Skiing in the Summer!

We drove up to Timberline Lodge on Mt Hood, about an hour or so from Portland. Patrícia kept asking where the snow was. Everything is green and beautiful and warm. I said, "wait, we have a lot more 'up' to go." And so we went, up and up and up. And it got colder and colder. Only in the last few miles did the snow start.

Finally, there it was, enshrouded in clouds, Timberline Lodge, a 70 year old public works project built to give people jobs. And now it is a comfortable and attractive historic monument that you can sleep, eat, relax, and play in. Our cute little room had a nice new bathroom, and the original furniture and art designed and custom made when the lodge was built.

We ate at the "world famous" Cascade Dining room and were treated very well as newlyweds. Free champagne and special table service. It started with hot fresh rosemary bread with olive oil and balsamic, a mini tasting of cold fillet mignon, the most incredible crawfish bisque, and a lingon berry granita (like a slushy). She had a prawn and scallop pasta as an entree and I had lamb chops of course. To go with it, we had a fantastic wine that was not expensive(big surprise considering the cost of the dinner.) Everything was fantastic, but the crawfish bisque left us craving more and more.

The next morning, I looked out the window and saw the hordes of snow boarders and skiers, walking to the lift, about 100 meters from our window. We ran over to the rental shop, got skis, boots, and poles and hit the slopes for her first lesson. It was sunny and surprisingly warm and we stripped off a lot of the clothes we had just put on.

The lift line was crazy with snowboarders and the only runs open were intermediate or expert. There was no way Patrícia could make it since she had never been on skis before so we hiked up a bit for her private lessons (with me). She was scared to death and I had to ski backwards in front of her, holding on. She learned fast and did well and we went over to the lift and bought really expensive tickets for the few hours they would be open. In the summer the snow gets too soft in the afternoon and you can't ski.

We got on the lift without incident, getting off was almost a scene. She had her poles under her leg as we rode up and when she took them out when we were about to get off, she got her skis and poles all tangled. I managed to help her just in the nick of time. And then she promptly fell getting off the lift like I knew she would. I think it is a right of passage.

Perched at the top of the intermediate slope, in the warm summer morning, she looked great, like a real skier. I was proud that she had the nerve to get that far. She, however, was horrified with the prospect of moving from that spot. With no small amount of coaxing, she started down, going much much faster than on the practice slope below. A few screams, but she did great for her first time. She made long smooth turns and only fell a few times. I was so proud.

She could not ski for long before her muscles gave out and I went to the very top to the expert runs while she waited below. I love skiing. It was fast and scary and great. My muscles on the other hand didn't like it so much. I just couldn't ski for very long. My thighs were on fire.

We had some clam chowder and drove back down to the hot summer temperatures of Vancouver. A very memorable day and a half.

Eric's Birthday

We got back into Vancouver on Eric's 15th birthday. We headed out for the best Chinese food ever. It was a combination of a superb waiter and the best tasting Chinese I have ever had. It was an incredible meal. The waiter told us outright what was good, bad, and best on the menu. And he was right. He even gave us a free appetizer of shrimp dumplings that was heavenly. At the end he brought a free dessert for Eric with a candle of course, without any fanfare or scene, just "Have a happy birthday." It was at PF Changs, which I always thought was overrated even though I never ate there. I'm a believer.

We stayed in Vancouver a few days, went hiking up to a waterfall, and drove out to the coast with Grandma, Grandpa, and Eric. It was decent weather. Not sunny, not cold. I got to show Patricia where they filmed the movies Goonies and Kindergarden Cop, but the best part was the forest and beach. We hiked a short trail and played on the beach and just relaxed.

We also went to my favorite Moroccan restaurant where you sit on little poufs on the floor, eat with your hands and watch the belly dancer perform.

The most exciting part was to come later. Up the mountain. In the snow. In the middle of summer.

Biking the Bridge

We jumped on the cable car to Pier 39 with an empty picnic bag, stopped at Trader Joe's to fill it up, and then rented a tandem bike on the pier. The guy that rented us the bike told us it was easy with just a few little hills. Uh huh. Don't believe it.













A tandem bike takes a little getting used to with the wide turning radius and two people who do not always lean the same way, but it was fine. We strapped our picnic lunch to the handle bars and off we went. We almost made it up the first hill without bailing. The next one closer to the bridge--no way. We, and everyone else, gave up riding. Then the bridge itself is uphill to the middle. You get a much better idea how big the bridge is when you ride over it. It is really really big with a span of 1280 m (4200 ft). It was wonderful going down the other side and around underneath it, but then it was a big hill to get into Sausilito. When we got into Sausilito we were tired. I found out later that we went 16 kilometers (10 miles).

We looked in a couple shops and then had a picnic in the park by the bay. Nice crusty french bread, genoa salami, brie, cobb salad, parmesan crisps, wine, and the most perfect strawberries I have ever seen and tasted in my life. Really, they were stunningly pretty and incredibly delicious. It was a perfect little picnic.

We took the ferry, with 200 other bikers, back to Pier 39. There was no way we could ride back. It was a great day.

Airport delays

We were delayed a few hours in São Paulo which made us miss our original connection in Miami so we were rerouted through Los Angeles instead of directly to San Franisco. It was a lot of flying and we were tired yet still very excited when we actually arrived in SF.

Trying to save money we took the Bart train from the airport ($5 each) to the Powell street station, only 3 blocks from our hotel. Three blocks uphill. It wasn't so bad though.

The King George Hotel is a nice smaller hotel with free wi-fi, good free coffee, and it is only a block from Union Square and the cable car line. We got a really quiet 7th floor room at the far end of the hallway. The view was of other buildings and Starbucks. The latter was not surprising since if you stand in front of one Starbucks in downtown SF, you should be able to see another one less than two blocks away.

I bought an unlimited week pass for the cable car for $24 because a single ride is $5--no transfers (ouch!) Then we rode up to China town, where most stores were closed by that time, and went into a sushi restaurant where the sushi was delivered on little boats in water that runs in front of the seating bar. They had big signs in their windows about 99 cent sushi! Liars! There was one thing that was that price and it wasn't fish. Everything else was much more expensive. We had a so-so udon noodle dish instead.

The Beach in Guarapari

I have been to many beaches but I could not understand when Patrícia said we were going to sit in a beach bar all day. I wanted to be on the beach not in at a bar. Turns out that the beach bar is right on the beach and depending on the tide, almost in the water.

We always had a nice shady table with umbrellas or under a big leafy tree. She had told me about the food too, but again I did not understand. The bar where were had food and drinks and then there was all the food that passed by. There were fresh oysters opened at your table (best ever in my life), skewers of BBQ meat and seafood, corn on the cob, a guy that grills skewered cheese on a tiny BBQ, fruit popsicles, quails eggs, giant fried fish, giant fried balls of cassava root (as big as my fist) filled with shrimp, cheese, or meat, and more. And lots and lots of really cold beer.

This picture is of a big fish that has been deep fried, covered with shrimp and fried bananas. It comes with french fries, a tomato, bell pepper, and onion vinagrette salad, and farina, which is best described as a crunchy powder that adds a delicious texture to food.

Incredibly, I did not gain weight while I was at the beach because I swam so much. I did however cut up my feet and hands pretty good on the rocks when I went diving off the big rocks. I managed to avoid the thousands of sea urchins in almost every hole of the rocks.

As far as the beach itself, the sand was very fine, the water was just a little cool (perfect for the hot weather) and even when there were a lot of people, it didn't feel too crowded.

I loaded more pictures onto my Picasa site, click on the link to the right.

Day 324 The End of Hawaii

Shave ice. Mmmmmm. It may look like a snow cone but don’t dismiss it so rashly. And it is “shave ice” not “shaved ice.” It is that Hawaii pidgin English that can be impossible to understand sometimes. They use a blade to shave fluffy handfuls of ice off a big block and then pack it into the cone shape. This makes for the most delightful texture and flavor, since the fluffy ice absorbs the flavoring instead of letting run through like pedestrian crushed ice. And if you go all the way, and you know we did, you can get a scoop of ice cream in the bottom and sweetened condensed milk poured over the top (called a snow cap). If you are going to do that you have to get the big one too, which is as big as Eric’s head, look at the picture, I am not exaggerating. All of the sizes were huge, even the small one was the size of a large grapefruit. I am happy to say that as weird as it sounded to put ice cream and condensed milk on a snow cone, it was fantastic. And only about 5 bucks.

Afterward we walked along the seawall as a graceful sea turtle glided/flew through the water along with us. Incredible.

We had to go to a luau while we where here. I got tickets to the Royal Kona Resort luau, supposedly the best tourist show on the islands. First we both got the traditional lei greeting and then I got the traditional mai tai (weak) at the open bar. Then we watched them dig up the pig from the earth oven, which by the way, may be a tasty way to cook the pig, but not an attractive way. He came out as an unappetizing looking pile of meat, skin, bones, and God knows what else. I did not hold it against him when I piled him on my plate shortly after that. The food was good. I love lau lau, a mixture of pork, fish, and the taro leaves. Eric was not crazy about it or especially not the poi. The emcee kept joking about how tourists hate it. Poi is merely pounded taro root without anything else. It is purple, almost tasteless, goo. Hawaiians love the stuff and I could see how if you grow up with it. If you don’t grow up with it….

They did a show highlighting the seven different Polynesian cultures. The women did lots of dancing with their hands and hips of course. The Maori warrior was fun to watch as he yelled and stuck out his tongue and swung his wooden stick in a very menacing way. The best part was the fire knife dancer. He was actually the best in the world , had the trophy to prove it, and was amazing. With the things he did, he must have burned all the nerves out of his body already. After the show I had to go get a real mai tai at Don the Beachcomber’s Bar at the hotel. Don invented the mai tai in 1933 and it is much more complicated than the Trader Vic version created in 1944. This is one of those things that you just can’t pass up. It was indeed good. Too good. I was wishing we were staying at the hotel.

Our explorations around the Big Island took us all around the island putting 1400 miles (2250km) on the rental car. I am glad I got the unlimited mileage option. It was worth it to have our own car there. There is not really a functioning bus system outside of Oahu. I wasn’t thrilled about the $35/day insurance on top of the rental fee though. Ouch.

Hawaii, like some other places I have been, is very expensive. It is also however, unlike any other place on earth. For all of my travel, when I look back at the pictures of the places I have been and I remember the experiences, both good and bad, I don’t miss the money.

Day 287 Aleppo, Syria

Arriving in Aleppo, right away I knew I was in a very different place than Turkey. I am not sure how to describe it other than poorer, less modern in thought, and slightly oppressive feeling.

The prices in Syria are silly cheap. Taxis are plentiful and almost free and food is a pittance. The souk, old market, was okay, shop keepers were very aggressive toward me, the rich foreigner of course. I wandered right through without looking at much. On my way out I stumbled upon the Citadel looming over the center of town. This was cool. I sat at a café right in front and had foul
(pronounced fool) which is giant fava beans in a yogurt sauce with ground sesame and olive oil. Seeing that it was only one USD, I made the mistake of ordering some dried yogurt with it. I got so much food there was no way I could eat it all. The yogurt came like hummus on a plate with olive oil, garnish, more pita, tomatoes, mint, onion, lemon, and pickles. The food was good. They have a saying about foul because it has so much protein that it makes all of the blood go to your stomach--so if you are acting stupid--they say you have eaten too much foul.

I wandered the ancient city inside the Citadel and loved the deep underground passages with scary steep steps. I am not sure I was supposed to go in them because they were not lit up, but I had a headlamp. Back up on top I went to possibly the most pathetic pay museum ever. At least it was only about $1.50. All they had were a few column fragments, a cannon, a simple catapult, some tiles, and a bunch of unlabeled crap. The best part of the Citadel, other than the grand entry, was Sharif, a young stone mason who was very happy to talk to me and invited me to eat with him. I regretfully declined eating as I was stuffed with foul. All through Aleppo, I was very pleased with the friendliness of the people.

Day 280 Turkish Food!

Turkish breakfast was a refreshing change. Tea or Turkish coffee, one hard boiled egg, a chunk of feta, dried oiled olives, sliced cucumber, tomato, butter, honey, jam, and bread. After not eating traditional heavy English style breakfast for so long, the idea of fried eggs, potatoes, and sausage is not appealing.

I stopped at a strange little food stall in the Grand Bazaar where everyone, about 9 people including me, crowded around a tall table with bins of green things in the middle. What you do is order lamb or beef, pork (not seen here) and they give you a rolled up meat filled pita, a pile of parsley, pickle strips, and grilled, long green peppers (anaheim) on a piece of paper on the table. You sprinkle the parsley with lemon juice and salt, and as you eat the pita, you stuff your mouth with the other things. As you need more, you can grab it out of the center bins.

I did what I usually do and ordered the strangest looking thing to drink. Salgam, not only falls into the strange category, it defines it. I was startled by the taste of this dark purple/brown liquid. It is spicy, fermented, purple carrot juice. I drank it all, out of fascination rather than pleasure. My curiosity was satisfied and I will not be buying it again.

Another meal was a scorchingly hot ceramic dish with beef, tomatoes, cheese, and spices. It was delicious with the chewy and plentiful pita bread. I could eat this many times.

The Turkish custom of having tea all hours of the day is interesting in that you see everyone with a little saucer, spoon, and glass cup. I mean everyone. People sitting by a blanket strewn with trinkets have a cup, clerks in stores have cups, people everywhere have them. They get delivered and collected by whatever café is near. Walking around you can see forgotten empty cups and saucers sitting on the sidewalk, on electrical boxes, railings.... everywhere. The tea is typically a bitter apple tea that you can sweeten to taste.

Day 247 Pizza of the Gods

Giovanni had indicated on everyones map the best pizza place in Napoli, Gino Sorbillo’s. Gino’s grandfather invented the calzone. It would be a cold day in hell before I would leave Napoli without trying it. We went early (seven of us) and that was good because the place filled up fast. At three euro for a margherita and 6.50 for a loaded one, the unusually cheap pizza seemed incongruous with the expensive looking interior. After watching for a while, I realized that they made their money on sheer volume. This wasn’t merely a cheap pizza place, this was going to be really good cheap pizza.

The pizzas that came to the table were huge, ultra thin crust, incredibly delicious. They were far and away the best pizzas I have ever had. Amazing!!!! The calzone were fantastic too. I could not get enough and ate way more than was necessary. I could not help myself. It was hard to stop. Knowing I would not be able to come back before I left the city made me a little sad as I reluctantly walked out the door. Outside, there were 50 or 60 people clustered in the tiny cobble stoned street waiting to take my place.

That was some damn good pizza. I was so eager to go eat the pizza I completely forgot to bring a camera. Sorry.

Day 246 Napoli and the Best Hostel in the World

Napoli (Naples) is hectically busy, dirty, chaotic, and currently in day three of a garbage strike, I love it! The dark and narrow streets are filled with tiny shops, restaurants, people, cars, and scooters, scooters, scooters. The challenge for motorized vehicles is to go as fast as possible in too little space without either hitting someone or something. How it works is that you drive very fast, honking every time you are coming to a corner or people are in the street, only slowing down if you get really close to someone. The Neapolitan definition of really close is about 6 inches or less. There were many times I was worried about my foot getting run over. Once you get used to the local comfort level for close passes it is kind of fun.

The reason I love the city is that it feels alive and real. The combination of great architecture, great food, bustling streets, dirt, crime (mafia central), and large amounts of charm and style makes it feel balanced, unlike too perfect places such as Monte Carlo and Andorra.

My hostel, called Giovanni’s Home, lives up to its name. Giovanni greeted me in the hall as I came up the stairs and would not let me check in until after we ate lunch. We went out on the rooftop patio with a few other travelers, and I ate a fantastic seafood risotto, washing it down with a nice white wine while we chatted away the early afternoon. Then, relaxed and very comfortable, I was amazed when the corner pastry shop delivered a huge selection of fine pastries for dessert. After about an hour and a half, he brought the check-in process to us, giving us maps and personalizing them for us, showing the best routes and explaining the sites, how to get to other cities, where to avoid, and so on. He took the time to make sure that everyone got what they wanted. This is typical for Giovanni. The mornings start with very good coffee and often freshly delivered pastries, if you are around for lunch and dinner, Giovanni makes sure you are fed. His charm, warmth, and humor creates a communal atmosphere where people want to sit around and talk and trade stories. It is the best hostel that I have ever been in. I was not the only one that felt that way—his place was ranked as number one in the world out of over 10,000 hostels by Hostelworld.com. His rating was 99% and the next closest was 89%. If you go anywhere near southern Italy, you have to stay with Giovanni; it was one of those great travel experiences I will never forget.

Day 238 Four Days, Six Kilos of Meat in Buenos Aires

Buenos Aires--home of tango, leather goods, pasta, yerba mate, and meat, meat, meat. Since we had only a few days because of Patrícia’s new job, we bought a package deal for flights, hotel, transfers, and tour. This was good thinking because we did not have to figure out any of the logistical details I normally have to deal with and we could enjoy exploring right away from our luxurious five star hotel right in the Centro area, half a block from the middle of the main pedestrian shopping street, Florida. The Claridge Hotel, built in 1946 was splendid in atmosphere and service. For someone like me who is so used to doing everything for myself, five star level service is something to be experienced.

We went to a tango show at the place all of her relatives recommended, Senor Tango, and while the show was spectacular and impressive, it was also spectacularly touristy. The production was highly refined and very elaborately choreographed, including indigenous pan flute playing, Indians on horses, many sultry and passionate tango dances, singing, and musical numbers. They did a couple excellently accurate renditions of Moulin Rouge, the movie, songs with the full production values. The cost, including a nice dinner with wine, champagne, show, and hotel transfers was only $70 USD a person. Not too bad for five hours of entertainment and food.

We quickly discovered that Argentineans have a very different idea of portion sizes. Everywhere we ate, the pasta or meat was enough for several people, while the accompanying vegetables and sides are afterthoughts at half portions or less. It was all about the meat. I believe the saying, “when in Rome, do as the Roman’s do,” so I did my best and I think I ended up eating half a cow in four days. I wouldn’t have done so if it wasn't really good. I can’t imagine trying to be a vegetarian there. Peculiarly, they are also famous for pasta, stemming form some kind of Italian immigration in the past.

I had to buy a yerba mate gourd and metal filtering straw because over ninety percent of the country’s population drinks the stuff. It is one of those must try travel experiences. The gourds are decorated with silver/fake silver and are available everywhere. And I mean everywhere. I don’t think I was ever more than 50 meters from someone selling them. Apparently, you fill the gourd with the ground up and dried yerba mate plant, fill it with hot, not boiling, water, and sip it all day long, refilling it with water up to about ten times before the mate is used up. The list of health benefits is long and largely unsupported by empirical evidence, but that many people can’t be wrong. Can they? Okay, so they can be, but I am going on trust here. I kept missing the mate service in the hotel so I will try it back in Brasil.

All those cows cut up and charred for consumption leaves a whole lot o’ leather. Which explains why almost every shop sells leather coats/products and every other shop makes them. Not surprisingly, the prices are very good with that much competition. I couldn’t resist buying a cool, heavy jacket for riding my scooter. It was half or less of what I would have paid in the US and when Patrícia, smiling seductively, told me how manly I looked in it, I had no choice but to buy it.

We are leaving wishing we had more time to do more than just touch the sights and flavors. It will have to wait for another time. Now its back to Brasil for a bit before I head to Europe again.

Day 233 Pizza Party

My idea of a pizza party with my coworkers is a little different than what happened last night at the apartment building of Patrícia's coworker.

Were we crowded in a little apartment with plates perched in our laps and no place to set our wine glasses? No. Were we helping ourselves to mediocre pies out of cardboard boxes? No.

We were seated under the stars next to the rooftop terrace pool. The tables were elegantly set and had custom printed menus for the event. We were to get two foccacia appetizers, six kinds of pizza, and two dessert pizzas. The pizza company set up their own high temperature gas fired pizza oven in the terrace kitchen and provided staff that circled the tables offering up slices of delicious ultra thin crust pizzas. Olive oil, wine and conversation flowed freely, and of course, I had my share of all three. At the end, as I finished my banana pizza topped with ice cream and drizzled with copious amounts of chocolate, I still wanted more, but I was already past the too much food point. And it wasn't until this morning that I realized that I went beyond the too much wine point too. Oh well, you only live once so make it count. Life is good if you do it right.

Day 179 New York

I love good surprises and New York was it. My last visit to NY was when I was working as fashion photographer. The agency I was working for flew me and a group of models to a fashion convention for two weeks. The models were a pain, everything was overpriced, and people were rude everywhere I went. Needless to say, the Big Sour Apple left me with a lasting distaste.

To my astonishment this time, the people I met were outwardly friendly, prices were good, and I didn’t have to deal with models. Okay, so the last part wasn’t a surprise. Seriously, I was baffled by how nice people were. But of course, I did not need anything this time. I could manage to do things and get around without help. Patrícia had an experience more like my first time. She thinks that if I needed something of people they would have been rude. I’ll see if it is true. I don’t know if the prices are better than last time or if I shop at different places now. Also, compared to Paris and the bad exchange rate, NY is not bad at all.

I bought Rollerblades today and went to Central Park to try them out. It was a beautiful sunny day—that was good. The park is big with many places to skate—that was good. Everyone else in NY thought it was the perfect day to be in the park too—that was bad. The people that sold me my skates didn’t offer to sell me protective gear—that was bad. I was thinking it was like ice skating and didn’t consider protective gear—that was bad. I failed to learn how to stop well before I went down a big hill—that was very bad. I managed to not fall down—that was good. I did remove a chunk of skin from my hand—that was bad.

After my mishap, I put on my winter gloves, (it was cool anyway) and skated around about two thirds of the park, stopping occasionally to watch experienced skaters make me feel like I was mentally disabled. They make it look soooooo easy. I consoled myself with the fact that everything I had read about in-line skates said all beginners look like idiots. I will try again, but only with some pads.

I am working on a idea that I will continue to explore in my travels. It is this: If any busy food place claims to be the king of anything, I have to eat there. In NY's Chinatown I ran across the Custard King and could not resist. It looked as if it had been there a long time and I doubted that such a grand claim made on a giant cartoon sign, could be entirely wrong.

In exchange for my 75 cents the clerk handed me the warm little bundle of custard. I knew it was going to be good from the way it tried to escape the flakey pastry as I carried it. I took a seat in the sun drenched window and lifted it to my mouth, careful to not crush the delicate shell. The aroma of warm vanilla custard filled my senses as I took the first bite. Oh...delicious. So delicous, I had to set it down and take the picture above. And then I ate two more even though I wasn't hungry. I just cannot help myself when I am face with culinary genius.

Two other notable food "Kings" are Taco King in Washington/Oregon and The Kebab King in Granada. I will certainly keep my eyes peeled for more food nobility to test this theory.

Day 162 Oh Heavenly Paris!

I forgot how much I love this city: The buildings, cafes, streets, monuments, metro, pastry, food, and the atmosphere. Even most of the French. I love this city. And what could be even better? To be here with a young beautiful woman who loves me. She flies in from Brasil tomorrow morning to spend a glorious week in the city of light. Life is truly good.

I have been spending my few days alone here by wandering the streets, flirting with the sights, and eating. Maybe it is a good thing I did not get here too much before Patrícia or I would be fat when she got here. Oh, the wonders of cassoulet, roasted farmer's chicken, and steak frites. Of course I have to temper all that fat with a little red wine. Life is fantastic here.

I did go to the catacombs by myself. I had forgotten how long of a tour it is.
There are the bones of about six million people in deep alcoves all through the tunnels. Long bones and skulls are arranged to form a "decorative" wall at the front and the rest of the bones are carelessly piled behind. Six million people is mind boggling. It is very dark, water drips from the ceiling, and human skulls are staring at you everywhere you go. Very cool. I wish I could have gotten some better pictures, but the exposures were 15-25 seconds long and I did not have a tripod.

Day 158 Marseille

Travel rule number one: Do not assume anything.

I bought a train ticket to Marseille from Nice. The ticket said the train number, Nice as the origin, and Marseille as the destination. Easy and straight forward right? No comment from the clerk about any transfer... I was on the train for about an hour reading when I realized that the train had been at one stop for a long time. Looking around gave me the unpleasant surprise that I was the only person on train. I found the ticket office and inquired within. I was in Grasse, substantially inland from the south coast where I should have been, because I needed to transfer in Cannes. The clerk was very good about giving me new tickets, back to Cannes and then on to Marseille. Luckily I only lost about two hours on the mistake. Note to self: read rule number one again.

Travel rule number two: Don’t second guess yourself; your first reaction is usually right.

The reputation of Marseille being the rough and tumble, drug and crime center of France was reinforced for me when I walked off the train at 10:30 at night, wandered down to the Metro, and in only those 50 meters I saw way too many malevolent looking attitudes for my comfort. Forgetting the metro, I went back up and checked into the hotel next to the station. I had planned on finding a hostel down in the old port area if I arrived earlier but that is reputed to be the worst area for crime. I am very willing to spend a little more money for personal safety.

The next day brought a whole new Marseille. The sun was shining and the city was jumping. I took a room at the Hotel Alize (seen facing you at the far right) on the Marina of the old port. I wandered through the colorful and fragrant flower market, explored the side streets filled with medina-like shops, ate half a pizza rolled up to go, and roamed the fortifications. It was a good day. I loved the city. Prices were great, street food was plentiful, and people were amazingly nice. As the second largest city in France I expected the brusque attitudes and busy demeanors that go with huge cities. Strangely, people were kind and overtly friendly everywhere I went. Maybe it is because the city is not overrun with tourists (they are all scared off by the city’s reputation).

That night I went out to grab some dinner. Everything was fine until I left the main boulevards. The under lit side streets were not friendly. I wasn’t more than fifty feet before someone tried to sell me drugs. I went around the block to the kebab shop by my hotel and ate in my room. I am really glad I did not wander around with my backpack the previous night.

A funny thing happened the next day. I was browsing in a plaza full of people peddling fake watches, belts, purses, and miscellaneous junk. I was standing in the middle of about fifty merchandise laden blankets when a yell went out among the vendors and within thirty seconds everything was gone. A policeman wandered through shortly afterward. He wasn’t interested in chasing anyone, just scaring them off.

Travel rule number three: Eat the best of the world

I had to have bouillabaisse in Marseille, the home of bouillabaisse. I had the best tomato based bouillabaisse of my life at Julia Child’s ninetieth birthday party so I wanted to try something different so as not to spoil the memory. My order came as a tray full of roasted fish and mussels, deboned and tastefully arranged on a large shallow bowl in front of me. The soup stock was added and I was given a bowl of garlic aioli to add as I ate. It was marvelous. God, I love food! It was pair with a delicious white wine too.

Day 107 Pasta and the Pantheon

The concrete 142 foot (43m) half dome roof of the Pantheon looks as if it was build yesterday despite being almost 2,000 years old. It is about 23 feet (7m) thick at the base and only two feet thick at the 30 foot (9m) hole in the top. The hole at the top, the oculus, serves as an oversized clock as the circle of sun traces its way across the marble floor. Engineers still don’t know exactly how they did it in one single concrete pour. That is some impressive concrete! Our modern concrete has no chance of lasting that long. So much for our superior high technology.

Much of the outside of the Pantheon was stripped for materials over the centuries and so its humble exterior belies the splendor that has remained untouched within. Definitely a must see. It is free too.

Maybe I should not be surprised that the pasta in Italy is so good. It is like gelato, I can’t get enough. Far and away the best pasta I have had was in a small family run basement restaurant. It was a little on the upscale side but I felt like splurging. I inquired about the house specialty and was told something in Italian I could not understand and was then directed to look at a big black cylinder in the back of the dimly lit stone restaurant. Sure! Why not? Eric ordered lamb chops and we feasted on spindly bread sticks, soda and wine until the food arrived.

The waiter wheeled over the cart with the ominous black cylinder perched upon it. It was a giant wheel of cheese! How can you go wrong with that?! He dumped a bowl of incredibly hot pasta noodles and sauce into the hollowed out center of the cheese and furiously stirred, scraping cheese from the walls of the cylinder. He then scooped the steaming mass of noodles, sauce, and cheese out and into my bowl. Oh my! It was strewn with pancetta bits! (Its like bacon) It was without a doubt the best pasta I have ever had. I could not get enough and had to force myself to eat slower. Oh my god, my mouth is watering just thinking about it. Mmmmmmmmmm.

We topped it off with caffe lattes and panna cotta drenched in a dark chocolate sauce. Wow! The trip was going much much better now.