Coffee break in Middleburg

Posted on June 8, 2013 by katemahar

As you know, I’m a great proponent of river cruises. The first one I took was Avalon’s “Tulip Time” cruise in early April several years ago. I fell in love with the sites, people, history, food – truly every memorable moment in beautiful Belgium and the Netherlands.

The local tour guides that river cruise companies hire in the cities and towns along the way are top notch. But sometimes, after being on the go for days, it’s kind of nice to skip the tour and wander on your own. That’s always an option – as is choosing just to stay in bed or curl up reading on a deck chair in the sun. By the way, most tours are included in the price of your cruise (unlike the big ocean-going cruise ships). So keep that in mind if you’re weighing the price of a river cruise vs. the other kind.

Middleburg is located in the Zeeland area of the Netherlands and is perhaps most famous for its 12th century Abbey. I hear it’s well worth a visit, but on the day we were in Middleburg, my cousin Carole and I decided to sleep in, then wander into the town on our own. We found some lovely little shops, as well as a department store where I bought a couple inexpensive household items that are probably standard fare in Europe but fun and exotic to me.

On our way back to the ship, we stopped for coffee in a charming cafe. We just ordered coffee – but coffee included a little container of whipped cream to top it off, a couple cookies and a shot glass with something alcoholic (if I remember correctly) – all presented using flowered mugs and a doily-covered platter. Sigh. I wish I could go back to that cafe and linger over coffee and a pastry on this quiet, cloudy Saturday morning in Ohio.

Coffee in Middleburg, The Netherlands

Coffee in Middleburg, The Netherlands

Have a wonderful weekend – and happy travels!

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Reasons to return to Rome, Part Four: Keyhole in the Green Door

Posted on June 6, 2013 by katemahar

One of the lesser known attractions in Rome involves the simple act of looking through the keyhole of an old green door. The door is located on a site that was originally a palace, then a Benedictine monastery, and then in 1312 passed into the hands of the famous warrior

Peeking through the keyhole of the Green Door

Peeking through the keyhole of the Green Door

monks, the Knights Templar.  In the latter half of the 1400s, Pope Paul II granted the monastery to the Sovereign Military Order of Malta. But after that, the property changed hands periodically, even becoming a precursor to Starbucks as a coffee house frequented by artists in the 1600s. The present structure was restored by the famous artist and architect Biovanni Battista Piranesi in the late 1700s.

So, when you lean over to look through the keyhole, you will see an exquisite, tiny view of St. Peter’s Basilica perfectly centered in the opening. For some reason, peering through a keyhole sounds very Alice in Wonderland to me. Or maybe like some secret place Bilbo Baggins would take you to see in the Shire. But a real place in Rome? Yes! And I am enchanted by the thought of walking up to that door to look through that keyhole myself.

View of St. Peter's through the keyhole

View of St. Peter’s through the keyhole

The Romans call it “the hole of Rome,” which not a very romantic way of describing it, I’m afraid. You can find it high on the Aventine Hill in the Piazza dei Cavalieri di Malta, or the Piazza of the Knights of Malta. The door is set into a high wall decorated with ancient obelisks and military insignia. Unless you arrive right behind a tour bus, chances are there won’t be that many visitors in line waiting to walk up, bend forward, and peer through the keyhole to see a perfect little cameo of  the Vatican’s iconic dome.

No one knows if the door and keyhole were placed purposely, or if the view is a stunning, perhaps even heavenly, bit of serendipity.

Regardless, I want to see it. I haven’t yet because Aventine Hill is not anywhere near the well-worn paths to Rome’s more obvious attractions. And since peeking through a keyhole won’t take much time, I wondered if there were other things to see in the vicinity. Sure enough, another little-known attraction nearby is the Mouth of Truth.

The What the What, you ask . . . ?!

Bocca della Verita

Bocca della Verita

When I go to check out the green door, I also plan to visit nearby Santa Maria in Cosmedin to view the church’s notable 11th century frescoes, as well as its picturesque 12th century bell tower. But the big attraction, I have to admit, will be the Bocca della Verita, or Mouth of Truth.

The Mouth of Truth is a heavy stone disc carved in the fourth century B.C. with a scary, bearded face baring a gaping, dark gash of a mouth. Medieval legend had it that if you put your hand in its mouth and told a lie, the ancient mouth would clamp closed upon your tender fingers. Ouch.

If that’s sounding vaguely familiar, you may have seen Gregory Peck poke his fingers in the mouth to tease doe-eyed Audrey Hepburn in a scene from the movie, “Roman Holiday.” So yes, I will put my hand in the monster’s yaw and say, “I really don’t love Rome at all!”

If I come home with mashed fingers, we’ll know the Mouth of Truth is still doing its job. What shall we do in Rome next? We shall see, miei cari, we shall see. Ciao!

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Reasons to return to Rome, Part Three: Explore Trastevere

Posted on May 31, 2013 by katemahar

Though I knew it existed, I imagined the Trastevere as a kind of remote Roman suburb. I knew it was across the Tiber River, and it looked like it wasn’t that close to the major sites and activities you’d normally choose, like the Coliseum, Vatican, Trevi Fountain, Pantheon, etc. Besides, who has time to search for a place that isn’t on many “must see” lists when we’re carefully counting and planning for every precious day and hour in the Eternal City?

Then last October I went to Trastevere with my friend Fran and her daughter Mallory to Trastevere mapattend a cooking class with Chef Andrea Consoli. Not only did I learn how to make a mean pear soufflé, but I was delighted to observe two things about this new neighborhood I’d entered:

First, though we took a cab over, we walked back to our hotel near the Spanish Steps when we were finished. And guess what? The Trastevere really is within walking distance of everything else in Rome. Che sopresa! Yes, it was a hike. Like George Washington, I cannot tell a lie. As a blogger and someone who likes to think she’s funny, I may exaggerate now and then . . . but no outright lying. Honest.

So, if you were to map out all the places you wanted to walk to in Rome, you could easily include the Trastevere neighborhood while heading, say, from the Coliseum toward the Campo de’ Fiori, or Piazza Navona. In fact, Rome really isn’t that big. And now that I know that, I even think I’ll look for a small hotel or pensione to stay in on my next trip. There should be a bargain or two in Trastevere and with really easy access to the rest of the city, I can’t wait to make it home base.

Charming streets of Trastevere

Charming streets of Trastevere

And why make that effort? Well, that brings me to my second point: it’s adorable! As Fran, Mal and I wandered around looking for the cooking school, it was as if the taxi had dropped us on the verge of a small Italian village far from a major city. The narrow cobbled streets weave in and out of piazzas and are dotted with bakeries, shoe stores and green grocers selling their wares to locals and visitors alike. It almost feels like a little vacation within your vacation. Enjoy the village ambiance, then stroll across the bridge to be a part of bustling Roma – just on the other side of the river.

From what I’ve read, back around 500 BC the Etruscans lived in the area, but eventually the Romans conquered them and took over the neighborhood. Fishermen making their livings on the Tiber River tended to live on the west bank, and Trastevere has always been considered a working man’s neighborhood. In addition, Trastevere was the home of immigrants from the East and the center of the Jewish community in Rome, which also made it the likely birthplace of Christianity in the area.

Piazza Santa Maria de Trastevere

Piazza Santa Maria de Trastevere

Today in Trastevere you can explore two of Rome’s oldest churches: the Santa Maria, dating from around 222 A.D., and the ornate Santa Cecelia. The American University is located here – no doubt contributing to the district’s reputation for a vibrant night life. When looking for things to do in Trastevere, quieter choices might include wandering through the Orto Botanical Gardens or perhaps a visit to Villa Farnesina with its exquisite frescoes by Raphael.

Italians say the “Real Romans” live in Trastevere. The people you meet may well have lived there for generations beyond memory. I also think it would be fun to eat a meal in a restaurant where the people from the neighborhood eat, and where every menu isn’t written in two or three languages for the tourists.

There are so many more places I want to visit in and around Rome. I’m not done with this blog theme by any means, folks! So, ciao for now – and andiamo! Let’s go!

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Reasons to return to Rome, Part Two: Cook like a Roman!

Posted on May 23, 2013 by katemahar

A different and tasty approach to exploring Rome is to sign up for a cooking class or food-tasting tour. That’s exactly what my friend Fran, her daughter Mallory and I did during our visit to Rome last October.

After researching options on the internet, we chose to take a half day class at Chef Andrea Consoli’s cooking school and restaurant in Rome’s picturesque Trastevere neighborhood. (More about the Trastevere another time.)

Chef Andrea Consoli

Chef Andrea Consoli

We took a cab from our hotel near the Spanish Steps across town and over the Tiber River, where the driver unceremoniously dumped us out at a little piazza with a newspaper stand and not much else. “But, where are we going?!” we cried. He pointed vaguely to the left and with his English being about as fluent as our Italian . . . we meandered in and around the tiny streets for some time before finding the little trattoria.

I can only say, it was worth the effort and definitely good value for the cost of the course. I believe there were ten of us in total and together we squeezed into Chef Andrea’s small kitchen and were thoroughly entertained and enlightened by his instruction. We started with a faro salad; faro is a little like barley, I guess, and it was cooked, cooled, then tossed with arugula, tomato, carrots, etc., with an oil and lemon juice dressing. It may not sound that exciting, but it actually was my favorite recipe.

We went on to make homemade pasta with a tomato sauce with eggplant. An authentic

Fran and Mallory; Mal used a cleaver to whack that chicken apart like a pro.

Fran and Mallory; Mal used a cleaver to whack that chicken apart like a pro.

Roman version of Chicken Cacciatore (no tomato!) and roasted rosemary potatoes. And dessert was a chocolate and pear soufflé. All ingredients were seasonal and sourced locally.

For me, honestly – it was just a little long. That was a lot of cooking! I was tired! But Fran and Mallory (and apparently, everyone else) loved every minute of it. I’m sure it was a highlight of Fran’s first experience in Italy. I will say that our late lunch was truly a memorable feast. Each course was absolutely delicious and I will definitely try my hand at the salad this summer.

If you’re interested in taking a class with Chef Andrea, visit his website: www.cookingclassesinrome.com.

Pear and chocolate souffle. How pretty is that?

Pear and chocolate souffle. How pretty is that?

When I was searching for ideas, another tour that appealed to me was offered by Walks of Italy. Their Rome Food Tour starts at the Campo de’ Fiori market, visits a bakery, participates in an olive oil tasting, makes pizza for their lunch, and ends with trips to a great gelateria and a café renowned for its coffee. Since I am, frankly, more interested in eating than cooking – I would probably try this one next time. For more information, go to www.walksofitaly.com.

Or, just Google cooking classes in Rome and take a look at what comes up. In the Eternal City, there’s always something new to explore, no matter how many times you are lucky enough to visit. Ciao!

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Reasons to return to Rome, Part One: Campo de’ Fiori

Posted on May 18, 2013 by katemahar

When Americans travel to Europe, it’s tempting to say we’ve “done” Paris, or Amsterdam, or Florence, or wherever we’ve spent a couple days seeing the sites. You jump on the Hop On-Hop Off bus and race to see the Mona Lisa at the Louvre or get your picture taken with a guy in gladiator getup outside the Coliseum. It seems like before you know it, you’re jammed back into your seat on United heading to Newark.

The truth is, it’s wonderful skimming the beautiful surface of foreign cities. I am so grateful for what amounts to a glimpse of Prague, a little taste of Venice. I want to return EVERYWHERE, but what is equally compelling is wanting to go someplace NEW. If I ever win the lottery I’ll return to Ghent and Bamburg and Lucca. I also will make my first trips to Lisbon and Barcelona and Mikonos and . . . .

And I will return to Rome. I have been to the Eternal City five times, but you know what? On this last trip with my friend, Fran, I visited places I hadn’t seen before. Since Fran is a “foodie,” she was interested in markets and a cooking class and trying wines, and so on.

A new spot for me was the morning market at Campo de’ Fiori. I’d heard of the market, but just never found the time (or made it a priority) to check it out on previous visits.

As it turned out, it’s pretty touristy – but still worth a visit. I loved taking photos of the flower stalls and artistic displays of autumnal fruits and vegetables. Med Cruise and Italy 2012 303I even saw some nuns shopping there, which is an iconic image you’ll probably find if you search online for photos of the place. I don’t know why, but nuns in old fashioned habits are picturesque – and especially in Rome, somehow. (The order of nuns at the church in my hometown dressed like 1950’s stewardesses on Air Vatican. Not a good look, even then.)

That reminds me of a word of advice I got on my first visit to Rome. If you’re at a busy intersection and intimidated by the traffic, look for a nun you can follow. You are guaranteed a safe crossing (thank you, Sister).

Med Cruise and Italy 2012 305Back to Campo de’ Fiori. So, you won’t find any bargains, but it is fun to look at all the produce, pastas, scarves and even housewares. There are cafes ringing the market square where you can sip a cappuccino and watch the people, though be forewarned that you will pay a premium for that coffee and snack with a view. At night the area becomes a haunt for young, drunken people (I’m told) and the market itself starts shutting down around noon or so.

For more information, here’s a good site I found online:

http://www.romeloft.com/rome-best-areas/campo-de-fiori-guide/

Happy travels, and more about my cooking class in Rome is coming soon.

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Hiking exposed: just a walk in the park

Posted on December 29, 2012 by katemahar

I just want to let everyone know that I went hiking this week. Yes. Me. Hiking.

I thought I had never been hiking before, not being an outdoorsy sort of girl. Lo and behold, I discovered that the athletic types have been trying to pull the wool over the eyes of the rest of us all these years. In fact, I have been hiking all my life.

If you – like me – are more of an indoors sort of person, or one who would rather amble through the cobbled streets of Orvieto than haul ass up Mt. Helena, I have news for you:  hiking is walking OUTSIDE.

hikers

Scary, serious hiking

You already knew that? Well, I didn’t. I thought hiking involved wearing special clunky boots and wearing a backpack-y sort of thing and eating raisins from a little box for energy. I thought it involved mandatory sweating and/or threat of frostbite and you could expect your makeup to get messed up either way.

This is not necessarily the case. Last Monday, while visiting my dear sister Penny and her husband Dick in St. George, Utah, for the holidays, the three of us plus my son, Chris, went hiking at Mt. Zion National Park. Going into it, I have to admit that I was a little scared. Even though they promised we wouldn’t actually climb the mountains or anything, I didn’t think I knew how to hike. I was just wearing my tennis shoes and normal clothes, plus a rain coat. I didn’t even have a snack in my pocket.

Pen and me

Pen and me

Well, we bravely set out on a track that turned out to be populated primarily by Asian tourists with their toddlers, and we walked until we couldn’t see the parking lot anymore. Long before we got tired or hungry, my sister said it was time to turn around and walk back to the car. I said, “Did we just go hiking? Was that it?”

Penny assured me that, yes, we had just gone hiking. Granted, it was an easy hike. A very, very easy hike, but a hike nonetheless. I was stoked. So we drove to another parking lot to go on another short hike. However, when I saw that this one involved an incline greater than five degrees, I decided to let Penny and Chris tackle the challenge while Dick and I hung out watching tourists take photos of each other in front of pine trees and a little stream.

Lest you think I can’t walk up a hill, I would like to return to my earlier comment about how I have been hiking all my life without knowing it. I definitely hiked up a steeper hill than the one at Zion when I was in Italy in October. After taking the tram a good way up the hill from the train station in the Umbrian hill town of Orvieto, it was still a challenging walk up the cobblestone streets to the magnificent cathedral at the center of town. (BTW, I do understand that walking up the hill to Orvieto is not as challenging as hiking in ALL of Zion National Park. I’m not that stupid. I’m just saying it’s as strenuous as that one little spot appeared to be.)

Orvieto

Orvieto

So, I was hiking BIG TIME and I didn’t even know it. We hiked up to the cathedral, then over to some shops selling ceramics and further on to a café where we had some wine and a great margerita pizza. If hiking is just basically walking outdoors, then I have been hiking my ass off all over Europe. I think I will start telling people when I plan a trip that I will be hiking wherever I am going. Where’s your next trip, Kate, someone might ask?

“Oh, I am going hiking in the South of France,” I may reply. After all, if I go there, you can bet I will be walking from a cathedral to a shop with Provencal fabrics to a patisserie. Can I help it if I’d rather hike to a museum or gelateria than to a spot where 2,000 year old water is leaking out of a rock?

That sounds like I am dissing Zion and Nature. I am not. In fact, here’s a link:  www.nps.gov/zion.  If you are going to Utah and have the opportunity to visit, this has to be one of the jewels in our crown of national parks.

My son Chris, naturally wonderful at Zion

My son Chris, naturally wonderful at Zion

Like all natural wonders, it’s nearly impossible to convey the beauty of a place in a photo. You just can’t get the scale. I have to say, it’s like that taking photos of amazing European landmarks, too. Don’t you find that trying to show something huge and amazing in a little photo is almost too difficult to even attempt to do? Even looking at a professional photographer’s stunning shot of, say, the Grand Canyon, is nothing like the fall-to-your-knees-with-your-mouth-gaping-open-catching-flies reaction you’ll have in person.

So anyway, I just wanted to expose hiking for what it is so you will no longer be intimidated by those fit types who brag about doing it. Honey, you are hiking from your car to the front entrance of WalMart, if that’s what you want to call it. Now I’m going to hike on up to the living room and watch the episode I DVR’d of “Fashion Police” last night. Yay!

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Mysterious and creepy Palermo

Posted on November 9, 2012 by katemahar

Something you should know if you’re considering booking a trip on Costa Cruise lines is that the vast majority of your shipmates will be European, and mostly Italian at that. On my cruise on the Costa Serena last month I learned that I was one of just 25 Americans on board – on a ship holding about 3,800 passengers and 1,100 crew. Mamma mia! More about that another time.

I bring this up today to explain why – inadvertently – we went on the creepiest shore excursion imaginable. I mean, seriously weird and scary and extremely timely, considering Halloween was just a couple weeks away.

We had signed up for an excursion to Cefalù, a quaint fishing village on the Italian island of Sicily. However, as the ship headed toward Palermo, we learned that there were not enough English-speaking passengers signed up for that excursion for Costa to justify hiring an English-speaking guide. As an alternative, we could go to Cefalù with a group speaking Italian or French, but there was no guarantee that anyone would actually have the time or inclination to translate any information into English for the two of us. Or, we could change to the only English-speaking tour available at this port, called “Mysterious Palermo.” Afraid that we’d be wandering off in Cefalù, totally clueless as to what was coming up next or when or where to get back to the bus to return to the ship, we decided we were game for the mystery tour.

View from harbor, Palermo, Sicily

Now, Palermo is kind of creepy, anyway, I think. It’s very old and looks pretty poor and dirty. It’s famous for Mafiosi blowing up, shooting or garroting anyone opposed to whatever shenanigans the Mafia is up to in Sicily. First our tour bus meandered around the city a bit so the guide could point out some of the city’s more impressive monuments and boulevards. One of the monuments near the harbor memorialized all the people who have died at the hands of the Mafia, by the way. I’m betting there are more bodies wearing cement shoes in the Bay of Palermo than you can shake a cannoli at.

Soon we pulled in to our first stop, the Catacombs of the Cappuccini. Yes, there is a connection between the Capuchin monks and our favorite, frothy cappuccino drink from Starbucks – but I forget what it is.

Anyway, I had read an article about the catacombs in National Geographic Traveler not that long ago, so was mildly – if cautiously – interested in seeing it firsthand. The story goes that when Palermo’s Capuchin Monastery ran out of room in its original cemetery in the 16th century, the monks decided to excavate beneath the building to create their own crypt, or catacombs. They tested out their mummifying skills on Brother Silvestro and he became the first occupant in 1599.

I won’t go into the dehydrating and embalming techniques they tinkered with over the years, but apparently people were enchanted by the friars’ success. Palermo’s socialites decided they wanted to be preserved with the monks. It became a status symbol to put yourself on display in the catacombs, rather than moldering away below the ground.

After a while, the monks stopped putting their own in the catacombs, possibly wanting to save the valuable real estate for rich folks willing to pay for the privilege. Plus, the modestly robed holy men couldn’t hold a candle to the rows of well-dressed corpses lining the walls – some of whom even made arrangements to have their outfits changed periodically, either as a fashion statement or at least to postpone the ultimate disintegration of their fine frocks and waistcoats.

Visiting the catacombs on a hot, sunny day in October, it was a pleasant descent into the cool, dark catacombs below the monastery to see how the inhabitants had fared by 2012. First of all, let me tell you – it’s definitely a full house. I’m not sure how high the walls were, but as you’ll see in this picture (a postcard; visitors are not allowed to use cameras inside), there were bodies suspended from the walls in a standing position, often two or three layers high. Others were lying on shelves. Boxes that looked like moldy old trunks (those changes of clothing?!) lined the floor.

Creepy corpses in Palermo

There were areas for monks, sections for men and for women only. There was an area just for children and (they say) one for virgins. Skeletons of all sizes are dressed in faded street clothes or uniforms, often sporting jaunty hats or ruffled bonnets. In some cases a jaw might have fallen askew, or shreds of desiccated tissue and hair can be spotted, lingering on a skull. Seriously creepy.

Fortunately, Palermo is hot and fairly dry. The crypt was dusty and dim, and except for one disturbingly dark and smelly hallway, mostly odorless. The numbers of bodies alone made it almost a numbing experience, as you walk on and on through the rows and rows of the dead. I believe I read that there are about 8,000 bodies in the catacombs.

The piece de resistance, if you will, is the glass-covered coffin of Rosalia Lombardo at the end of the tour. Two-year-old Rosalia died suddenly sometime in the 1920s when her father was out of town. The heart-broken family begged the monks and Professor Alfredo Salafia to preserve her body so her daddy could see her one last time as soon as he could get back to Palermo. The embalming procedure was a mystery for decades, only recently rediscovered. It kept the tiny girl intact for her father’s return, and today she still looks like a tender little child, asleep in her small, dark bed. Her skin is very tanned and odd-looking, but there’s no question that she was a beautiful toddler.

There’s just one other corpse hanging from a wall who appears to be more or less intact – more like a mummy than a skeleton. Apparently his wife poisoned him and the poison acted as a preservative. I don’t know if they figured that out in time to punish the spouse, or if the monks got curious over the years when his resistance to decomposition started raising questions.

Cathedral of Palermo

The rest of Palermo, honestly, was nice enough but not especially mysterious, as far as I could see. We visited the Castle of Zisa, which was built by Arabic architects for the Normans who ruled Sicily, I think in the 1100’s. They say today’s blue-eyed Sicilians can thank their Norman ancestors for their eyes and fair skin. Then we went to the Cathedral of Palermo, which is an impressive pile of carved stone with a strikingly ornate side altar encased in gleaming silver . . . and a nice little bar serving decent gelato across the street.

I’ve been wanting to visit Sicily for years and would love to return. I can’t exactly claim that four hours in Palermo seeing skeletons and eating a cup of lemon gelato while gazing at the cathedral  actually counts as a visit to Sicily. And while I can’t say I’m a fan of large cruise ships, I will admit it’s a great way to get a little taste of a place. In my case, certainly whetting my appetite for further exploration one day.

As for the mysteries of Palermo, I do wonder if I might have seen a Mafioso and didn’t know it.  That could happen, right? And if I did, that would be yet another mysterious and creepy thing that happened in Palermo. I’m thinking it probably did happen . . . .

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Gelato my dreams

Posted on October 26, 2012 by katemahar

Ciao, mia amici, ciao! I am home from my Mediterranean cruise on the Costa Serena (much more to come about that) followed by four days in the Eternal City of Rome. With so much to see and do, I felt it was fitting to start with one of the most critical components of our trip: the consumption of gelato, or Italian ice cream.

When I first tried gelato in Italy some years ago, it opened up a whole new world of frozen delight to me. I’m actually not much of an ice cream eater. When it comes to desserts, give me practically any combination of flour, sugar and butter and I am in. Anyway, back then the only locations that served gelato that I knew about were Italy and the Bellagio in Las Vegas.

I have since found that gelato is available in all manner of European countries as well as in places like Cleveland Hopkins Airport and the freezer section at Giant Eagle. I haven’t tried any at the airport yet, but I can attest to the fact that while the Giant Eagle brand is tasty, it’s not really that much like what you find in the Old Country. I’m just saying.

Pine Nut Gelato

So my friend Fran and I made a point of testing the gelato from Palermo to Valencia and back to Rome. We had good gelato and we had amazing gelato. Never a bad gelato. Here’s a picture of a pretty gelato served at a café famous for its espresso near the Pantheon in Rome. The flavor was supposed to be pine nut (which is a delicious and unusual flavor when it’s made right), but tasted more like vanilla ice cream with pine nuts folded into it. Still worth every calorie, I might add.

Spanish Steps

On our first night in Rome there was a thunderstorm with a tremendous downpour after dinner, but Fran and her daughter (the beautiful Mallory from Las Vegas who came to join us for a couple days) and I dashed to the Trevi Fountain so Mal could make her three wishes on her critical first day in Rome. We ran a gauntlet of street merchants trying to sell us umbrellas approximately every 50 yards between the Spanish Steps and the fountain. The fact that we were beating them off with our OWN umbrellas did not deter them in the least from attempting to sell us back-up umbrellas.

Sadly, I did not write down the name of the bar/café by Trevi that had our first amazing Roman gelato, but if you stand directly in front of the Trevi Fountain and look straight ahead, the establishment will be on the street to the left side of the fountain. There is a somewhat grumpy old lady manning the cash register, but we learned that she actually makes the gelato they sell in that bar. The pistachio was maybe the best I’ve ever tasted. Don’t expect to be allowed to sit down with your gelato, but it was worth every minute standing, bedraggled and dripping. Grazie mille to the signora for her heavenly concoctions.

We were staying in a hotel near the top of the Spanish Steps, so we ended up sampling numerous gelati in the area by default, if nothing else. One of the best was Pompi, a shop with artisanal gelati and a refrigerator case full of gorgeous and unique desserts, like tiramisu in different flavors. I had a scoop of their Calabrese licorice gelato and about swooned, licorice lover that I am. My friends thoroughly enjoyed their choices as well (whatever those were – sorry!). Look for Pompi on the cross street of Via della Croce off the main drag of Via del Babuino in front of the Spanish Steps.

Campo di Fiori

On our last day, after walking across town to visit the famous Campo di Fiori market, the Piazza Navona and various wrong turns and happy surprises heading back toward the hotel, we stopped at a little gelateria near the Spanish Steps called Gelo Stellato. The people running it say their homemade gelato uses all natural products and fresh fruits. I had been eyeing a gelato flavor for days called Amarena (I think) that looks like vanilla ice cream with cherries, so I finally decided to try it here. It turned out to be an incredibly rich and silky vanilla cream dotted with broken chunks of good quality chocolate-covered cherries. OMG.  Do you remember Islays’ old White House vanilla ice cream with little bits of maraschino cherries? It was my favorite ice cream when I was a kid. Well, this Italian version may well be my new favorite, now that I’m a very BIG and OLD kid.

My usual go-to gelato flavor is lemon, and there’s nothing more refreshing on a hot day. I’m actually just throwing that in here so I can take this opportunity to give you a very different little travel tip. The only thing that may be even more refreshing than lemon gelato is soaking your feet in the bidet in the hotel bathroom after a long, hot day of sightseeing. You can perch on the toilet seat with a good book while your dusty, swollen tootsies cool down in the bidet basin next to you.  I think Diane Lane may have done that in “Under the Tuscan Sun.” If she did, I think I did it first, anyway.

But back to the subject at hand . . . .

There was one gelato flavor I asked for in every bar, café and gelateria I visited, to no avail. That incomparably yummy flavor of gelato is:  pink grapefruit. I do think I convinced the ladies at Pompi to consider it for one of their new flavors after extolling its virtues. I tried it in a gelateria in a little hill town in Umbria – I think it might have been Todi – a few years ago. Talk about refreshing! If anyone has a recipe for grapefruit ice cream, please send it my way. And if you ever run across such a recipe and have access to an ice cream maker, give it a shot. You will not be disappointed – promise!

So when in Rome . . . please visit Pompi and report back to me on whether or not they took my advice. Arrivederci for now.

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What I Hate About Las Vegas

Posted on September 24, 2012 by katemahar

First, the noise is an assault on the senses. In practically every hotel in Las Vegas, whether upscale or lowest-of-the-low, you have to pass through the casino to get to your guest room. That means running the gauntlet of slot machines blaring “BrrrrrrrrrrrrrrUP” and “Ding-ding-ding-ding-ding!” People are talking and calling out to each other and singing “Sweet Caroline” (dah-dah-DAH) in a boozy boom leaking from the doorway of the spring-break-in-Cozumel-inspired Mexican restaurant.  The décor is sleazy, but the prices don’t match – natch.

No one helped you drag your suitcase up the escalator into the lobby, so you wheel it through the crowds toward the elevator, wishing you had worn one of those gauze masks Japanese tourists like to sport on international flights. Being in the lower budget “Resort”-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named, the curtain of smoke rivals the air quality on a particularly high smog index day in L.A.  – but smells worse. For the ten thousandth time – I am so glad I quit ten years ago.

Being on a non-smoking floor offers some relief, but a few random cigarette butts and ashes add to the cringe factor of the hallway’s stained carpets. Side note: the little pile stayed in place for three days. Oh, and the remnants of others’ room service meals line those same hallways at intervals, seemingly just changing position (occasionally) during the soul-numbing four night stay.

While my room was pleasant and appeared to be clean, the headboard on the bed was made of . . . drum roll . . . white, tufted vinyl. I’m sorry. I guess I have a dirty mind, but it made me cringe and I tried very hard never to actually touch it.

Dear friends, I could go on. Suffice to say, I do not travel to Las Vegas by choice. It’s always for business, this last trip being to produce one client’s conference (who has pledged never to return to this particular venue). So, I am not naming names (client or hotel). I’m not posting photos. And the proverbial wild horses could not drag me back to this particularly icky nightmare on the Strip.

And What I Like About Las Vegas

I finished the conference by fleeing from “Resort”-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named to meet Client #2 for site visits for an event coming up in the spring. When I arrived at my next destination, I felt like falling to my knees and kissing the ground. Two nights at Bellagio, by comparison, was practically a Zen experience.

Yes, I still had to walk through the casino . . . but plush awnings over the gaming tables, and slot machines that seem simply to be set at a lower volume, made the noises associated with slots and gambling significantly less intrusive. In a dry-martini-kind-of-bar just off the lobby, an accomplished pianist played soothing show tunes on a baby grand piano.

People were still smoking here and there (this seems to be a popular habit among gamblers), but thanks to a powerful filtration system, you really don’t smell it unless a smoker drifts right in front of you as you head toward the guest elevators.

Fancy Pants toiletries

If you are fortunate enough to stay at a lovely, high end resort like Bellagio (or Wynn/Encore, or Venetian/Palazzo, etc.), one of my favorite things is the bathroom in each guest room. The bathrooms are generally a (tasteful) explosion of marble, closer to the size of my bedroom at home than the little bath typical of my 1960’s-built house. There’s a huge tub with Jacuzzi jets; a separate and spacious shower with a marble seat; and (comparatively) jumbo-sized, imported shampoo and conditioner and lotion, pristine white fluffy towels, a lighted, magnified makeup mirror, flat screen TV, and more. Makes a girl want to soak and primp and never come out of the john.

Jazzy Jacuzzi

On this particular visit, I was put into a Bellagio suite. Oh yeah, baby. Sometimes I LOVE my job. (Actually, I pretty much love my job all the time, I’m happy to say.) So I had a living room, bedroom and two and half baths. Yes, you read that correctly. Off the bedroom were two full bathrooms. One had the Jacuzzi tub, toilet and sink and TV, etc., etc. The second had a gigantic shower/steam setup, also with toilet and sink and TV. The little powder room right by the entrance to the living room apparently is so anyone I invite over for tea or cocktails doesn’t have to invade my private bedroom space. Thank you very much.

Foyer to Bellagio suite

I rarely watch TV in hotels, but now that I think of it, this particular suite had four:  one in the living room, one in the bedroom, and one each in the two bathrooms. I’m pretty sure there wasn’t one in the powder room, but since I never used it, I could be selling Bellagio short there.

So seriously, the only thing I regret when I am fortunate enough to stay in a place like Bellagio is that I actually have to WORK and can’t just hang around in a room far nicer and larger than I am ever likely to live in, in my “real life.”

Something else I like about Las Vegas is that there are remarkable restaurants. During the second site visit, I joined my clients and our Bellagio hosts (thank you Robert Morton and Sandy Sutherland!) for lunch at Todd English’s Olives. Gnocchi and chicken – delicious. Gnocchi means “little pillows” in Italian, and that’s exactly how soft and sumptuous good gnocchi should be. This was. We later had appetizers at Circo – bellissimo. Then dinner at Sensi, which was fabulous. Our meals were great, but the over-the-top dessert display (I am SO sorry I didn’t take a picture!) tipped “great” into “absolutely memorable.” The night before, we had dinner at American Fish at Aria. If you don’t go for an entire dinner, drop in at the bar there and treat yourself to a drink and appetizer of the best shrimp and grits I’ve ever eaten.

If, like me, you’re not a gambler – there are still reasons why you absolutely should go to Las Vegas if you’ve never been. I would advise you to stay at the best possible hotel you can afford. Yes, there are super cheap deals – but I’m not sure the experience is worth it, and especially if you’re not budgeting to leave a bundle behind at the tables or slots.

Stay some place special if you possibly can, then treat yourself to one of the remarkable shows, from Celine Dion to Cirque du Soleil’s Beatles tribute, “Love.” Have a terrific meal or two. Visit any Las Vegas travel website to see more options than you could ever dream of experiencing, even in multiple visits. Shopping outlets run the gamut from Prada to Top Shop, from the mammoth Fashion Mall across from the Venetian to tony little boutiques and gift shops full of tchotchkes at every hotel and resort.

And if you have time, don’t forget that some of America’s most beautiful desert landscapes are just a short ride from the Las Vegas Strip. Hoover Dam is a marvel. Swoop over the Grand Canyon in a helicopter, or rent a car and drive yourself to the Valley of Fire, an amazing park of crimson rock formations only about an hour’s drive from the city.

Okay, so I take it back. I don’t hate Las Vegas. There’s definitely something for everyone, and there’s nothing like it – that I know of, anyway – anywhere else in the world. It’s certainly not a natural wonder, but this uniquely American, smack-you-right-in-the-face city needs to be experienced at least once in every lifetime. Just spring for a decent hotel. I’m just saying.

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Hint from Heloise

Posted on August 15, 2012 by katemahar

No, seriously. This is a hint from Heloise from this month’s Good Housekeeping:

Put some of your perfume or cologne on a cotton ball or two and put the cotton into an empty pill bottle for travel. Wipe the scent from the cotton onto your pulse points whenever you want to get yourself smelly (no, she didn’t say that part – I did).

By doing this you can avoid having one more liquid thing in your carry on that has to be less than 3.5 oz. and in a baggie and approved by your mother (again me – not TSA). Also, back in the days when I hoped to have sex again and wore perfume and heels and all that jazz, I had perfume bottles mysteriously evaporate and/or break in transit. Expensive and annoying mishaps.

Just one more note about perfume – just don’t pull out those cotton balls and start smelling everything up on the plane, okay? That’s actually the first reason why I stopped wearing the stuff. I hate sitting next to or near someone who’s drenched in cologne. Gag!

Another little tip – look for small plastic containers of different types with the travel-sized toothpaste, etc., at Wal-Mart or other discount or drug stores. There’s a little one about the size of a walnut with a screw cap that I use to bring just enough of the styling paste I use on my hair, rather than pack the whole jar. There are little spray bottles, too. Sometimes I use those to make my own travel-size wrinkle release or Febreeze bottles to bring along for longer trips. I bet those soap dishes would work well to keep an emergency brownie fresh, too.

That’s it for today, chicas.

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