Month: April 2017

Ali – We arrived in Rome Monday evening and bumbled our way to our AirBnB located close to the Pyramid of Cestius, which legend had it was the tomb of Remus but was actually built in 30 BC during a Roman ‘All things Egypt’ fad. Think of it like the Luxor Las Vegas. 

The big thing we had planned in Rome was a private tour that we booked on the recommendation of sister-in-law Beth through Italy Rome Tour. Beth said the very steep price of admission was worth it and I planned to send her the bill if the tour sucked. However, that wasn’t until Wednesday so Tuesday we were on our own.

The thing about Rome is it is absolutely overwhelming if you have a need to see all the sites. Every 50 feet there is a priceless artifact, famous building, historical figure tomb or ancient Roman Taco stand. For Tuesday, we set our sights on the Pantheon because a) it wasn’t included on our tour on Wednesday and b) refer back to a. Not 10 minutes into the walk we came across a pastry shop and were sucked in past the pastry shop event horizon. Joe and I ordered coffee and discovered ‘coffee’ was Italian for ‘raw coffee grinds in a hint of liquid’. 
Overcaffinated and over sugared we resumed course, and started to encounter random ruins. The Italians have a very practical approach to their historic treasures. Given that Rome was a rather large city, they have recognized that they have neither the time nor the money to turn every ancient urinal into a pristine tourist trap. Instead they practice a sort of benevolent neglect, putting a fence around the site and letting it continue to be…well… a ruin. 

So random temple, ancient theater and former gate to something were all sitting in their delapidated glory, surrounded by overgrown weeds, like grandpa in his underwear out on the porch. Now for the do-it-yourself tourist, this is great. You can wander around the city with your google map and click on each icon, which will give you a link to a Wikipedia page or some other reference. Maya tolerated me narrating our walk for about 30 minutes before she put her earphones in and turned on an audio book. Joe seemed to tolerate me slightly longer, but I suspect was actually counting Italian sports cars while nodding politely. 

Now there are other very cool sites in Rome besides the historic buildings. There are walls of chocolate, nuns getting ice cream, funny Tourist crap and hunky priests. Clearly a city with something for everyone. 

Eventually we made it to the Pantheon, which turns out is a Roman temple turned church that was built and then rebuilt over a 150 year period and currently sports the world’s largest un-reinforced concrete dome. Pantheon Check. Next?

Next we decided to go to the Villa Borghese, which is a big park. We rented a power-assisted peddle cart thingy and took turns taking corners at high speed.

Those were probably the highlights of Tuesday. We covered a whopping 10 miles and we’re feeling a bit pooped when we got back to the apartment. 

Wednesday we were picked up at our AirBnB by Daniele and ushered into a plush black minivan with waters and candy. He took us first up one of the seven hills of Rome, Aventine hill, to see the Garden of Oranges, a fantastic lookout spot, the Basilica of Saint Sabina, which is the oldest preserved Roman Basilica (fun fact: Basilicas are churches where dead people are buried), and the home of the Knights of Malta, which are an order of knights hanging on to relevance since the Crusades. The thing about residence of the Knights of Malta is their keyhole, which you can peep through to see a cool sight. My picture through the keyhole was pretty lame but you can click on the link above to see a better one.

Next we were dropped off at the catacombs. This was honestly nothing special. We were joined by an entire bus load of English speakers and trailing after 40 mostly elderly Americans did not make for an excellent touring experience, although it did provide for one of the best quotes of the day. 

Tour guide: Though most famous for Christian burials, people of all the Roman religions are buried in here in the catacombs.

Tourist: So did they have the church services down here?

Tour guide: They would mostly perform rites above ground before the burial.

Tourist: You mean they buried savages down here??!?

Tour guide: [pause] Maybe we should continue.

After the catacombs we met up with our main tour guide, whose name I have shamefully forgotten. We’ll call her Maria because that sounds Italian. So Maria is an art history major who has a bubbly personality and an impressive ability to talk for hours about Roman history. She is also the Italian separated -at-birth twin of Jeanie Murphy from the Spain blog, I’m pretty sure. She completely endeared herself to me because she started the answer to every question with, “Well yes and no…”, which is akin to the Epidemiologist’s pat answer, “it depends.” First Maria took us to the Colloseum.  

“Did lions really eat the gladiators?” “Well yes and no…” “Were there really no toilets in the whole Colloseum?” “Well yes and no…”. I won’t tell you all the amazing information that came after the consistent preface but I can say I learned a lot.

After the Colloseum we toured around a bit in the area, delving into some interesting parallels between Roman mythology and Christianity (check out the original Easter Egg) . It was really a brilliant strategy on the part of the early Christians to convert pagans by making for a smooth and seamless transition between religions. Emperor Constantine chose the 25th of December for Christmas because it was winter solstice in the Julian Calendar, the birthday of dying and rising gods like Mithra from Persian tradition. Check out the Remus and Romulus story for more fun biblical parallels. 

Finally we hopped back in the minivan to head to Vatican City, the world’s smallest country (fun fact: the 200 some citizens of Vatican City pay no taxes). 

So there’s a lot to see at the Vatican but the big ones are the Sistine Chapel and St Peter’s Basilica. But aside from that there’s a ton of art and antiquities that the Catholic Church has managed to squirrel away. The mandatory flow of tourists takes you through a beautifully decorated hall towards the Sistine Chapel.What’s remarkable about it is it looks like there are decorations and reliefs across the surfaces. But No! It’s all painted and made to look three dimensional! Check this out and see if you can tell:

Before we went into the Chapel we got a full art lesson on Michelangelo’s frescos. He was apparently a cantankerous dude probably because he kept getting forced by various popes (I think Maria said he outlasted 7 of them) to work on church stuff. Anyway no pictures in the Sistine Chapel!

Next Saint Peter’s Basilica. Couple fun facts. Jesus named Peter Petrus because Pietra means stone in Greek and he was the rock of the church. Saint Peters Basilica was the last thing Michelangelo was forced to work on by a pope as he died in his 70s while working as the general contractor.  Finally in the whole bloody place there is only one symbolic reference to God.  

Well we were totally pooped (again!) after 7 hours of touring and called it a day. Buuuuut no trip to Vatican City is complete without checking out the Swiss Guard on the way out, who are the dedicated Vatican soldiers. They are apparently allowed to show up to work in their silk pajamas, which shows that the Catholic Church has a soft side. 

Ali– On Monday we said goodbye to Sorento, hopping back on the Circumvesuviana towards Pompeii. Disembarking, we followed the tourists into the station. We had all our luggage with us and were expressing a desire to ditch the bags somewhere when a naked guy with winged shoes, a winged hat and a caduceus appeared and escorted us to a luggage check counter. It was, of course, Mercury, the god of travellers who had heard our prayers. Incidentally Mercury is also the god of liars. 

Having ditched our luggage we stumbled around trying to get our bearings and noted a sign for Pompeii tours. Given that we had about 3 hours to see Pompeii before we were due on a train to Rome, we sprang for the full, skip-the-line guided tour. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. The skip-the- line deals are money well spent for a tourist with limited time or patience. Following our guide, we marched past what the tour sales lady had called ‘quite a long line today’, which looked like a line at the only open gelato vendor in August. 

Once inside, we were treated to an excellent walk back in time. Pompeii was buried under so much ash and dirt that all inorganic matter was well preserved from ancient marauding bands of looters. Only the modern maurading bands of looters have done damage, and that was mostly in the form of hauling off all the marble for repurposing. 

We learned some fascinating things, like the fact that the Pompeiians created little raised stepping stone street crossing areas to both keep feet above the rivers of poo (Roman sewers never made it to Pompeii) and force travelers to hire local hackneys whose custom width could drive between stones. Also the things that looked like a bunch of toilets in a very friendly bathroom are in fact places for heated clay jars to keep food warm for customers coming for an afternoon snack. Lastly a Lupanare is not a place where they store the wolves. It’s errrr…. a place where ….. well so …. I’ll just post the pictures and you can figure it out. There was a convenient “menu” of sorts, as customers often spoke a variety of  languages. There were also distinctive signs that helped point interested folk in the right direction.It’s odd but the Lupanare had the biggest line of tourists waiting to check out the artifacts. 

The last thing you see on the tour are the famous casts of those that died. They were killed quickly by the gases coming off of the hot ash and then buried under more ash. All the organic matter decomposed but the cavity where the body had lain remained. A very morbidly ingenious archeologist decided to inject plastic into the ash during excavation and uncovered the worst selling  Barbie dolls ever. 

With that, we decided to hightail it back to the train.  Vesuvius is still active and our guide said the last eruption was way back in 1941. So she’s due to blow and I really didn’t want to be a gruesome Barbie in 2000 years.

 

Ali- As Maya’s spring break was approaching, I applied my usual method to travel planning: I waited for the travel gods to send me signs. First there was the New York Times article on a place called Cinque Terre! and then Joe’s sister told us they had loved Pompeii!! and then my sister in law said they had an amazing time in Rome on a private tour!!! and then Rick Steves (that travel blog dude) said the hill towns of Italy were awesome!!!! Done. Trip planned. Thank you travel gods. 

So we started out Saturday at 5:30 am heading to a 7:20 am flight (curse you travel gods!) that I booked in Business class because it was the same price as economy (bless you travel gods, you rock!). Our first stop was the Swiss Air Business Class Lounge at Zurich Flughafen. We found out that in a 45 minute stay in said lounge given Zurich food prices, it is almost possible to eat an amount of free food equivalent to the ticket price of a flight to Rome. If you include the free booze available at 6:30 am in the lounge, the game is almost too easy. 

After the lounge we waddled to our flight, arrogantly cut in front of the economy plebes and sat down to another full breakfast during the flight. It was good to see we were getting into the swing of Roman gluttony. The flight attendant looked at me funny when I asked where the  vomitorium was. 

From Rome we took a TrenItalia train to Naples and then hopped on the Circumvesuviana train – a train system that Google navigation can’t even find – to Sorento. This train, which looks about as local as you can get, was full to the brim with tourists in their pastel loafered best. 

We arrive in Sorento and wade through the miasma of lemon tree scent to our swanky overpriced hotel The Grand Hotel De La Ville. For the one person out there who reads this blog, you (yea you) know I’m an AirBnB fan. However, Maya and I both have a soft spot for swanky hotels so I sprang for one when the AirBnB options seemed slim and pricey. It was a good call as we had a balcony that looked right onto Mount Vesuvius… yea that Vesuvius. The somma-stratovolcano that blew its top (literally! It used to be bigger!) in AD 79 burying the Roman cities of Pompeii and Herculaneum.  

Besides stare at Vesuvius, the other thing to do in Sorento is consume products made with lemons and seafood, which we did while fighting through the crowds of tourists. The secret is definitely out on this place

My vague plan for day two was to head to the Amalfi coast, which is just across from Sorento on the south side of the peninsula. I didn’t know anything about it except that when you mention it to any random travel bug, you get the appreciative head nod that indicates approval of your destination choice. Now I had foolishly assumed there would be some kind of train over there but the Circumvesuviana ends at Sorento. Luckily Joe took charge and marched us to a scooter rental shop Saturday evening where Sergio rented us scooters for the next day without a second glance at my expired drivers license. 

Here is where we made a strategic blunder. Sergio sang his scooter siren song so well that we didn’t think about the fact that the next day was Easter Sunday and this was Italy, not Switzerland. What Italian is showing up for work on time on Easter Sunday? Well certainly not Sergio’s co-worker, who wasn’t there at 9:00 am on Sunday morning and also wasn’t there at 10:00 am on Sunday morning. Joe was very brave and only cried a little bit, and after accosting the parking attendant in the garage where the scooters were all sitting unriden, we headed for plan B, which was the rooftop pool of our hotel. We were just getting our burn on when Sergio called, having been notified by the alarmed parking attendant that crazy Americans were slobbering on the scooters. He was very apologetic and quickly got us geared up. He was also so chivalrous as to warn me about the awesome thrusting power of my 125 cc two wheeled beast. 

Senora, slowly on the throttle. Very powerful. Slowly twist, ok?

Let’s just say there are plenty of riding lawnmowers out there with more thrust. Nevertheless, it was a thrilling ride, as a total lack of passing thrust heightened the thrill of Italian free-for-all driving on a single lane, twisty cliff side road.

We hit a seafood restaurant along the way that Sergio had recommended, which perched on the cliff and stopped at several of the lemon ice stands that sat like Antlions on the side of the road waiting for tourists. 

We returned to Sorento just in time to experience scooter driving in the rain in Italy, about as dangerous and wet as swimming in a shark infested pool wearing a tuna fish suit. 

We finished up our day with a sunset and made plans for our next stop: Rome by way of Pompeii.

Ali- When Maya was 3 years old, I had a conference in Lisbon, Portugal and the whole family trucked over to see the sights. Maya was going through a phase where, for various reasons, she had decided walking was not her thing, and so we spent a fair amount of that trip hauling a 40 pound kid around on our backs. I would also like to note that Lisbon is damn hilly and by the end of our stay we were self medicating with Ginja, the Portuguese sour cherry liquor sold out of shacks as a digestive and all purpose pain killer. 

Flash forward 7 years and the same conference was back in Lisbon. With visiting family obligations, Joe and Maya couldn’t arrive until Saturday afternoon and we all had to be back Monday giving us roughly 26 hours to revisit the city, unburdened as it were compared to the last time.

Now before heading to Lisbon I had a colleague at University of Zurich show me pictures of this ridiculous looking Disney castle on a hill in some town outside Lisbon called Sintra. So it seemed like this was the thing to see given that we had previously seen many of the Lisbon sights. 

Ok so first let me mention that this conference is a bit unusual in that it brings out the unknown wild side of statisticians, and this was the Friday night conference dinner scene (those are actual professional statisticians playing instruments), which greatly increased my risk of self-ass-making during my Saturday morning talk. Saturday morning comes and I give my talk at the conference, managing to sound tollerably competent (total coup!). Then I headed into the city center to check into our Airbnb and wait for Joe and Maya. Tiff, the very nice Australian massage therapist who owned the place, was kind enough to say I wasn’t completely nuts to try to head out to Sintra that afternoon. She gave the key tip to take an Uber there rather than haul out by train. 

Joe and Maya finally stumble in around 2:30 pm and by 3pm we are on the road, tucked into our Uber. An hour later, the Uber driver drops us off at the castle front door, saving us the uphill schlepp from the train station for the ridiculously reasonable price of 30 Euros. 

The Pena Palace is actually only one of the castles that sit majestically in the Sintra Mountains but it’s the only one to make the 7 wonders of Portugal list, which shockingly doesn’t include the Ginja shacks. The castle owes its marvelousness to king consort Ferdinand II, who got tired of just sitting around looking pretty as consort to Queen Maria II, and decided to take on a castle as a hobby. He hired a mining engineer/landscaper/amateur architect named Baron Wilhelm Ludwig von Eschwege to design the place. Right now you may be puzzling over the choice of a mining engineer but the whole bloody castle is fused into the mountain making it clear that someone who knows how to burrow into rock was essential. After getting our fill of the castle, we decided to hike back down to Sintra to catch another Uber back to Lisbon and experienced the wonders of the surrounding grounds along the way. You could spend about a week just wandering the hills that are part of the estate. 

Back in Lisbon on Sunday morning we had three hours to eat famous Portuguese pastries, tour St George’s castle and acquire several bottles of Port before heading to the airport. However, the proprietor of Pasteleria Saga was very firm that Patel de nata can only be eaten after a proper breakfast. So we ate a Portuguese version of croissant instead and promised to return to grab a box before our flight.

Next we marched over to St. George’s castle, which is indeed dedicated to the popular warrior Saint who somehow found the time to terrorized dragons while being martyred for his Christian faith. 

The same peacocks were there that Maya terrorized in tribute to Saint George 7 years ago. 

Lastly we hightailed it over across town to the only open booze shop to get Port and Ginja to take back to Zurich. A week later I can report that one large bottle of Ginja is not nearly enough; bring an extra suitcase. 

Ali- If you had a chance to watch the Switzerland Second promotional video, then you know that Saint Moritz is the picturesque ski town that Switzerland built for rich Russians. We are not rich Russians, but had visitors – Joe’s parents and Maya’s cousins – who wanted to see what unaffordable Swiss skiing looked like. So we did a quick survey of the weather in Davos, Zermatt and Saint Moritz, with the latter promising to supply several days of sunshine (because Russian fur coats look best in the winter sunshine). 

After a quick perusal at AirBnB options, we decided that the neighboring town of Celerina was close enough to Saint Moritz, allowing the 7 of us to stay for only $600/night instead of $2000/night. I had trouble picturing rich Russians opting for AirBnB; I mean can you imagine what that post-stay review would look like:

Most not so terrible stay. Caviar left by hosts was not at precisely 18 degrees Celsius but place conveniently located next to wodka bar. 

Anyway we arrived by train on Saturday and, after a brief and highly unproductive phone conversation with the Italian speaking host, managed to connect to get keys. We wandered around the town marveling at the sad lack of snow but basking in the warm weather.

 The cousins were game for rolling the intestinal distress dice with a traditional Swiss cheese fondue dinner so after getting our rental ski gear and lift tickets sorted out for Sunday and Monday, we headed out for dinner. I can no longer do cheese fondue after the 3 hour fondue gondola described several posts ago – something about being trapped freezing cold and hung-over in a small metal box stewing in cheese miasma has ruined me for fondue. But I shared a Raclette dinner with Joe and Grandpa Rich, which also involves melted cheese and cardiovascular risk. 

Sunday morning Joe, Maya, the cousins Jake and Liam, and I headed across a parking lot to the Celerina gondola, which carried us up the hill into the Corviglia area of the Swiss Alps. After a couple gondolas and a chair lift,  we were on the slopes. The slopes in the Alps are notable for the fact that what’s considered on-piste and what’s considered off-piste is completely arbitrary, as there are no trees at that elevation and so boundless options for plowing a route. There are just these huge expanses of snow with a LosAngeles highway sized ski run randomly plopped down. Drunk monkeys could be driving the piste- making equipment at night and it would still work out ok, though I’m pretty sure the Swiss government would require the monkeys to undergo proper training,  certification and monkey plow driver guild registration prior to hire. 

Now all kids were warned about the high probability for sunburn and told to put on sunscreen but here was what we found at the end of the day:

For day 2 we headed over to Corvatsch, the glacier area at some 11,000 feet above sea level. We couldn’t fit all the kids and skis in the Maserati so we were forced to take the local bus, which was packed with similarly sports car bereft skiers.The most notable part of the Corvatsch ski area turned out to be the terrain park; I’m generally a giant chicken when it comes to terrain parks but this one had a small ski jump that ended in a giant airbag. Foolishness with zero consequences!!! So of course I had to do it. Even knowing that there was zero danger of bodily harm I admit to a high level of anxiety as I raced down the hill and launched off the ramp. I didn’t actually pee my ski pants, but there was a non-zero probability of wet longjohns that first run. I’m happy to report that everyone in our little group launched themselves into the airbag, many of us repeatedly. 

Afterwards we headed to the top for lunch and a view. Both were excellent. At that point I had to say auf wiedersehen to the crew and head back to Zurich to get ready for my trip to Lisbon for the International Workshop on HIV and HCV Observational Databases meeting (affectionately called IWHOD [i-wod]).  I’ll let Joe pick up the story from here.