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honeymoon / Monday / photo / site — Comments Off
24
May 10

Sailing away

Take a good hard look cause we're sailing on a boat.

We wake up this morning with an even greater purpose: We must make it to our cruise ship.

So we enjoy the little breakfast provided by our fabulously located and luxurious two-store hotel in Rome: hard roll, sugar dusted croissant and all the TANG you can drink, everyday.

We wrestle our luggage out of the hotel, which is so small that the two of us and our suitcases can’t stand at the desk all at once. We navigate our way into the hallway and to the elevator. The lift is so small that it can’t hold us and the luggage — and we didn’t even over-pack this time. The lift is so small, in fact, that one person, two rollers and a backpack are capacity.

So down from the fourth floor goes the lift. And then it comes back up again. And then I climb in, shutting the exterior wire door and then the inner doors and then sliding down to the ground floor. This takes a while, but it is “quaint.”

And then we walk to the Termini, the bus/train stop in the city center. I know that our big suitcases are close to 50 pounds each. Our smaller bags are, of course, less. We each have backpacks stuffed to overflowing. It is a bright, sunny, warm day. The walk isn’t long, but just long enough.

The Yankee left her special lipstick at home, but not to worry. In Termini there is a Sephora and she is able to pick up a replacement. I stand guard with our luggage, enough for an entire 17-day European adventure. Finally she emerges. “Italians.” Picking up one piece of lipstick takes a while.

So now we must find the train. Now Termini doesn’t look that big from the outside, but it meanders. And I think, at one point, I went down one flight of stairs so I could walk 25 feet to walk up another flight of stairs. I’m doing the gentlemanly thing and carrying the bigger luggage.

We finally find the right line, and then must find the proper train. This involves much more walking. I’m drenched in sweat. We see the right train and, somehow, she realized it was about to depart. So The Yankee sprints. With luggage. And she manages to jam her foot in the door as it is closing.

Two nice guys pry the door back open. She climbs in, I’ve caught up — with the heavy luggage — and I stagger on board. Our bags are too big for the overhead rack, so we just do our best to stow the stuff in adjacent seats. If there had been someone there to monitor tickets and seating I’m sure he would have demanded we purchase two more seats.

So we ride northwest for an hour or so to the town of Civitavecchia, which is how the Romans cruise. We are actually a few minutes early, so we catch a bite to eat in a cafe at the train station. A girl who was just getting off work was doing her best Frankie Valli. She was embarrassed when she noticed I was watching, but she did a good job. And since it is such a good song …

So we had a sandwich and then started the long walk to the port. We found a bus, somehow lugged our luggage on and then drove to the ship to begin the embarkation process. You must fill out paperwork that says you haven’t been sick, don’t know any pigs with the flu.

They take our picture. They take our passports. They give us a little card with a magnetic strip. They run us through metal detectors. We board the ship. They spray us down with antibacterial hand soap. They begin offering drinks within six steps of being on board. We have embarked.

We find our room, throw our backpacks inside and head to the pool. We got onboard very early, so there is time to kill. We decide to read.

This ship has a library. It spans two decks.

There is also a conference desk. Not sure what they expect people to do there.

We found the dining room tonight and I had my first dose of cruise ship food. I’m sure it will only become more ridiculous as the voyage continues.

This is my first time cruising. The Yankee is the expert. We both agree this place is huge. More on that later.

For now, there are a few pictures from today. You can see the pictures from Rome here: Day One, Day Two, Day Three. Of course, you can see years of pictures, if you were so inclined.

Tomorrow we’re at sea; we’re taking it easy.

We’re on a boat.

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22
May 10

Saturday at the Vatican

Sistine Chapel ceiling

At the Vatican we saw what must be the world’s most comprehensive statuary collection. There’s ancient Egyptian works, Greek works, Roman impressions of Greek works (those are the newcomers) and more. You can see 5,000-year-old writing in this museum.

Finally you work your way into the Sistine Chapel. No words you have read, no pictures or video you see can prepare you for the pinnacle of Rennaissance art, so I won’t try to start.

It is a fresco, painted while wet over several years, depicting all of Biblical history of the world, from creation to Judgment Day, which is found on the front wall. The sides are painted as curtains. Overwhelming is a word you use a lot in Rome, no more deservedly than here.

The floor, incidentally, was terrible.

We had lunch at La’Isola della Pizza, of which Rick Steves says “wood-fired pizzas, sidewalk seating and home-cooking at its truest. Adele, Vito or their son Renzo serve up generous plates of their mixed antipasti and Vito himself hunts the wild boar for the cinghiale pasta.”

They offer a four-way pizza, un quattro stagioni. We chose the quattro formagi (four cheese), Gorgonzola e salsiccia (mozzarella, sausages, Gorgonzola), Capricciosa (tomato, mozarella, ham and egg (it worked, well)) and bascaiola funghi e salsiccia (mozarella, mushrooms, sausages). We were serenaded by a violinist.

We hiked the 320 steps (we paid two Euros to avoid another 180 steps) to the cupola above St. Peter’s Square. This is another tremendous view. You can see all the way to the Tiber and beyond. On the way up to the top you can see a bird’s eye view of the basilica.

We took in a mass. St. Peter is buried there, in this most ornate, overdone place on earth. Seated next to us were the Sisters of the Arrive Late, Leave Early Convent. Watching a nun check her watch during mass is great. Watching another answer her cell phone is even better.

We decided on gelato for dinner. It is our honeymoon, why not? We found some in a mid-block mall near our hotel. You walk in from the street, but it feels like an underground. Everything was closed, except the restaurant. We’re doing lots of things like that, dancing our way through Rome, hardly believing we are here. And we are only getting started.

Site stuff: Because it will otherwise get overwhelming I’m breaking up the photo galleries. I’ve posted almost 140 photos for the first two full days. Here’s yesterday’s. Click here for today’s. You’ll soon have video to stare at as well.

Friday / honeymoon / photo / site — Comments Off
21
May 10

Rome, Day One

The Roman Colosseum

Incredibly full and busy day. We say the Colosseum — understated in size in person, but only a third of it remains for modern eyes. We walked up to Palatine Hill, the central hill of Rome, and the forum. We visited a little museum, stopped by the Piazza del Campidoglio and the Victor Emmanuel monument.

We took in an incredible view from the rooftop. I made a hasty panorama. (Magnify and scroll left.)

We took in the Pantheon, which is the oldest imposing structure around (and still boasts the world’s largest unsupported concrete dome). It was built in the 1st Century and became a Catholic church in the 13th. The first two kings of Italy. Renaissance artist Raphael and others are buried here. It is the most alive place we’ve been today.

We had dinner at Trattoria der Pallaro, which Rick Steves says is “a well-worn eatery that has no menu, has a slogan: ‘Here you’ll eat what we want to feed you.’ Paolo Fazi — with a towel wrapped around her head turban-style — and her family serve up a five-course meal of typically Roman food, including wine, coffee and a tasty mandarin juice finale. As many locals return day after day, each evening features a different menu.”

They brought us olives, cured beef, the best salami ever, lentils, an unidentified vegetable, rigatoni and roasted pork loin.

Steves knows his business. This place was delicious.

More pictures (almost 70 of them) can be found in the new, and rapidly growing, honeymoon gallery. There could be a brief video forthcoming too.

Tomorrow: The Vatican.

honeymoon / photo / Thursday — Comments Off
20
May 10

I see London, I see Rome (more of Rome)

Our time in London

We had a layover and plane change in London. We stayed for about an hour. All I know of England I learned at Heathrow.

I grabbed a London visitors guide, because it was there, and stared at the currency exchange station and the HSBC ads which are posters displayed in the old Burmashave style. They are displayed in a series of four. The first three posters have an image and one word, like “responsibility.” One picture is a soccer player over a ball, maybe another is of a child holding something delicate and the last one is a goldfish fish in a bowl. Each of the three posters has the word “responsibility.” The fourth poster says something like “words mean different things to different people. If you let us datamine you to death we can know what they mean to you. And by to death we mean every word. And by you we mean everyone. And by know we mean we can help you more. And by help we mean this is a little sketchy isn’t it? And by sketchy we mean we’re the world’s local bank.”

It is a brilliant campaign, but like my doctors, I prefer a bit of anonymity with my banker. Tell you what, you get the decimal plays in the right spot (or, failing that, err to the right) and I’ll make sure I don’t write bad checks. We can stop there and call that a relationship, mmmkay?

So Heathrow is nice. Two hours later we landed in Rome and walked onto the jetway, the thin, fraying, waterstained jetway thinking “This is some first impression.”

It got better.

We had to wait a faith-shakingly long time for our checked luggage. It could be in Norway by now and who would know?

The first American ad we saw was at the passport control station: Iron Man 2.

The passport guy ably demonstrated the disaffected air you’ve come to expect from government employees. Good to see that some things are universal. He sort of throws your passport back at you after stamping it on which ever page his finger opened. It’d be nice if these things were in sequence, but they stamp probably a thousand of these an hour and are as generally disdainful of the idea of long passport lines as you are, so that doesn’t happen.

We caught the train into the center of Rome, passing both attractive countryside and depressing and old apartment complexes. In the States I’d think they were some post-Nixon/Carter tenement or maybe a housing project, but it is unwise to make such leaps here. Most of these people have forgotten about that Nixon guy anyway.

On the train a woman across the aisle was listening to a blaring Kid Rock tune in her headphones. My second American pop-culture reference of the trip had to be that guy warbling on about Sweet Home Alabama.

My third was a McDonald’s, found just outside the train station where the earnestly helpful and entirely exploitive cabbies were happy to try and help us. Because we have luggage and are wearing the look of out-of-place, confused Americans he offered to take us to our hotel for only 30 Euros.

“Special price.”

Our hotel was in walking distance, even toting our plane-safety-threatening heft of luggage. We declined.

So we made our way to the Hotel Margaret which boasts, on both signage and website that they are a two star hotel. That’s oddly humorous as truth in advertising goes, but you’re in Rome, man, you’re here to see the sites, not be in the room and watching television. Or so I’m told.

Our room is small, but it holds the luggage, is clean and has a bed and corner bathroom. It will do the job.

Later we’d realize just how firm the mattress was. And then we realized the double is really two twins pushed together. After last night, though, that didn’t matter much.

Dinner was conveniently located across the street. The Yankee picked up a Rick Steves book, from which many of our trip plans have been created. She found a reference to the Ristorante da Giovanni. This is a where-the-locals eat place, which is the only way to travel in our opinion.

Ristorante di Giovanni

Steves writes, “Ristorante da Giovanni is a well-worn old-time eatery that makes no concessions to tourism or the modern world — just hard-working cooks and waiters serving standard dishes at great prices to a committed local clientele. It’s simply fun to eat in the middle of this high-energy, old-school diner.”

Giovanni has been there since 1948. The walls are homey and wood-paneled. Our waiter, a delightful, helpful and friendly old man who takes pictures with his guests, smelled of wood sealer.

The Yankee had tortellini, soup and eggplant. I had a three course meal of minestrone (in which I was a bit disappointed, oddly enough), rigatoni and roasted chicken, which was delicious. (Dinners here are served in courses, perhaps even in that McDonald’s near the train station.)

After dinner, which was late, but absolutely in keeping with the rhythm of the local culture, we stumbled sleepily across the street. We buzzed our way into the hotel, took the skinny little elevator up to the fourth floor and wrapped up the night.

Our three-day, whirlwind tour of Rome starts tomorrow!

photo / Samford / Tuesday — Comments Off
18
May 10

Working on an off day

Went to work today. I stayed through the afternoon, feeling self-satisfied about being in the office during my summer break.

I had a big stack of things to fax. So big, in fact, that our department’s fax machine wouldn’t take the entire stack of paperwork at one time. I had to send it in two batches.

And then I retreated up to my office. But, since this is summer, I sat on the sofa instead of at my desk. I wrote four letters of recommendation. I exchanged Emails generally had a productive day off while at work.

As I was leaving work I received a call from someone wanting an interview about newspaper use of Facebook and Twitter. We talked for about 25 minutes. None of my answers were in 140 characters. Hopefully it was useful.

I wrapped up my complete laundry project. I so thoroughly finished the job that the stack of unmated socks was put with another stack of unmated socks I didn’t even know about. There were six happy reunions. I considered throwing a little party for them.

And then I promptly threw a glass of tea over a white shirt. Sigh. Life gives you successes and stumbles in proportion so you can celebrate all the right little things. So back to the washing machine.

I did two voiceovers this evening. I’ve done just enough of them recently to remember how much fun they are. Hopefully a few more will come my way soon.

Alabama's Ricki Lebegern on the bars, earlier this year.

Late into the night I worked on a new project. I’ve been asked to contribute to a little gymnastics photography book. I poured over four years of photographs and found 47 images to submit for consideration. Maybe four or five are worth considering.

Work, laundry, voiceovers, photographs. That’s a nice day off.

Mathematical oddity of the day: My car boasts a 16-gallon gas tank. This evening I filled it up. It took 18.083 gallons.

Now, there’s no excuse to run out of gas in my car. There’s a gas mileage option, a current use graph and a miles to go readout in the display. At 50 miles the screen changes, as if to say “Hey, just wanted you to know.”

With around 30 miles to go the little exclamation point comes on and the numbers disappear. “You’re really toying with danger here.”

You can count the miles after that, turning off the air, coasting down hills and wondering if your tires are inflated for maximum efficiency. But only if you notice when the numbers disappeared. I didn’t catch that change today because I was doing that social media in the newsroom interview.

I’ve crunched the numbers and that means I coasted into the pump. Don’t do that, friends.