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First and last

4 Apr
The other day, as I packed for a short work-related trip to Milano, I realized this would be my last business trip ever and I could not help recalling to my first, in 1978. That trip had not crossed my mind in years but it was remarkable and the memories now recalled are vivid even these 37 years later.
Washington, D.C.
Washington, D.C. Image courtesy of Vichaya Kiatying-Angsulee. at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
In 1978 I was working for the Bell System in Minneapolis as an instructor. Why at the age of 25 anyone thought I had anything to teach anyone I don’t know, but I was sent to Washington, D.C., to represent my company in meetings with AT&T and develop a new national training program for our accounts people. Needless to say I was very excited and thought I was a real hotshot. I flew on the now-long-defunct North Central Airlines (whose vestiges live deep inside Delta after many acquisitions) and rented a car at National Airport. (Reagan hadn’t even been elected yet so the airport was far from being renamed.) It was winter. I rented a car and proceeded through the dark city. The rental car broke down on Connecticut Avenue, in front of a church. On a Sunday night there was little traffic. Panic! No cell phones in those days. What to do? As I fretted a man approached the car. More panic! He motioned from the passenger side for me to roll down the window. I cracked it an inch. “I don’t expect you to trust me,” he said, “but it appears you are lost or…” he let the sentence dangle. “I am the pastor of that church. How can I help you?” I explained my situation. He went to the church, called the car rental company, and returned with instructions: leave the car and take a taxi. They would deliver a new car to me in the morning. The pastor even called me a taxi and waited with me until it arrived.
My first business trip was on an airline that no longer exists.
My first business trip was on an airline that no longer exists.
I never got his name, and I doubt I could even find the church any longer, but the kindness of this stranger has not been forgotten. The situation and his kindness made for a memorable experience.
I am hard-pressed to figure out how many business trips I have made over the years. In the 1978-1983 period I often traveled around the upper-Midwest for my employer. Later in the 80s Denver, Phoenix and Seattle figured prominently as the Bell System broke up and I worked for the “Baby Bell” called U.S. West. There were 14 states and 26 cities I had to visit on a regular basis as Vice President of Sales for a division of that large company. Ric and I courted while he flew west and I flew east meeting in Denver’s Red Carpet Club.
In the 90s I had a job in information technology consulting as a managing director requiring travel about 46 weeks a year, often hitting two cities in a week. I sometimes had to look at the phonebook in the middle of the night to remind myself where I was. I was gone so much that our dog quit sleeping on my side of the bed and switched her allegiance to Ric.
I logged over 100K miles each year on Delta for several years.
I logged over 100K miles each year on Delta for several years.
My final career business trip is memorable for other reasons: I am in Italy of all places, not something I would have even dreamed of back in 1978. I took a train, not a plane, and there was no rental car. (It would have cost Euro 40.00 a night to park it!) I will carry memories of terrific co-workers who aided in a difficult task, and of a hotel that tried to charge me extra for checking out early (that’s one I have not heard in 37 years of business travel), and it will be the last time I stay in a luxury hotel paid for by someone else.  No more frequent flyer/sleeper/driver points earned by my employers’ dollars.
How I travel now....
How I travel now….
I am a little nostalgic for those days when airline travel was something one looked forward to. We dressed up, we got reasonably palatable meals served at least some of the time on real china. You could check all of your bags for free! Ric and I were fortunate to take many first class flights on vacation trips, courtesy of those hard-earned miles. The real price of the trip was having to get back on a plane for “fun” after weeks of business trips.
Milano, the Duomo...far removed from D.C.

Milan, the Duomo…far removed from D.C.

Milan, the Duomo…far removed from D.C.
First and last: what a (pardon the pun) trip it has been!

Paris bits and pieces

1 Apr
By now I am used to functioning in two languages. I understand most of what I see in print in Italian, with the exception of the newspaper as it is written in run-on sentences with obscure terminology and archaic verb tenses. When someone speaks directly to me, I understand most of what they are saying if I get the context to start. When I need to communicate me la cavo (I get along) even if my grammar is not perfect.
When we embarked on our trip to Paris I was hit by the realization that I would not understand much of anything from menus to street signs, and I certainly would  not understand spoken French.  Going to France was the most foreign thing we had done since we first traveled to Italy in 2010.
We found ourselves speaking in an odd combination of Italian and English. I am used to speaking Italian to our servers, technicians and shop people in Italy, so that’s the first language that sprang from my lips, combined with mangled French pronunciation. “Prendo il boeuf bourguignon, per favore.” I could not get past grazie to merci until mid-week. In one restaurant, we mixed up languages sufficiently to have the waitress convinced we were Italians who spoke little English. When we said “Merci bonsoir” at the end of the evening, she cheerily replied “Grazie, anche a te!”
There was little hope for me in pronouncing French street names. My Italian-addled brain insists that “Place” must be pronounced PLAH-chay. Once in awhile we’d hear Italian being spoken by other visitors and it was a joy to hear and understand.
Shopping in a French market reminded me of our first trip to Italy when we tried to figure out what things were. Like in Italy, lots of offal was available, from tripe to lambs heads (sorry vegetarians). The Super U was rather ordinary, but some of the shops are magnificent. We found ourselves taking a lot of pictures of store windows and displays.
Here are some Easter treats. Each store had a theme: fish, chickens, cows, even a little mole poking his head above the ground. All gorgeous and expensive. Click on any picture for a slide show.
Fashion windows are creative and the bakeries difficult to resist. The bejeweled athletic-style shoes are Dior. I love the ducks sporting sunglasses and the colorful men’s accessories. Ric showed no interest in blue shoes.

 

Avocados, artichokes and cabbages are arranged attractively. I wish I had taken a picture of the huge strawberries artfully displayed. In the Place du Madeleine area, boutiques with high-end chocolates, teas, cheeses, and wines seemed like museums. 

 

We also found time to see the major sites as we wandered the city. At the end of seven days of tromping about Paris my pedometer reported 162,222 steps. We covered some ground, but there’s so much left on the list that we must go back…but later in the spring so we can enjoy the gardens and maybe take our coats off. 

Paris v. Roma – Part II: Street Scene and Getting Around

22 Mar
In Part One I spoke about the differences in gustatory delights between Paris and Roma. We also have a number of observations to make about architecture, mobility, and behavior.
Street Scene
Saint Dennis holding his head, facade of Notre Dame.
Saint Dennis holding his head, facade of Notre Dame.
When we travel we like to settle in for a long stay. No “Paris-in-three-days” whirlwind for us! We saw one museum a day, at most, and spent plenty of time wandering neighborhoods both wealthy and moderate. We rented an apartment in the 17th arrondissment, managing to stay under our goal of €100.00 per night. It was nothing fancy yet everything we needed. This approach let us observe local life: children going to school, city workers, mothers and fathers, the elderly doing their shopping, transportation systems, and maybe just figure out a little how a place works, what it might be like to live there. Thus a few words on the streets of Paris versus Rome.
Streets in Paris are cleaner than in Roma, due partly to an absence of graffiti and less litter overall. This
This little girl was endlessly fascinated by the pigeons.
This little girl was endlessly fascinated by the pigeons.
is made possible by an amazing system of street cleaning involving surging water and workers with brooms. We first feared all the crap ended up in the River Seine, but lo-and-behold found this explanation.  Cigarette butts and other small debris is washed away, and larger items are bagged by the workers.
In Roma it is a never-ending battle for city workers against messy denizens. If a trash bin is overflowing, they leave their bags on the street, never mind there’s an empty bin 50 yards further on. Of course in Roma graffiti is art (sometimes) and after all, it was invented by the Romans. Old-fashioned street cleaning trucks make their way down the street very few days and hose down the debris, sweeping up some of it.
Notre Dame, of course!
Notre Dame, of course!
Paris’ grand old Haussmann buildings are elegant and the straight streets make navigation on foot easy. The wide tree-lined avenues and boulevards allow one to see far in each direction. Cars are parked in an organized fashion and pedestrian crossings are left open for, well, pedestrians to cross. There are pleasant manicured parks that illustrate design principles.
In Roma every building is an individual, many are very pretty, and most are the same height regulated to not exceed the height of St. Peter’s. We have ancient sites preserved and visible almost everywhere and ancient walls and columns are oft incorporated into new buildings (if by “new” you can accept 400 years as “new”). But we have the ugly serrande pulled down over shops and restaurants and covered with graffiti. Not a pretty street presence, those.
In Roma, streets wind about not only in the Centro Storico and Trastevere, but also in other
The Louvre featured an installation of neon art.
The Louvre featured an installation of neon art.
neighborhoods. They may start by radiating off a piazza, but soon change direction and probably name. Finding your way is a nightmare until you’ve spent considerable time in the city. Trees are scattered, but on the other hand, Rome has some great green spaces (Villa Borghese, Villa Torlonia, Villa Ada, Villa Doria Pamphilj) and fountains running year ‘round. In Paris we did not see a fountain “on” in March.
Parking in Roma shows little respect for property or other people’s rights-of-way. White stripes in the pedestrian crossings are free parking, right? Double-parking is a constant battle for buses trying to weave through the already narrow streets. In Paris we have not seen such abuse of parking. It is very orderly and it seems there are plenty of parcheggi (parking lots).
"I love you" wall in Montmarte.

“I love you” wall in Montmarte.

Cats are absent in Paris. We did not see one cat in a week in Paris. I conjectured that perhaps they are all coddled little Fluffies tucked up in their Haussmann apartments. According to one Parisian I am probably right: they are house cats. Still, no ferals? We walked through residential areas and did see not one cat in a churchyard or courtyard or sitting on a wall. In Roma, a cat outdoors is not only a common sight, there are the gattare, women who feed the cats in the streets. There seemed to be fewer dogs in Paris than in Roma, and thus less dog poop on the sidewalks.
Military and police presence is omnipresent and focused in Paris. The patrols we saw were really
Ti voglio bene - I love you in Italian
Ti voglio bene – I love you in Italian
observing people. Good for them! In Roma, police/military presence is here-and-there and likely to involve five officers in a tight circle talking about soccer.
We did not encounter as much trouble with pedestrians hogging the sidewalks in Paris as we face in Roma. In Roma, groups of people will walk 3, 4, and 5 abreast acting indignant if they have to move for oncoming pedestrians. An old lady with a shopping bag can somehow occupy the entire sidewalk as she shuffles along weaving from side to side as if to thwart anyone from passing her. In Paris people made way as one might expect in crowded situations. If you have not encountered the difference yourself it is hard to describe, but many Romans seem to be so self-absorbed they are unaware of other people needing to pass and use the sidewalks.  I call them sidewalk hogs.
 
Transportation
Paris delivery vehicel.

Paris delivery vehicle.

Ah the Paris Metro! It goes everywhere! People enter the buses from the front, validate their tickets and passes, and exit only from the middle. Che bello! There are seats in both Metro and buses! People stand back and allow others to exit the Metro before forcing their way on, and it is QUIET! One day as we were riding, a guy answered a cell phone call while on the bus and got the stink-eye from an older couple. Any talking is done in hushed tones.
Roma? Chaos! On the bus, enter or exit any door, validate if you feel like it. Noisy? You bet! Several loud cell phone conversations are punctuated with loud talk and laughter. Why not catch up calling your mamma in Bangladesh (pennies a minute according to the ads!) while commuting half-an-hour?  Talk loud too be sure she can hear you over the noise of the bus. In Roma it is hard to get OFF the Metro or bus as the incoming traffic is pushing their way on. Young men fight old ladies for the few seats.
Scooters were everywhere, ridden by both children and adults. Here in Luxembourg Gardens.
Scooters were everywhere, ridden by both children and adults. Here in Luxembourg Gardens.
The Parisian buses are on a schedule! A real schedule! You can go to the RATP trip planner and be told – several hours in advance – when your bus will arrive at your stop. Che meraviglioso!  At each bus stop there is an electronic feed telling you when the next bus will actually arrive. Roma has a few of the electronic signs at downtown stops, but there is nothing resembling a schedule. There are departure times posted for each capolinea, but very rarely are these schedules followed.
Velib bikes all tucked away at night. During the day the racks were empty, all bikes in use.
Velib bikes all tucked away at night. During the day the racks were empty, all bikes in use.
Where in Roma one might be run down by a motorino, in Paris a bicycle might sneak up and knock you flat. The Velib system of bike rentals is very popular. We’d see racks full with 20-or-so bikes in the early mornings and late at night, but during the day they would all be checked out through an efficient subscription system accessible to tourists as well as residents. There are bike lanes in Paris (very few in Roma) that run counter to the direction of cars in one-way streets, so while looking right to see if traffic is clear, a jay-walker might be surprised by a bicycle silently approaching from the left.
We were  unimpressed by the famous TGV high-speed train run by SNCF, except for the price.
Look at the little yellow safety vests the children are wearing! So cute and easy to identify!
Look at the little yellow safety vests the children are wearing! So cute and easy to identify!
We paid less to go from Milan to Paris than from Rome to Milan in order to catch the TGV. However, there were no courtesy beverages like on Trenitalia, and overall we felt the trains were dingy inside and out. The food was overpriced and marginal, and when you are on a train for 7.5 hours, you want need food. Still, we did not have to deal with an airport, and that is always a plus.
 
In summary
Food: Italy for the win! While ethnic selections are few, wine, coffee, quality, healthfulness, and price are all in the positive column for Italy. Paris gets points for baguette. The French pastries and chocolates are amazing, and I prefer pain au chocolat to an Italian cornetto. Much flakier and delicate. The Boeuf Bourguignon at one tiny little bistro we found would be reason enough to go back to Paris.
Wine: Scales tip to Roma again. Quality at every price point. In Paris we got very good wine only at a price we find unacceptable for daily consumption.
Great cappuccino at a neighborhood cafe, where locals go. This was not by a tourist attraction. We drank it at the bar and still it was €4.20 FOR ONE. I shudder to think of what they would have charged if we sat down.
Great cappuccino at a neighborhood cafe, where locals go. This was not by a tourist attraction. We drank it at the bar and still it was €4.20 FOR ONE. I shudder to think of what they would have charged if we sat down.
Coffee: Roma for price and availability; Parisian baristas pour a good shot, but the cost is at least double most bars in Roma.
Architecture: Tie. Paris for elegance, Roma for quaint, ancient, charm.
Parks: Tie. Each city has nice green spaces. Paris’ are more formal, Roma’s more casual, even a bit wild.
Cleanliness: Paris by far! The street cleaning system of Eugène Belgrand is pure genius. City workers are very prominent in tidying up as well.
Transportation/Getting Around: Paris by a mile. The Metro is omnipresent, the buses on time and predictable. In Roma even the bus app we have on our smartphones cannot always predict when the bus will come. People park where they should in Paris, you do not get run over by motorini, and the availability and use of bicycles is laudable. The narcissism of Roman drivers with cars blocking pedestrian crossings and double-parking makes it difficult for buses and walkers to maneuver. The narcissistic self-absorption of pedestrians in Roma makes it difficult to walk down the street without getting knocked into. In Roma, people will walk out of a shop door without looking right or left and run into you. They are quick to apologize, but the behavior never changes as far as I can tell. Rant over.
Park near our apartment in the 17th.

Park near our apartment in the 17th.

Paris v. Roma – Part I: Cuisine

15 Mar
If Paris is a Grande Dame, Roma is her rambunctious and unruly sister. After a week in Paris, we cannot help but compare and contrast gorgeous Paris to Bella Roma. Each city has much to love and other things that leave you shaking your head.
Great cappuccino at a neighborhood cafe, where locals go. This was not by a tourist attraction. We drank it at the bar and still it was €4.20 FOR ONE. I shudder to think of what they would have charged if we sat down.

Great cappuccino at a neighborhood cafe, where locals go. This was not by a tourist attraction. We drank it at the bar and still it was €4.20 FOR ONE. I shudder to think of what they would have charged if we sat down.

Starting with the obvious, food. On our first trip to Italy in 2010 Ric observed “There are no bad meals in Italy; some are just better than others.” While we can attest to having had one really terrible meal in Italy in the ensuing years, we had two crappy meals in Paris in our first three 3 days and during the week some that were just meh. There is bad food in Paris. Really bad. BUT THE BAGUETTES, oh-la-la! So good and so cheap! Both Roma and Paris have pastry shops and bakeries to be proud of. Baguette versus pizza bianca? Tough choice, but I’d have to go with baguette. French croissants and pain au chocolat beat Italian cornetti IMHO.
The espresso is good in Paris, but pricey by comparison to Roma where one has a God-given right to an inexpensive high-quality shot and a bar available every 300 meters where you can buy it.  They do have Starbucks in Paris but I am not sure that is a good thing; we did not bother to try one. We do like the Cafes Richard brand, of course.
There is ethnic diversity in the Parisian food scene. Walk down the street in Paris and you might see a pattern of restaurants like this
French  Vietnamese  French  Japanese  French  Kebab  Italian  French
In Rome it would look like this
Italian      Pizza     Bar      Kebab     Italian     Pizza      Bar     Italian
Wine is reasonably priced in Italy. We spend far less on wine in Roma than we ever did in the U.S. In fact our wine-and-coffee spending is a fraction of what it was in the U.S., and not because we have
Artful stacking at a cafe in Montmarte.

Artful stacking at a cafe in Montmarte.

cut back on either. In Paris, both wine and espresso are expensive by comparison.  Even house wine is quaffable in Italy, but some wine-by-the glass or carafe in Paris is, well, overpriced and barely drinkable. We have had some fantastic bottles, though one pays dearly at a restaurant.  We missed the Italian tradition of serving snacks with a glass of wine at aperitivo hour.
Water by the bottle, nice and sparkling if you like, is an expectation at every meal in Italy, and a litre will usually cost no more than €2.00 or 3.00.  When we ordered bottled water in Paris we were hit with a €6.00-7.00 price!  However tap water, ordered only by una brutta figura in Italy, is gladly handed out in a carafe in Paris. Free is a very good price.
It was quiet at Versailles the day we went. Only customers in garden cafe.

It was quiet at Versailles the day we went. Only customers in garden cafe.

We did have Boeuf Bourguignon that was practically life-changing. Served with a mountain of mashed potatoes, it was in a little oven-pot in a rich wine sauce heavily laced with bay leaves and bacon. We ate it with good French red wine and hunks of baguette. It was a good thing we had walked about 13 km that day! Quality vegetables beyond salads have been harder to find when dining out. In Italy there are fabulous contorni to be had that are not starchy and white. In fact I am craving a plate of cicoria ripassata now.
Watch for my next post Paris v. Roma – Part II: Street Scene and Getting Around

 

Guess where we are celebrating our 30th anniversary?

Guess where we are celebrating our 30th anniversary?

Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore

23 Jan
Iconic symbols of the city, dating back to the 12th or 13th century, there were once as many as 180 towers.

Iconic symbols of the city, dating back to the 12th or 13th century, there were once as many as 180 towers.

We’re not in Kansas Roma anymore. We stepped off the train in Bologna (pronounced “bow-LONE-ya”) and I thought perhaps we had left Italy entirely. In fact it looked like we had arrived in a newly constructed airport facility, but we were in the new “High Speed Bologna Centrale.”  There was a noticeable freshness to the facility, good signage, wide walkways, no cigarette butts, and plenty of escalators: until we reached the end of the new facility and had to lug our cases up a steep flight of depression-era station steps.
Bologna's high-speed train terminal. Clean, bright, chairs available! We're not in r\Roma any more.

Bologna’s high-speed train terminal. Clean, bright, chairs available! We’re not in Roma any more.

The differences between Bologna and Roma continued to astound us. Beautiful porticoes dating back centuries separate pedestrian traffic from automotive. Clean streets, no overflowing waste bins. People walk in more-or-less straight lines and keep to the right except to pass. Oncoming pedestrians do not block the sidewalks: they make way for you! This is truly not like Roma, where walking down the sidewalk is like a game of chicken and when you swerve to avoid an oncoming body, you may very well step in dog poop. 
Bologna is a lovely city if not one full of E-ticket sites. Sitting in the bread-basket of Italy, it is known for its cuisine and we worked hard at sampling as much of that as possible.
Another notable difference in Bologna: little or no double-parking and no one parks in the pedestrian crosswalks. In Roma there is hardly a pedestrian crosswalk that has not been turned into parking.
We had lovely weather, so rather than spend time indoors, we took a phenomenal urban trek, the Percorso della Madonna di San Luca. This is a walk of about 4 km (2.4 miles), 2.3 km of which is steadily uphill. The walk is entirely covered by the famous porticos of Bologna, and is the longest continuous section of portico-covered walkway in the world. There are 666 arches. In that final 2.3 km, the altitude gain is a respectable 722 feet (220m), a workout indeed! We were impressed by the number of people doing the percorso on a cold but sunny Sunday. Afterwards we of course rewarded ourselves with a fine tagliere and wine, accompanied by a salad for the health of it.
Many run up the 2 km. to the sanctuary. Show-offs.

Many run up the 2 km. to the sanctuary. Show-offs.

Interesting view showing inside and outside of the extraordinary covered walkway.

Interesting view showing inside and outside of the world’s longest covered walkway.

Not only does the path go up over 700 feet in altitude over 2.3 km, there are in excess of 300 stairs. Ugh!

Not only does the path go up over 700 feet in altitude over 2.3 km, there are in excess of 300 stairs. Ugh!

A view from the sanctuary looking toward the mountains of Emilia-Romagna.

A view from the sanctuary looking toward the mountains of Emilia-Romagna.

If I had seen this view before making the trek, I might not have done it. :-)

If I had seen this view before making the trek, I might not have done it. 🙂

The food was great, although we like Ligurian and Sicilian food better overall. But the Bolognese are justifiably proud of the quality of food. We had four meals there and each was a winner. We did not research restaurants ahead of time, but merely wandered into what looked good. One cannot do that everywhere. Of course we – actually Ric – ate mortadella, which is the Bologna delicacy that has been transformed into the unfortunate American “bologna.” And so the Oscar Meyer song is now stuck in my head. (Personally I am not a fan of either the Bolognese delicacy nor the American lunch meat.)
A typical Bolognese "tagliere" or cutting board of assorted salumi.  Mortadella on the left.

A typical Bolognese “tagliere” or cutting board of assorted salumi. Mortadella on the left.

Street performers are everywhere in Italy. Bologna is the first place we have seen bubble blowers. Kids had a great time running after them.

Street performers are everywhere in Italy. Bologna is the first place we have seen bubble blowers. Kids had a great time running after them.

Aperitivi are a huge thing in Bologna, like in Milano. The cafes are crowded even in winter.

Aperitivi are a huge thing in Bologna, like in Milano. The cafes are crowded even in winter.

The only fault we found with Bologna is that it’s a little lacking in charm. The porticoes that are elegant also make for a sameness. (Actually there was a second flaw: people still do not scoop the poop.) We will be back in June on a trek through the area, heading to the hills outside of Bologna for some hiking. We’ll see what she’s like in summer when the trees and flowers are blooming!
N.B. – I have decided to use Italian city names from now on, therefore Roma and Firenze not Rome and Florence. I think it is rather bizarre of any language to change a perfectly pronounceable city name from the original language, an idiosyncrasy driven home to me when my hometown of St. Paul Minnesota was referred to as “Sao Paolo” by an Italian bureaucrat.