Swiss Getaway

My parents had some business at the University of Lausanne in Switzerland and I jumped at the chance to meet up with them for the weekend. It also worked quite well that I had an interview in Paris two days before (Paris? Mais Oui!), so I was able to get a cheap flight to Paris and take the train straight to Lausanne (there are no flights from here to Geneva). 

  

Meeting them at the large train station was surprisingly easy, as they were right outside the door with a fellow Swiss colleague of my step-father's that I hadn’t seen since I was thirteen years old! That was a great surprise and he escorted me up the steep (incredibly steep) hill to our hotel to drop off my bag and then he took us on a mini-tour of Lausanne.

Paris? Mais Oui!

A recent job interview brought me to Paris for a couple days.
  

Ah...Paris, the most beautiful city in the world. It is referred to as the 'City of Lights', but it is so much more than that. Beauty seeps out of every corner, hidden below trees...

Lavender!

  

I love lavender. I love to look at it, smell it, grow it, eat it and use the essential oil for all sorts of things. It is a wonder plant. Now that it is officially summer, it is also lavender season! And there is nothing quite like seeing fields of lavender growing under the hot sun. Unfortunately, those glorious lavender fields are only found in France. But, lavender thrives in all warm climates, including here.

Last night around 11, after a chat with family about the new roundabout landscaping of lavender, my husband took me for a “drive”. Even though he likes to be mysterious, I know him well and I knew he was taking me to the next city over to go snip some of this new lavender under the cover of darkness. As we were getting on the freeway, which is also the direction to Genoa and ultimately France, he tells me that if I really wanted, he could just keep going and we could get to Provence, get some lavender and make it back in time for him to work in the morning. Hmm, a tempting offer, and as I entertain the thought, I decide it would be a much nicer evening to make it to bed before dawn. Oh, how times have changed. I guess this is what it’s like to be an adult—comfort and logic over adventure.

Haute Cucina

The French are obsessed with les parfums (perfumes). 

The Italians are obsessed with la pasta. 

So while the French have Chanel N. 5, the Italians have Spaghetti N. 5! 

It’s the little things that give you a glimpse into a culture…wink, wink.

As Easy as...Quiche?

Although I am Italian, live in Italy and speak Italian, my personality, mentality and actions are more French than anything else. In fact, my Italian husband always asks me why I didn’t marry a Frenchman! Anyway, my style français is most evident in my cooking style. I love to cook all types of food, Thai, Indian, Mexican, etc. but the dishes that I consider my mainstays are always French in nature. This brings me to my all-time favorite lunch: La Quiche. In France, lunch specials abound with different quiches served with a salad, or even better, fresh, hot, pommes frites! Mmm…

The best thing about quiche is that you can make unlimited versions. But since we all know quiche to have a crust, it can be a deterrent for whipping one up at home (it was for me). Fortunately, there is a much easier way. Here is my recipe for a crustless quiche that will be the easiest quiche ever! Actually, there is an even easier version, which uses leftover grilled vegetables (thus no sautéing), and is really my favorite. But it’s still winter here, so no grilling. For this quiche, I have used zucchini and tomatoes (because that is what I had on hand) but I encourage you to use your favorite ingredients.

How I Met My Husband

In April of 2002, I was studying abroad in Aix-en-Provence, France when my friends invited me at the last minute to join them on a trip to the Cinque-Terre in Italy. I ran home to pack my bag at midnight and I was bright eyed and bushy-tailed at 4am. I was quite easily THE most excited person of our group as we waited for our taxi ride to Marseille, then a 6 hour train ride to Riomaggiore, and my next European adventure...



Just like all the stories we had heard, we were offered an apartment right off the train, for 20 bucks a person. We reluctantly took a look at the place, because what could you really get for $20, right? After seeing the two story, 3 bedroom apartment with kitchen and marble bath, ten paces from the sea, we took it.

If you ever get the chance to hike the trails in the Cinque-Terre, you have to do it. It is the most beautiful site I have ever seen in my life. Nothing compares to it. We started in Vernazza and walked our way around the mountains to Corniglia, Manarola and through the Via dell'Amore in Riomaggiore. It was quite a hike, but it was breathtaking.

That night, we went to Blue Marlin, the local bar and hang out. The place was packed! However, we only had time for one drink, because it was closing. So, like an unspoken rule, everyone filed down to the piazza, or square. I was standing with a couple of my friends and out of nowhere, this guy joins our group and starts chatting with us in broken English. This guy was Leo, and he and I started talking about movies and joking about the scene in Mickey Blue Eyes when Hugh Grant was trying to say "Forget about it" like a New Yorker. I thought it was hilarious, but he didn't get it because Hugh Grant's English accent is just one of the many things 'lost in translation' due to Italy's insistence on dubbing everything.

As the night progressed, we were all invited into the cantina, or cellar, of Sommi, one of the old locals. It was a great experience, the kind that not every tourist gets to see. It was a small, cold, stone cellar with vintage prints, pictures of the locals spanning at least a couple generations, barrels of home made wine that could raise the hair on your neck and home-made salami hanging from the rafters.  Everyone was having a great time and with more than 10 of us packed into this tiny place, each with a plastic cup of this wine that instantly turned your teeth black, it became a cozy and warm little festa.



What I remember most about that evening though, was this amazing guy that I spent the whole night talking to. At the time, I didn't speak Italian, and he barely spoke English, and even though he got his best friend to help translate, we seemed to understand each other just fine. Everyone else was partying, but the three of us spent the whole time huddled in the corner talking--and I had the best time.

The next day, we were supposed to return to France, but something in my gut just wouldn’t let me leave. I couldn’t figure out why, but I just could not bring myself to get on the train. My poor friends were probably so annoyed with me as I wasted time trying to decide what to do. But in the end, I only felt better with the thought of staying where I was. So I bid my friends farewell, and I went off to the next village, Monterrosso, to rent a room all by myself. That night, I returned to Vernazza to have dinner at the restaurant where Leo worked. As I walked in to his restaurant, he was just walking out and when he saw me his face lit up with a huge smile and he rushed over, grabbed my face and kissed my forehead! “You stay! You Stay!”

He ushered me into the restaurant, sat me down at a ‘special’ table and brought out the chef to introduce me. He was emphatically saying in Italian,

“This is the girl! This is the girl from San Francisco!”

For the next hour, it was the same story for many of his friends that stopped by to say hello. They were all shaking my hand, telling me it was very nice to meet me. I gotta say, it made me feel pretty special—and I didn’t leave Vernazza for the next four days…

Back in France, Leo and I started e-mailing each other constantly (with the help of his friend). His notes were so adorable that I was like a little school girl after reading them. After leaving the internet cafe, my friends would see me and exclaim:

"Oh my God, you're glowing! You got an e-mail from Leo again, didn't you? You are so crazy about him!"

Soon we started calling each other, and planning more trips to Vernazza.

 He started taking an English class and I tried to learn some Italian. When my semester in France was over, I took my mom to Vernazza to meet him and we stayed two weeks. After a painful, gut-wrenching goodbye, followed by a month apart as I finished my AA back home, I returned to Vernazza in July and Leo and I haven't parted since.

Weekend in the French Alps

While studying abroad in France, I wrote of our weekend trip to Serre Chevalier:

We have to leave Aix at 5:20 am and take a bus to Serre Chevaliere, which is 4 hours away. Serre Chevalier is a unique resort in the heart of the Alps. Sixteen villages, all different, make up one of the largest resorts in Europe. We are going to Serre Chevalier 1400 which is made up of La Salle, Moulin Baron, La Chirouze, Les Pananches, le Bez , Villeneuve (we will be staying in Villeneuve). Serre Chevalier is at the foot of the Ecrins National Park with heights of over 4000 m (12 000'). I’ll probably go snowboarding on Sunday because Jenny and I want to take a horse-drawn sleigh ride through the mountains. Apparently, it takes us through the most beautiful parts of the Alps!

....................................

On Saturday morning my alarm went off at 4:06 am and I was up and ready to go right away. That was the first surprising part of this trip. I was so wide-awake! My roommate, Cassie, on the other hand, is NOT a morning person. I was trying to contain myself around her because the night before she was saying that if anyone was chipper, she’d shoot them. But it was so exciting for me--I actually had energy! I think you all know that that rarely happens to me. I decided that I need to wake up at 4 am more often!!! Well, maybe not, but the thought did cross my mind.

Anyway, we walked to the bus station in the dark for a four-hour ride. When we arrived we dropped our bags off at out hostel and walked down to the ski rental place. After we all got fitted for our boards and skis, Jenny, Meryl, Kristy, Krista and I walked into town for lunch. We sat at a café right across from a snowboarding tournament. There was a huge tent for the NOKIA Snowboarding Tour. It was a big deal--and there were a lot of adorable snowboarders--it was nice. Oh--did I mention it was like 70 degrees? Yeah, we were soaking up the rays over huge, yummy salads. Sorry--on with the story.

After lunch, we walked back up to our slope and hopped onto the bright yellow ski lift. We couldn't believe how high up we were getting! Then there were jagged rocky cliffs beneath us. Of course, what question is always asked at times like this? That’s right-- "If we fell, we would die, right?" The answer was a definite yes. I think I still have some marks in my arms from my friend Jenny frantically clutching onto me when our cart would go through the guide wheels and make everything shake.

So after our ten-minute trek into the upper atmosphere, we step out into the most beautiful scene--bright white slopes and a hot, intense sun. And just like an oasis in a hot desert, we see a packed café and creperie with hundreds of tables in the sun. Jenny and I made a beeline to it and grabbed a table. Our view was amazing. The sky was bright blue, the slopes pure white, and every color you could possibly image walking around. Europeans wear some really colorful ski outfits! It’s pretty funny. A sign out front said we were 2100 meters up. The hot chocolate was amazing. Jenny and I spent the remainder of the day in this spot, sunning ourselves like lizards to stay warm. It was great.

We caught the last ride down the mountain and we were over the shock of the first ride, so the second time was really cool. It was beautiful and we could barely see the village where we were staying. It was unbelievable. We all had dinner at our hostel and then figured out our rooming situation--8 to 10 people per room. I got a top bunk! Our room was great because we had our own shower, but the heater wasn’t working. That room was sooo cold! You can’t loose heat at night in the Alps! So this typical French guy (black and white striped shirt and all) came to fix it and also brought us a space heater. Thankfully because we could have died during night without it!

Sunday was very similar to Saturday--except this time Jenny and I were all ready for a day sunbathing. We got to the café by 11:00 so we had some prime ray time. I was planning on getting a little snowboarding in that morning, because after all, I had been carrying around the damn board everywhere. I finally pried myself from our table and got my board. It was really slippery and when I lifted my right foot to click in, I fell over. I looked over at Jenny sitting in the sun with her cocoa, and then I looked at the long line of bundled up people in line for the lift--can you guess what I decided to do? I was back at that table so fast! We ate a little lunch after we were joined by some of our group, and I ordered a lemon crepe.

  

At 1:00 we had to leave to take our sleigh ride! Jenny and I were so excited. On our way down the mountain we were saying how well the weekend was going. Everything was great, the weather was beautiful and we got tan! Then, our gondola started to slowdown, and then it came to a complete stop! Might I mention that we just crested the steepest point of the ride? The part with all the jagged cliffs below--yeah, that was fun. I was fine, I just kept telling myself that it was a normal thing and we’d get going in a few seconds. But after a few minutes of dangling several thousand feet in the air, and Jenny absolutely freaking out (she is a little high strung) , I started to get a little scared. We were stuck for about five minutes, but then we started moving and getting on the ground never felt so good.

  

We met up for our "Romantic Sleigh ride" at 2:00, but it turned out that it wasn’t really a sleigh--it was more of a ghetto cart. The driver was about 70 and there were these little girls bouncing all over the place. I looked at this tiny cart with ripped seats and I thought: "You have got to be kidding me." Then I thought that maybe that took us to the sleigh because after all, we were in the middle of a parking lot. But no, that was our "sleigh" and it was a tight squeeze for the five of us. I made sure I sat on the outside so I could get some good pictures. Then the little girls decided that they were going to come too! So they squished themselves up against Jenny and I. So much for taking pictures! We took off on our adventure through the city streets. Yes, the city streets--where the cars drive. Keep in mind that a horse and buggy only goes about 5 miles an hour, and there was no getting around us. There were angry people--and they were honking. Jenny and I were really pissed that we got scammed into this "romantic sleigh ride through the woods". She kept saying that we should just get off and go back to the café. But there was no way I was going to turn back--we were on that thing and we were going to see some beautiful scenery!!!

Fortunately, the little girls were only getting a ride home, so they didn’t stay long. The ride got a lot better after we had room to breath. But we were still going through town with our ugly, old horses with pink bows and bells. And then, everything started to look really familiar-"Oh God! it’s the Nokia tour!" Jenny and I were trying to hide. All these adorable guys started laughing and pointing at us-it was so embarrassing! But then we got over it and the next group of guys that were laughing at us, we started laughing too, and we motioned for them to catch up and hop on! That way they would look more stupid than us because they were trying to run after us in ski boots! It was really hilarious. Just when we were getting used to trotting through town, he takes us on the highway! Yes folks, that’s right--the highway. Luckily there wasn’t anyone coming at that point, so we didn’t realize we were on the freeway. But I did recognize the road from our bus ride. Just as I asked Jenny: "are we on the freeway?" a car came up behind us and had to slam on their brakes to keep from killing us! That answered my question. If we were embarrassed before, we now had a line of cars behind us and they weren’t happy. Yeah, there was more honking. When they would get a chance to pass us, they would rev their engine and gas it around us. Jenny and I were waving to people and apologizing for causing a hold up. Car after car zoomed by and we were still there, trotting along the side of the highway.

  

Wouldn’t you know, a huge Land Rover comes up behind us and the driver looks really familiar--it was the guy who fixed our heater! Great! We were turning the other way so he wouldn’t recognize us--embarrassing. Finally we got to a little village and had some scenic views. But we knew that the inevitable was coming--we had to go back the way we came. We had to merge back into traffic and the driver started yelling at the horses "Allez, allez!" (Go!,Go!). Like a scene out of Clueless when Dion accidentally gets on the 405 and everyone freaks out because they almost die--that was us. A big tour bus was just going too fast, and our driver quickly changed to "Arretez! Arretez!" (Stop! Stop!). We had to wait until the next break. People drive really fast in this country, and on we go with a horse and buggy! That was a little scarier than dangling in the gondola for 5 minutes. So, we were repeating the same thing when, low and behold, a Land Rover pulls up behind us, and it’s the same heater guy! Go figure.

When our ride was over, Jenny and I couldn’t stop laughing. The whole trip was so hilarious! It was worth it just for our laughter. We didn’t get our "romantic sleigh ride through the most beautiful parts of the Alps," but we still had a good time. On our way back to the Hostel I stopped for some home made candy and a dark chocolate crepe. It was yummy. Then we left to go back to Aix at 5:00. We got stuck in traffic, so our bus ride was more like six hours. But we played the card came Uno, and we even taught two French guys how to play. That was pretty funny. It was a good weekend.

My First Experience with Italian Hospitality

This is an old story I sent out while studying abroad in France. And it's the first glimpse into my morph from a Francophile to an Italiana...

Last week, I had a week long break from school. My friends Jenny, Jason, Leslie and I planned to go to Italy. Jenny's friend, Kara, is studying in Florence, so we could stay at her place for free. We were very excited.

Anyway, we left for Nice on Friday night because we had an early morning flight to Florence on Saturday.  A classmate of Jenny’s recommended a hotel in Nice to stay in, as it was pretty good, cheap and in a great location. We thought, "Cool, this is working out great!" So we get to this "great" hotel and it’s a little disheartening. We still had pretty high hopes as we entered the small lobby, but things were about to change. We asked to see the room before we committed to it, of course, but that didn’t really change anything. As we walked up the rickety stairs to the first floor, we were immediately transported into a B movie with a bad script. Picture the grossest sleazy motel on Sunset Blvd., where they have hourly rates for the prostitutes. Now you have an idea of our hotel. The floor of the landing/ hallway was so repugnant; I don’t think I could quite describe it. What was left of the carpet was so stained it looked like those old big brown seventies patterns--but it wasn’t--they were stains. There was a heavily dilapidated couch that you couldn’t pay me to sit on. I can’t even imagine the things that have taken place on that thing.

By this time, the "eeuuws" and the "Oh My Gods" were free flowing, and a number of other expletives about the conditions that I won’t mention. So, we find our room, and we all look at each other with desperate faces before opening the door in front of us, as if a surging cesspool of rot and dank lie just beyond the door. But, when we opened it, it wasn’t as bad as we were assuming it to be.  There were two queen-sized beds, the wallpaper was peeling off the walls, and the carpet was almost black. I had a sudden urge to check the room for used needles, crack pipes, and dead hookers. But none to be found--fortunately. We checked the bathroom after comments of "there’s no way I’m showering in this place", but none of us could shower because there wasn’t one! Now, you’re probably wondering whether or not we stayed in the place, right? Well, my opinion was that it was only for one night, we had really heavy bags, and the only important things were a) a clean toilet, b) a lock on the door and c) clean sheets. If the sheets appeared in the least bit to be unwashed, we were out of there. I checked the sheets and they were crisp, clean and white. Therefore, I was willing to stay for one night. We took a vote, and decided to stay.

Anyway, on with the trip to Italy…when we got on our plane, we were almost the only people there, so the flight attendant chilled with us for the whole flight, telling us everything we were flying over, giving us magazines, extra croissants, and so on. I felt like a pig after that flight because I had breakfast at the airport just before out flight, I had a plain croissant with tea in the beginning of the flight, and then, I of course couldn’t refuse the chocolate croissant that he offered me later on. But it was really good, so I didn’t feel that bad. Before we landed, he slipped Leslie a bag filled with goodies like mixed nuts, chocolate covered almonds (that’s a Provencal specialty here--they look like olives because of it’s green candy shell, but the taste amazing), and a bottle of Irish whiskey for all of us. Nice guy.

Florence was great; we had a lot of fun. Jenny and I couldn’t get over how great the shopping was. But I think the best part was how warm and friendly everyone was. And I also loved hearing the language. French is a beautiful language, but Italian sounds so fun and lively and enjoyable! Every restaurant we went to we got pictures with the waiters, and it was such a great time.  We stayed in Florence from Saturday to Tuesday. On Sunday and Tuesday nights, we made dinner at Kara’s place. The first night we went to the market, and made bruschetta and linguine with fresh garlic, olive oil and tomatoes, finished off with some Italian red wine. On Tuesday night, Kara made eggplant parmiggiano, pasta, bruschetta and I made sautéed zucchini with garlic and tomatoes. It was so delicious and easy. Yummy.

On Wednesday, we took a train to Rome, where we were visited by about 20 Italian soldiers in our car. We were kind of annoyed because we were all really tired and they wouldn’t leave. But it was pretty funny because none of them spoke any English. There is a picture of Jenny sitting with the four main guys that were talking to us. Leslie has a friend in Rome who picked us up from the train station and arranged everything for us with our hotel. We had a slight problem with our arrival in Rome because the workers at the Termini station were on strike. So we had to get off at a different stop. Poor Alessandro had to drive back and forth between the two stations about four times because he kept being told different things, plus the fact that our train was about 2 hours late. But everything worked out, and he took us right to our hotel. Alessandro is currently working in one of the best hotels in Rome and is training to become a sommalier. We had a most unbelievable experience in Rome thanks to him because we didn’t have to worry about anything and we were taken to fabulous restaurants for dinner. Plus the added excitement of seeing Rome in a car! Roman drivers are officially insane. We almost died about….um...well I lost count. But we had a great time. By day, sightseeing and touristy stuff (and shopping as Jenny and I discovered its even cheaper in Rome) and by night, fabulous restaurants with great company.

Friday afternoon we took the train back to Florence and had our last dinner out at our favorite restaurant. We had to say goodbye to Alfredo! We had a great time and they told us that the next time we come to Florence, they would be in a different restaurant, they gave us directions and told us to go there instead.  They were sweeties, and the food was great. Saturday morning we left Florence (regrettably) to return to France. Aahh, Italy--I miss it so much already.