| I love a good negroni |
[Dec. 6th, 2005|12:37 am] |
Here's something I wrote for our upcoming February issue. A great version of one of my favorite cocktails.
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One way to deal with San Francisco’s cold monochrome weather is to cozy up to the bar at Globe, where bartender Shane McKnight serves his signature Gentian, made like a traditional Negroni. McKnight uses the warmly exotic Barolo chinato in place of sweet vermouth (gentian is one of the botanicals used to make Barolo chinato). It’s a textured, almost forceful drink, not for the faint of heart, says McKnight. “It looks like a cosmo in the glass, only the joke is that it’s a cosbro.” McKnight bounces between Globe and Zuppa, owners Mary Klingbeil and Joseph Manzare’s other restaurant. Fortunately the Gentian follows him across town.
Globe, 290 Pacific Ave., San Francisco, CA; 415-391-4132; globesf.com
Zuppa, 564 Fourth St, San Francisco, CA; 415-777-5900; zuppa-sf.com
Gentian (makes roughly 6 oz.)
2 oz Plymouth gin
2 oz Campari
1/2 oz orange juice from a freshly muddled quarter of a navel orange
(**muddle the fresh orange w/ the gin)
1 oz Barolo chinato (McKnight uses Giulio Cocchi’s Barolo chinato) |
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| Food Stories |
[Dec. 5th, 2005|11:55 pm] |
Max recently told me that food is his god, and I believe him. Two gustatory items to share from this past weekend.
First off, Max and Quinn left my place Friday night in search of a late-night dinner. I sent them to Zuppa, which to my mind does some of the best Roman-style food in town. As Max put it the next day:
We took a cab and walked into the restaurant only to be told that the kitchen was closed. FUCK. I grabbed a menu and put it into my pocket and we walked in to the freezing night (it is chilly in SF these days). On the corner of 4th and Brannan near the back of the restaurant there were some dudes smoking cigarettes. One of them said "thanks for stopping - I hope you enjoyed the food!". I said.."man, we JUST missed dinner 'cause the kitchen is closed but I grabbed a menu to drool over and we will defnitely be back". The man said "I am the owner and chef and I have been running around for the last few days doing bullshit. I want to cook for someone. Come in, I will make you a meal." We sat down: speck, coppa, frutti di mare with linguine, and pork sugo over rigatoni. Deep, rich, almost black wine. Amazing. Food is life. It is my god.
One of the many, many reasons I love this town.
Second story. Saturday I'm up early with a swagger from the previous night's housewarming at mine. House-cleaning. My, it feels warmer here - the party worked. Counting 25 or so bottles of wine, all good, but the number explains the headache and my delicate steps. Oh look, I opened THAT last night? A cellar is a dangerous thing to have at home. Make it 26 bottles of wine. Go for a bike ride to clear the head. 'Ring of Fire' plays on repeat in my brain. Back to the house and somewhat re-keeled, I get ready to face the world, which on this day meant walking over to Bi-Rite to where Max (who seems to be making a number of appearances here on ripechablis these days) is slicing Niman Ranch ham on the sidewalk with his boss and founder of Niman Ranch, Bill Niman.
I chatted briefly with Mr. Niman, who demonstrated his commitment to bringing good pork to the people by thrusting ham slices into the paws of passersby. He was also on hand to sign copies of the Niman Ranch cookbook. Now I needed a bit more than a few ham slices in my condition, so headed inside for a sandwich. On the way out, though, I grabbed a package of Niman Ranch bacon, preferring that to a book for an autograph. Working my way through the bacon now, not sure what I'll do with the package... |
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| Secret Sushi |
[Dec. 1st, 2005|12:24 pm] |
My friend Max and I took the secret sushi place to the next level last night. Oh, it's called Tekka, by the way. Aside from the plate-load of incredible sashimi, there are some amazing cooked dishes that Tekka-san's wife busts out from the two-burner stove in the back:
Roasted tiny green pimentos de padrone tossed with flakes of smoked bonita, which dance in the heat coming off the peppers; and then a shitake asparagus combination that had been savagely seared over high heat in some sort of light soy, then finished with a more neutral fish sauce and dusted with black peppercorn flakes.
We have evidently joined the special club: the other two guys at the bar were Japanese, and towards the end Tekka-san sliced off the skin from a side of a salmon and fried it up, sending all of us little bowl of salmon cracklins. Yum! |
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| Full-Moon Tuesday |
[Nov. 15th, 2005|08:28 pm] |
I was down at the bayfront after work tonight and the moon hung full above the Bay Bridge as cars and trucks moved like small toys away from the golden lights of Berkeley and Oakland. It was oddly quiet, as if the pale moonlight dimmed the noise of cars and city with its brightness, and I could hear the water lapping at the legs of the pier and the flutter of a sail as a small boat passed. It's the middle of November and warm; I was wearing short sleeves.
For some reason - perhaps just the generally reflective atmosphere, or maybe the way the hairs on my arms bristled in the night air - the lyrics to Joni Mitchell's song Amelia came into my head. So here they are for you, too:
Amelia - Joni Mitchell
I was driving across the burning desert
When I spotted six jet planes
Leaving six white vapor trails across the bleak terrain
It was the hexagram of the heavens
it was the strings of my guitar
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
The drone of flying engines
Is a song so wild and blue
It scrambles time and seasons if it gets through to you
Then your life becomes a travelogue
Of picture-post-card-charms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
People will tell you where they've gone
They'll tell you where to go
But till you get there yourself you never really know
Where some have found their paradise
Other's just come to harm
Oh Amelia, it was just a false alarm
I wish that he was here tonight
It's so hard to obey
His sad request of me to kindly stay away
So this is how I hide the hurt
As the road leads cursed and charmed
I tell Amelia, it was just a false alarm
A ghost of aviation
She was swallowed by the sky
Or by the sea, like me she had a dream to fly
Like Icarus ascending
On beautiful foolish arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
Maybe I've never really loved
I guess that is the truth
I've spent my whole life in clouds at icy altitude
And looking down on everything
I crashed into his arms
Amelia, it was just a false alarm
I pulled into the Cactus Tree Motel
To shower off the dust
And I slept on the strange pillows of my wanderlust
I dreamed of 747s
Over geometric farms
Dreams, Amelia, dreams and false alarms |
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| Wild Pigs and their Pinots |
[Nov. 8th, 2005|11:36 am] |
**Below is an email I sent to my colleagues in New York about last night's dinner. Go to A16 - all of you!
A16's boar feast - billed as the 'Pig 'n Barrel Dinner' - was one hell of a meal, the kind where you want to keep eating despite stressed stomach lining and total palate fatigue. Keven, Gil and I arrived promptly at 5.30 and the place was already buzzing with an oddly charged energy, possibly the first time anyone in the Bay Area has successfully mixed Happy Hour with the Pig. We also couldn't help but notice a neatly arranged spread of the W&S Pork Issue at reception as our host gathered menus and led us to our table. What can I say, Shelley rocks. Can we have a re-vote for sommelier of the year?
I've faxed the menu over to you guys in New York; at the minimum it's sublimely executed food porn. Scooter Libby take note. At Keven's direction, he being most wise in these matters, we let Shelley pick things out for us. Oh for a fourth eating companion! I think of everything on the list, she left off two dishes. We also skipped the pizza, which I know is nearly sacrilege, but pizza can be problematic when going for quantity at A16.
Food highlights included the beet and pork tongue salad with fennel & black olives; crispy pork skin with mashed pumpkin & Calabrian chiles; the minestra maritata with prosciutto brodo & Anson Mills polenta; spaghetti with wild boar pancetta, oninons, black pepper & pecorino; and the grilled wild boar zampina with chickpeas. Hell, what am I saying - everything was incredible.
As for wine, we started with a bottle of bubbly nerello mascalese from the slopes of Mt. Etna (nice with both the crispy skin and the polenta dish) and then went for the pinot noir flights, conceived for the night. The two boars used to create Sunday and Monday night's menu were killed by bow & arrow in David Hirsch's vineyard, so one of the flights featured 5 wines made from Hirsch pinot noir grapes, while the other flight was pinot nero to give the meal its Italian (plus one Slovenian) complement. Aside from the nerello mascalese - which has fast joined the top of my preferred bubbly list - we thought the wine highlights were Les Cretes 2003 'Vigna La Tour' pinot noir from the Valle d'Aoste and the 2003 Whetstone Hirsch pinot. Also very good were Failla's 2003 Hirsch pinot and Dino Torti's 2000 'Oltrepo Pavese' pinot nero from Lombardia. Disappointing for various reasons were the 2003 Hirsch pinot, the 2003 Siduri Hirsch pinot and the 2000 Hofstatter pinot nero from Alto Adige.
It was nice to see the American winemakers whose wines were featured in attendance on Monday night; apparently they had all come Sunday night, too. You could see that they were enthusiastic about the whole concept. Again, Shelley rocks.
Unfortunately A16 doesn't have a liquor license and the bottle of Fernet the staff keeps in the back for emergencies was empty, so the three of us ambled over to the corner liquor store in search of some sort of bitter digestivo. Keven wondered aloud if the corner store would even have Fernet; that question was answered by the window display which was all Fernet, all the time. A few swigs from the bottle standing on Lombard Street in the rain got the ol' digestive juices working.
Please, sir, can I have some more? |
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| VinItaly - Day Two |
[Apr. 9th, 2005|01:16 pm] |
8 April 2005
Shorter style. Sitting in the sala stampa (press room) where there is a free espresso bar crucial to those of us suffering jet lag and palate fatigue. A lethal combination.
Surreal coverage of the Pope’s funeral everywhere there is a TV screen.
Spent the morning visiting with the press relations member of the consortium of prosecco producers from Valdobbiadene and Conegliano. We tasted a few wines and set up an itinerary for my visit next week… looks like fun! More on that later. Headed back over to the Piedmont pavilion taking a shortcut through the Tuscan pavilion. Flashing lights, music and a whole lotta glam. Oh, Tuscany. Che triste. Greatness and popularity has been it’s downfall in so many ways. Safe in Piedmont I tasted the 2004 wines from Ca’ Viola….more dolcetto and some excellent barbera and barbera-based blends.
Riding another Piedmont high, I crossed back over to the Tuscan bling to make an appointment I had set up with the Consorzio del Marcho Storico, an organization representing the producers of the Chianti Classico zone. It’s set up kind of like a restaurant where there’s a list and you pick what you want to taste and go through at your own pace. In all the chaos of VinItaly, it’s an effective way to get a good sense of what’s going on in a particular region. I mostly focused on the wines from the village of Panzano, which is in the southern end of the Classico region, close to the Siena. In the past these wines have been excellent. Sadly, this tasting (mostly of Chianti normale from the 2003 vintage) was a major disappointment – traumatic even, in that many of the wines were extracted, flabby and lacking any sort of character. Sadly, too, they are all way too expensive. The bling is getting to peoples’ heads…
My publisher/boss showed up late in the afternoon from New York and we set off to find something that would be a good start to the fair for him and a redemption from my Tuscan disaster. Not Franciacorta, sadly, though we tried really hard to like the wines.
On the way out of the fair we happened by the Friulian pavilion and popped in for a quick look. Et viola!, something to save us both: a small winery called Lis Neris from near the Slovenian-Italian border. Outrageously good white wines, their yet-to-be bottled 2004 pinot grigio and 2004 sauvignon blanc were truly outstanding wines, some of the best I’ve had at the entire fair. If you can find them, do it! (They should be available in New York, San Francisco and LA)
Dinner: I weaseled my way in to a Barolo retrospective dinner hosted by producer Michele Chiarlo and his two sons. Another villa. Sigh. Anyway, there were some great wines – particularly the 1988 and 1996 vintages from the Cannubi vineyard) and at this fair where there’s nothing but new releases, it’s a treat to taste wines that have carefully and gracefully matured into what they are supposed to be. |
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| VinItaly - Day One |
[Apr. 9th, 2005|01:14 pm] |
7 April 2005
Jet-lag is an odd thing, like a weighty internal clock (an alarm mounted inside a ball-and-chain carried in your stomach is more like it) that tells you when you’re tired and when you wake up. Last night it kicked in a few times but ultimately I got to bed at a reasonable hour, around 1 am. It woke me at 3.45…fitful tossing and turning for a while, then up for a colazione veloce all’Italiana as the hotel bills it, or “Continental Breakfast” as they translate it. Don’t quite understand that: the Italian version - a quick morning bite, in this case a small pastry and a jolting shot of high-octane coffee – describes it perfectly.
Argued at the front desk for my press pass. There were three of them left here in an envelope under my publisher’s name, which of course the hotel guarded quite seriously. Broke, rusty Italian coming back to me. Managed to score press pass. Decided it was useful language practice in the end. Off to the fair.
Met with an importer friend from San Francisco to see some of the producers he imports and taste their wines. Anna Maria Abbona makes dolcetto from old vineyard planted by her grandfather in between the two world wars on one steep little hillside in the Dogliani area of Piedmont, as well as some barbera and nebbiolo. Her wines are delicious…of her recent 2003 releases I liked the chaulky undertones and rich, bright fruit in her dolcetto from the Sori dij But vineyard. Also excellent were the two 2001 wines she had tucked away in the wooden crate used as her makeshift seat: a Dolcetto di Dogliani Superiore and the Cadò, a Langhe rosso classified blend of 90% barbera and 10% dolcetto.
At this point I began to take in my surroundings. VinItaly is enormous…the whole fair is spread throughout 10 or 12 pavillions; some are dedicated to entire regions (like Piedmont), some are shared by several regions. Producers set up stands to showcase their wines and meet and greet members of the wine trade from Italy and the rest of the world. Some stands are simple booths, others are elaborate multi-storied things with flashing lights, music and pretty young things pouring wine from a bar. They’re suckers for the bling-bling here.
My importer friend and I then popped over to sit with Sergio Ettore of the Serralunga producer Germano Ettore. We tasted through a delightful range of yet-to-be-bottled dolcetto, nebbiolo and a couple of vineyard blends. Then we moved in to the Barolo… tasting Barolo at 10.30 in the morning is an experience. My palate was sharp, sure, but isn’t this usually the time I go for that second coffee?
Sergio’s 2000 Barolos were good – ripe and approachable fruit characteristic of this (over-hyped) vintage. His 2001s are outstanding. Tightly wound little monsters with a real sense of structure, and, according to Sergio, everything he loves about the vineyards in Serralunga. Yummy stuff, but not to be touched for a very long time. Personal favorites: 2001 Barolo (Serralunga) and the 2001 Cerretta Barolo, which was simply outstanding.
(So as I write this I’m realizing that it’s not really a quick update but more like an entire write-up. Hmmm, space issues, timing, and also most of the people who read this aren’t obsessed wine geeks. So I’ll shift to quick-type mode for brevity.)
We then walked over to meet with Pino Pavia from Agostino Pavia & Figli to taste some delightful Barbera d’Asti. Yummy stuff, and the best value wines I tasted all day. Straight-forward cherry fruit and simply refreshing – the kind of red wine you want to drink every night. With a good exchange rate, Pino’s basic Barbera d’Asti from the Moliss vineyard is under $10 in the US.
To refresh palates we headed over to Sorelle Bronca, a prosecco producer who I am also visiting next week when I tour the wine zone between Valdobbiadene and Conegliano, two medieval towns in the foothills of the Dolomites. Later, it was more dolcetto from the village of Dogliani, which is fast becoming an obsession of mine. Like I need another one.
Dinner was hosted by Primo Franco of Nino Franco prosecco at a villa just outside the city of Verona. Very homey… Primo’s friends hosted around 20 people in their kitchen with a dinner of roasted rabbit, grilled sausage, pork ribs and various spring veggies. Yum. |
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| Is This Desire? |
[Apr. 8th, 2005|12:40 pm] |
started 21 February, finished 7 April
Blank pages. Empty pages. No pages. Keeping a journal is one way to follow the passage of time. The calendar or agenda for a single life. Looking back at this journal and its lack of entries – or any sense of timeliness for that matter – and one could easily conclude that not much time has passed at all.
Or simply that I’m a lazy blogger.
I am back in San Francisco. After one year. In Rome. Rome? A year? It’s like waking up from one of those dreams where you aren’t quite sure if what you remember actually happened or only exists in your head. Sheets damp with sweat, the result of a fitful night of sleep or simply out of longing for someone deep in your heart but absent from your bed. Probably both.
I blame the wine. It’s the kind of beverage that can take you places, or so I’ve heard from books and colleagues and drunks on the other side of the bar. Mother, I’m not an alcoholic. I’m a connoisseur.
Wine took me to Italy and it brought me back to the United States. It’s an odd thing to sit here now and think that a beverage influences my life this much, but it does. Sure, wine speaks to myth and history, and calls out the names of great men & women and even greater vineyards, but at the end of the day it remains a beverage.
I am back in San Francisco to work at a national wine magazine. It’s not the wine magazine in the US – that’s an entirely different beast – but it is an excellent magazine held in high regard by both the wine and restaurant trades. I miss Rome – to be in that city at this point in my life, and to be there in love, was to be alive.
(These next few months will tell whether or not it was worth putting the professional before the personal)
My job has me covering the domestic wine scene, which in name is every wine producing state in the country. In practice, however, the only states that matter are California, Oregon and Washington. Texas and New York also produce a substantial amount of wine but they have a long way to go in terms of quality before joining the three western states. Not for lack of trying.
First day. All the usual formalities: this is so and so, she does this, he does that. You will be doing this, this and this. And then there’s the tasting, which I am to organize and lead here in our San Francisco office. During my first week, however, I get a little guidance.
Day one: 45 American merlots for the upcoming issue’s merlot focus in the review section of all new releases (this section appears in every issue of the magazine, and covers both imported and domestic new releases; the focus changes each time). Day two: 35 more merlots plus 5 napa cabernets and 5 zinfandels from the four corners of California. Day three: 45 more merlots. Day four… normally the maximum anyone can taste – along these lines at any rate – is three days in any given week. Beyond that and your palate is simply shot.
This time, however, it’s the week before the magazine’s publisher and main critic (and everyone’s boss) comes to town to taste and evaluate everything that’s been recommended in our group tastings, so not only do we have to power through and clear up everything that hasn’t been tasted already, but we have to get what’s called the Tasting from Hell out of the way. Two of them, in fact, because besides the merlot focus, the June issue also has the annual section on value wines.
Tasting from Hell. That’s a new one, well to me at least, and I’ve been to some pretty bad tastings before. Only those I could leave – this, this is work. Gag. A Tasting from Hell at the magazine involves getting together anywhere from 50 to 75 wines priced under $10. On the surface this isn’t so bad – there are often delicious wines to be had in this price range. But keep in mind that as one of the major wine publications in the US, we get sent EVERYTHING. And that means we taste everything, too. (If anyone needs to know which American wine to buy at Safeway for under 10 bucks, just ask).
All of my wino friends will appreciate the palate stress I suffered at the end of this first week. Yuck. Bring me dolcetto! I need prosecco! Fiano di Avellino! Roma, Roma. |
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| Gay Marriage and the United Nations |
[Nov. 9th, 2004|09:39 am] |
09 november 2004
Hello all,
Here is an email I received this morning at FAO regarding UN recognition of same sex marriages. The issue is tricky at the UN as it is in effect not a law-making body and as an organization must respect the internal/domestic laws of its member states. Anyway, let me know what you all think :: I'm curious.
Ciao,
w.
**note**
FAO is the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations
WFP is the World Food Programme, which is independently run though governed on paper by FAO and is also based here in Rome
IFAD is the International Fund for Agriculture Development (i think), and like FAO and WFP, based in Rome
RECOGNITION OF PERSONAL STATUS FOR THE PURPOSE OF ENTITLEMENTS
The UN Secretary-General issued on 24 September 2004 a circular stating that for the recognition of the personal status of a staff member for the purpose of entitlements, the practice will be by reference to the law of the nationality of the staff member concerned. It is felt that this policy will remove discrimination against staff members. Although not explicitly stated, we understand that it is intended that if the law of the nationality of the staff member recognises same sex marriages and domestic partnerships for dependency entitlements, then they will be recognised also by the UN. A number of other UN bodies (e.g. UNICEF, UNHCR) are following the Secretary-General’s circular.
On 12 October 2004 WFP issued its own directive that repeats almost word for word that of the Secretary-General and we have heard that IFAD is slowly moving in a similar direction.
Under the WFP General Regulations, “The Executive Director shall administer the staff of the Programme in accordance with FAO Staff Regulations and Rules and such special rules proposed by the Executive Director as may be approved by the Secretary-General of the United Nations and the Director-General of FAO”. In their Joint Report on the deliberations of the UN-FAO Joint Task Force on WFP , the Secretary-General and Director-General delegated the Executive Director the authority to take decisions on personnel matters, such authority to be exercised in accordance with the FAO Staff Regulations and Rules. The authority would include the power to construe and apply the Staff Regulations and Rules to staff of the Programme, provided always that such decisions are not inconsistent with the FAO Staff Regulations and Rules.
Given the above, the directive of WFP raises interesting questions, specifically can there be contradictory interpretations of the same rules and regulations? Will it not be inconsistent if same sex marriages and domestic partnerships are recognised for staff members serving the World Food Programme but not for staff members serving the Food and Agriculture Organization? How will those FAO units that service both FAO and WFP treat staff members? Can the same sex partner of a staff member serving WFP be eligible for participation in the medical health plans but the same sex partner of a staff member serving FAO not be eligible? Would such a situation permit an FAO staff member to claim discrimination?
We are aware that the issue of recognition of same sex marriages and domestic partnerships is a complex and sensitive one, and for this reason is not easy to resolve. One of the arguments for recognition is the removal of discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. However, basing recognition on national law raises other problems i.e. difference of treatment due to differences in national laws when the UN is supposed to be divorced from national law and have its own laws. Whichever way the situation evolves and is eventually resolved, one thing is certain; two contradictory interpretations and application of the same staff rules and regulations – one for WFP and another for FAO – is going to be difficult to sustain.`
9 November 2004 |
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| an autumn whirlwind |
[Sep. 28th, 2004|03:19 pm] |
28 september 2004
So I think there's something in the air in Rome after the August holidays and everyone is back from this or that adventure. Appointments are made, people dash about madly (more so than usual) and there is the pervasive sense of the need to be busy, which is so uncharacteristic of this town. Whatever, I think it's all a facade or some guilt inspired correction to the imbalance created by taking the previous month off and should be gone with October.
My journal updating has been somewhat haphazard...my apologies! The day job at FAO is for once not all coffee breaks: we're genuinely busy in my unit, and the emergency division as a whole (of which my unit is a part) is busy dealing with the Darfur crisis in western Sudan, a massive locust infestation across the majority of French speaking Africa and some upcoming projects in Haiti and the Caribbean courtesy of Ivan and Jeanne...oy! On top of that, I have been doing a little freelance wine-related marketing writing on the side. Croatia? Holidays? What?
Also big news this month, my roommate, colleague and longtime friend was sent to Khartoum, Sudan, to work with the regional FAO office there during the implementation of various emergency projects in both southern Sudan (where there had been over 20 years of civil war) and Darfur, where there has been a sustained campaign genocide. Ugh, nasty stuff. It was a very good career move for my friend, but it is also extraordinarily challenging for reasons of circumstance and personal life: fundamentalist Khartoum is no place to enjoy thinly sliced prosciutto, fresh melons and crisp prosecco.
(In his stead at both the apartment and the office at FAO, we've managed to place another friend from the States who, after realizing that the American economic recovery clearly didn't apply to him, decided it was time to leave the country)
Let's see... My absentee ballot for the US elections arrived last week. My European friends were quite interested to see it, and several remarked at both its multi- lingual & cultural approach (the ballot is from San Francisco and appears in English, Spanish & Mandarin Chinese), as well as how confusing and overwhelming it is. I agree...there was a lot to sift through! And in such a crucial election it was doubly important for those of us voting from overseas to get our ballots in early to be counted...
So people, I've voted, have you? Because EVERY vote counts, you know |
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| The mistral slants the September sunlight |
[Sep. 7th, 2004|07:00 pm] |
07 september 2004
Going to work in Rome on the first Monday in September is a bit like navigating an asteroid field, or at least that's what I thought yesterday as I pushed my scooter on foot out from behind a stuck bus and on to the sidewalk to get around a blocked intersection. A commute like this is no fun and besides concentrating intently on what you're doing, it's just plain dangerous!
Like many western societies, the Italians take their vacations in August. But for most it's not just a week to the coast, it's the entire month! Businesses and workplaces are closed, restaurants and bars post signs bearing the words chuiso per feria, which in the literal sense means 'closed for the holidays' but in a more practical outlook means 'find another place to go tonight, pal.'
I stayed in town for the month and it was glorious...outside of the touristed areas (which are always busy) the streets were deserted. Driving my scooter through the quiet and clean air made me feel like an emperor on his own road; the echoes heard along the empty roads while walking in the evenings made me feel as if i'd stepped into a giant sink or some diorama scenes inside an empty aquarium.
This tranquility reached its zenith on 15 August, the Italian holiday of ferragosto, which depending on one's beliefs, is either a holiday celebrating the Assumption of the virgin Mary or an excuse to hand in that requested time off slip at work and go to the beach for the month. A gradual escalation of Rome's usual urban chaos occurs over the following couple of weeks.
FAO was of course empty for most of the month. Somehow I doubt the critical lifesaving projects taking place all over the developing world had the month off, but no matter...who needs headquarters, anyway?
I did take a week off at the very end of August to go sailing along Croatia's Dalmatian Coast (making good on my earlier travel promise: see the Austria entry below), which was a mind-blowing experience...there are islands scattered through the blue waters of the Adriatic like teardrops, small medieval villages and towns to visit, and fig trees to climb and rob of their ripe fruit. The water is deep blue and when seen through a mask at a depth of about 12 feet catches sunlight in an explosion of orange and white. Amazing. Croatia rocks.
Unfortunately, Monday was a reality check :: besides the traffic and work, I discovered that the road I usually take home from work had been turned into a one-way street running the opposite way I needed to go. It's a small street - more of a passageway between to very old buildings - about 20 feet long, but the only sign indicating the new traffic direction was posted behind another sign so that it could only be seen once directly under it. And as I discovered, as soon as one reaches that point, police cameras flash to note your license plate number: a ticket for a hefty fine arrives about 2 or 3 weeks later. Oh, Italy... |
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| a two coffee morning |
[Aug. 3rd, 2004|11:12 am] |
3 august 2003
I've been looking after a friend's dog recently, a big golden mess of labrador, mastiff and another type of oversized canine. Clifford is a sweetheart, loves people and enjoys wandering around the trees and meadows of the Villa Pamphili, the large park just behind my house. This past sunday we walked down to the Vatican and then over to Trastevere...Clifford scared a few cats away and enjoyed peeing in the dank corners between the medieval houses. We also met some visiting hotties :: mental note: borrow the dog to walk around on weekends more often... ;-)
Clifford is great to have around the house, too...he's a constant companion and likes to help out with the terrace garden or in the kitchen, hoping perhaps that some pancetta will fall to floor. I don't let him have any, but hey, keep dreaming Clifford!
In other news, I will be writing a column for a web site every 4-6 weeks (at least that's the plan). You can see the first here. |
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| estate romana |
[Jul. 19th, 2004|03:47 pm] |
19 july 2004
If a period of time could be set aside to represent the Roman summer, then perhaps these past few days reveal some of the chaos and fun that goes on here when the long, hot days give way to warm nights and people fill the streets.
On Friday I worked late at the FAO, finishing up a nasty editing job on a project that had been a total failure in Zambia. A case of agronomists and other scientists trusting research in other parts of the country over generations of local experience and techniques particular to a specific region. The report concluded that in the future local concerns needed to be taken into consideration when planning large-scale agricultural relief projects. No shit. Anyways, according to my editorial guidelines (as this report was bound for the donor country), I had to remove any and all subject matter that portrayed FAO in a negative light. Hmmm, perhaps a friend of mine here is correct when she describes our reporting unit as more of a censorship department?
(In all fairness, I should add that most of the time we are not editing out all criticism, etc., of FAO activities).
Back to the point. It wasn't this report that had me working late into the evening, but rather the late-morning start to the day that followed the barbeque->party on my terrace the previous evening. 18 odd people and the thing finished around 4 am!
Censorship wrapped up for the day, I headed across the street to catch the end of Over The Road (OTR) which is sort of the summertime Friday evening happy hour of the younger set of people working at FAO. The venue is a traditional Italian caffé/bar quite literally across the street from FAO. There are tables outside on the sidewalk and people socialize and unwind over the abundant and cheap beer. It's also a good place to schmooze for a new job or posting within the international development set, as people from other agencies and NGOs in Rome (and there are many) gather here as well. To save the world, of course...
Afterwards I met up with a few friends and headed out to the Villa Ada for a concert by the Kings of Convenience, a really cool acoustic music group from Norway. Villa Ada is a large park - formerly an aristocratic country retreat - that hosts a world music festival during the summer. The concerts are located outside on an island in the middle of a small lake. Except for being directly under the outgoing flight path from Ciampino airport, it's a spectacular venue. It's been a good festival so far, too: Cesaria Evora and Blonde Redhead have played recently in addition to the Kings of Convenience.
Italians love going to concerts (who doesn't), and they sing loudly and joyously along to almost any song they know - a trait that is simultaneously endearing and annoying. It turns out, in fact, that the Kings of Convenience have a hit song here in Italy (I did not know this) and therefore Villa Ada was PACKED - and people of course sang along to the hit song, but as hardly anyone knew any of the group's other songs, there was a sort of confused silence during the rest of the show as the audience sat on the edge waiting to sing along to something else. Meanwhile I sang along to everything ;-)
Somehow we then managed to go bar hopping in Trastevere until the wee hours. Even more incredible was getting out of bed the next morning and meeting up with several others to drive to Sabaudia, an excellent sandy beach about an hour and a half south of Rome. The water was silky blue and cool/warm to the touch and there was a large rocky cliff with an incredible 13th century lookout tower & lighthouse just near where we had set up camp for the day. Loads of swimming, intense frisbee and a couple hours of volleyball and more swimming at sunset (9pm) :: the cold beers tasted just right at the end of it all. Our caravan stopped off at a roadside trattoria on the way back to Rome and we gorged ourselves on pastas, grilled fish and mussels & clams. Plenty of cool white wine as well.
Behind the restaurant was a go kart track and without too much persuasion I convinced those riding in my car that we should have a little kart race before heading back to the city. Watch out Mario Andretti!
Sunday I relaxed in the park near my house before meeting up with a couple of other friends for an underground-type roof top sunset party out in the old grain- and warehouse district. Yes! Excellent electronic/IDM & house music on top of an old bus depot with views of the mountains far to the east of the city and then out over the vast cemetery at the eastern edge of town. A very cool, mellow crowd and an incredible party space - it was a bring your own drinks and food affair, and people had spread out across the roof to enjoy the music & company and the tramonto (Italian for sunset). In many ways, in fact, I was reminded of San Francisco - a shout out to the crew, yo!
The music at this event was quite cool and worth checking out: Ambit3, and two producer/djs named Marco Passarani and Mario Pierro. Marco Passarani started a label here called La Pigna Records, which has put out some pretty good music. More information and soundclips at FinalFrontier.
By coincidence one of my all time favorite jazz musicians, McCoy Tyner, was playing around the corner from the party at an old grain millhouse-turned-outdoor-jazz-club. McCoy is a jazz legend and he and his trio belted out a fantastic set, one of the best I've seen him play. The crowded club was thrilled by his music, and the concert was a great way to end the weekend. Along with a delicious bottle of Austrian gruner veltliner, of course...
...And Monday was a sleepy one at work. |
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| in :: between :: days |
[Jul. 15th, 2004|09:34 am] |
15 july 2004
i'm still not really used to the passing of time. days and months and years blur into a series of events, and i look to the eyes friends and see that they too are aware of something passing away beyond our control but can't exactly say what it is. i know today, for instance, is the middle of the july - itself the middle of summer - but is that because the calendar on my desk/computer and the clocks that surround me on my walls and appliances tell me this? or is it a deeper sensation formed by some combination of instinct and recent experience?
so without trying to look at a clock, calendar, daytimer or whatever, i mark the middle of summer thusly...
the sun is relentless and beats down the city most days with bright light and heat, plants are wilting and the formerly lush green meadow of the Circo Massimo - once upon a time the great Circus Maximus athletic complex - is a big fat bowl of dusty air. there are squiggly heat currents dancing around the cobble-stones on the roads and the weathered bricks of medieval buildings and scattered piles of ancient rubble. italian rush hour street traffic is slowly receding into the long vacations of august, and the breeze of zipping to and from work and a social life on my scooter is the easiest way to cool off. i think of the beach a lot, and go as often as possible.
but for each hot day in Rome there is a long, warm night where people spill out into the Piazza di Santa Maria in Trastevere or the Campo dei Fiori or any smaller neighborhood piazze, and sit on the sides fountains to talk and laugh and drink from large bottles of cold beer or prosecco.
and there is music everyplace, buskers in the streets and jazz & rock musicians in parks and gardens of huge urban villas. these nights are long and the following day at work is spent in a dreamy caffeinated haze making arrangements for the next evening.
FAO: ridding the world of hunger one coffee break at a time. |
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| Overland from Patagonia to Vancouver |
[Jul. 4th, 2004|03:40 pm] |
Below is an email update from my good friends Steve and Sarah who are bicycling from Patagonia in southern Chile and Argentina to Vancouver, Canada. Let us all pause for a moment to reflect upon their rockstar characters! Sorry, I couldn't add their photographs to this post...You'll have to imagine them.
Here's to a great trips, guys...Be safe! I hear the Pan-American Highway is no place to get into a confrontation with a sloth...
ww
___________________
Hi everyone!!
It has been a long time since one of these updates, which is long overdue. Steve and I are still here, in South America, and have been keeping busy on the bicycles for the past six months!
Road to the end of the earth
We had an amazing time in February and March, cycling the Carretera Austral in Chile, an unpaved dirt road which snakes down 1,200ks of southern Chile, much of it through dense and untouched temperate rainforest. The road stops where the southern ice field starts, where it can go no further for the fjords and glaciars. You would imagine this to be one of the most frigid places on earth but we had sun most of the way and it was too hot to cycle most days! For once we didn't carry the Scottish weather with us...
Not content with seeing the road once, we actually did the whole stretch again - by bus. Our plans (which are always not going to plan) to cross to Argentina at the end of this road (over some lakes and mountain tracks) were foiled as the boat going across the lakes had stopped for the season. Going back up the road actually gave us the chance to do some beautiful cycling in Argentinian Patagonia (a little weird - full of mountain villages with chocolate shops which could have been in the European Alps if they did not seem so fake). We crossed back to Chile over a mountain pass and finally got the rain we had been cheating all the way. Soaked and miserable we took a bus back up to Santiago where it was still summer. We had cycled that stretch anyway before Christmas on the old "ships", as we call them. (We do really like to do everything twice).
Breathless in the Andes
From there we went north to do some real, what I think is termed, "expedition" cycling. This involved crossing the Andes twice over two ridiculously high passes (nearly 5,000 metres), from Chile to Argentina and back again. Understandably, there is not much civilisation up there and each pass invovled just over a week of cycling in the middle of nowhere, but through some breathtaking scenery: from desert, martian-like landscapes, literally out of this world, to altiplano (bleak, high plains), fantastic lagunas, huge salt flats, steep gorges and some breathtaking mountains - some of the highest in the Andes, but rarely climbed as they are so inaccessible. We saw an amazing lot of wildlife too - vicuñas (rare camelids - in the llama family but much less stupid looking), many,many condors, flamingos, big ostrich-like birds...
I probably don't need to mention it is very hard work cycling at high altitude. Needless to say, anyone we met in a vehicle thought we were mad, but we were struck by the kindess shown to us. We had to turn down many offers of lifts; sometimes vehicles wouldn't even stop to chat, just to hand a bottle of water or fruit out of the window. We were taken in for the night at a camp for mine workers and fed, given a bed for the night, and in the morning sent off with 20 litres of mineral water!
Celebrity Status
In between the passes we had some welcome relief from the high altitude hardships cycling through northern Argentina, including some of the best wine growing regions of the country. Our disciplined early starts were shelved for a while! In these remote provinces of Argentina the people were incredibly friendly. In this corner of the earth everyone travels by bicycle (even the taxis have bike racks). Frequently you see three kids balanced on one bicycle. So we became minor celebrities as we cycled through these dusty small towns. People would crowd around our bikes asking a hundred questions about our trip and cheer us on our way.
Changing Plans...again!
At this time, since we were having so much fun, we decided to ditch the plans to go to New Zealand and keep on cycling, until Christmas...as far as Vancouver, where Steve's family are all now living. And since the trip had now evolved into rather an ambitious one we decided to try and raise some money along the way, for Diabetes UK.
Salty Dreams
One of the motivations for this trip (for Steve at least!) had been meeting another cyclist in Bolivia last September and visiting the vast Salar de Uyuni which Steve thought would be the most wonderful bicycle trip in the world. We fulfilled the dream - we returned to Bolivia from the Atacama desert in northern Chile and cycled this huge salt flat over two days. And this time Steve kept all his clothes on! It was a wonderful experience and by far the best "road" in Bolivia. Bolivia was a navigational nightmare; the map we bought was useless; often it was a pure guessing game when the sandy road forked ahead of us.
We sucessfully made it out of Bolivia and returned to Chile for a last week of cycling through some incredible national parks in the north, past perfect snow capped smoking volcanoes, easing the weary legs (all of the cycling here was over 4,000 metres on dirt roads) at night in natural hot thermal springs and mud baths. We finally reached Arica, the most northerly city in Chile and relaxed there a couple of days in the very pleasant climate (0 days of rain a year!)
More Andean Adventures
We continued from northern Chile across the border to Peru, which we have found a fascinating country so far. Cycling through small mountainous settlements of Indian communities, we have really had an insight into the way people live here, growing whatever will grow in the unyielding land. Many of the villages have no proper sanitation or water supply; some no electricity. But the people have been warm, welcoming and friendly to us, and the kids are fascinating but often say very poignant things to us ("Do you have hot water in your country? Are there dinousaurs where you come from?...) We feel pretty lucky and privileged for what we have.
We have now reached Cusco, the ancient Inca capital, a wonderful city and a good place to relax before the next stage of our journey. (There's even a Cross Keys Pub run by a Mancunian in the main plaza!) We are, typcially, sticking to the Andes all the way, so the road goes up, and then down again, and up...a lot...There will be some wonderful scenery to make up for it we hope!
From Peru, we'll cross to Ecuador, cycle to Quito and then fly to Central America, cycle some of Mexico (too big to do it all we think), eat a lot of chillies and drink some tequila, cross to the States and make our way up to Vancouver...
As I write this, Steve is currently working on a short article for the Diabetes UK's magazine about our trip, which will be followed by another more detailed one later on. We'll hopefully have an item on the website too, with details of how you can contribute some money if you feel inclined! We'll keep you posted!
Hope you are all well and happy, and here are a couple of pics of us cycling that big salt flat. The first one features our pet penguin who has come all the way with us from the south of Chile. He's a little dusty now but enjoying the ride too!!
Lots of love, Steve, Sarah, Steve the Penguin and the Ships... |
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| In which this wino goes to Austria... |
[Jun. 21st, 2004|05:21 pm] |
21 june 2004
Visiting and traveling among the great vineyards and wine producing regions of Europe is one of the main reasons I came to Rome. Certainly living in the capital city of a country as vibrant and seductive as Italy should be reason in itself, but for someone addicted as I am to all things of the vine, the proximity of places like Burgundy, the Rhône Valley, Barolo and the Mosel (to name only a few) readily induces an extreme case of vinous wanderlust.
So when a good friend of mine called from San Francisco a few weeks ago to say that he would have a few days leftover in Vienna after visiting vineyards in Germany and Austria for work, I immediately booked a flight from Rome and set up my own little wine tour in Austria.
Three working days (plus the weekend) was about the maximum time I could reasonably explain my absence to my supervisor at FAO (I’ve been lost in the corridors at headquarters for about that long before, so I expected no troubles with this excuse), so with a little research and a quick lesson in Austrian geography, I decided on a two day visit to the Kamptal which is about 60 kilometers west of Vienna. The famed Wachau and Kremstal regions are also very close, and had I rented a car I could have seen all three, but my plan was to travel by train and bicycle so visiting one region in two full days was plenty. Besides, I am a terroir freak and the Kamptal is where one finds the Heiligenstein vineyard, the birthplace of some of Austria’s best riesling and gruner veltliner.
It’s a short flight from Rome to Vienna and you pass directly over the Adriatic Sea and the polka-dots of the Dalmatian Coast (traveler’s note: definitely visit here someday) before crossing the mountains and descending into the fertile Danube plain. A quick ride along Vienna’s efficient metro lines took me to the Franz Josef Bahnhof where I then caught a train to the small city of Krems, the principle town in the Wachau/Kremstal/Kamptal area.
The river Kamp winds its way through a forested valley of steep hillsides terraced with vineyards and dotted with the ruins of medieval castles. One finds a village every few kilometers with meandering cobblestone streets and buildings dating from the 16th and 17th centuries. People are friendly and greet passersby with a smile, nod or wave. It’s a relaxing place, especially after the chaos of Rome, and very easy to get around by bicycle.
I stayed in one of the larger villages, Schönberg, which straddles both sides of the Kamp and is situated in the middle of the valley, only a few kilometers away from the Kamptal’s main town, Langenlois. With a smattering of restaurants, shops, an excellent wine tasting center and several wineries of its own, it’s possible to make Langenlois a base for exploring the region. But with everything so close and cycling so enjoyable, it is just as easy to stay in one of the serene villages along the river and pedal into town.
There are loads of wineries to visit here, some very small and ancient and others fairly large and set up along the lines of a traditional co-op: growers bring their harvested fruit and it is then made into wine and blended along with other new wine into the bottles released by the co-op. But most people in the Kamptal with land and a vineyard of whatever size make their own wine. Evidence of generations of family-scale viticulture can be seen in the numerous small buildings and caves built into hillsides where wines are aged and stored, and the multi-colored doorways cut into the rocks and soil are not entirely unlike the homes of the Hobbits in Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings.
My first appointment was at Weingut Hirsch in the nearby village of Kammern, where I met with the youthful Johannes Hirsch who manages the winery along with his father, Josef. My bicycle ride to the Hirsch winery led me through some vineyards and a vegetable garden and finally to a small, immaculately kept yard – somehow I had missed the main entrance entirely and ended up on the back doorstep. I parked my bicycle next to a pile of colorful children’s toys and stepped in to the courtyard where Johannes greeted me with an enthusiastic “grüss gott.” Almost immediately we set off on a bumpy ride in an old Volkswagen Golf to visit the Hirsch vines in the Heiligenstein vineyard.
As with many vineyards in France’s Burgundy, Heiligenstein is divided into a multitude of small plots owned by different families who have been in the area for generations. Those families with relatively extensive holdings often have vineyards in neighboring villages. The Hirsch family has vines planted in the parts of the vineyard above the village of Zöbing and in sections around Kammern and Lamm. It is an exceptional place, and from the top of the south-facing vineyard we could see most of the Kamptal, some of the Kremstal and further away the enormous Danube valley.
Johannes pointed out the Heiligenstein’s different soil types and the areas which in his view are best suited for riesling and those which are better for gruner veltliner. Both varieties thrive in the chunky mineral and fossil-laden soils on this hillside and the wines we tasted later were exceptional, particularly the four Hirsch rieslings which clearly showed the singular characteristics and pronounced differences evident in each vineyard. Equally, the various Hirsch gruner veltliners displayed extraordinary finesse and I reveled in their depth of flavor. Despite a growing trend in the Kamptal (and Austria in general), Johannes Hirsch does not make any red wine as he feels it is a waste of the Heiligenstein’s precious soil. I can certainly respect that.
My next stop was the 16th century Schloss Gobelsburg (schloss is German for castle) where I met with winemaker Michael Moosbrugger and toured the cellars of the castle. A serene and understated man in his mid-thirties, Michael is a lot like MacGyver when it comes to his winery, reshaping tools and tanks beyond their original uses to fit his specific needs. He is dedicated to letting fermentation happen naturally in the winery with native yeast and minimal temperature control, and he believes in as little “machine intervention” as possible; i.e., fermenting wine needs to be treated gently so as not to adversely affect the final result. This sort of philosophy is easy to follow in a custom built winery but when working with limited funds in a facility built mostly in the late 1500s, it’s another matter entirely.
To this end, Michael has placed a number of his large wooden casks on wheels to move about the cellars and facilitate the transfer of wine between casks, tanks and barrels. A series of narrow tunnels built for the smaller bodies of Renaissance-era monks leads to another part of the cellar where he has built a raised platform above his primary fermenters. Following the hand-sorting of incoming fruit in an adjacent room, Michael can run his crusher directly over the designated tank thereby avoiding the use of a powerful pump to push both macerated and whole berries through thick hoses. It’s easy to taste the care and exactitude in each of his wines.
Schloss Gobelsburg was established in the middle of the 12th century by Cistercian monks from the Burgundy region of France. Virtually all monastic orders produced wine in the middle ages, but the Cistercians were especially good winemakers and their contributions to European wine overall are immense. One place they found particularly exciting and promising was the area around Krems and Langenlois, and their influence is mostly felt in the identification of particular vineyard sites with a specific grape varieties, such as the Heiligenstein and its relationship with both gruner veltliner and riesling. Winemakers in the Kamptal are keenly aware of this heritage, and it is thrilling to witness their hard work and dedication – and, of course, to taste the final result.
Following two very full days in the Kamptal I made my way to Vienna to rendez-vous with my friend from the States. He had been on his own wine odyssey in Austria and Germany and we were eager to compare notes, to say nothing of what’s referred to as a shot palate. Vienna is a great place to spend a few days with plenty to see, great museums and excellent shops and restaurants. We spent much of the time walking around the center of the city during the day and eating and drinking at night. The Austrians are enthusiastic supporters of their local food and wine (justifiably so), and we were only too happy to oblige them.
At the risk of going on longer, I will stop here. If anybody wants to know more about Vienna specifically, please feel free to email me or leave a comment with this entry. Also, for those of you who haven’t tried Austrian wine before, I can strongly recommend that you do so. The vintage coming into the market is 2003 (and very good), though there should be plenty of 2002 wines still available (also good).
Gruner veltliner is a national specialty, and Austrian riesling is also delicious (both wines are generally made in a dry style). Other Austrian white and red wines can be quite good as well and are worth seeking out. Schloss Gobelsburg and Weingut Hirsch have informative websites: www.gobelsburg.at and www.weingut-hirsch.at. Again, feel free to email me if you would like specific recommendations or information on where to find any of these wines in the States. |
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| Contro la guerra |
[Jun. 8th, 2004|06:03 pm] |
8 June 2004
Last friday...
A demonstration of anywhere from twenty or more individuals will shut down traffic in the center of Rome. The kind of chaos caused by a traffic disruption in this city was perhaps most famously captured in the Michael Caine film, The Italian Job, where a coordinated series of red-lights creates a massive traffic jam that traps any pursuing police and enables the thieves to escape. While there were no daring heists and escapes to speak of on Friday (not that I heard at any rate), the massive turnout of anti-war protestors in the center of the city to mark the visit of George Bush was certainly enough to bring daily life to a screeching halt.
At 11:00 AM I received the following email at FAO:
To:
Assistant Director-Generals, Directors of Division and Heads of Independent Offices, Registries
Owing to the demonstration taking place this afternoon on Viale Aventino, which may cause severe transport difficulties, those staff who wish to do so, are authorised to leave the office from 15:00hrs onwards. Please inform all your staff.
Michel Savini
Directeur de Cabinet
Viale Aventino runs alongside the north end of the FAO compound and follows the ancient procession route of returning imperial armies to the capital city. From the Porta di San Paolo - which wasn't dedicated to St Paul in those days, but never mind - the street cuts into the center of the city past the grounds of the Circus Maximus and over towards the Flavian amphitheatre and the Roman forum.
A traffic shutdown on this street was indeed a legitimate concern and FAO was more or less deserted by 3 pm (which, come to think of it, isn’t all that unusual for a Friday afternoon here). I planned on joining in the protest anyway and put away my rather lame “doctor’s appointment” excuse for another day.
The first thing I noticed when I stepped outside the compound was silence. Total silence. Empty daytime streets are a rare thing in Rome and I walked along the lonely middle of a cobbled road towards Piazza Venezia, the central area of the city’s public life and the focal point of any protest. In the distance I could see barricades set up by police to clear the streets, and beyond those were legions of Italian police and military. I had read that there were 20,000 security forces deployed for Friday’s protest and the visit of the American president. From where I stood in the middle of an intersection of empty streets, it looked as if a military parade were assembling rather than an anti-war protest.
My path led me along the streets beneath the ancient Palatine hill with the ruins of the vast imperial palace straddling its crest. At the north end of the hill I turned to cut through a small valley and into the open air ruins of the Roman Forum and from here I could see through to the back end of Piazza Venezia where there were banners and flags held waving high above thousands of people. Here is where the noise went!
There were plenty of American tourists fumbling around the Forum taking photographs of rocks and pillars, too, apparently oblivious to the crowds gathered above under the billowing rainbow peace flags (which resemble exactly the gay pride flag, only with the Italian word for peace – ‘pace’ – written across the middle). I felt a mixture of bemused surprise and disdain for these people, the majority of whom were obviously Americans. On the one hand, of course, a tourist is probably only in Rome once and should see the sights, but I mean come on, people, wake up! An occasion like this is an opportunity to move beyond our limited national horizon and observe for a moment with our own eyes how other people in the world – normal, everyday people who have taken time off from work, school, life – feel about the policies and actions of our powerful and increasingly frightening nation.
Up from the Forum and on the surface of the streets that empty into Piazza Venezia massive crowds of people marched through the heart of the city. The area around the piazza has been the seat of Roman civic life for more than two thousand years, and a procession that passes through this space quite deliberately makes its point known to the authorities.
And the authorities for their part certainly made their presence felt: thousands of police lined the sidewalks and filled the warren of medieval alleyways that ramble off from the piazza, and snipers perched atop the surrounding monuments. A stage had also been set up near the balcony from where Benito Mussolini would address the fascist throng. The next day, George Bush was to take this stage to commemorate the Allied liberation of Rome in World War II. Perhaps the same people in Bush’s circle who decided that Saddam’s Abu Grahib prison should continue to be used by the Americans as a torture center also decided that the president should make his address near the Fascist orator’s preferred podium?
The procession continued along the main road leading away from Piazza Venezia and to the Circo Massimo, the place where I had started from earlier. Turning back I could see that the protest stretched out over a great distance and thousands of people now filled the street chanting, singing, and doing a lot of banner/flag waving. As we passed by FAO I could see several people gathered on the rooftop terrace and for a moment I envied them their vantage points. But then a friend handed me a cold beer (!) and we continued towards the Porto di San Paolo. I had by this point picked up a rainbow peace flag designed to mimic the American flag, and quite happily and hopefully waved it in the air towards the police helicopters flying above.
The event was over quickly for me, or at least the time seemed to speed by. At the end of the march I slipped off to the side with friends and watched diverse groups of people from all over the world filed into the area around the medieval Porta di San Paolo. It was a colorful, energetic scene. Thankfully, too, everything came off peacefully: the importance of making an antiwar statement without violence was something not lost on people that day. |
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| Smoke rises in the west... |
[Jun. 3rd, 2004|04:13 pm] |
3 june 2004
:: These events happened at the same time today ::
Rome:
Dark storm clouds have gathered over the city and lighting is dashing through the sky. Thunder-claps rattle the office windows and interrupt my daydreams about the reebok pumps i wore so proudly in 1989. Rain pours loudly on the streets outside, and people have taken shelter from the fierce elements in doorways and gates.
Washington, DC:
Air Force One took off 20 minutes ago, bound for Ciampino airport, 10 miles outside Rome.
:: Are they connected? :: |
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| Hail to the Thief |
[May. 31st, 2004|01:51 pm] |
31 may 2004
George W. Bush is coming to Rome this Friday. I've known about this visit for a few weeks, and it means that (unfortunately) I have to be in relative geographical proximity to him. Gag!
On the positive side, this is Italy, and something the Italians love more than almost anything else is staging a strike and making a protest. On the eve of the American invasion of Iraq last year, nearly 3 million people took to the streets in Rome, shutting the city down and making their position on the war quite clear.
I can only imagine what Friday's events will be like. Stay tuned for an update... |
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| Belgian bubbles |
[May. 23rd, 2004|11:32 pm] |
23 may 2004
This is a bit of a random entry, but I'm standing in my kitchen enjoying a hoegaarden wheatbeer after cleaning up the chaos from dinner. I tend to cook frantically, knives blazing through garlic, tomatoes and herbs flying here and there while pancetta (italian bacon from the magic animal) sizzles in the pan. Tonight was especially good :: the aforementioned porky goodness sauteed with radicchio and then tossed with oven roasted peppers and cherry tomatoes over rigatoni. Mmmm.
My grandparents were here this weekend for a couple of days, and it was nice showing them around. The first of the family and friends to visit, in fact...who's next, people?
My roommate and I hosted a house/terrace warming party on friday to kick off the summer season. At the height of the party around 1 AM there were about 70 people on our terrace talking, dancing and generally draining the well-stocked bar we had set up earlier (thank you FAO commissary!). Things went well until the police showed up and I had to fumble through an inebriated apology in Italian...not so fun. All we needed to do, though, was turn down the music and move people inside. Cleanup lasted for a good 4 or 5 hours on Saturday afternoon.
After tidying the flat up, though, I walked to the nearby park and played frisbee in the sun, and two small Italian children - a brother and sister - came over to watch and then asked to learn how to play. After a few tosses and perfecting the lo fa come cocadillio catch or, 'make like a crocodile and slap your hands on the frisbee' technique, both were ready to play for keeps!
Immersion is the only way to learn a foreign language and this is definitely working. Not only can I teach a couple of 8 year olds how to play frisbee, but I can convince the police not raid my house party and make sure family & friends get something of an insider's tour of the city. Heck, I even managed to go out on a date last week with a Sicilian. Now, if I can only find my way around the FAO headquarters without (still) getting lost, I'd consider the first couple of months here a complete success. |
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