Climbing Duomos with my Dad.

First in Florence.

















Then in Siena.















Thanks, Dad, for always encouraging me to try new things and push myself to the limit.

And to never pass up an opportunity to see something outrageously beautiful.

I couldn't ask for a better climbing partner.

Meeting Ötzi.

Stepping into the South Tyrol Museum of Archeology was a bit like stepping through time — first, the year 1991.  Live news stories pour down the the walls on TVs and on oversize headline reproductions, trumpeting the discovery of  Ötzi, the 5,000-plus-year-old man who was killed and then accidentally preserved in ice until a couple on a hike discovered him 22 years ago. 

On the second floor, you step farther back in time to become a "crime scene investigator" of the third millennium B.C. Your task: to discover why and how Ötzi died. Though 500 investigations have been completed, evidence is limited to a crack in his skull (thought to be from blunt force trauma) an unhealed wound on his hand, an arrowhead lodged in his left shoulder, and the few items the "iceman" was carrying — including an axe, a dagger, a bow, a quiver, arrows, a backpack, and a net.  Recently, investigators have drawn the startling conclusion that Ötzi was in fact murdered.  However, the motive will forever remain a mystery.

Looking through a tiny window into a refrigerated casket, visitors can see the mummified ambassador of Europe's Copper Age. Thanks to drying and later freezing — conditions replicated in his special tomb — Ötzi's skin resembles shiny leather with the thin layer of ice that must be maintained to preserve him. His clothing and the possessions he was found with are also on display, providing us clues to the daily life and skills of people 5,000 year ago.

Feeling Thankful.

This weekend, I'm thankful for a hand to hold while strolling through a Christmas market.



For homemade pumpkin pie made from fresh pumpkin.



For views of mountains and fresh air.



For Neptune's flair.



For afternoon dates that include spritzes.

For seeing a new city, Padova. 

For strangolapreti soaked in a savory butter sauce.



For trains with outlets and wine.

For cannoli that melt in my mouth and make my heart sing.

For Bambino and Italian sweets.



For Christmas cheer already in the air.

Happy Thanksgiving from Italy!

Besenello Wine Festival.

While visiting Ben in his new location, Rovereto, Italy, we took a lovely side trip to Besenello.

The 10.2 km bike ride took us through vineyards, over bridges, and alongside a river.

And, then, after all that beauty, there was wine.

Love.

Family Dinner.

Two words that make parents' trip to Europe absolutely worth the wait.



*Unfortunately, my dad was taking the picture, so you'll just have to imagine him sitting with us.

Piazza San Marco. Night Time.

Venice When Broke.

Experts say that Venice is sinking; however, this fall, it was not due to the weight of my wallet.  In fact, my pocketbook remains so full of air, it is better suited to be a flotation device than a money holder.  

This load was lightened even further when a 10-euro bill went missing from my wallet at the Pristina bus station.

{I know, I know; it's time for me to stop taking the bus in Kosovo.}

So as I waited for my parents to arrive in Venice, I spent a day and a half adhering to my 36-euro budget. Pretty freakin' hard to do in Venice — especially when my ideal vacation is to spend piles of euros on things like vintage wine, jewelry, and rich, authentic cuisine.

Basically, I had no choice but to make like a poor college boy on a first date and buy my parents some gourmet-looking pasta, sauce and cheese from a grocery store — along with some Italian wine with a pretty label.

{For the record, they were pretty impressed with the resulting meal, and my gesture made them feel right at home in Europe. If I were that poor college boy, I totally would have gotten to first base.}

But before my folks arrived, I still had time to kill, so I headed around town to explore a city darkened by clouds. But this overcast sky offered me a new perspective, and a sharp contrast from the last time I visited, when it was sunny and hot and sticky.

After falling in love {again} with Venice's decrepit beauty, I happened upon a free museum showcasing the works of Venetian composer Antonio Vivaldi. I have always loved the Four Seasons composer, mostly because he was a fellow red head.

Then, I took the obligatory transit over the Bridge of Sighs. The sight was so much clearer on this occasion. Though condemned Venetians may have wiped away tears as they glimpsed their bella citta one last time, I was used to mopping away sweat. 

 I had no time for sighs. At this point in my story, I had to Amazing-Race myself to the Piazzale Roma to meet my parents!

{Let's just say I wish I could have traveled by map, because the twists and wrong turns it took to get me to P. Roma left me dizzy and stumbling.}

An Oddly Clean Bathroom for Europe.

On the way to meet my parents in Italy, I had a 3 hour train layover in Trevigl, Italy.  

And let me tell you, this train station has the best bathroom in all of Europe. 

So good, I couldn't resist taking some footage.

{FYI:  A good bathroom is pretty hard to come by in the parts of Europe I've been traveling.}

Pizzeria Da Michele: Best Pizza Ever.

Like most famous things, Pizzeria Da Michele, in Naples, Italy is known for a reason.

And I suggest that you start your experience at this no-frills restaurant by taking a quick glance at the menu posted on the wall and immediately choosing between the only two options Pizzeria Da Michele offers:  pizza margherita and pizza marinara.   Order a Peroni to chase down the grease.

Being a fan of melted cheese, I ordered a pizza margherita and sat back in my unbalanced plastic folding chair to enjoy the crowded, checkered cloth-covered tables and my cold Peroni, which our waiter plunked down within seconds of our order.

My Peroni was quickly followed by a pizza -- simple but giant, swimming in sauce, and dripping with fresh olive oil.  Just looking at the Neapolitan pizza was enough to waken my palate, but when the scent permeated my nose with a distinct, rich smell of basil laced with traces of toasted tomato, melted mozzarella, and greasy goodness, my taste buds hopped up and stood at attention. 

Midway through my pizza, the waiter returned with our check, a signal to hurry up with our pies and clear a table for the crowd of future customers lined up against the brick walls of the tight alley outside the door.

And although I was stuffed, I could not will myself to stop cramming the doughy delight into my mouth until every last crumb was gone.  

To Naples.

Hey Home Skillets!

Wanna go to Naples with me?

Last one to warmer weather and some sunshine is a rotten egg!

When Romeo Met Juliet.

In fair Verona where we lay our scene...

I have to be totally honest: I loved every second of the cheesy, total tourist entrapment that is

Juliet Capulet's house.

I can't even tell you which element of the Romeo and Juliet exhibits I liked the best.

I mean, maybe it was the walls blanketed with graffiti love notes as you enter the supposed Capuletti house.

Or the engraved locks decorating the city and reminding us that love is real {or maybe just reminding us that it's become quite commercialized.}

Or the idea that some lovers like to inscribe their names into chewing gum and then stick it, like a sticker, to the walls. {Because AP + BT does seem way more romantic when engraved in gum!}

Or that so many people believe the story claiming that rubbing the right breast of Juliet's statue, will ensure the rubber a new lover. So many people have hoped and polished that her right breast is buffed to a shine.

Or that women come from around the world to bring love letters to Juliet to be left in her courtyard. And the romantic hopefuls' letters are answered by Juliet's secretaries in The Juliet Club. Casa di Giuletta has even set up an email system in one of its rooms, so if you happen to go to Verona without a love note, no need to fret.

Or maybe, it was Juliet's nurse who stood in ALL of the pictures I attempted to take with my own Romeo on the famous balcony.

{I mean what is she doing there?}

Getting swept away by love stories and tearing up over tales of long-lost lovers isn't really my thing. But, here, in the setting of the greatest love story of all time, even I couldn't help but become lost in the romance.

{I think it was the gum.}

For the ultimate Capulet and Montague follower, I recommend checking out Romeo and Juliet tours and museums and graves for a guided tour.