My Goodbye Present from LA

My car got tagged this week. A going away present from the SilverLake 13.

Apparently, the gang bangers decided that my "ride" needing "pimping." How considerate and thoughtful. They really shouldn't have though. Does that mean they want a piece of me? Have I been initiated?

Fortunately they only tagged my windows, not the panels. You would have seen the looks I got driving my wacked out ride to the Home Depot for a can of graffiti-off. Or the reaction from the cashier. "Such a pretty girl..why do you do graffiti? Why you run with gangs?" "No, I had to explain, I need to clean it off." That's just how we roll in S-town....

Worth Getting Out of Bed For

Trader Joe's Strawberry O's
Cheerios with chunks of strawberry yogurt goodness. Mornings were made for this.

It's Getting Old, and So Am I

I just returned from my dermatologist's office, a fancy-schmancy oasis on Wilshire Boulevard where they offer Botox and laser wrinkle removal. (Before you jump to conclusions, I was undergoing a most unglamorous procedure of getting my moles checked). Going to my doctor's office is almost a treat. Her staff are friendly and professional, and they are clearly trying to cultivate a spa atmosphere complete with glossy magazines and complimentary mineral water. So enjoyable is my time in the waiting room, they have to peel me from my chair. (It doesn't help that I'm usually having something icky done, like having a mole cut out or burned off my forehead.)

My gripe involves a trend that is growing more disturbing by the day. Each of her staff members, from the scheduler to the nurse, calls me "hon," "kiddo" or "sweetie". It's not done in a patronizing way, they are quite sincere. The thing is, I'm probably older than half of these well-intended, yet misguided women. Do they really think I'm in college? Don't they see my charts stating I was born in the early 70s? Unless they can't do the math, which clearly, albeit painfully states I'm 35. I want to say, "Look I'm paying with my own credit card. I'm using my own health insurance which is provided by my grown-up job."

I briefly attributed it to the way I dress, but in a town that so desperately covets youth, even the grannies shop at Forever 21. Compared to these exhibitionists, I might as well be a Victorian.

When I was 21 and looked 16 everyone told me I'd appreciate it when I got older. I know, I should be so lucky. To be terminally cute, ha ha. Well let me tell you something. Cute does not age well. Cute is cute at 21, less endearing at 35, and downright ridiculous at 40. Even if 40 is the new 30, it ain't the new 15. Not just yet anyway.

Gym Euphoria

I'm not a gym rat, I swear. Believe you me, it takes all I can to drag my sorry butt to work out, and I treat it like a trip to the dentist in that I bring everything I can to possibly distract myself: ipod, books, magazines -- heck I'd bring food if I could. But somewhere after 30 minutes on the torture device known as the elliptical, the endorphins kick in. Delirious from exhaustion, I go into the "zone" and an amazing sense of clarity emerges. My creativity reaches new heights as I come up with new book ideas, inventions, philosophies of life. Dripping with sweat, I shed my insecurities, apathy, and limitations, and metamorphisize into a new, actualized being. On my drive back, I vow to implement my new ideas and change my life as soon as I get home. Of course, once I set foot in the door, the couch beckons...

Schadenfreude

Admit it. Everyone derives a bit of satisfaction from the misfortunes of the rich and famous. I'd like to say I'm bigger than that, but sadly I'm no different. In my case, it's the story of Kaavya Viswanathan, the disgraced 19-year-old Harvard student who admitted to plagarizing passages of her book "How Opal Mehta Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life." Or now it should be titled "How Overachieving Teenager Got into Harvard, Landed a six-figure Book Deal, and Got Herself Subsequently Ostracized from the Literary Community." Initially her book publisher stood by her story of the deed being "unconscious and unintentional." Now things are looking a bit dim for Ms. Viswanathan. Today, Little, Brown announced they were pulling her books from all carriers. Needless to say, her second of her 2-book deal is now in jeopardy and DreamWorks has ixnayed its optioning of the film rights.

My fascination deviates between pleasure in her pain and sincere pity. After all, she is surrounded by pressure on all sides -- her parents, school, and the media goldfish bowl. It's uncertain whether she'll return to Harvard. She has undoubtedly pushed herself hard for her achievements. But for whose ambitions? It was her parents who hired a $30,000 coach to strategize Ivy League admission. The same coach who referred Viswanathan to her book agent.

Maybe I'm a bit pissy because on my family's annual income, which was little more than the cost of Ms Viswanathan's "consultant", I didn't get a fancy coach or expensive college prep education. (Bring out the violins...) I'm a product of California public schools for better or worse. My parents scrimped and saved so that I wouldn't be saddled with student loans after graduating from the University of California, freeing me up to take the first minimum-wage, entry-level publishing job I could find. Maybe I'm pissy because my last submission to "Jane" magazine was rejected. (They did send a nice letter though.)

Don't get me wrong. Life is good. My path of medical writing has been lucrative and afforded me a comfortable standard of living. I'm no longer in debt. We eat out regularly. Of course, I give into flights of fancy about landing that book deal that will take me out of the rat race, and give me my first house.

But right now I'm going to bed.

A Bit of Calcutta in SilverLake

So yesterday around 4 we hear a gush of water emitting from below the deck of our bungalow. "Oh the gardeners must be out," I muse. Jeremy looks out the window to investigate. He sticks it back in. "Jeeezus, there's raw seewage flowing down the steps [we live next to this here public walkway: ]."

Mmm, desentery delight. Something is backed up in the drainage system, causing a leak in the septic system. Yay! Fun times for a Saturday night. Three hours and four LA city workers later, we can turn our water back on. Remind me to stock up on bottled water. Not even Britta can filter that.

A Cat in Waiting

Poor Kali. She's a bit, er, backed up at the moment. I mean, how much does that suck? She can't exactly add a little fiber to her diet or take ex-lax. Oatmeal and coffee works wonders for me, but its effects on the feline gastrointestinal tract are unknown. Anyways, she has to wait for mommy (me) to get a clue when I notice she's been in her box for a long time or when she'll ask me for the New Yorker.

Unfortunately, she doesn't make things easy. Kali's penchant for being finicky is off the charts, even in catland. So she'll totally know if I try and pull a fast one, like add metamucil to her food. And forget about pumpkin -- a tried and true remedy. Finally, her preference for dry food over tender vittles isn't helping anyone.

So the people at the holistic petstore suggested flax seed oil. Since she hates pills, it's something I easily smear on her paw and have her lick it off. I'll let you know if that works. No doubt, you're on the edge of your seat

Return from Exile

Geez, has it been 4 whole months? Not much has happened since my last post. No trips to write about. So you'll just be subjected to my musings. Read at your own risk.

Roma, The Eternal City
Unfortunately all good things must come to and end, and Rome was where the curtain would fall on our Grand Italian Tour. Initially, I was a bit unenthused, as I'd been to Rome at age 18 and in the summer, where it is wicked crowded, and my memories were limited to being chased around by Italian lotharios on scooters (fortunately, they were more interested in my fair-haired companions). However, I was pleasantly surprised. Rome is a thriving, pulsating modern city with the trappings of ancient relics plopped in the midst of its core. While a large metropolis, Rome is surprisingly easy to navigate, as most of the landmarks are within walking distance of each other. Our hotel was also in a great location -- near the Trevi Fountain and within a 10-minute walk of the Spanish Steps. True, the latter is a congregation for clusters of crowds, Italian teenagers, and con artists; nevertheless it's still a great sight and quintessential Roma.



As night began to fall, we headed to the Villa Borghese, Rome's version of Central Park. Merry go-rounds, crazy kids on go-carts, joggers, a lake, and pizza vendors were all out in full force that Sunday evening. It's great to see quality family time spent outdoors walking instead of by the tv. I've said it once, and I'll say it again, the Italians really know how to live.

We spent our first full day exploring the ancient sites: The Colosseum (we bought our tickets ahead of time at the Palatine Hill, avoiding an enormous line -- thanks Rick Steves), The Forum, Mammertine Prison, and Palatine Hill. The latter is believed to be the site of Rome's first established settlement, and had cool ancient ruins and a great museum of artifacts. The hill is lush, cool, breezy, and relatively uncrowded. We saw a lot of sculptures like this:



The Colosseum was amazing. While the events it was constructed for were unquestionably barbaric, you have to tip your hat in tribute to the astounding feats of civil engineering and architecture. Considering too, that this is the blueprint for modern stadium design, it's pretty remarkable.

Other notable sights included the Pantheon, Cappucin Crypt (either designs comprised of monk bones), and the view of Rome from one of it's seven hills in Trastevere. We had lunch with Jeremy's friend Cesare, a Neopolitan who took us out for the best pizza in town and directed us to the best Sicilian gelato ever.

Sadly it all came to an end. Arrivederci Italia, I shall return. It was the trip of a lifetime, and I'm grateful for having the forum in which to relive our memories.

Ciao!

Orvieto Day Trip

Orvieto is so underrated! Rick Steves, Guru of Budget Travel, only devotes a page to it, so we figured it was only worth a day trip. This was a decision we immediately regreted as we emerged from the train station and into the funicular transporting us to the top of the town. While small, Orvieto packs a punch, with something for everyone: ceramics, Etruscan caves, and Classico wine. It's a gorgeous little town with incredible views of the Umbrian countryside. This shot below of an Umbrian monastary was one of the many landscapes viewed from the town. This is where I want to live. Right here:



We had lunch at this place called Enoteca Tozzi. It's a one-man operation, a myriad of meats, cheeses, wines, and a carving board. We walked in as he was in the midst of creating a picnic box of delectable delights for another couple. When it was my turn I just said "Anche' come qui per noi," which sort of translates to "Also, one like that for us." He prepared our lunch in a very old-world manner: slowly, carefully, and lovingly. Nothing automated. Our feast consisted of prociutto parma, crudo, mozzarella, romano, porchetta (suckling pig), and bread.

After lunch, we waddled over to the Parco delle Grotte for our underground tour of the Etruscan and medieval caves that honeycomb the city. Our guide was adorably Italian and very knowledgable. She told us that most everyone in Orvieto has a cave, but will not admit to it since doing so would incur taxation. How Italian!

Their duomo also rivals those of Siena and Florence. Orvieto was catapulted into medieval importance, hence justifying the comisssion of their duomo, by the miracle of Bolsena. Lake Bolsena is a nearby town, whose claim to fame is a 13th century priest who doubted the transubstantiation of the host. His skepticism was quickly negated, however, during one mass as the wafer began to drip blood onto a cloth. This cloth was quickly transported to Orvieto, and a cathedral built around it. The cathedral is pretty spectacular, featuring black and white striped stonework, and a colorful facade divided by four pillars.

We wandered around, then caught the funicular back as the sun was setting on the pastoral land and on our trip. The ticket machines were down at the train station, and I didn't want to bother speaking broken Italian hence I jumble things up, so I asked the ticket agent if he spoke English. "Yeah, toootally" in a valley girl accent was his reply. A sense of humor often devoid in some of the big cities!

Our train ride back was less than charmed as it was rife with delays. We finally made it back to Assisi, only to miss the bus, so we splurged on a cab to drive us back to town. Dined at Osteria Pozzo della Mensa, which graciously took us at 9:45 despite closing in 45 minutes and being packed. You can tell who reads Rick Steves here. Ordered a some small plates to share, such as Umbrian sausages, mixed green vegetables, and pate on crostini. Poor congested Jeremy was deprived of his taste buds, but he still seemed to enjoy his meal.

Assisi

We took the evening bus from Siena to Assisi, hometown of St. Francis. Should have caught a bus during daylight hours as we missed pivotal Tuscan countryside sightseeing. However, ascending to the great hilltown of Assisi in the evening was majestic. The town is completely composed of white stone, emiting a glow in the November sky. After doing some serious uphill trekking with our luggage (poor Jeremy with a cold), we ascended to our hotel where we were greeted by the most magical breathtaking sight. A group of Franciscan monks were leading a candlelight procession out of the Cathedral of Santa Chiara (of the order of the "Poor Clares"). It was completely silent, with the exception of our suitcases chugging along!

The next day we daytripped to Orvieto (see following passage), but we spent the following morning exploring Assisi, and hiking up to Castle Rocca Maggiore, which provided sweeping vistas of the lush green Umbrian countryside. For reasons unknown to me, Assisi seems to have more hipsters per capita than other Italian towns. Okay, it had two, which was two more than I'd seen in all of our Italy travels combined. But I digress. The bucholic landscapes of olives, emerald green grapevines and evergreen oak trees were breathtaking as they rose out of the fog. Leaving Assisi we were confronted with throngs of pilgrims pouring in to celebrate mass for All Saints Day.

*Photos courtesy of Jeremy.

Siena Calling

Bella Siena, the rose of Tuscany. Rick Steves says that his staff swoons at the mention of Siena, and justifiably so! After a rather arduous day (3 hours from La Spezia to Florence, then another 75 minutes on the bus), this breathtaking hilltown was an oasis for these weary travelers. After checking into our room with a view, courtesy of the Alma Domus (a convent of the sisterhood of St. Catherine of Siena), we headed out for a long passegiata (the Italian version of cruising), coupled with window shopping. We capped off the night with a terrific dinner at Antica Osteria Da Divo, where they serve traditional Tuscan cuisine. Wonderful food, fantastic service, and they even throw in complimentary pre-dinner apertifs (a Campari spritzer served in sugar-rimmed glasses) and appetizers. Poor Jeremy literally bit off more than he could chew and was feeling sick by meal's end.

Mostly sat in the campo all day for yet more people watching. Siena is a mix of old world gentility and young vibrant college students. We also visited the Duomo, which is just as impressive as Florence, if not more. Siena once rivaled Florence in prominence until it lost most of its population to the plague, sealing it forever in a medieval time capsule. The city center is blissfully traffic-free and the streets are paved with red brick.



At dinner on our last night (and I'm still kicking myself for only staying 2 nights) we were invited to join in a local birthday celebration. Aside from the revellers, we the only remaining patrons in the trattoria. When the proseco (Italian sparkling white wine, similar to champagne) was poured, the waiter also brought us glasses for the toast. It was like a window into a secret Italian club.

The Cinque Terre, literally translated as the "five lands," is a rugged stretch of the Italian Riveria unspoiled by cars or the jet-setting lifestyle of its more glamorous cousin to the north, Portofino. Very tranquil and sedate, if you can't relax here, you might consider a lobotomy. Since there are no museums, the main activity is chilling out by the harbor, the piazza, or the town square. Each town is framed by terraced mountains that yield olives and grapes, the latter of which produces the fabulous Cinque Terre DOC white wine. DOC is basically the stamp of approval autheticating a wine's provenance. We stayed in sleepy Manarola, hiked an arduous trail to Vernazza, where we rewarded ourselves with a great lunch of seafood, pasta, white wine, and coffee at Gambero Rosso. Sunned ourselves on a rock in the harbor for the rest of the day, looking up only occasionally at the tourists, locals, and cats. Ahh..Cinque Terre. Thank goodness UNESCO found you and designated you a world heritage site! Let's hope the tourists don't ruin it. :)

A view from our room -- at $46/night, what a bargain!

Cinque Terre

Firenze, 10/21-10/24

Florence is a "must" on very Italian itinerary as it occupies an important role in modern thought and the Renaissance numerous achievements in art, architecture, politics, and science: the Duomo, Ponte Vecchio, Uffizi, Academia, Pitti Palace, Boboli Gardens. These contributions are largely due to the patronage of the Medici family, whose role in the evolution of modern thought is undeniable. Sightseeing highlights were the picturesque, cool-drink-of-water Boboli Gardens; climbing Giotto's Tower adjacent to the Duomo, where we were rewarded with sweeping views of the city, and the Uffizi.

Florence used to hold the title of my favorite Italian city, and I had eagerly anticipated showing Florence to Jeremy. Perhaps I'd built up too much hype, but we were slightly disappointed. Maybe our hotel being a fleabag had something to do with it. Anything in a big city that is $70 Euros should definitely raise a red flag. Bugs, Kate Moss-thin walls, and a shower in the middle of the bathroom (the room showers with you). Sanka and twinkees for breakfast with the Breakfast Nazi who yells at you if you dare demand more seconds on their nasty orange-flavored water that they tried to pass off as OJ. The city also had more tourists and cars than I remember. For some reason, my memory had selectively categorized Florence as a car-free oasis. This is not the case. There is only a small pedestrian zone, filled to the brim with tourists, and difficult to navigate. You don't get a sense of the real residents.

Nevertheless, this did not spoil our time. We whiled away many an hour people-watching at the Piazza Reppublicca. People in Florence, as well as in the rest of Italy, are gorgeous, abetted by their scrupulous attention to appearance. I felt like such an American slob.

Florence also has great food and shopping (an activity also explored in Siena and Rome). Being predominantly inland, Tuscan cuisine draws off the land (mushrooms, truffles), and can be quite gamey, but the real gems are its excellent wines and gelati. If you like Nutella, imagine giant gobs of it in creamy rich ice cream! I think I felt my heart stop. We ate really well the first two nights, especially at the wine bar Coquinarios (http://www.florence.ala.it/coquinar/). Had some terrific Tuscan "pate" on crostini as appetizers, and amazing salads. Most restaurants were closed on our last night, Sunday, and dinner that evening was pannini (sandwiches), a sad closure to our Florentine epicurean adventures.

Our error, in addition to choosing a cheap hotel, was in spending too much time in the tourist center and not enough exploring the neighborhoods, such as the Oltarno, which lies on the opposite bank of the Arno. A day trip to Tuscany's more bucolic areas such as San Gimignano or Montepulciano would have been a refreshing escape from the hoardes. Since we'd had Venice practically to ourselves (apparently the Film Festival marks the official end of the season), we expected all Italian cities to follow suit. This was not to be, and nowhere was that truer than Florence. However, I encourage everyone to put Florence on their Italian itinerary -- do not exceed two days in the city center, then get out of town!

Venezia, 10/18-10/21

See Venice and die...indeed. "La Serenissima" is exotic, mysterious, and breathtaking. Being late October, the weather was damp and cold, only augmenting the ethereal mystique. Everywhere saw those eerie "Dottore" Carnivale masks, ala "Eyes Wide Shut," that doctors wore doing the plague to elude germs. We walked endlessly, deliberately losing ourselves in the maze of labryinths.

Ate fantastic seafood, including copious amounts of octopus, calamari, and anchovies (not for the squeamish). We had one unforgettable meal, albeit intimidating, at a local bistro Trattoria Carampagne (sp?) where there was no menu, they just tell you what is fresh that evening and how they can cook it. Split a antipasti frutti di mare (seafood -- literally "fruits of the sea) and both had the bronzino fish as a main course. Unfortunately I invoked the ire of the waitress by having the audacity to request "il conto" (the bill) after a mere 3 hours. Italian restuaraunt rules. But that did not deter from a glorious culinary experience. You haven't lived until you've had squid cooked in its own ink.

Sandro and Volter took good care of us at the Hotel Al Ponte Moncenigo, in Santa Croce away from the tourist traps of San Marco and the Rialto. Terrific breakfasts with bottomless cappucinos (which we consumed heartily as our maladjusted time clocks had us rising at 3 am every morning), chocolate brioche, and blood orange juice, my new favorite.