Category: Travel

Opportunity Cost

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My grandmother passed away last week.  Her funeral was on Sunday.  I wasn’t there.

She was 94.  When she got pneumonia and then developed a MRSA infection, we knew it did not look good.  I was sad, but it was easy to rationalize things from a distance.  She’s 94.  She’s lived a good life.  These things happen.

Then I talked to my sister.  I talked to my Mom.  I felt the tears that I had been avoiding.  I couldn’t rationalize anymore.

We knew when we got the call that we would have to move quickly.  Would I go?  Take the kids?  Just take Mac?  All of us go?  Gulp, not go?

See, Mac is still nursing.  Because I didn’t go back to work this time, I haven’t been pumping.  I don’t have a freezer full of milk.  I have a baby who isn’t used to bottles.  (Although I guess he could just use a sippy cup.)  I knew there would be a cost to this approach.  I thought it would be not straying too far from the baby for about a year.  I didn’t fully understand that it would mean wrestling a 20 pound octopus on an overseas flight with two connections . . . or . . . missing my grandmother’s funeral.

I tried practicing with Mac.  Holding him in my lap.  We could make it about five minutes.  I just couldn’t imagine the flight by myself.

I couldn’t imagine leaving him either though.  I couldn’t help thinking if only he was just a tiny bit older.  Or if only he was a few months younger and could sit there like a newborn lump.

I got mad.  Mad at myself.  How did I get myself into this situation where I couldn’t leave him or go with him?  Why am I so scared of my own kid?  People do this and much much harder things every day.  “Why can’t you do this?” I berated myself over and over.

James and I talked through all the scenarios.  We talked about jet lag.  Car seats.  Ability to sit together on the plane.

And in the end, we decided not to go.  We had justifiable reasons.  But I can’t help thinking that they feel like excuses.  I think it was probably the right call.  But I feel crummy about it.  I won’t be able to let this go for awhile.

I wanted to be there to honor my Grandmother.  I wanted to be there for my dad.  I wanted to be there for the rest of my family.  I wanted to be able to cry and grieve with the people who loved her and then laugh and help each other build ourselves back up.

We talked about my Grandmother a lot this weekend.  I showed the boys pictures.  It still doesn’t quite feel real.

I’ve included her obituary below, but I’d like to tell you a little about my Grandmother.  She was a very special lady.  She was a nurse, and told me once that the doctor on her floor called her Mac, a name I’ve passed on to my own little guy.  She raised four children.  She loved a lot of grandchildren.  She loved my grandfather dearly, and she has been without him the last 20 years.  Even though my boys won’t remember it, I’m so glad they got to meet her.  I’m glad she was able to meet them.

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My sister and I loved spending a week with my grandparents each summer.  She taught us how to quilt.  We went on long walks.  My grandmother loved being outside.  She would soak up the warmth like her body temperature depended on it.  She gardened.  The beach was her happy place.

Whenever you said you were going somewhere, she’d say “bring me a rock.”  See, she collected rocks.  People brought her rocks from all over.  She didn’t really have them labeled or separated, but when you presented her with a rock, it was like you were giving her the world.  It could be a cobblestone from Rome or a rock from a local park; she loved them all.

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I haven’t brought her rocks the last few years.  She downsized when she moved into an assisted living facility.  She downsized again when she moved to a higher care floor.

This weekend, Henry handed me a rock.  Instead of letting it fall from my hands, I put it in my pocket.  And I’ll keep putting rocks in my pocket wherever we go.  And when we do get to go home, I will bring my grandmother fists fulls of rocks.

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Carolyn Crabtree McAllister Moose

Newberry, SC
February 14, 1921 – March 11, 2015

Carolyn Crabtree McAllister Moose, 94, was born on Valentine’s Day, Feb 14, 1921, in Mt. Pleasant, NC.  She was the daughter of the late Col. George Franklin McAllister, Headmaster of Mt. Pleasant Collegiate Institute, and Ethelyn Crabtree McAllister, educator at Mount Amoena Seminary also in Mt. Pleasant.

She was predeceased by two sisters, Virginia McAllister Smith and Elizabeth McAllister Boozer, and two brothers, Franklin Grady McAllister and Thomas Caswell McAllister.

Her formal education included Newberry College, Presbyterian Hospital School of Nursing, and graduation from Queens College with a BS in nursing.  Following her work as an obstetrical supervisor at Presbyterian Hospital in Charlotte, N.C., she married the late Harry Edwin Moose on March 16, 1946.  She moved to Newberry, SC and was blessed with four children, Harry, Jr. (Karen), Jan (Stuart Ballard), Tommy (Jane) and Richard (Gail).  These children provided Carolyn with 11 grandchildren and 17 great grandchildren.  She is also survived by a brother-in-law, Ralph H. Moose.

Carolyn devoted her life to her husband and family, participating in all activities from church to school to music to all things Clemson.

She also enjoyed yard work, traveling, cross stitching, and quilting, making a special quilt for each of her children and grandchildren.

She was a devoted, active member of Lutheran Church of the Redeemer serving as a choir member for many years.

Carolyn’s love of her family and people was her cornerstone in life.  She truly believed she was that person who wanted to live in a house by the side of the road and be a friend to all.

For those who wish to honor Carolyn, the family suggests donations be made to the Organ Fund of Lutheran Church of the Redeemer, 1515 Boundary St., Newberry, SC 29108 or to the Eastern Cabarrus Historical Society, 1100 Main St. N, Mt. Pleasant, NC 28124, which serves to preserve Mount Pleasant Collegiate Institute main building and library.

Active pallbearers will be Henry Brock, Tom Hegele, Brent Ballard, Mark Ballard, Stephen Moose, Brandon Moose, Don Whittington and Billy Moose.

Honorary pallbearers will be members of the Francis I. Fesperman Sunday School Class and members of the choir of Lutheran Church of the Redeemer.

How to drink water like a Roman

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In restaurants, frizzante or gassate.  (If you want to skip the bubbles, order acqua naturale.)

On the streets, from fountains.  No joke.  Unless otherwise labeled, the fountains here all contain potable water.  Same water that runs into your taps at home.  James still talks about the time he saw a little old lady set down her market bags and walk straight into the fountain in front of the Spanish steps to take a few sips of water.  It’s a thing.  Drink up.

If you don’t have a fountain close by (the horror), look for a nasone.  The nasoni are the drinking fountains of Rome.  (Read a little more here if you want back story.)

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The water here is safe and delicious.  We use a Brita at home to try to remove some of the calcium, but the water certainly won’t damage you on a visit.  The kiddos get supplemented with fluorated water, as well as fluoride drops.

Water flows out of the nasoni in perfect fashion to fill up your trusty water bottle.  If you want to use it like a water fountain, no need to crawl underneath.  See that hole on the top of the faucet?  If you cover up the end, the water will shoot out the hole.  #instantRomanstreetcred

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Sometimes water flows out of a nasone all the time.

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Sometimes the nasone doesn’t have enough pressure and nothing comes out.  Womp womp.

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Sometimes the nasone has a knob so YOU can control your own water destiny.

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I can’t say whether nasoni are all over Italy, but I have seen them outside of Rome.  The nasone above was spotted at our trip to Hadrian’s Villa.  The one below–also the fanciest nasone I’ve encountered–we found in Tuscany outside San Gimignano.

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EEEEEEeeagle

So before you come over, particularly if it is a hot weather trip–aka March – November, do yourself a favor and download a nasoni finder app or iMap.  That cold, refreshing water will be the perfect addition to your water bottle.

And if you are feeling really crazy, slurp up some H2O at your nearest fancy fountain.  The other tourists may think you are nuts, but Romans will give you a knowing nod.  (OK, that would be very un-Roman, but they are TOTALLY thinking how cool you are.  Don’t be surprised when they come up to ask for directions because they think you are one of them.)

Just try not to fall in.

This is why I moved to Rome (Visit to Parco degli Acquedotti)

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I think whenever you make a major life change there is a compulsion to justify it with optimism and cheer, even if it is sometimes forced.  Because if the new situation isn’t better, why did you blow up your life?  Why did you get that new car or change jobs or buy that house or move across the world if you aren’t happier?

This was true for me, anyway.  When we first moved here, I met every obstacle with a sort of manic enthusiasm.  Oh, the sidewalk is busted and there are three cars parked in the middle of it?  No problem, that eight block detour lets us explore more of the neighborhood!  Ooo, more dog feces on the sidewalk, how charming!  I wanted everything to be great, and I was going to enjoy it.  NO MATTER WHAT.

The wheels started coming off the wagon around the time we went to Germany in December.  Everything was just so easy there.  Sidewalks were in good working order.  Pedestrian zones abounded.  Public transportation was a snap.  Restaurants were open when we wanted them to be.  It was convenient.  It was nice.  It made me realize how different things in Rome are.

I slowly started to acknowledge that there are some annoyances here.  The sidewalks and roads frustrate me on a daily basis.  I’d love to be able to walk around without being stuck behind smokers.  It would be great if the hard water didn’t leave grit and film on our dishes and glassware.

Things aren’t perfect.  And that’s OK.  Because nothing is perfect all the time.  Some days are good.  Some days are bad.  And some days are just, you know, ordinary days.  This is normal.  This was true when we lived in DC.  It is true now.

I do have plenty of highs to go with the lows.  I’m spending oodles of time with my two adorable weirdos.  (This is sometimes also a low, but generally a positive.)  I’m eating pasta so good that it would make you cry.  I haven’t seen snow all winter.  There is so much here to do and explore.

Recently, we ventured over to Parco degli Acquedotti (Aqueduct Park).  We drove–and James is driving a bit more Roman today than my stomach likes–but you can easily get here on the metro.  A few stops would work, but Giulio Agricola is probably your best bet coming from downtown.

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The park is a relatively flat stretch of land that is crossed by, you guessed it, an ancient Roman aqueduct.  There are actually two aqueducts, but one is in better shape.

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Because of the flat tracks looping around, the parks was a popular spot for bikers, runners, and walkers like us.  This would be a great spot to get in a run and soak up some ruins on a quick trip to Rome.  There is also a playground, if you are into that sort of thing.  (We are into that sort of thing.)

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We stalled Henry from the playground long enough to do a walk by the aqueduct.  Even though it was February, the temperature was up in the 60s.  In the sun, it almost felt hot, and we ditched coats for the first time of the year.

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I pushed Mac along the path, contemplating the civilization that created these aqueducts that would stand for hundreds and hundreds of years.  I watched Henry kicking a soccer ball up and down the path.  I smiled at James in the bright sunlight, soaking in the coatless February weather.  And I just thought–THIS.  This is why I wanted to move to Rome.

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Do you pepper your pasta? (Restaurant review: Cacio e Pepe)

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Woohoo, date night!  This is something I adore about our time in Rome.  Back in DC, we didn’t go out a ton without the kids.  First, it was tough to find people.  Even once we found people, when I was working at the law firm, I just didn’t want to leave Henry.  It wasn’t that I didn’t trust people.  It wasn’t that I felt guilty.  I just really felt like I needed to grab all the time I could with him.  Even though intellectually I knew we got good quality time together and an evening out would be no problem, I just didn’t want to go.

Fast forward to Rome, now I have oodles of time with the adorable weirdos and I have no qualms about some time away.  We’ve also “discovered” the practice of having the sitter come when the kids are already in bed.  This way we get our evening family time, I can feed Mac, and a sitter isn’t trying to juggle the bedtime routine, one of the more complicated aspects of our day.  It works great in Italy when things don’t open until later anyway.  We’ll probably change it up when the kids are a little older, trying for more day outings and handing over the reins on bedtime.  But for now, it’s just easy.

We now have a weekly sitter.  In practice, it doesn’t work out every week because of our schedule or her schedule or illness or life, but most weeks we get to hit the town.  Which is awesome because I want to try everything.

I took to the internets for some date night inspiration and stumbled across Rome’s 6 Must-Eat Dishes.  A closed list that I can methodically pick off?  Yes, please.  We’ve been to Armando al Pantheon but neglected to try the saltimbocca.  Oops, I guess we’ll be back.  But for this adventure, we headed across the river to Cacio e Pepe.

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For our purposes this evening, Cacio e Pepe is both a restaurant and a dish.

This pasta dish couldn’t be simpler: pecorino Romano cheese and fresh black pepper are swirled with cooking water from the pasta to make it creamy (and then, obviously, swirled with the pasta — cooked al dente, of course — itself). But the fewer ingredients and steps to a dish, the more important it is that they’re all perfect, right? And no place does it more perfectly than Rome, where the dish originated.

Try cacio e pepe at (big surprise!) Cacio e Pepe, which has managed to remain a surprisingly hidden gem, given its easy location in Prati and its local reputation for solid Roman classics.

So pepper on pasta . . . As Henry would say, “that’s weird.”  Right?  But don’t knock it until you try it.  The three ingredients in the dish pack a creamy, spicy punch.  Here’s a little more on how the dish came to be.

And the the cacio e pepe at Cacio e Pepe is LEGIT.  I hearted this restaurant.  They have a tiny interior with full view of the tiny kitchen, complete with bubbling cauldrons of pasta on the stove, and a bathroom up stairs that look like they lead to a hay loft.  The real action is outside in the spacious patio area out front.  Thankfully, for our February trip, it is covered and equipped with heaters.

This is a place where they don’t hand you a menu; you just order one of the three house pastas, five if you count two specials that evening.  This is a place where you just order some vino della casa and enjoy your carafe out of tumblers.  This is a place where they have secondi, but coming for those would just be silly.  Checked tablecloths?  Check.  It was great.

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I opted for cacio e pepe, for obvious reasons.  Somebody had to do it.  James got the carbonara.  Picture similar but less pepper, add bacon and egg.

Just look at this pasta.  It was a heaping bowl of delicious.  I’ve had cacio e pepe at other restaurants, but this is my fave so far.  I think other places didn’t add enough pepper.  Or cheese.  Not an issue here.

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The heaters were my only knock on the place.  They kept me plenty warm, but the pasta cooled off fast.  This meant my first few bites were pure heaven, and the rest was just really good.  I don’t think James and I said anything the whole meal as we wolfed our pasta down in a race against the temps.

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I’m certainly not knocking the price!  I think this was our cheapest date night yet.  With water, a half liter of wine, bread charge, and two pasta dishes, our total was 23 euro.  Not too shabby.

I’m not sure I’d make a special trip over to this restaurant, but if you find yourself out its way, I’d definitely recommend.  And if you find yourself looking to jazz up your pasta at home, maybe think about reaching for the pepper grinder.  (Or the honey!)

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Cacio e Pepe
Via Giuseppe Avezzana, 11
06 3217268

UPDATE:  Anthony Bourdain says cacio e pepe is the number one thing you should eat in Rome.  He also recommends Cacio e Pepe.

A series of unfortunate events OR that time I was pooped on by a peacock

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My beautiful, feathered nemesis

My beautiful, feathered nemesis

Henry hasn’t made it to school all week.  Poor kid.  He still has that cough and cold, and he had a few days of fever earlier in the week.  We even went to the doctor, but there wasn’t anything to be done.  Just the usual fluids and rest.  While sitting there hacking with snot dripping off his face, Henry keeps looking up and saying “What happen to me?”  It is adorably heartbreaking.

At my request, James called school on Wednesday.  By “school” I mean “completely voluntary pay by the hour day care,” so they didn’t really need to know, but because the whole thing is so new, I didn’t want them to think we had just vanished.  They reminded James about the upcoming facilities move next week.  James said cool and Henry would try to make it on Friday.

Fast forward to today.  I fight to get everyone out the door.  We roll up to day care.  I’m greeted at the door by one of the English speakers.  She’s apologetic.  They packed up all the toys already.  It’s a busy day preparing for the move.  It’s not the best time.  You can leave him if you really need to . . .

I get it.  It’s fine.  I was proud that I said exactly what I wanted in that moment (rare for me) which was, “it’s no problem.  I wish you had told me, but it’s fine.”  (I also wish they had told me before I unloaded both kids from the stroller, but that’s another story.)

A small part of me was irked, but I quickly shook it off.  It was a truly gorgeous day.  Warm.  Sunny.  Not a cloud in the blue Mediterranean sky.  We were already dressed and out the door; we could do anything!  I quickly assessed my mom gear.  I had packed standard gear (diapers, wipes, Puffs) instead of heavy duty outing my gear (more snacks, sippy cups, etc.), but I thought we’d be fine for a trip to the zoo.

And so we zoo-ed.  Definitely more people there than usual.  On most weekdays, I count more people working at the zoo than visiting it.  But today we saw school groups and families.  I don’t know if it was the Friday or the warmer weather, but other people had the same idea.

We made it through our usual faves.  Monkeys.  Giraffe.  Skipped the farm animals today.  Plenty of peacock sightings.

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One of the things I love about Rome’s zoo is the roaming hordes of peacocks.  I guess more properly the roaming musters or ostentations of peacocks.  My zoo growing up had a one or two peacocks strutting around and it was always a hunt to try to spot them.  Here, there is no hunt.  You’ll turn a corner.  BAM.  Muster of peacock crossing your way.

Henry was strangely psyched about the ducks.  I think because he can get fairly close to them.  We headed that way.  It was a honking cacophony of wonder.  We heard swans trumpet.  We saw ducks rumble.

Then Mac was starting to get antsy.  I had my eye on the clock.  I swear I spend half my time thinking about where the next food is coming from.  This time, I decided to get a little “crazy.”  Usually we do our eating at home.  It’s not really a money thing.  It’s not even an Italian language thing.  I just get frustrated juggling the two kids for eating eating on the go.  Like real sitting down and eating.  Handing snacks in stroller is obviously a different story.  But this time, I thought we’d try something different.  I saw that the Oasis Cafe by the pond was open.  Why not extend the fun with some food?

After being swarmed by a school group while placing our order, we sat down with a panino, chips, and water.

What follows are the actual emails I sent to James about our degustation exploration.

Good news, Zoo snack bar is open. Bad news, being swarmed by peacocks.

That’s right.  Those beautiful creatures were now ALL up in our grill.  To the point that I was using my feet to try to get them to backup.  Not actually making contact with them, of course.  Just making sort of a shooing motion.  The ducks stayed put by the pond, but we also attracted a crowd of pigeons, crows, and seagulls.  We really weren’t trying to feed anyone.  I guess they know that kids are the best free lunch around.

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After some munching, I realized I had inadvertently sat down beside the smoking area.  When other patrons vacated the only truly sunny table, I decided we’d make a switch.  With holding Mac and pushing stroller and moving food, I needed to make a few trips.  I left the food unattended.  For just a few moments.  MISTAKE.  I turned by back and giant crow was trying to fly off with Henry’s half of the panino.  I charged and he abandoned his spoil, but he stayed creepily staring at us from a bush a few feet away for the rest of the meal.

When I was taking a sip of water, they came and snatched the bread out of Mac’s hand. We’re leaving now.

At this point, Mac was sitting IN MY LAP.  That brazen peacock hussy came right up and took bread FROM A BABY.  Peacock, have you no shame???   OK, peacocks.  Before this was all in good fun, but this just got real.  Don’t mess with my baby.  Luckily Mac was not hurt, and he seemed too shocked to be upset.  (Which was good because that was the last of the bread.)

While packing up a bird pooped on my head. It is directly on the back of my head, and I can’t see it.

YUP.  That happened.  I felt the wet splat.  I hoped, fleetingly, that it may have been a nut off a tree.  But no.  I knew.  I had been pooped on.  Lucky me.

I couldn’t spot the culprit.  At this point, I can neither confirm nor deny that I was pooped on by a peacock.  So let’s just say I was pooped on by a peacock.  It makes a much better story.

So I did the only thing you can in this situation.  I baby wiped the back of my head.  I put my hair up.  And I just laughed.  You can’t make this stuff up, folks.

On the walk home, where both kids fell asleep, because of course they did, I overheard someone tell someone else to have a good weekend.  So at least I learned something.  Buon fine settimana, ya’ll!  May your days be free of peacock poop.

The jury is still out on Orvieto

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If you find yourself contemplating a few days in Rome, I hazard that any guidebook will mention Orvieto as a possible day trip.  It isn’t far.  Unlike much of Tuscany, it is easy to access by train (so I’ve been told.)  It’s a beautiful city that can provide a nice contrast to Rome, particularly if you are short on time.

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After scrapping our plans for a bigger trip because of the weather, we headed to Orvieto on the Monday of MLK weekend.  The weather had finally cleared and, even though it was still chilly, we could see glorious sunshine.

It took us a minute to make sure we were in the right parking area.  It took us several more minutes to locate where to purchase tickets for the funicular.  (I think you can usually get them at the ticket office, but everything was closed, and we purchased them in the cafe through the train station.)  That’s right–for this hill town, you get to funicular on up into town.  This was probably the highlight of Henry’s visit.  I was a little disappointed, but that’s on me because I, for no good reason, associate funiculars with gondolas and would have been thrilled by nothing less than sailing through the air.

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We funicular-ed up along with, what seemed to be, a middle school tour group.  Granted, they were probably in college, but wow, kids look so young now.  Do you ever do that?  Look at people that can drive or order booze with disbelief and then start wondering where your walker is?  No?  Anyways, these kids were unleashed on the town with only an hour to wander.  That’s something I really like about living here.  Maybe my kids make it harder to travel and I’m not seeing everything, but I have time.  If I don’t get to see everything I want on one trip, I can come back.

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Strike 1.  There is a shuttle from the top of the funicular into the center of town.  We should have taken it.  We didn’t.  I’m used to Tuscan hill towns that are teeny tiny.  Orvieto is not as small.  It would have been a fine walk for any able-bodied person, but we blew a lot of toddler good will on the trek.  For some reason, we opted not to stroller on this outing.  Mistake.

Orvieto has caves that sound pretty sweet, but we opted not to brave those this time.  It was cold enough above ground.  That was Strike 2.  I was crazy excited about the sunny weather, but the buildings were just tall enough that everything was in the shade.  This would be great in the summer.  Less ideal in January.

We did hit the Orvieto Cathedral, a shockingly large undertaking given the size of the town.  The facade closely resembles the Duomo in Siena.

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It was very beautiful and impressive, but I think we are starting to suffer from a bit of church ennui.  Trust me, I know it sounds very bratty to say it, but if you see lots of amazing, ridiculous churches, you start to become a little immune to them.  It takes something really, truly impressive to blow your socks off.  I know other travelers would tell you the same.

The town itself was nice.  Winding alleys, beautiful homes.  It is definitely different than Rome.  It just wasn’t a town that grabbed me.  It didn’t feel as charming some other places we’ve visited.  I don’t know.  I don’t want to knock the town.  It really is something.  But if I had one day trip opportunity from Rome, I don’t think this would be it.

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Strike 3.  I had big lunch plans.  A friend mentioned that she had out of this world pasta with pecorino and honey.  Umm, yes, please.  We stalled until 12:30 and then headed to Trattoria del Moro Aronne.  After a few twists and turns, we found it.  We also found a handwritten sign stating that they were closed until February 20.  (Remember – we went in January.)  WHAT?  No pasta oozing cheese and honey?

I pulled it together.  After learning my lesson before, I had a backup.  We headed to Trattoria la Grotta.  SAME SIGN.  Nooooooooooooooooo.  At this point, everyone was melting down.  The troops needed food.  I was melting down and getting snippier than I’d like to admit.  Knowing that the kids–particularly the baby–are hungry is a big pressure point for me.

Thankfully, there was a backup to the backup.  Caffe Montanucci to the rescue.  They have premade pastas and sandwiches in a spacious cafe.  We got food fast and James snagged a carafe of an excellent Orvieto Classico.  They even had a high chair.

Overall, it was a fun adventure.  Not the adventure we had planned for that weekend, but I was glad to see something new and check something off the list.

But I couldn’t get that pasta out of my head.

So I did what any rational person would do, and I took to the internets.  I found a few people waxing nostalgically about the pasta.  The Internationalista took it a step further and got the recipe from the very restaurant that had denied me my cheesy, honey goodness.

I finally got around to making it this weekend.  I want to tell you that this story has a happy ending.  Girl doesn’t have perfect day in Orvieto but gains exotic new pasta recipe for life.  I want to make that true for you.

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It was a bechamel fail.  I don’t know if I added the flour too fast or the pan was too hot, but instead of sauce, I had a gloppy mess.  Even after I added the milk and cream, it more sticky than sauce-y.  I kept adding milk and cream but it was all for naught.

Then I forgot to save some of the “sauce” to pour on top.  I probably could have used more cheese.  (Because when is more cheese never not the answer?)  In the end, the pasta was sort of tasty, but definitely not a creamy, cheesy pasta to write home about.

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But I don’t think I can call Orvieto a three strikes and you’re out situation.  If you look at my strikes, two are because nobody expects sightseers in January and the other is because of our own stupidity.  I feel like we didn’t give the town a fair shake.  So we’ll be back.  I’ll have to go for the pasta at least.  Because goodness knows I’m not having any luck recreating that one on my own.

Been to Orvieto?  Have you had any travel destinations that redeemed themselves on a second visit?

Local Happenings (Did you know about the Epiphany witch?)

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Local Happenings (Did you know about the

Well, we are more than halfway through winter.  Temps have been pushing 60 here this week.  You too?  No?  (Awkward.  Pulls collar.)  OK, moving right along.  I’ve noticed a few things this winter that have made me go “huh?”  In no particular order:

La Befana.  Around Epiphany, we started hearing about an Epiphany witch.  Turns out this is La Befana, who may not be a witch so much as an old woman who brings candy or coal to Italian children on Epiphany Eve.  (Wikipedia explains it better than I possibly could.)  That’s right.  The most Catholic country ever has a may-or-may-not-be witch as a part of the Epiphany tradition.  We ended up at the zoo on Epiphany and saw a Befana bringing a peanut to the elephant.  There were bigger festivals downtown that we opted not to pursue.  So, yeah, this is a thing.

Saldi Season.  When I go to the grocery store, I frequently see scoto (discount) items.  Now, all the stores are bursting with Saldi (sale) signs.  That’s right.  After all the Christmas buying and shopping and spending, Italy has one of its twice annual sales starting in January.  This continues, with deepening discounts on remaining merchandise, until everything is clear for new stock.  I can look forward to another Saldi in July.  I haven’t taken advantage myself yet, but if you want something 50-90% off, this is the time to do it.

White Week.  Private schools are closed this week because all the Italians want to go skiing.  Even though things are warming up here, you can find decent skiing less than two hours from Rome.  I started to organize some type of tubing event before getting sidetracked, overwhelmed, and abandoning the plan.  Knowing now that half the city is on the slopes right now makes me feel better about not making that President’s Day weekend trip happen.

Carnival.  This is definitely a thing here.  All done now for Lent, of course.  A separate post on this soon.

Anything weird and wonderful in your corner of the world?  And for real, have you ever heard of an Epiphany witch?

Happy chocolate day!

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I’m not big into Valentine’s as an adult.  Remember how fun it was in elementary school?  First, I got to pore over the wall of Valentine’s at the store.  (No handmade craftiness for us.)  Would I get Strawberry Shortcake or the Smurfs?  What would my choice say about me??

Then, I would divide up the eight cheesy cards in the pack and completely over-analyze which message should go to each person.  Would the “you’re the sweetest” or the “be my valentine home run” card better convey my affection to my crush?  And then what did his card to me mean?  Please tell me I’m not the only person that did this.  Looking back, I’m sure guys just ripped through the bag and did some nuanced calculation like “chocolate? No?  Next card.”  Sometimes it is hard to be a girl.

Now I fall into the “Valentine’s Day is a forced display of affection that should be shown all year round and not because Hallmark tells you to” camp.  But I do like chocolate.  I’ve told James I thought it would be super romantical if he would get me an enormous box of chocolate–even better if marked down the day after–that is so big that I could take a bite and then throw away any pieces I didn’t like.  “Why wouldn’t you just look at the chocolate guide?” says you.  Me:  What sort of monster are you?  I bet you read the last page of novels first.  Did you listen to nothing Forrest said?  You don’t get to know what you’re going to get!!!  (James has delivered on the giant chocolate box on multiple occasions.)

Anywho, not necessarily for Valentine’s but happy coincidence, I found myself on a voyage to chocolate.  A friend mentioned a “chocolate factory” down the tram line from us.  I thought this would be an excellent outing with my mom.

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The chocolate factory in question is Said dal 1923.  Go on and click over there for some serious chocolate porn.  Said is not too far from Termini.  We hopped on the #3 tram and took off.  (And by hopped, I mean lugged two children and manhandled a stroller onto the tram.)  We probably got off a stop too soon, but we oriented ourselves and made it OK.

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We had been warned that Said is down an alley.  There is a sign on the street, but I doubt I would have found this if I hadn’t been looking for it.  Willy Wonka, I am not.

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We rolled in.  (Literally, because of the stroller.  Get it?)  Chocolate abounded.  Cases of chocolate.  Chocolate bars.  Chocolate spoons.  Chocolate covered coffee beans.  I had to tell Henry not to touch the glass about 75 times.  That kid is more into chocolate these days than Cathy from the comic strip.

Up front, Said has the chocolate cases and some cafe seating.  The restaurant doesn’t open until 4:00 pm and you need reservations, but they were nice enough to let us poke around in back.  It has a reclaimed wood Pottery Barn kind of feel.  Very open and airy, but also cozy.  It would be a great spot for a super romantic styles date.  Apparently, for the food, they put that chocolate on everything.

Mac napped, until he woke up and still didn't get to enjoy any chocolate

Mac napped, until he woke up and still didn’t get to enjoy any chocolate

Our mission was the hot chocolate.  (The cafe also featured coffee with chocolate in various forms.)

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Deciding to hedge against toddler rage, we ordered three cups.  Hot chocolate with chili, with cinnamon, and just milk chocolate.  All with homemade whipped cream, natch.

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Decadent does not even begin to describe this stuff.  It is sort of like trying to drink pudding.  Or chocolate mousse.  Henry ate it with a spoon.  Adding the whipped cream made it a little more beverage like.  It was truly ridiculous.  My mom even uttered the unthinkable phrase, “I don’t think I can do any more chocolate” at one point.  It was that much chocolate.

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All in all, it was an excellent outing.  Trams showed up right as we rolled up.  We did not suffer any meltdowns whatsoever even after my mom DARED to utter “well, things are going good so far” midway through the outing.  Henry may have touched a cigarette butt, but this is why we have soap.  I want more outings like this.  Rasslin’ two kids onto public transit by myself can be crazy tough.  But I’m vowing to do more.  Particularly if there is a sweet reward at the end.  And you better believe, I’ll be back here for a date night soon.  Just not for Valentine’s Day.

Said dal 1923
Via Tiburtina 135, 00185
Tuesday – Thursday 10:00 – 00:30
Friday – Sunday 10:00 – 01:30
(+39) 06/4469204
said@said.it

Big V-Day plans?  Are you pro or con?  At least, pro chocolate though, right?

Rome, you know, for kids

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In general, we tend to avoid kid-focused entertainment.  Well, that’s not exactly true.  We go to the zoo, but I also like the zoo.  We go to the park, but I also like the park.

Hmm, what I’m trying to say is that–at least for sightseeing–we try to see interesting things and find something the kids are interested in there.  We went to Villa Torlonia, Henry found a palm frond.  We went to the Vatican, Henry chased a pigeon.  Things like that.

But the weather has been colder and wetter.  Days have been darker.  We have dipped our toe into some kid-focused entertainment.

I wouldn’t recommend hitting these sights if you are just in Rome for a few days.  But if you are in Rome for an extended period of time with kids, they may be worth investigating.

Explora

Explora is a children’s museum.  It is not too far from Piazza del Popolo and is right off the #19 tram line.  I took the kids on a weekday morning.

It was a pricier outing.  Everyone over three costs 8 euro; toddlers 12 – 36 months are 5 euro.  They do offer an annual pass.  If we lived closer to the museum, I might consider it.

Your entry buys you a 1 hour and 45 minute window.  For example, we were there from 10:00 – 11:45 am.  Timetables here.

I thought this would be a great rainy day activity, but you’d still get a little wet.  There is a parking lot, but it is a bit of a hike to the entrance.  And then the ticket office is in a separate building from the museum so you are exposed to the elements again to go between.  Not a huge deal, but I figure good to know.

Explora was very interesting, and I think it would be even more so if your kid is older than age two.  A lot of the stuff went over Henry’s head.  (Literally and figuratively.)  I realized how toddler-centric my world view has become when I couldn’t help but noting the hard concrete floors throughout the museum.

The museum focuses on role playing exhibits.  For example, there was a car that you could fill up with gas.  There was a garden where you could harvest veggies.  (If I were craftier, I’d work on making something like this.)  There was a supermarket with a checkout counter.  There was a kitchen with play food.  You get the drift.

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There was also a pretty sweet water area.  You moved levers and pumps that manipulated things in the exhibit.  Henry didn’t really get the cause and effect bit of that, but he did like splashing around.

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On the second floor, things seemed more exhibit-y and less hands on.  I only took Henry up there to try to distract him from throwing food at other peoples’ heads.  I don’t care if he throws the fake food.  Just not at heads.

There is also a separate area for the three and under crowd.  Still concrete floors, but some mats and other squashy things to play with.  Like this sweet instrument wall.

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There were a few field trip groups making their way through the museum.  It looked like fun.  If you have an elementary school age kid, I might consider Explora.  Not on a 3-day visit to Rome.  But maybe on a month long visit.

Explora, Museo dei Bambini
Via Flaminia, 80/86 – 00196
Tel. +39 06 3613776

Bimbilandia

On two rainy Saturday mornings, we headed over to Bimbilandia.  A quick note on the name, which cracks me up.  In Italian, a baby, or really baby + toddler, is a bambino.  (Bambina if feminine.)  Bambino is abbreviated to “bimbo.”  On the backs of cars you see “Bimbo a bordo” (baby on board) stickers.  It cracks me up every time.  And then if you have more than one bimbo, it is bimbi.  So I’m probably still messing up the translation somehow, but I just think, oh, my, we’re going to the land of the babies!!

Bimbilandia is a bit like Roman Chuck E. Cheese’s.  If Chuck E. Cheese also had an ice skating rink, coffee shop, and martial arts studio glommed on to it.  No, really, the place looks like your Southern relatives just started putting up various outbuildings and squashed them together.  (I can say that because I’m from South Carolina.)  The result is a structure does have heat piping in, but is still drafty.  The roof also leaks in certain places.  Less than ideal in a place you are running around in without any shoes.

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You have to drive to get to this one.  Unlike Explora, adults get in free.  Kids are 8 euro on the weekends (10:00 am – 1:00 pm and 2:30 – 7:30 pm) and only 6 euro on weekday afternoons (3:30 – 7:30 pm).  They keep not charging us for Mac; I think kids under one year are free.

Mac is skeptical of the ball pit

Mac is skeptical of the ball pit

Henry’s eyes lit up when we walked into this place.  It was all I could do to get his shoes off him before he bolted.  Unlike some things we do, there was zero new place hesitation.  He was like, “Oh, I’m ready to take this on.  I got this one.”

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It is a pretty sweet place for kids.  Enormous ball pit.  Inflatable slides.  Kid vehicles strewn around.  Trampolines.

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They do birthday parties here as well.  You can see little “houses” with fenced in yards for each party.  It looked like a neat setup.

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We’ve only gone right when they open.  It starts to fill up after the first hour and gets to be a bit much for the little kids.  I could see this being even more attractive when the kids are a little older.  You could sit calmly by the side with a cappuccino while watching your kids pelt each other with foam objects.

Still skeptical

Still skeptical

Bimbilandia
Viale Tor di Quinto, 55/57
Tel 06-98260444

So there you have it.  I don’t think either of these will be in our regular rotation, but I’m glad to have the option!

Which country is more kid friendly for travel? Hint: it rhymes with Shermany

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What makes traveling with littles easier?  Is it wide, smooth sidewalks that can accommodate strollers?  Is it speedy and prompt public transportation?  Is it having a changing table on every corner?

All of these things wouldn’t hurt.

But what is something you do every day?  Probably 3x/day.  Possibly more.  No, I’m not back on the changing tables.

I’m talking about food.  Probably in some restaurants if you are traveling.

And for this reason–not because of the unbroken sidewalks or the speedy public transit–I’m calling Germany more kid friendly for travel than Italy.  Yes, both Italy and Germany have restaurants.  But in Germany they are open.

Hofbrauhaus

Hofbrauhaus

See, Italy is on a  more relaxed, nap schedule.  Most restaurants don’t open until 12:00 or 12:30.  They shut down mid-afternoon and reopen for dinner at 7:00 or 7:30.  (I suspect you may have similar issues in countries that eat late such as Spain and France.)  This means that you can have a decent experience dining later, but it can be hard to sustain for several meals and days on end.  Even with liberal snack and pacifier usage, littles and restaurants are just tough sometimes.

At Spatenhaus

At Spatenhaus

On our trip to Munich, restaurants opened in the morning and stayed open all day long.  It was quite novel.  This meant we could beat the lunch rush at 11:30 if we wanted.  We could go to dinner and have our food by 6:00.  (We should have made more dinner reservations; things filled up.  But it worked out.)  I’m not going to lie, it was pretty convenient.

Decked out for the holidays at Der Pschorr

Decked out for the holidays at Der Pschorr

Our servers were efficient and speedy.  I’ve generally had great service in Italy, but the Germans were just humming along.  The restaurants were bustling, but I didn’t feel rushed.  Granted, it is hard to make someone feel rushed who is inhaling their food while trying to cut and distribute food to two kids.  The German beer halls we visited fit our current pace of life.

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They would not have been ideal for a romantic, lingering dinner.  I adore going out on date night and savoring multiple courses, hands held on the table in between.  Italy is perfect for this.

The German cuisine also facilitated our practically dine-and-dash approach.  You could order courses, but entrees generally came with vegetable sides so it was easy to do a one and done approach.  And I know German food is knocked as all meat and potatoes, but we had a good bit of variety.  I enjoyed a crusted fish with herbed risotto.  I had roast chicken at the Hofbrauhaus.  James really enjoyed his sides of red cabbage.  My wienerschnitzel at Andechser am Dom was accompanied by arugula and potato salad.  It was tasty, filling, and fast.

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An overheard on our trip nicely sums up the different eating philosophies.  At a restaurant in Munich, James heard a waitress seating two Italian tourists.  The waitress told them they could have the table, but for only one hour.  It took awhile for the couple to understand and when they did, they were incredulous.  “Non è possibile,” said the wife with round, disbelieving eyes.

at Spatenhaus

at Spatenhaus

I’m not a hater.  Italians make some darn tasty food.  But they do it on their own time.  I’m hoping restaurants will be easier with the kids in a few years.  For now, even though I couldn’t find a changing table in any of the dining establishments we visited in Munich, having restaurants that are open earlier makes a huge difference.

at Der Pschorr

Hofbrauhaus, Platzl 9, 80331 – We didn’t sit in the main beer hall, but had little trouble finding a table in a side room not too far from the action.  No high chairs, but we didn’t ask. 

Andechser am Dom, Weinstraße 7, 80333 – Smaller place, did have a high chair.  I have to give mad props to our waitress.  They were packed for dinner, but she let us use a table before another reserved party got there.

Spatenhaus an der Oper, Residenzstraße 12, 80333 – We got two high chairs!  And they brought coloring stuff for Henry.

Der Pschorr, Viktualienmarkt 15, 80331 – Nice open space.  Had at least one high chair.