Barbara's Travel Blog

Grimace and Bear it

After nearly a week in Italy, I am coming to accept that my name is no longer “Ms. Grimes,” but now is “Mrs. Grimace” – at least, that’s how the Italians pronounce it. I just wish someone would introduce me to my husband!

This morning Erik, Lenore, Gnorley and I set off on the trail we normally take to town, but this time we headed uphill instead of down, to see just how far up the mountain we could go. The very steep path starts in town as about a one-lane road, narrows after about a quarter mile to the width of a sidewalk, then after our hotel goes to a narrow paved path, and finally about a mile up the mountain it becomes an unpaved trail. There are homes all along the path, right up to the end, where we found a home and a small vineyard. The homes are carved into the steep stone walls of the island (see photo for one of the coolest examples of this I’ve found so far). There are also shops in town that are similarly carved into the rock.

The town is small but has enough restaurants and shops to keep us busy for the week and a half we’re here. We’ve witnessed all kinds of interesting goings-on in town, but one of the most memorable so far was a public display of affection that exceeded all expectations. Over dinner one night, Lenore and I spied an Italian couple who were clearly smitten with each other – so much so that the woman felt it necessary to lick (yes, lick) her companion’s hand quite aggressively over a period of about 10 minutes. Now, I’m not talking a gentle lick, a dainty dab of the tongue – this was a veritable hand bath of the most thorough kind. And as if that wasn’t enough, they then started a full-on make out session right at the table, with no shortage of heavy petting. It was quite the show!

Tonight we’re headed by microtaxi (pronounced “meeeecro-taxi”) to the nearby town of Forio, to scope out new restaurants and see if there may indeed by night life on this tiny island. St. Angelo, while charming, isn’t exactly a hotbed of excitement. We’ll also see if they have a store with an appealing supply of caftanis (the cute swimsuit cover-ups all the women here seem to wear, and that Lenore and I now covet).

Fango My Fandango

After a few days here in Ischia, Erik, Lenore and I have figured out our way around and settled into a nice routine of sorts. A typical day consists of breakfast, spa treatments, lunch, pool time, then a trek into town for evening shopping and dinner. We mix this up a bit with the occasional hike, water taxi to a nearby town, etc.

The spa treatments are a great way to ease into the day… you wander in kind of drowsy and half-asleep, then proceed to get coated in mud, massaged, pedicured, facialed, etc. The massages have improved from my first day, though they still can’t compete with the ones I’ve had in the U.S. But then again, they’re not costing nearly as much!

The fango treatment (or “fandango,” as Lenore likes to call it) was interesting, but not something I feel compelled to try again. Basically, you strip down to your birthday suit in front of some massive, hairy Italian guy, hop up onto a table that has a giant pile of extremely hot mud on it (hence the big guy – women apparently aren’t strong enough to move around the heavy mud), then lay down and he proceeds to coat your body in the hot mud. He then bundles you up in blankets and leaves you to cook for about a half hour, occasionally returning to gently wipe the sweat off your face (unexpected, from the giant ape of a man). After you’ve adequately “fangoed,” he then puts you in a shower to get most of the mud off, and uses a high-pressure hose to get the rest, esp. those hard-to-reach areas (I kid you not). Anyway, I didn’t notice feeling any different after the fango, so I don’t think I’ll be shelling out any more cash for that one again.

Aside from the spa, the pools here are what really sell the place. There are 13 of them, most of which are in a large area with great views and lots of lounge chairs – this is where we spend most of our afternoons. The pools vary in temperature, and include a couple cool Japanese pools with funky rocks and bubbles.

That’s Dr. Strangelove, To You

Unfortunately, the food at our hotel doesn’t even begin to compare to that of yesterday’s lunch. We had hoped dinner last night was just a fluke, but lunch today reinforced it – gak! We were getting a bit discouraged, but today our faith in the Romantica is restored after having spent hours lounging in and around the hotel’s thirteen (!) pools. A couple are regular chlorinated pools, but the rest use the natural thermal spring water the island is famous for, all at varying temperatures. Magnifico!

My first experience at the spa this morning landed somewhere in between the dining and pool experiences on the satisfaction scale, but tops the “oh yeah, we’re definitely in a foreign land” chart. Before getting any spa treatments, guests are supposed to consult with the on-staff doctor, so I arrived bright and early this morning for my expert medical analysis. Now, I’m generally a pretty open-minded person, but right off the bat I had my doubts. I mean, putting a long white coat on some cigarette-smoking, jeans-wearing, gold-medallion-necklace-sporting Italian stallion does not a doctor make.

Upon looking at my schedule of spa treatments for the week, he immediately became visibly disturbed. There was clearly some issue with my “fango” plans (a mud pack treatment that the spa is apparently known for). Unfortunately, he was unable to express the exact nature of said concern using the roughly four English words he knew. Thirty minutes, a visit downstairs to the lady that runs the spa, and a call to the reception desk later, I learned that the issue was that I only had one fango treatment booked – a travesty!

After booking another session and agreeing to consider more sessions if I liked it, we returned back upstairs for my actual examination. The “doctor” pulled out a blood pressure cuff (apparently the standard exam consists solely of a blood pressure reading) and at this point I felt it appropriate to mention that I have high blood pressure – which I conveyed both verbally and by patting my heart with my hand. Now, I recognize in hindsight that my mistake was trying to communicate at all, because what exactly I was expecting to get out of this exchange I have no idea. But either not understanding what I was saying, or seeing an opportunity, he then instructed me to remove my shirt and bra for a more thorough examination.

In my own defense, let me say that I had my doubts at this point – I may be gullible, but I’m not stupid. But you’d be surprised how thoroughly your will can be worn down after 45 minutes of trying unsuccessfully to communicate with people who don’t speak your language. So I sighed, reminded myself I’m in Europe (everyone gets naked here, right?), and bared (nearly) all. My esteemed medical practitioner then proceeded to listen to my heart – through my right breast. The man is a medical wonder, I tell you. You can imagine my relief when he proclaimed me just fine, and sent me on my way.

As for the spa treatments themselves, I’m reserving judgment for now. My pedicure was better than most, but the anti-stress massage was a bit more of an extended oil application than an actual massage. Hopefully the therapeutic and shiatsu massages I have scheduled later in the week will be a bit more intense.

The Long and Winding Road

We arrived in Ischia yesterday afternoon, after a lengthy train, taxi, ferry and then another taxi ride. We were rather impressed by our cab driver’s negotiation skills on the first taxi trip… upon arriving at the ferry terminal in Napoli, a line of cars was in our way – apparently tourists who didn’t know where they belonged. He walked to the front and quickly negotiated with about 15 different drivers to move out of our way, then skirted between cars with only about an inch to spare on each side of our van, positioning us in a prime spot to get on the next ferry. The second leg in the taxi was a little hairy though – about 45 minutes on curvy, steep roads to get to the other side of the island from where the ferry dropped us off. That was good fun on an empty stomach. :P

Checking in at the hotel in Ischia, we were informed that all of our many questions (where is the spa? When is breakfast served? How can we get into town? Etc. etc. etc.) would be answered in the information binder in our rooms. Right... After an extensive read-through of the provided materials, we (or rather, Lenore, our begrudgingly designated communicator) called reception and tried our hardest to get the receptionist to explain how we could find our way into town. After several confused phone calls and a slightly treacherous trek through a garden shed, we settled on an 8-Euro taxi into town. (Later Erik did manage to find the path, which takes a whopping three minutes, so that’s the last of the taxis).

The town is quaint – very small, with no cars in the core part of the village, just small cobblestone-ish roads for foot traffic that wind through steep cliffs, with shops literally carved into the stone (see photo). We took the receptionist’s recommendation and dined at the lovely seaside “Neptuna” restaurant. I can’t say this enough: The food was utterly phenomenal. We were attempting to decipher the menu, when the waiter came over and poured us free sparkling white wine and said he’d bring food out and if we liked it, great, if we didn’t, we could send it back. That sounded good to us, so just a couple minutes later he started bringing dish after dish after dish of amazing food. Fresh tomatoes and mozzarella… a light salad with fresh shrimp… the most tender muscles and calamari I’ve ever tasted… sautéed mushrooms… the list goes on and on. I can’t imagine better food, and to top it off Erik and I shared the best piece of chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted. Mmmm!

The only down side was the increasingly amorous (and decreasingly subtle) overtures I endured by our waiter throughout the meal. At first it was sweet, then it was slightly irritating, and by the end I didn’t know whether to laugh or take a shower (or at least give my cheek a good scrubbing). Lenore valiantly defended my honor – making it clear that no, he would not be going back to my hotel with me as offered – but even she could not stop the determination of this man, who went so far as running across the room and interrupting me mid-scratch to relieve my itchy back himself. Boy, those Italians really know how to woo a girl!

You Say Gnocchi, I Say Guh-noshe

I’m on the train from Rome to Napoli (aka Naples) now, with Lenore, Erik and Gnorley in tow (see photo). For those of you who don’t know Erik & Lenore, they are my dear friends from Seattle, whose wedding I performed last year; they’ll be with me in Italy until Sept. 16. And if you don’t know Gnorley – well, that’s a tragedy really. Gnorley is a legend… an enigma… a little rubber gnome. He has traveled extensively with his primary keeper, April (of chocolate wrestling fame), and is now taking his first European adventure with me.

I got into Rome safe and sound yesterday, though predictably tired (much less so though thanks to the aforementioned shower in Frankfurt). After checking into my hotel (a free night at the Ambra Palace, thanks to my travel writing gig) and interviewing the hotel manager, I then met up with Erik and Lenore at the fancy schmancy St. Regis Grand Hotel. We then headed over to the Pantheon (which was closed, sadly) and onto dinner at a nearby restaurant where we enjoyed (shock of all shocks) some fine Italian fare. Unfortunately, my craving for gnocchi was not satisfied, as apparently yesterday was the first day back from Italy’s month-long August holiday period, and there wasn’t enough time to prepare the labor-intensive gnocchi dumplings.

This morning before the train ride I attempted to get online with the wireless hotspot at the Termini train station in Rome, but spent about a half hour just trying to find it. Imagine the looks of confusion when you try to ask the info desk staffers where exactly the train station’s free wi-fi can be found. I finally came upon a signal using my hotspot finder (a little electronic device – very handy), but it turned out to be a pay-for-play hotspot, and at that point I was already five minutes late to meet Erik & Lenore on platform eight. Oh well, maybe next time!

Once we arrive in Napoli, our hotel has arranged to have a driver meet us on the train platform (hopefully preventing any potential confused flailing about that might have otherwise ensued), then take us to the hydrofoil and over to Ischia to our next hotel (the Romantica Spa & Hotel). We’ll be there for about a week and a half, relaxing by the 11 of the hotel’s 13 pools that are “not suitable for children,” lazing about on the beach, getting massages and other spa treatments, and generally just being lazy bums. Rough life, eh? =)

The Terminal

At Frankfurt airport, with three-hour layover before flight to Rome. Visited Lufthansa's Senator and Business lounges... mostly just the usual stuff, but they did have showers in the business lounge, which was a lifesaver. Usually a three-hour layover in the midst of an international flight would make me miserable, but havign the chance to shower really woek me up and made me feel a million times better. For once I'll be arriving in Rome not looking completely scrungy!

On a side note, there was a wireless hotspot in Lufthansa's Senator's loung, but my T-Mobile account from the US doesn't seem to want to work in Germany (even with the special username trick George A. taught me). I paid for a short session to send a couple quick e-mails, but was too cheap to get a full hour so I could post an update on the blog. (But as you can see, I can type them on my laptop and post them later, when I get online.)

Somewhere Over the Ocean

On a plane from Portland to Frankfurt, with more than five hours still to go. Am sitting next to a school teacher who, in spite of her rather stereotypically schoolmarmish persona, suprised me by telling me she is moving to Kuwait to teach geometry to 9th-12th graders - amazing! She has also lived and taught in Chile and in the middle East before.

Meanwhile, while sitting here typing away on my Centrino laptop, Troy from Montana stopped to introduce himself and chat with me about how I like the laptop, since he's in the market for one. He works in IT as well as construction planning, and has spent a lot of time traveling, including several months in Barcelona and Cinque Terre. He's now on his way back to Barcelona for another month.

He asked for my e-mail address, so I may be hearing from him again) and yes ladies, he was definitely a cutie). =)

A sabbatical surprise party

It's no surprise to anyone who knows my friends to hear that they are a great gang, but last night was further proof of it. Spearheaded by my fabulous roommate Jen, they threw me a surprise sabbatical going away party. And not only was I completely surprised, but my now legendary gullibility apparently made me overlook about a million clues in recent weeks (especially since the party was being thrown at my house! Kudos to Jen & April for managing to keep such straight faces right up to the end.

Anyway, I just want to say thanks to all of you (especially Jen, April and Mom), for a wonderful party. It's been very touching to have my friends and family be so positive and celebratory about this milestone in my life. Now I really do wish I could take you all with me! :)

~Barbara

P.S. For those of you who weren't there, I've posted photos from the party in my sabbatical photo album.

Itinerary

Aug. 25-26		Rome, Italy
Aug. 26 - Sept. 5		Ischia, Italy
Sept. 5-6		Capri, Italy
Sept. 6-8		Positano, Italy
Sept. 8-11		Rome, Italy
Sept. 11-18		La Spezia, Italy
Sept. 18-19		Milan, Italy
Sept. 19-23		Chamonix, France
Sept. 23-24		Munich, Germany
Sept. 24 - Oct. 14		Prague, Czech Republic

Welcome to my sabbatical blog!

Hi, and thanks for visiting my sabbatical blog! If you're here, odds are you already know me... but if not, feel free to check out the "about" section on the left. My intention is for this blog to be a digital journal of my trip, so that I can look back on it later, and so my friends and family can keep track of what I'm up to while I'm on my trip.

I can't say for sure how often I'll be posting here while I'm away, but I encourage you to check back occasionally to see my latest entries and photos. You can also post comments that other visitors can see, which I will review whenever I log in.

Thanks for your interest!

~Barbara