. At the risk of sounding racist, how does this rule never seem to apply to Asians?!  I saw a number of people being scolded, but not a single time was it directed towards the man next to me, who took endless selfies and photos with flash. Truly amazing. I was feeling ballsy by witnessing his rebellion and decided I'd try it, just once. I am one for subtlety, so was not reprimanded in any way. The inside of the basilica is as magnificent as it appears outside, but it did not take us too long to make our way through the interior.

Venice is definitely the coldest location of our entire trip, but the sun was shining without a cloud in the sky today. We walked around the surrounding areas of St. Mark's, taking in the structures and breathtaking views of the water. As we were capturing some shots of our own, Brandon noticed an elderly Asian woman participating in what can only be described as a personal photo shoot with her husband. We watched as she posed and repositioned herself in various ways. What is lost in translation of Brandon's recreation below is that this glamour shot queen was seated immediately to his right, in the same position, taking the exact same shot. Brandon felt strongly that she knew what she was doing, and this was bound to result in one of the best photos of the trip. He is not wrong...

Because our hotel had hit last night's dinner spot completely out of the park, we decided this morning that we would put the remainder of our food choices in their hands. Among those recommended was a lunch spot called Osteria al Portego. We were advised that this was a great spot for true Venetian fare and the Italian tapas/pintxos style of food that we learned is referred to as cicchetti. Everything looked incredible, but we had planned on doing the cicchetti thing later tonight at Cantinone Gia Schiavi. As such, we opted for, shocker, wine and pasta. We did, however, skip the antipasti. I guess we realize we are nearing the end of our trip and need to "watch what we eat" - I hope the sarcasm comes across in that last statement...

I am happy to report that our hotel is now 2 for 2 in the recommend cuisine department. This place was amazing, truly authentic in every aspect - no menus in English even. Everything was hand written in Italian on a chalk board, which made making our pasta selections both adventurous and mysterious! We both studied our options and decided we were ready to pull the trigger - in truth, I think we both looked for words we recognized and decided to roll with whatever came with it. Brandon chose a gnocchi dish, and myself the seafood tagliatelle. Upon hearing Brandon's selection, our waitress smirked and asked him if he knew what ciuchino meant. When we shamefully answered no, she informed us that he had ordered gnocchi with donkey ragu. Imagine her surprise when we didn't balk at that. It was tender, juicy and tasted like beef. Not at all what I was anticipating! My seafood pasta was equally as unique. I'm not even sure what exactly came in it, but only that it included shrimp and another type of crustacean that was in season at the moment. It was light, yet rich, hearty and with a touch of ocean. I know makes absolutely no sense, but it was just so perfect. Against our better judgment, we skipped dessert - we knew we were likely in for a massive food intake later tonight, but every ounce of my being knows it was probably as stellar as the rest of the meal. I'm kind of kicking myself for being such a pansy....

We had really slacked on the shopping while we've been in Italy, but we had told ourselves prior to arriving that Venice would likely be the spot to get the best of everything - close in proximity to Florence to find some top notch leather, and in the heart of Murano glass country (which is both highly sought after and comes in the form of tiny treasures, easy for traveling with). We knew today was really the last opportunity to find the perfect, pocket sized gifts for our families (ahem, and ourselves.... Like I was leaving Italy without a leather form of something...). When all was said and done, I walked away with a leather backpack purse, Brandon a new leather wallet, and some unique Murano glass pieces as our gifts. I would say we made the best of the available space we have to bring anything back to the States!

By the time we wrapped up the afternoon shopping spree, we were starting to lose daylight and knew we would need to get back and ready for the cicchetti experience quickly. We walked in and dropped off our buys, showered, and were walking out the door in the blink of an eye. We knew how crowded it was the night before, so we made sure to get to Cantinone Gia Schiavi at a decent time to secure position at the bar. The locals were already starting to filter in when we arrived, but we found a perfect spot at the far right end of the bar. From this vantage point, we were able to view the various cicchetti, which are basically a variety of different open face sandwiches - really crostinis, but without the toasted/crunchy element. Because we didn't want to miss out on anything, we pretty much sampled all of them while washing it down with the mini glasses of house wine - un ombra. We were totally embracing the local ways, but ombra, while cheap, does not really satisfy the quantity of wine in which I require in this type of setting. Despite that minor discrepancy, this was truly a regional experience of Venetian culture. Seeing people pop in ever so briefly for a drink (or two) and small bite, the only obvious comparison I can make is to that of happy hour in the U.S. Albeit, a much more controlled/tame version of such.  

Because we knew there was a restaurant we wanted to hit up for dinner, we waited as late as we possibly could before making our way to Osteria Enoteca Ai Artisti. This would be the last of the hotel recommended meals, and we had grown accustomed to the exquisite cuisine we had taken part in thus far. To say our expectations were set extremely high would be an understatement... 

I do like seafood, but I tend to be particular with it as well. For example, I cannot eat things when I can visibly see their tiny black eyes and insect-like limbs. They are ocean bugs and I can't do it. Even with crab and lobster, while I love the taste, if I can see the full spider-like form of a crab and some sort of scorpion-like thing of a lobster, it's just not going to happen. Knowing Osteria Enoteca Ai Artisti is almost exclusively seafood, I was a little concerned as to what would find its way onto my plate, but we put our trust in the waiter nonetheless. Admittedly, I was not keeping track of each dish like I should have to remember what we had eaten, but I did capture photos of everything, which I hope will do this meal justice.

We were the last of the customers lingering around in the restaurant. We did have a late dinner, but we were also on the verge of overstaying our welcome just to finish the bottle of wine we had ordered as well. We didn't mind that they may have been annoyed - totally worth it! 

After having a memorable final dinner in Venice, we were full bellied and happily strolling along when I was stopped in my tracks. There they were, in the same restaurant as the night before, and in the same ridiculous clothes - Bruce and Simone! Bruce was directly in eye sight, so we picked up the pace to pass by the windows and get around the corner before they had a chance to say hello. I'm sure most of this reaction was alcohol induced paranoia, but we were not willing to take any chances. 

When we got home, Brandon swears we watched another Wesley Snipes film, but I truly have no recollection of this. I think we discussed it, but ultimately decided it was too late and we needed to sleep. We have a long day of travel tomorrow, and still needed to pack up our belongings in the morning before we check out. What I do remember thinking before we called it a night, "I guess they never made it to Slovenia!"

Viva Italia - Day 8 (Travel to Venice)

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 20TH

It was bittersweet to leave Florence this morning. We are super excited to make our way to Venice, but also had such a great time here - we hate to see it come to an end. We had a semi-early train to catch, so had the hotel call us a cab to the train station. We are getting pretty good with the train travel, timing it perfectly to arrive and board just prior to departure. Another short ride - about 2 hours. Both of us dosing in and out most of the way again, until we were close to Venice and started to pay attention to our surroundings. 

Venice is such an odd little city, surrounded entirely by water. Once we walked out of the train station, we hopped on the water taxi, which is actually more like a city bus and their form of public transportation. They have different routes, just like the CTA in Chicago...except it's all in water. We were on the boat for 20 minutes or so, as we were (of course) one of the last stops on this particular route.

We grabbed our luggage and began walking the very narrow and cobblestoned pathways. I cannot call them streets, because there are no motorized vehicles in any capacity. They really are mini pathways in which people walk - very quaint and peaceful. Not at all conducive to walking with a carry on, however. 

We walked for what seemed like forever, unable to find our hotel. Back and forth, across one canal to the next. We are staying in a boutique hotel with two locations. We had passed the first of which, but we were not staying at this particular location. Brandon and I are both good with directions, so we were getting a little flustered to say the least. We finally gave up and found ourselves back at the only location we were able to find. As luck would have it, they had advised us incorrectly and we were actually confirmed to stay here anyway!

We were starting to get settled into our room when we received a knock on the door - a complimentary champagne toast! We threw those back and unpacked just as fast. We only have two days here in Venice, so do not need to unload too much this time around! 

By now, we were approaching late afternoon and realized we needed to eat something. This proved equally as difficult as finding our hotel! I said it before, but will mention it again... Venice is definitely a unique destination, completely surrounded by water. It's almost like a non-deserted, deserted island (or islands, rather). Combine that with the fact that we are traveling in the middle of winter in a very water logged little area, the demand for lots of shops and restaurants isn't exactly at its peak. 

The young woman at our hotel had given us some local favorites and recommendations, we thought we would check out one of those spots right away. We were so excited, and it would have been awesome, but.... Boarded up and closed. Strike one. We then located a very busy restaurant nearby that smelled beyond appetizing! We walked in, waited patiently for a few minutes before we were noticed, only to find that they were also closed. Strike two. So we walked.... Another restaurant. People inside - check. Doors unlocked - check. Smells delicious - check. Kitchen closed - check. Strike three. 

Eventually, we did stumble into a cafe of sorts. There were three locals sitting outside, smoking and enjoying some beverages, so we were praying they would be open. Success! 

The owner was a petite, dark haired woman who spoke very little English. As opposed to making it clear that he could not understand a single word flying out of her mouth, Brandon proceeded to smile, nod, and make various hand gestures. Finally I looked at him, after moments of awkward staring and silence and said, "you realize she's asked you a question and waiting for your answer, right?" He had not... Regardless, we managed to get our order in - bruschetta to share and some wine to start. We were in desperate need at this point!

We inhaled the bruschetta, which was more like a personal pan pizza to share than anything - a surprise from what we had thought we ordered, but neither of us seemed to mind. The locals kept filtering in and out while we waited for our main dishes - sometimes using the wash closet, sometimes asking for small bites from the food in the display fridge. Alas, our wait was over. The main dishes arrived, and while we should have known from the bruschetta that this place was anything but culinarily savvy, I guess we were being naive.

I had ordered the carbonara, which I thought was a safe bet. Fairly standard and what not. This was anything but that, though not completely terrible in taste. For the first time since our arrival, this was clearly not a quality meal. Definitely not homemade anything, and definitely not consisting of quality ingredients. They almost assuredly were all of the boxed/canned variety. Brandon was simultaneously experiencing the same things as I, unfortunately for him it came in the form of rubbery, black seafood pasta. Like me, he got through it. We topped off the meal with some stale tiramisu. It was on display and I couldn't resist ordering it!

As we were getting bundled up to head back outside, one of the now noticeably intoxicated locals began teaching us the Venetian ways of binge drinking on a budget. He taught us that in any restaurant or bar in all of Venice, you have the option of ordering a very small glass of house wine that is universally called "un ombra," and only 1 euro in cost. Interesting! The wine here is already so cheap, saving a couple of euros for a tiny glass doesn't really fit into our "order by the liter" approach to each meal, but definitely good to know! He also schooled Brandon on the Italian spritz that we had both noticed him drinking - it is essentially a bitter mimosa: prosecco, with your choice of Aperol, Campari, or Cynar and club soda. Too bitter for my liking, but certainly something Brandon could get into!

We wandered around for the rest of the afternoon, getting the lay of the land for the next day's activities before we lost the sunlight and headed back to the hotel. Because of the late lunch, we ended up cancelling our previously set dinner reservation at 7pm. We just weren't hungry and thought we would pop into the local wine shop to pick up some booze in the meantime instead. Man, was this place PACKED!

In Venice, they have a similar tapas/pintxos culture like that of Spain. Around 4pm-7pm every day, it is like a happy hour where they pop into Cantinone Gia Schiavi to indulge in after work, or pre-dinner, drinks and small bites. Brandon had found this place by simply looking for a wine store, but we had no idea what we were walking into! Because it was so jam packed with locals, and mostly because we were not mentally prepared, we decided we would definitely be coming back here tomorrow to participate in this daily tradition. But for now, we were going to drop off our wine and grab a cocktail before attempting to find a dinner spot. 

We regrouped at a cafe meets restaurant meets bar near our hotel, Bar da Gino. For whatever reason, we decided wine would wait for dinner, it was time to try some cocktails! Brandon dove head first into the Italian spritz game (Aperol being his poison of choice), and I went with some alcoholic orange soda concoction. I'm still not sure what it was exactly, but it was pretty!

Over our cocktails, we agreed to try our luck with the recommended lunch spot restaurant that was closed earlier in the day. I was definitely suspect, but pleasantly surprised to find it booming with business as we approached. Al Vecio Marangon is a very small, local operation - only about 10 total tables, if that. It was exactly what we had hoped for. We thought we were late enough to walk in, since it was 9pm, but the lone waiter/host (after asking if we were French, in French!) asked that we wait patiently for about 10 minutes before a table opened up for us. We completely came out ahead, getting seated at a four person table for just the two of us. Ample room to spread out in a very congested little space. 

We ordered up our liter of wine, Caprese salad with house made burrata, lasagna for Brandon and gnocchi bolognese for me. The Caprese was easily the best of the trip - perfectly peppery arugula with the creamiest burrata cheese and super fresh tomatoes. 

After the antipasti, we noticed the couple seated next to us speaking English and playing musical chairs. Apparently it was time for a "different view" for each of them - direct quote. This would happen two more times before small talk with them really took flight, but I will get to that in a moment....

Our entrees came, and I could tell that Brandon was a little unsure of the lasagna. It was definitely not traditional, more of a béchamel than tomato based sauce, and it contained peas! On everything that is holy, that is among the best lasagna I've ever tasted. The layers were so very thin with homemade noodles and the flavor was so decadent. My mouth is watering just thinking of it! My dish was honestly just as good - not sauce heavy at all, just finely ground bolognese and the gnocchi were like tiny fluffy pillows. Brandon even liked mine as much (or more) than his, I think!

We were so stuffed, but everything was just so amazing that I knew had to have my hand at their tiramisu. Impressed with our level of consumption in comparison to our respective sizes, the English speaking couple made a last seat change and went in with the small talk. They were certainly strange, but Brandon and I can appreciate odd. If I'm being completely honest, I totally thought the husband was likely a washed up rock star. His nails were painted bright red and he was dressed in head to toe black - the pants leather, with connected platform boots within. Very specific, I know, but I got multiple good looks as a result of their altering of seats! She was a bit more normal in comparison, though not by much. Bleach blonde hair, air head demeanor, could have totally been a groupie!

Much to my disappointment, Bruce and Simone were not rock n' roll legends. They are probably in their late 40's/early 50's, if I had to guess, and hail from Seattle. We talked about our love of that particular city and then learned that Bruce is a producer of "the circus," which we understood was not an actual circus when he presented us with his business card, but rather Cirque du Soleil. Simone, it turns out, is a Cirque du Soleil acrobatic dancer. I have proof of this via her own business card as well. Bruce was getting quite comfortable with us, and probably extremely intoxicated to boot, as he began a rant on U.S. politics before Simone cut him off. I guess she didn't want us to be put off by his beliefs before they invited us to Slovenia aboard a private plane. THAT. HAPPENED. 

Brandon and I can usually deal with weirdos in social settings pretty well - Brandon much better than I. But when I saw that he was visibly freaked out, I knew we were in a very serious swingers situation without a clear exit strategy. I guess we should have seen the red flag when Bruce replied, "we like to think we have lived there for over 1600 years," when asked how long they've resided in their home overlooking a cliff in Seattle. Naturally, we thought it was a joke and laughed. Bruce did not....

Our respective desserts arrived just after I broke the news that we, unfortunately, would not be able to accompany them to Slovenia due to our departure the next day (yes, I panicked and lied). Impeccable timing, really. We both resumed focus on our own company, and Brandon and I thought we were in the clear. That was until Bruce, being the ice breaker that he is, said, "so I guess Slovenia's out then?" SHIT. We are forced to continue interaction....

I made the executive decision to order espresso, after hearing Bruce and Simone did not. I was hoping this would buy us some time and that they would leave the restaurant before we did. At this point, I would have done just about anything to avoid the inevitable, awkward exchange where they were going to ask us to continue the party with them elsewhere.  By the grace of God, it worked. They ended up heading out, but not before we were able to witness the coming together of Bruce's entire outfit - the addition of one very tight, white, moto leather jacket. I was actually jealous that it wasn't mine - it HAD to have been a female jacket. We said our goodbyes, wished them the best in Slovenia, and were begged to call them next time we were in Seattle. "Of course!"

The worst part of this entire encounter? We had one of the most amazing meals, yet we were so beyond flustered with the events that had just transpired, we forgot to tip our waiter. Dammit, Bruce!

We laughed hysterically the whole way home, slightly in fear that we could turn any given corner and have a chance of Bruce and Simone being there waiting for us. But we made it back without any road blocks. If that is not a tale filled with desire, fear, flattery and possibility of homicide, I don't know what is?!

I'm not sure if it's the adrenaline rush or the espresso, but Brandon and I are wired. We were told that the hotel has DVDs on hand, so we made the call down to the front desk. With an eclectic collection of 90s flicks, we popped open our wine and are enjoying the likes of a young Tommy Lee Jones, pre-tax fraud Wesley Snipes and less good looking Robert Downey, Jr. in US Marshals. 

Could this day have been ANY more bizarre?!

Viva Italia - Day 7 (Chianti Region & Florence)

TUESDAY, JANUARY 19TH

Happy Birthday, Brandon! 

Today, we scheduled the Chianti tour. Our logic was that it's a celebratory day, why not have some fine wines?! Although, that seems to be every day here. A girl could get used to this lifestyle - pasta, wine, more pasta, more wine, tiramisu. It's a wonder that I might actually get on a plane to leave this country at all really...

We woke up a little later than we had planned to, but remembered we hadn't capitalized on the free breakfast in the hotel yet and this was our last chance to do it. We made a brief stop to have a cafe latte and croissant before we set off to the meeting point, only about a 10 minute walk. You know we are all about getting the steps in to off set our carb intake! We were pumped to discover only Brandon and I would be the tour participants for the day. However, that quickly turned into panic once the drive to the Chianti region began.....

Our guide spoke English, but was super monotone. Emotionless even. He would point out some of the most bizarre things, such as a tree branch where the olives grow and dirt which the vines grow out of - I'm not even kidding.... I hadn't completely dismissed this experience, but it wasn't looking promising. "Just get to the wine," I thought. That would make everything tolerable. 

Chianti region is a good 40 minutes outside of Florence's city center, so this was no short ride. Though I was a little taken aback when we pulled into a parking garage next to the town square in Greve, I went with it. The town is SO small within the hills of the region, I genuinely thought there may be a small winery hidden somewhere nearby. False alarm. 

We stopped at the town fountain, where Gilberto told us the tale of the black rooster representing Greve and how it became a staple of the Chianti region overall. This as a result of trickery in a town "race" with Siena (whose rooster is white) back in the day. Long story short, both towns agreed that riders would set off on the one road connecting Greve and Siena to claim their territory, but not until each town rooster crowed on the morning of scheduled departure. The Greve town mayor (or governor or someone important) did not feed his rooster, therefore he crowed earlier than usual because he was hungry. The rider from Greve set off to take ownership of the Chianti land earlier than the rider from Siena - so team black rooster "won," and Greve's Chianti territory is larger on account of the early send off. Sound slightly racist somehow?! Maybe a little..... But Gilberto was on to something - that little guy is definitely a symbol of not only the Chianti region, but only Chianti Classico wine is stamped with the approval of the black rooster. Apparently that's how you know it's legit. Hmm. I guess I did learn something?!

From the fountain, we walked at the slowest pace of all time around the Greve village square. Gilberto pointed out a number of shops, among them where we could use the facilities, but only if we purchased a coffee first. We did choose to go into the olive wood store, where we purchased a miniature Chianti jug, custom with the black rooster on the side. For 25 EUR, it was worth the memory of this bizarre experience. Next door was the butcher and cheese shop. This wasn't open, but Gilberto knew the owners and insisted we go in and walk around. As if we had never seen meats and cheeses prior to this moment?! Forget the charcuterie, I was thoroughly impressed with this wine contraption. I'm going to look into the costs of this bad boy when I get home...

Since the tour of Greve's square took all of about 15 total minutes, we went back to the get away vehicle. I forgot to mention that Gilberto firmly believed I was unable to properly close the van door. A weak woman, I suppose. He was not yet around the van and back in the vehicle when I made eye contact with Brandon and we both lost it. I looked him in the eye and explained, "I see what you've done here.... You booked a Chianti tour, thinking it was a wine tour. This is a tour of the Chianti region!" We got it together by time Gilberto was in the ride, and off we went... Not to a winery, wishful thinking...now to Montefioralle. 

What is Montefioralle, you may ask? A medieval castle that has been restored into 25 different apartments, where people actually live today. Did we get to see one of these apartments? Not a chance. BUT... Gilberto showed us not one, but TWO walkable pathway entrances to get into the center of the castle. I am poking fun, but this little village is actually pretty cool - they even have a lone restaurant and a lone bar within the walls of the castle! We saw a guy walk into his place, and I tried so hard to see in, but I got nothing. We walked around, received a few stares from the residence who were clearly wondering why we were there, and then walked back to the van. If nothing else, the views from outside the castle were definitely gorgeous. Worth the 15 additional minutes of killed time though? Meh. Where's the goddamn wine, Gilberto?!

At this point, Brandon and I are nearly in tears we are laughing so hard, but quickly pull it together when our dude gets back in the van. FINALLY, he tells us that we are going to a local vineyard. It takes about 20 minutes to get there, but we do make it to Podere Meriggio Alle Falcole, where owners Maurizio and Loretta, along with their dog Piuma, greet us with open arms. And we, parched throats. Gilberto had warned us that Maurizio spoke 0% English, but Loretta was able to communicate a bit. He wasn't lying. Yet, somehow, by the end of it I was looking at Maurizio and able to understand everything he was saying.

To say the day took a complete 180 would be an understatement. The "fluff" we had gone through up until now made this part of the day that much more meaningful. For the next 3+ hours, we spent time with Maurizio and Loretta, at their vineyard (which is actually their home), and learned all about their way of life, how they got into wine making and olive oil production, and then sat around their dining room table consuming lovely homemade bites prepared by Loretta (accompanied with their own harvested olive oil, which was out of this world)....and drinking their amazing wine.

Maurizio walked us through their basement, which is where the wine making and olive oil production takes place. At the age of 64, he has no employees to lend a helping hand. He and Loretta harvest each year by themselves, with the occasional help of friends, to begin the wine production of between 8,000 and 10,000 bottles annually. Maurizio hand presses the grapes, maintains the aging process in his own vats and barrels, hand corks every single bottle produced and also hand labels each one while he is at it. This is nothing more than a passion project for them - they distribute to individuals in various countries upon request, but never to a mass distributor. Even within the country, you can only find their wines sold locally in family owned restaurants or unique, boutique style stores. They truly have no interest in profiting off of this venture, it's for the love of wine and a retirement hobby. It's fascinating.

We learned that Maurizio is a retired mechanic who longed for an education in architecture, but did not have the money to get the proper schooling. He designed every inch of their home, which was nothing short of breathtaking - a modern design with rustic roots, placed beautifully within the hills of the surrounding vines and olive trees. He even went as far as to utilize the natural stone and various materials he found on the property, having the builders incorporate these natural resources within their home as they built!

By the end of our afternoon, Brandon and I had committed to shipping the homegrown wine and olive oil back to the U.S., but had to practically beg them to let us do it. We were never "sold to" by them in any way, making the entire experience that much more personal than any other wine excursion we have ever done. And we have done our fair share, in various countries - Napa and Sedona in the U.S., San Sebastián in Spain, Franschhoek in South Africa, and now Greve in the Chianti region of Italy. We love our wine and will use any vacation as an excuse for at least one stop for it!

Having totally redeemed himself, and a good amount of wine in our bellies to cut the tension, Gilberto was much chattier on the way back to Florence. We asked that he drop us off near the Galleria dell'Accademia as opposed to where we were picked up, and he agreed. We were bound and determined to see the original David before we leave Florence tomorrow! 

You always hear about how impressive this marble being is, but holy shit. The scale, detail, everything. If you weren't completely convinced of Michelangelo's talent from the likes of, oh I don't know... The Sistine Chapel, any schmuck off the street could take one look at this thing and understand that he was kind of a big deal. It took no time for us to get in and out of the Galleria dell'Accademia, so guess what we did the remainder of the afternoon? WALKED!

It didn't take long before we were feeling a bit tired from the early start to the day, and mass consumption of red wine, so we made a pit stop at a cafe/gelateria spot. It looked legit, and with the "real" stuff as we had learned to easily spot on day 1. As I was waiting in line, the best street experience of the trip came to a head... I was asked for directions, in Italian, by a real life Italian woman. Success - I look native!

We continued to work up an appetite right until having to shower and start getting ready for the ultimate Florentine steak night. We had done some research on authentic places to get the best Florentine steak in all of Florence and settled on Buca di Lapi. With the help of the front desk of our hotel, we were able to get in.

We had read that locals at Buca di Lapi really go for it when dining. Antipasti, primi, secondi and dolci. We were ready. Apparently, they serve a very specific type of spaghetti that a number of articles rave as a must - I knew exactly what my plan of attack for the evening was going to be. After hearing the special, Brandon went rogue for his primi dish. I think we were both pleased with the outcome, but I do think mine was the winner! 

Caprese salad, Buttera style spaghetti for me, pappardelle with rooster ragu for Brandon, and a shared Florentine steak for 2. The only thing that could have made this dinner better was an option for tiramisu, which was noticeably absent from the menu. It wasn't a complete failure - we salvaged the meal with an order of the Italian chocolate cake and vanilla gelato. We weren't mad at it. 

We were really on a high during our walk home. As if we hadn't consumed enough wine for the day, we swung by a local wine store and bought ourselves a celebratory bottle. Brandon's birthday ended up being such an amazing, unique experience. 33 is one he will definitely never forget!