When Martin asked months ago what I was doing on May 27, I had no idea. Come to find out we were going to the opera. To digress for a moment, my mom and I normally try to see at least one show a year, but with me being in Europe, we haven’t had much luck in the past two years. So whether I had made some one-off remark to Martin, or just because he knows me so well, Martin had bought tickets to see Turandot at the Zurich Opera house and I was more than excited to go. We later found out that May 27 was also the night of the Finals for Champions League Soccer (Manchester United vs. Barcelona for those who are interested). With Martin being such a great guy, there wasn’t even a thought of altering our plans - we were going to the opera…although several jokes were made of Martin needing to step out during intermission for a moment. In the end though, we were able to enjoy both.
With May 27th finally upon us, Martin and I left work early (or shall I just say “earlier than normal”) to get dressed in our finest outfits and make our way over to the opera house. We were both excited about the opera, our date night and the cultural experience of it all…so excited, we even took photos outside the opera house before going in. The experience got even better when we were led up to our balcony seats, similar to those in Pretty Woman. Unfortunately, about half way through the first act, I quickly realized that the production of the opera did not match the classiness of the affair (or my cute new dress)…while musically the opera was absolutely beautiful, the production and interpretation was horribly wrong. I have never seen, nor known an opera to work a “little person” or laptop computer into the plot or simulate a rape scene on stage (in the original version the hero forces a kiss from the main lady - this version took that kiss down to the stage floor with skirt pulled up to inappropriate levels). Every time I was close to tears due to the music, I was able to only look on stage to bring me back to reality.
Surprised by the performance, Martin and I left the opera feeling slightly confused and a little uncomfortable. But the disturbing thoughts were quickly put behind us as we headed over to Sternen Grill for sausages, beer, French fries and of course football....surprisingly we were the only ones in formal attire. While eating our sausages we watched Barcelona score their second, and final goal of the game to clinch the title and Martin and I headed home completely satisfied. Apparently one date can have it all…
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Bellagio, bellissimo
As I have said before, I love Italy, so it should be no surprise that Martin and I headed down to Lake Como (Bellagio to be exact) this past weekend for a relaxing weekend away. Unfortunately, I am beginning to realize that, while I love Italy, Italy might not actually feel the same way towards me.
We arrived in the town of Como excited and ready to make our way to Bellagio via the scenic bus ride around the lake. Thinking the buses ran frequently enough (we were heading to a touristy location), we weren’t too worried when we saw a bus arrive and leave while we were buying our tickets. Apparently we should have been more aggressive in flagging down the driver; the next bus was over an hour and a half wait…Strike One… but no big deal, there was a bar just in side the train station and, being flexible, Martin and I took a seat inside for a beer while we waited…Strike Two… the bartender was a complete jerk – not only did he refuse to help on the bus schedule, he was less than helpful in pointing out the nearest bathroom (we were pointed outside and downstairs to the train station WC, which happened to be locked, rather than the one just next to the bar inside). Having enough of his friendly demeanor, we grabbed two canned beers and sat outside on the curb, enjoying the train station/bus stop and each others company while waiting for the bus…the romance of the moment was only made more magical by the construction site next door. I am beginning to sense a trend in my Italian experiences and spending most of the time waiting for buses and drinking on the curb…first Naples, then Siena/Montalcino, and now Como.
But like those trips in the past, this one proved to only get better and exceed my expectations. We had set out looking for a relaxing weekend with no sights to see and our only concern was where to eat…and we managed to find exactly that. The bed and breakfast we had booked on the recommendation of a few friends was absolutely perfect, located above the town with great views of the lake and a stream running next to the property. The evenings were spent on our balcony overlooking the lake, drinking the local wine and eating the local cheese, followed by four course dinners with stunning views, and warm days full of gelato and sun.
When it came time to leave on Sunday, we were completely relaxed and rested…and to keep it that way we took the boat back to Como rather than the bus.
We arrived in the town of Como excited and ready to make our way to Bellagio via the scenic bus ride around the lake. Thinking the buses ran frequently enough (we were heading to a touristy location), we weren’t too worried when we saw a bus arrive and leave while we were buying our tickets. Apparently we should have been more aggressive in flagging down the driver; the next bus was over an hour and a half wait…Strike One… but no big deal, there was a bar just in side the train station and, being flexible, Martin and I took a seat inside for a beer while we waited…Strike Two… the bartender was a complete jerk – not only did he refuse to help on the bus schedule, he was less than helpful in pointing out the nearest bathroom (we were pointed outside and downstairs to the train station WC, which happened to be locked, rather than the one just next to the bar inside). Having enough of his friendly demeanor, we grabbed two canned beers and sat outside on the curb, enjoying the train station/bus stop and each others company while waiting for the bus…the romance of the moment was only made more magical by the construction site next door. I am beginning to sense a trend in my Italian experiences and spending most of the time waiting for buses and drinking on the curb…first Naples, then Siena/Montalcino, and now Como.
But like those trips in the past, this one proved to only get better and exceed my expectations. We had set out looking for a relaxing weekend with no sights to see and our only concern was where to eat…and we managed to find exactly that. The bed and breakfast we had booked on the recommendation of a few friends was absolutely perfect, located above the town with great views of the lake and a stream running next to the property. The evenings were spent on our balcony overlooking the lake, drinking the local wine and eating the local cheese, followed by four course dinners with stunning views, and warm days full of gelato and sun.
When it came time to leave on Sunday, we were completely relaxed and rested…and to keep it that way we took the boat back to Como rather than the bus.
Friday, May 15, 2009
Lauterbrunnen…the Swiss Yosemite
Leaving Stresa, the parents and I said goodbye to Martin and headed to the Lauterbrunnen Valley in the middle of Switzerland. I had been to the valley the previous summer and could easily compare it to Yosemite National Park in California…better yet, Yosemite on crack. Approximately 70 waterfalls decorate the sheer granite cliffs of the valley and the lush green valley floor is perfectly divided by the stream that collects the waterfalls water.
We arrived Monday afternoon, having left sunny Italy to find ourselves in a valley of rain. And to make things worse I was suffering from a slight head cold that was bordering swine flu territory. Needless to say, the three nights in town were mellow in comparison, although we did still manage to make friends with the local bartender…go figure.
The rain ceased the following day, but the clouds remained, making it a perfect day for a walk through the valley and up to Trummelbach falls, a set of 10 waterfalls, with snow melt from the mountains of the Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau, cut through the granite mountain. It sounded impressive and worth showing the parents, and no surprise, it was.
The following day the clouds parted leaving us with a perfect day to take the tram up the mountain to the little Swiss village of Murren. With a quick tram ride and 10 minute train ride along the ridge, we found ourselves in the sleepy village for a sunny afternoon stroll and even more amazing views of the Alps. I had been to the town the previous August, but unfortunately the day was completely foggy and all views were eliminated into the white mist… without the clouds, there was plenty to admire. And with such a nice day, we took the hour long walk back along the ridge to the tram rather than the train. It wasn’t until we were about to board the tram to begin our decent back down to the valley, losing all views of the mountains, that I finally realized that the stunning mountains we had been admiring all afternoon were in fact the Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau…I never said I was a good tour guide, but thankfully my mom had already taken plenty of photos without realizing the significance of the subject.
We the left the valley the following day and made our way back to Zurich for one final weekend before the parents left. The two weeks went surprisingly fast and by the time we enjoyed our final dinner together in Zurich, it seemed so natural to have them here, sitting at the table with Martin and myself eating BBQ chicken and drinking grappa.
We arrived Monday afternoon, having left sunny Italy to find ourselves in a valley of rain. And to make things worse I was suffering from a slight head cold that was bordering swine flu territory. Needless to say, the three nights in town were mellow in comparison, although we did still manage to make friends with the local bartender…go figure.
The rain ceased the following day, but the clouds remained, making it a perfect day for a walk through the valley and up to Trummelbach falls, a set of 10 waterfalls, with snow melt from the mountains of the Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau, cut through the granite mountain. It sounded impressive and worth showing the parents, and no surprise, it was.
The following day the clouds parted leaving us with a perfect day to take the tram up the mountain to the little Swiss village of Murren. With a quick tram ride and 10 minute train ride along the ridge, we found ourselves in the sleepy village for a sunny afternoon stroll and even more amazing views of the Alps. I had been to the town the previous August, but unfortunately the day was completely foggy and all views were eliminated into the white mist… without the clouds, there was plenty to admire. And with such a nice day, we took the hour long walk back along the ridge to the tram rather than the train. It wasn’t until we were about to board the tram to begin our decent back down to the valley, losing all views of the mountains, that I finally realized that the stunning mountains we had been admiring all afternoon were in fact the Eiger, Monch and Jungfrau…I never said I was a good tour guide, but thankfully my mom had already taken plenty of photos without realizing the significance of the subject.
We the left the valley the following day and made our way back to Zurich for one final weekend before the parents left. The two weeks went surprisingly fast and by the time we enjoyed our final dinner together in Zurich, it seemed so natural to have them here, sitting at the table with Martin and myself eating BBQ chicken and drinking grappa.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Stay Right in Stresa
I LOVE Italy and knowing my parents’ love for Italian food, I spent countless hours, if not days, researching where to take them in Italy that had small world charm, good food, was reasonably close to Zurich and accessible by train. Oh, and it had to have availability for 4 people over a 3 day holiday weekend. I ended up choosing Stresa Italy, a lake front town on the south end of Lake Maggiore.
After the breathtaking trip through the Alps and along the lake, we arrived at Stresa and eagerly made our way to the Hotel La Palma, the hotel I booked online earlier that week. The hotel was a huge success, with great views and a full bar downstairs (where we subsequently ended every evening with grappa and Ramazzotti).
Feeling like it was a small enough town and therefore hard to get lost in, we forewent obtaining a map or guidance from the concierge and instead stepped out onto the lake front promenade and turned left in search of coffee and ice cream. While the walk was beautiful, I started to get a little worried about my choice of Italian towns… we hadn’t passed a single café or gelato stand since we left the hotel…so NOT the Italy I know and love. My worries were confirmed when we reached the end of the promenade and found ourselves in a working dock, with tour buses and one restaurant on the water which looked like it hadn’t been renovated since it was built in 1962. Trying to embrace the town (we were staying 3 nights), we stopped for a beer and coffee before walking back to the hotel.
It took us until dinner, when we asked the concierge for a restaurant recommendation and were pointed in the direction of “right”, towards the old town, to actually see the city. Finding the true “down town” area, I immediately feel in love… while I was trying really hard to like the dock and restaurant to the left of the hotel, it took no effort or energy to enjoy the outdoor cafes and countless restaurants along the narrow, cobblestone streets and piazzas and the five gelato stands we passed on our way to dinner. As a side note, from then on I was no longer in charge of directions and when in doubt, we went right.
Beginning with dinner, the eating and drinking binge of Italy lasted 3 solid days, stopping only for naps, a quick trips out to the islands, both Isola Pescatori, the fisherman’s island that I found claustrophobicly crowded with tourists and Isola Bella, which is home to Palazzo Borromeo, the tram ride up to the Alpina Gardens (a true test of Martin and my relationship, when we decided to hike back down the mountain and I allowed him to lead) and a quick “karaoke session to Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares” (it wasn’t technically karaoke, just a bad lounge act that both my Dad and Martin decided to sing along with…did I mention this was after numerous beers, carafes of wine and grappa?).
So while the town was perfect, with plenty to do and see in three days, the food and meals were what captured out hearts….ordering two plates of risotto after finishing our dinner the first night at Ostero di Ameci, trying to eat light the following night at Pappagallos while finishing both the appetizers and all of the pizzas, and the unforgettable last supper at Il Vennecito of baccala, veal cheeks, seafood pasta and rack of lamb…don’t worry, I didn’t order it all myself, but in my family, everything is up for at least one taste.
Knowing our return to Switzerland was inevitable, the binge eating didn’t stop until we boarded the train to Lauterbrunnen that following Monday.
After the breathtaking trip through the Alps and along the lake, we arrived at Stresa and eagerly made our way to the Hotel La Palma, the hotel I booked online earlier that week. The hotel was a huge success, with great views and a full bar downstairs (where we subsequently ended every evening with grappa and Ramazzotti).
Feeling like it was a small enough town and therefore hard to get lost in, we forewent obtaining a map or guidance from the concierge and instead stepped out onto the lake front promenade and turned left in search of coffee and ice cream. While the walk was beautiful, I started to get a little worried about my choice of Italian towns… we hadn’t passed a single café or gelato stand since we left the hotel…so NOT the Italy I know and love. My worries were confirmed when we reached the end of the promenade and found ourselves in a working dock, with tour buses and one restaurant on the water which looked like it hadn’t been renovated since it was built in 1962. Trying to embrace the town (we were staying 3 nights), we stopped for a beer and coffee before walking back to the hotel.
It took us until dinner, when we asked the concierge for a restaurant recommendation and were pointed in the direction of “right”, towards the old town, to actually see the city. Finding the true “down town” area, I immediately feel in love… while I was trying really hard to like the dock and restaurant to the left of the hotel, it took no effort or energy to enjoy the outdoor cafes and countless restaurants along the narrow, cobblestone streets and piazzas and the five gelato stands we passed on our way to dinner. As a side note, from then on I was no longer in charge of directions and when in doubt, we went right.
Beginning with dinner, the eating and drinking binge of Italy lasted 3 solid days, stopping only for naps, a quick trips out to the islands, both Isola Pescatori, the fisherman’s island that I found claustrophobicly crowded with tourists and Isola Bella, which is home to Palazzo Borromeo, the tram ride up to the Alpina Gardens (a true test of Martin and my relationship, when we decided to hike back down the mountain and I allowed him to lead) and a quick “karaoke session to Sinead O’Connor’s “Nothing Compares” (it wasn’t technically karaoke, just a bad lounge act that both my Dad and Martin decided to sing along with…did I mention this was after numerous beers, carafes of wine and grappa?).
So while the town was perfect, with plenty to do and see in three days, the food and meals were what captured out hearts….ordering two plates of risotto after finishing our dinner the first night at Ostero di Ameci, trying to eat light the following night at Pappagallos while finishing both the appetizers and all of the pizzas, and the unforgettable last supper at Il Vennecito of baccala, veal cheeks, seafood pasta and rack of lamb…don’t worry, I didn’t order it all myself, but in my family, everything is up for at least one taste.
Knowing our return to Switzerland was inevitable, the binge eating didn’t stop until we boarded the train to Lauterbrunnen that following Monday.
The Griswalds Return
My parents arrived last Friday for a final two-week European Vacation before I move home. With just the two of them this trip, compared to the 10+ last February, I was excited to see them and take them around both Switzerland and Italy, with them visiting France and Germany during the first week while I worked. With their flight arriving at the ungodly hour of 8 am, I managed to get myself out of bed earlier than I would on a normal weekday, make it to the airport to pick them up, drop them off at my house and still make it into work only 30 minutes later than normal.
I left work early that day, picked up my parents at my place and, being Friday, took them directly to the beer garden for drinks and dinner…I figured it would be the best way to overcome the jetlag… There, the rents met Martin, along with the rest of the Zurich crew and enjoyed some beers, but unfortunately dinner was not a high priority. After shutting down the beer garden (it for some reason closed at 8pm) and saying goodbye to everyone, I attempted to herd my parents in the direction of the sausage stand for food and then home. However, tempted by the offer of another bar (all of my friends were heading to the Old Fashion and made the mistake of asking my parents to join) my dad made the executive decision for one more drink before dinner and home. Thankfully, we kept managed to keep it to one drink, and whether it was the beer or full day of activities, my parents slept through the night…well at least I think they did…I did.
The next morning, Martin and I cooked breakfast for everyone (the parents and Erin, who came down from Frankfurt for the weekend) and enjoyed the meal and sunshine in my garden. Full from breakfast, we headed down to Burkliplarz to hop on the ferry for lunch in Rapperswil. What started out as a mellow boat ride and day, quickly livened up with my dad ordering beers for everyone and the fun continued through the afternoon with more beers and a quick nap before dinner (that is the three young people who were acclimated to the time change passed out on the train ride home, while my parents, who were jet lagged enjoyed the scenery). True to Gimbel vacation form, we wrapped up the evening with more food at the Eisonhof (“meat on a stone”) restaurant and of course, more beers.
On Sunday, my parents set off for Colmar and Munich and Martin, Erin and I spent the rest of the weekend enjoying the sun at the lake…I had officially four days of rest before the rents returned and we headed off to Italy.
I left work early that day, picked up my parents at my place and, being Friday, took them directly to the beer garden for drinks and dinner…I figured it would be the best way to overcome the jetlag… There, the rents met Martin, along with the rest of the Zurich crew and enjoyed some beers, but unfortunately dinner was not a high priority. After shutting down the beer garden (it for some reason closed at 8pm) and saying goodbye to everyone, I attempted to herd my parents in the direction of the sausage stand for food and then home. However, tempted by the offer of another bar (all of my friends were heading to the Old Fashion and made the mistake of asking my parents to join) my dad made the executive decision for one more drink before dinner and home. Thankfully, we kept managed to keep it to one drink, and whether it was the beer or full day of activities, my parents slept through the night…well at least I think they did…I did.
The next morning, Martin and I cooked breakfast for everyone (the parents and Erin, who came down from Frankfurt for the weekend) and enjoyed the meal and sunshine in my garden. Full from breakfast, we headed down to Burkliplarz to hop on the ferry for lunch in Rapperswil. What started out as a mellow boat ride and day, quickly livened up with my dad ordering beers for everyone and the fun continued through the afternoon with more beers and a quick nap before dinner (that is the three young people who were acclimated to the time change passed out on the train ride home, while my parents, who were jet lagged enjoyed the scenery). True to Gimbel vacation form, we wrapped up the evening with more food at the Eisonhof (“meat on a stone”) restaurant and of course, more beers.
On Sunday, my parents set off for Colmar and Munich and Martin, Erin and I spent the rest of the weekend enjoying the sun at the lake…I had officially four days of rest before the rents returned and we headed off to Italy.
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