Bye ’11, Hi ’12

A few favorite memories from 2011:

Having my parents over for brunch and playing Scrabble

Celebrating the Feast of St. Catherine in Siena, Italy

Watching the sunset from our balcony in Positano

My birthday in wine country

Picnicking by Lake Edith in Jasper, Canada

Burning Man: biking late night with Colin all the way to the trash fence and discovering art in the deep playa

The BBQ we hosted in LA

Ordering half the items on the menu at the Shake Shack, then dancing with Keith until 2:30am at the Industry Bar in NYC

Taking my nephews shopping at Toys ‘R Us

Belting out tunes at a piano bar in Phoenix

I’ve given quite a bit of thought to my resolutions for 2012, but the list keeps growing and I’m already starting to get overwhelmed. That’s not good!

I want to read more which is a cinch because I’m a fanatical reader to begin with and 2 book clubs keeps me busy.

We’re planning a trip to Morocco in the first part of the year and I’ll be in NYC in May for work, but I want to do so much more. I’m trying to get the ball rolling with friends and asking them for places we can go together fairly easily. Anyone else up for Portland, New Orleans, or Austin?

I say this every year, but I swear, we’re going to volunteer this year. I’ve got action items scheduled in my calendar to ensure that we do that. We’re a couple blocks away from Glide. Plus I’ve had my eye on an organization that does outdoor activities with mentally-challenged kids on weekends to give their parents much-needed time off.

Last time I went to the doctor for my first physical in years, the nurse asked how many hours a week I exercised. I told her I didn’t exercise. She furrowed her eyebrows, no exercise? No. I run a race every quarter so you can say I exercise, I dunno, an hour every quarter? Not sure how hard that is to write down in my medical record, but you’d think I’d given her a quadratic equation to solve. So on that front, we’re locked down for a couple races already. I’ve also ratcheted up my flexible health spending dollars so I can do acupuncture consistently. Loving that.

As much as I love eating and trying out all the new hot spots, I’m on a mission this coming year to discover all the places that are yummy that are inexpensive. Yesterday, I discovered a coffee spot one block away that also serves the BEST banh mi vietnamese sandwiches for $3. I’m already thinking of hitting them up every morning before I go to work. Fresh Brew Coffee at 882 Bush Street. TO-DIE-FOR. Park in front, stick a quarter in the meter, and get your meal to go.

But the one thing that I’m resolved to do is this: practice. In my formative years, I was always practicing something: piano, dance, a foreign language. Every day, I want to practice something, anything. And that’s where I’m getting confused. Should it be writing since I could surely practice that craft more.

I thought about learning the very practical Spanish language, but someone told me (and I fervently agree) that to really become fluent in a language you must move to a country where that is the main language. Otherwise, you’ll never really get it, or you’ll lose what you learned because you’re not ingrained in it, so that’s a waste.

I thought about taking an art class like painting, but I’ll probably be more frustrated than interested.

Also thought about taking up dance, but to practice, you need a big open space and our small apartment wouldn’t make that easy.

Lastly, I discovered a singing class two blocks down taught by an actress who teaches in SF and LA. Get this, she has all her students take singing classes first even if all they want to do are her acting classes. Something about how singing helps you project and become more aware of your body. Fascinating. We’ll see how much she costs.

So many options…so much ahead for 2012. Extremely excited.

Italian Honeymoon: Parting Thoughts

I have a bunch of international friends vacationing in Portugal right now. Since I can’t be there to party with them, I thought I’d reminisce on my honeymoon.

Last I wrote, we were slurping gelato all throughout the Italian country side. We ended our trip on the Amalfi Coast with four nights in beautiful Positano which I think was the best of all those coastal cities: Capri (too wild), Amalfi (too touristy), Ravello (too sleepy). Before I dig into the last leg of our vacation, I made a few observations in my journal about the trip to Italy in general.

No eggs for breakfast. During our two week trip, I did not see a single egg at the breakfast table. Nothing scrambled, nothing boiled. Nada. Italians really like their carbs because there was plenty of muesli, yogurt, biscuits, toast. Nibbles of cheese, sliced meats. I am big on eggs. BIG. I like them in my salad, sandwiches, but most importantly, I like them with breakfast. 2 eggs over-easy, corned beef hash, buttered wheat toast, and hot cocoa. That is my weekend breakfast. No substitutions. Eggs for breakfast must be an american thing. And bacon, I think that’s an american thing too.

PJP2. Pope John Paul II. Oh the Italians are fanatical about their beloved Polish pope. Did the people of Italy get the memo that there is a new pope in the Vatican? I find it ironic, and also touching, that Pope Johnny who was the first non-Italian pope elected since the 1500s has his portrait plastered on hotel and restaurant walls across the country. Sidenote: I saw the Pope waving in his pope-mobile when I was in the Philippines back in my teens. I wish I could find that picture I took of him.

No ‘Do Not Disturb’ signs. Maybe it’s because I’m environmentally-spooked, but I don’t mind using the same bedding or the same towels. We use the same towels every day at home, right? I wanted to tack a sign onto our door telling the cleaning people not to waste their time or earth’s resources. I even snagged a cleaning lady on our floor and gestured NO CLEAN ROOM. NO CLEAN. IT’S OK. SI? She nodded, aye si, no clean. Lo and behold, we came back to a stripped room with new bedding, new washcloths, new towels. Aye, yay, yay.

I’ve already talked about my disappointment with Italian wines and how they don’t have a single non-Italian wine in the whole boot country. And no spices either, Sheesh. Can an all-american girl get some Sriracha, Cholula, or Crystal sauce to spice up my meal? Damn, I need to sweat when I eat.

In Positano, we had a lovely ocean view room at the adorably sunny Villa La Tartana. I made sure to give them a stellar review on TripAdvisor.com. It wasn’t one of those $400/night places either; I swear it’s the best value in all Amalfi. It was so nice to wake-up to the waves crashing, have breakfast on our balcony, then end our day with a bottle of wine watching the sunset. That is all I really hoped for during my honeymoon and it’s exactly what I got at the end of the trip.

Plus I finally got the food that everyone raves about when they talk about Italy. The seafood was divine: scallops, seabass, shrimp, mussels, sardines. I don’t normally think in terms of calories or what’s healthy, but when I’m stuffed, I’m stuffed. I’m not trying to win any competitive eating awards. But there was no holding me back. Stomach distended on the verge of belly ache, I plowed through like a bear preparing for hibernation. I’m never going to eat like this again! Bring it!

My very worldly, totally in the know friend aka Fredly gave the best recommendation for a restaurant on the island of Capri. It was away from the main thoroughfare. The waitresses only spoke Italian. We were introduced to the owner/chef in the kitchen who was cooking our order. We sat outside in the garden smack in the middle of fruit and vegetable patches. And the food? TO-DIE-FOR. We got another order of seafood linguini; it was that good.

To sum up the fairy tale, Italy does not have the friendliest people. Italy does not have amazing attractions. You see one duomo, you’ve seen them all. And that includes the Vatican. The art? What art? I’ll match your David with our Thinker in front of the Legion of Honor.

But that coastline with the vertical cities and fresh off the boat seafood? Unbeatable!

Black Hookers on the Chianti Road

Back to Italy where we’re driving through wine country. Verdant rolling hills, brick farmhouses, perfectly-manicured vineyards. It’s just like the postcards.

We pass a black woman in a tank top and shorts talking on her cell phone by the side of the road. A quarter of a mile later, what looks like her carbon copy is sitting on a tree stump doing nothing. The fact that they looked so similar is what caught my attention. They looked like twins.

I’m clueless, thinking they’re normal people getting some fresh air until we pass three more black women over the course of a couple miles. Hookers? Five black hookers ready to serve along the Chianti Road. Can you imagine the same scenario on the Napa Silverado Trail? In broad daylight? I didn’t read any of that in my guide books. I guess Italians aren’t ones for discretion.

After Siena, we spent a couple nights exploring more of wine country and the cobblestone hamlets: Montalcino, Pienza, San Gigmano. They’re all super cute anchored by a church or fortress, restaurants with outdoor seating, wineries, and gelato stores.

Next Stop in Italy: Siena

Alrighty now, back to Italia. Remember we’ve done 2 nights Venice, 2 nights Florence, 2 nights Greve-in-Chianti, and now it’s time to blog about my namesake’s home, the medieval town of Siena. I was named after St. Catherine of Siena so this place holds special meaning for me and my parents. Interesting fact: Siena’s patron saint was a writer which means I’m totally following in her footsteps, though I’m certainly no saint! We had the pleasure of celebrating St. Catherine’s feast day in Siena. The city was decked out in flags and there was a big parade with guys dressed up looking like jesters. I couldn’t stop giggling, watching these grown men in tights.

Driving into Siena drove us C-R-A-Z-Y. There were all these roundabouts, limited driving zones, and numerous permit signs for parking. There isn’t a parking situation in SF or NY that’s worse. We were driving around in circles, trying to find our hotel which apparently was next to a church. It was a hell of a time! I was swearing, Dean was swearing. The church bell’s ringing. And there were all these Filipinos walking around with bright orange visors that read CATHOLIC TRAVEL.

OMG, I nudged Dean. “We’re in Italy and look at all my people wandering around.”

My parents tipped me off to a website called MonasteryStays.com. You can book cheap accommodations in monasteries all over the world. There were a ton in Italy, but only one in Siena. It turned out to be a retreat center instead of a monastery, but we appreciated the cheap lodging. Oh and the 2am curfew and the separate twin beds. Thanks Mom and Dad, it appears you don’t want grandchildren.

I won’t bore you with details, but of all the churches we went to in Italy the Duomo in Siena was the best. It’s made of distinct black and white marble inside. There was artwork everywhere, even all over the floor. There was a library inside that reminded me of the Sistine Chapel with colorful paintings on the walls and ceiling.

Siena was charming, but I can see why people come to visit during the day then leave. You can tour the Duomo, St. Catherine’s Sanctuary, and hang out in the main square over the course of half a day. That said, my best meal on the trip up to that point was a dinner in Siena and we discovered a local hot spot called the Tea Room.

Dean had read about it online. We tried to find our way there, but got lost. Always willing to ask for help, Dean bypassed an old woman sitting on a park bench. He approached a young couple (teenagers perhaps) and showed them the address. With the way they reacted, it was clear they knew the spot. They spoke little English and bantered back and forth on how to communicate with us. Dean and I were perplexed, not understanding an Italian phrase they kept repeating to us. Someone said something in English. We looked up thinking someone was calling out from one of the apartments above. “Follow me.”

What? We kept looking around.

The old woman on the bench grunted, “Follow me. They’re saying follow me.” The young couple smiled with affirmation. That’s it! They led and we followed as they walked us to where we needed to go. Those old people sure are wise.

Whine about the Wine

I’m no sommelier, but I know what I like and I can get it in wine country. I can get it at any restaurant in SF. I can get it at any place in the U.S. that sells wine. I like whites. I like reds. Chardonnay, Zinfandel, Cabs. I’m not hard to please.

You know what the problem is? Italy. I swear if I read the label Chianti Classico one more time, I’m going to smash the bottle on the floor. Whoever said the wines in Italy were going to be amazing, I’m going to shoot you! They’re not. They’re bitter, inconsistent. Their wine lists have no breadth.

Again, let’s take any random restaurant in the U.S. How about the Cheesecake Factory, because I love me my big portions of goodness. Check it out.

4 Chardonnays

1 White Zinfandel

2 Rieslings

3 Pinot Grigios

3 Sauvignon Blancs

6 Cabs

3 Merlots

1 Chianti

1 Malbec

1 Zinfandel

2 Shiraz

3 Pinot Noir

They come from wineries all over the world.

In Italy, nope, only Italian wine. You will not see a single non-Italian wine anywhere in Italy. Doesn’t that suck? Being an Italian and never being exposed to wines other than from your own country?

Get over it, Italy!

2 Nights in Chianti

Villa Bordoni

Last you heard from me about Italy, I was crying over mosquito-infested Florence. No more tears once we picked up our Peugeot SUV rental and skedaddled to our next spot: Greve-in-Chianti. Moreover, that frown of mine turned into the Cheshire cat smile once I found out our lux hotel upgraded us to the biggest room in the villa. Score 1 for the honeymooners! With the bar and gourmet restaurant, the open air fitness pavilion, and the spa in the bathroom with hydro massage jets, there really was no reason to leave Villa Bordoni.

But alas we did to do some wine tasting. The Chianti region is very hilly and peppered with hamlets (small villages) where you could stop, look out from castle ruins, finally eat good food, and drink mediocre wine.

I really was not pleased with the food in Italy until we got to Chianti. For example, in Florence I ordered anchovy spaghetti at a restaurant that came recommended from several sources. There wasn’t a single anchovy in my dish. The spaghetti had the anchovy taste so it must have been dipped in the broth, but that’s it. Can you imagine eating a plate of noodles without anything else? Most of our experiences were like that. All carb, no meaty substance. For one of our lunches we both ordered rigatoni with bacon and eggs. Sounds good, right? Our plates came out filled with rigatoni and maybe 15 bacon bits. Bacon bits, like the stuff that comes out of a shaker. So often I took one bite of my entree and sadly said, “disgusting.” I would bet on any restaurant in North Beach over many of the restaurants in Venice and Florence—let alone A16 or Delfina.

Oh goodness, I have a spoiled California palate.

Pictures from the Chianti region.

Money Monday: Urban Outfitters

Back from two weeks in Italy and suffering serious jet lag. I woke up at 5am and wasn’t able to go back to sleep so I came into the office. What a productive little employee I am! Many more posts on the honeymoon later.

Did you miss me? I know my dad did. He asked me yesterday why I had stopped blogging. 1) I had spotty internet access. 2) I was on my honeymoon. 3) I got plain damn lazy. But I’m back. Shout out to my dad for reading my blog. Hi Dad!

It’s Money Monday post-Italy so today I’m going to relay a story from a dinner we had in Positano.

A family of three (dad, mom, and college-aged daughter) was sitting behind us having a serious discussion. Here’s what I overheard.

Daughter: I’m upset because you’re making me out to be a bad person. I’m not a bad person for wanting, for asking for these things. A new computer is not a big deal.

Mother: You just bought a couch.

Daughter: Mom, I use that. I use that every day. I needed that.

Mother: What about all the charges on your credit card from Urban Outfitters?

Daughter: Clothing is not a big deal. I’m going to get a job when I graduate. If there’s a shirt I want, I’m going to buy it. It’s not expensive. It’s Urban Outfitters!

Mother: (in hushed tones) Your spending is out of control. It has got to stop.

Daughter: No it’s not. Stop making me out to be a bad person.

Father: That’s it. From now on, we’re going to have to set boundaries on your spending.

I have several observations about this exchange. The daughter is not at fault. Yeah, her spending is out of control, but it seems like her parents had never done anything about it. The parents are enablers. Enablers are the guilty party.

The situation had clearly deteriorated so much that the mother felt she had to pull an intervention. Now? How many credit card statements later? What an idiot. And the dad talking about setting boundaries. Again I ask. Now? You’re going to set boundaries after your daughter has spent the better part of her childhood spending frivolously? Shame on her parents for not being more disciplined to begin with.

Also, someone needs to set this girl’s head straight. She said she was going to get a job after college. Has she read a single news article about the state of our economy? There are professionals with years of experience who are jobless. I may be wrong about her, though. If she’s an engineer or computer science major she probably will get a job right away. But then again, I don’t think those types shop at Urban Outfitters—if they shop at all.

2 Californians in Venice for 2 Days over Easter

Greetings from our honeymoon in Italy! We have been busy walking all over Venice and Florence, eating lots of pasta, and drinking so much Chianti. It’s been a very active four days. So much so that we are in heaven now doing nothing in the small town of Greve in Chianti. We are in a remote villa high in the hills overlooking wine country. Love the Villa Bordoni for upgrading us. This place is gorgeous, but more on that later.

The highlight of Venice was our gondola ride along the Grand Canal. The city was overwhelmed with people for the Easter holiday so it was nice to escape the crowds with our own gondola. We celebrated Easter in St. Mark’s Basilica. Had no idea it was a latin mass. As you can imagine, we understood nothing. The funniest thing was the people next to us asking to point out where we were in the hymn book and we shrugged and laughed. We had no idea! They also did not serve communion which was really weird. I have never gone to mass and not received the body of Christ. Ummm, isn’t that the most important part of the mass? Not sure if it was because there were so many people.

I had a feeling prior to the trip that I’d be disappointed with the food and wine. I am that girl who pumps pepper and spice into everything I eat. Sadly those fears have played out. Nothing has been tasty enough here. And the wine…I would bet on bottles of Alameda Rosenblum wine over Italian wine any day. Any day! The wines here suck. They’re bitter, inconsistent, and every glass has quite a bit of residue filtering to the bottom.

Here are pictures from Venice.

2011 Holy Week Countdown

Notre Dame des Victoires - Virtual Tourist website

It’s Palm Sunday and the one week countdown to Easter. It’s also the beginning of our Italian honeymoon when we arrive in Venice on Holy Saturday. I can’t think of anything more lovely than celebrating Easter mass at St. Mark’s Basilica and drinking wine on the piazza. The day after Easter is also a national holiday—La Pasquetta or Little Easter—so it’ll be one big weekend of happiness. Or two full weeks of bliss for us!

I’ve surprisingly enjoyed giving up alcohol for Lent. At first, it was painful as it should be for anyone who is quasi-addicted, but the restriction actually benefitted my life more than it took away. Here are my top reasons for why I’m going to miss this five-week stint of sobriety.

1. People can’t bully you into drinking by buying you another drink, opening another bottle of wine, or pouring you more even though you don’t want more. “Sorry, I told you I gave up alcohol for Lent.”
2. I’ve learned which restaurants and bars have good non-alcoholic options.
3. I have more energy.
4. I could stay up late and wake up early.
5. I slept well.
6. I didn’t wake up with headaches.
7. I can now sincerely empathize with people who don’t drink. I don’t think empathize is the right word, but I definitely know where they’re coming from and it’s not a bad place to be.
8. I lost weight—which I can’t imagine is related to giving up alcohol since I wolfishly binged on sugar, but I definitely lost weight. Form your own conclusions.
9. I saved a shitload of money.
10. Every time I wanted to have a drink, I thought about God and my religion—which is the whole point of Lent.

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