We’re Just Not Beach People

Story by Nicole

After spending 5 hours playing the game Desert Bus in real life, we arrived in the greater Los Angeles area. We were cutting the timing a bit close; we had meant to get to Venice Beach by 3 to beat some of the more horrendous traffic, but because I was messing with blog photos in the morning (did you see they got bigger?) we were hoping to just get to our airbnb by 4. That being said, it only took us two hours to get through LA to the beach, which is pretty good. We pulled up to the house at 3:45.

Our room is absolutely adorable. It’s basically a stand-alone studio apartment with a screened off bathroom. The family lives in the house that’s on the property, and they have apparently been there forever and have a few generations in the house. It’s about a block from the beach.

We like Venice Beach, but we’re not enthralled. I think part of the issue is that I love mountains and Jason is not fond of sand. But, it’s pretty and has good seafood. I have no real complaints. The city is rather delightfully weird, which we appreciate as people who have lived in Boulder.

Perspective on a dreidel (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A somewhat patiently waiting dog (Photo/Jason Rafal)

An enticing offer (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We spent a lot of time walking along the beach. Jason tried to climb one of the ropes at Muscle Beach, which did not go as well as it could have. After dinner, when a lot of people had left the beach, it was a mix of calm ocean and random nightlife. There were a few people who had spent a considerable amount of time adding lights to their bikes.

Santa Monica Pier (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Jason attempts to climb the rope (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Evening beach colors (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Silhouettes and a lighted bike (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Next stop is the PCF and Big Sur. We’re excited.

The Rainy Desert

Story by Nicole

On Saturday, we drove from Denver to Sedona. Jason has been to Sedona, but I have not, so I wasn’t sure what to expect. It was an 11-hour trip with frequent and sometimes terrifying rain. We later realized that the flight to Vietnam (we have a trip planned for November 2015) would be even longer with less legroom, which was an alarming thought. 

Sunroof reflections. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Arizona’s refusal to switch to Daylight Savings time led to much confusion. Our phones, along with Jason’s car, had no idea what time zone we were in, and thus we had no idea what time we were getting to Sedona, which resulted in an unnecessarily late dinner reservation. When we started coming down the canyon into Sedona, there were low clouds and heavy rain obscuring the scenery, but I was able to get an idea of how stunning the canyon is. 

Driving into Sedona in the rain. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Our room in Sedona is massive. I can’t remember if I got a massive room on purpose, but I’m hoping it’s not far more expensive than I thought it would be. We have a small kitchen, dining room, living room, porch, bedroom, and bathroom. It’s much larger than our apartment. 

Our resort is immediately next to Tlaquepaque, which is some sort of upscale “traditional Mexican village” shopping experience. It’s very quaint, and cute, and full of expensive art shops. Staying here made me feel uncomfortably rich and white, but it is nice, in a surreal sort of way. 

Tlaquepaque. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

On Sunday morning, we woke to light rain and fog. We had been fairly concerned that it would just rain the entire time we were in Sedona, but it seemed to be lightening up. We took advantage of the break in the weather to hike to Devil’s Bridge, which is a fantastic natural stone bridge against a hillside. We spent a few minutes talking to an excitable woman from the Czech Republic who was traveling alone. She was very excited to see the bridge, and asked me to pose with her while Jason snapped some pictures with her camera. She had come in from California, and had already been to Big Sur. She said there would be lots of bridges. 

Along the road to the Devil’s Bridge trailhead. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Muddy reflections. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Devil’s Bridge. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

During lunch in a Tlaquepaque café, we noticed a storm was headed in, so we quickly ate and headed out for another hike. Doe Mountain was supposed to have amazing views, and we wanted to make it to the top before the inevitable rain. As we climbed, we watched the curtain of rain move toward us across the valley. 

The view from the top was, indeed, incredible. I appreciated the fact that I was not afraid of heights; some other hikers winced watching me go up to the edge. We snapped a couple of pictures, felt the storm beginning to blow rain at us, and started running off the mountain. 

Rain approaching Doe Mountain. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

While we drove away from Doe Mountain, we decided to head to Slide Rock State Park, which was reputed to have a lovely stream on a rock bed that allows people to slide over the rocks. It was far too cold for swimming, but we did walk along the stream and hop across on some rocks. 

Oak Creek at Slide Rock State Park. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Oak Creek at Slide Rock State Park. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We finished this blog while drinking a bottle of Asti Tosti, which was supposed to be a fancy bottle of bubbly to celebrate the beginning of our trip. It is almost gaggably (totally a word) sweet. We’re going to finish it anyway. Tomorrow: California.

Days 8, 9, and 10: Hello Venice, Goodbye Venice

Venice is wonderful, gorgeous, and utterly confusing. There are canals. There are streets. There are alleys that dead end at residences. There are streets that look like alleys. There are alleys that look like streets. There are streets that dead end into canals. It’s a glorious mess.

Another reason that Venice is challenging to navigate (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Our hotel, perhaps in an attempt to seem even more Venetian, made no sense either. After being told that our room was on the first floor, we went up three flights of stairs and around five corners to find it. The room itself had padded green fabric walls, and brown hinged shutters on the windows. Very cute and very old looking.

Venice has no cars—your options within the city center are walking or boating. Since we didn’t feel inclined to pay for boating, we did a lot of walking. We spent both sunrise and sunset of our full day in Venice at Piazza San Marco, a huge open space at the edge of the city. We also spent a bit of time looking through the surrounding shops. Venice is known for glasswork, and there was beautiful glass art everywhere. There were also a surprising number of candy shops (Lindt was apparently a local favorite).

(Photo/Jason Rafal)

(Photo/Jason Rafal)

(Photo/Jason Rafal)

In Piazza San Marco we also visited the Florian, which is the oldest continuously-run coffee shop in Italy (it opened in 1720). The place was frequented by the likes of Lord Byron and Charles Dickens, and Jason was very excited to visit. We had very expensive coffee, hot chocolate, and cookies, which were all delicious and beautifully presented.

Our tray at the Florian (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Espresso doppio from the Florian (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We also wandered through the daily vegetable and fish markets, which were crowded with locals making purchases for their homes and restaurants. While not huge, the fish market had an impressive variety of fresh seafood, from swordfish to various types of shrimp. Everything that needs to be either put onto or taken off of the island arrives in boats, and then is taken to its destination by handcarts. Walking around in the early morning, we were able to get a sense of how many handcarts are required to transport trash, recycling, food, and restaurant products. For lunch, we headed to the Jewish ghetto, where we learned over matzoh ball soup and latkes that Venice’s ghetto is actually older than Rome’s.

The vegetable market (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Delicious latkes and apple sauce (Photo/Jason Rafal)

For our last night in Italy, we had a wonderful dinner and went to a Vivaldi concert. Venice is very proud of him. While my favorite part of the concert was Pachelbel’s Cannon, it was all very enjoyable. The women were all dressed in period costumes and ornately done-up blonde wigs.

To begin our 19-hour journey home, we left our hotel at 4:45 a.m. and headed to the dock to meet our water taxi, which took us on the 20-minute boat ride to the airport through the quiet darkness. After a stop in Frankfurt, during which I told a very confused German woman who had been selling me a nut roll grazie, even though we had been conversing in English, we headed back to Denver.

Our early morning boat ride (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We had a great trip, and thank you for reading along!

Italy, Day 7: Tuscany

Today we decided to take a touristy trip into the Tuscan countryside. In general, I hate being one of the sheeple in a tour group, but I always forget how much I like a good tour guide. Ours was Agatha, a Polish postdoctoral student who studied Renaissance art in England in the winter and lived in Florence in the summer. She spoke English well, and was also rather funny. 

Overall, I liked our tour, but I’m going to try to refrain from making this sound like an ad, so I won’t mention the company. If you’re going to Florence and want to look them up, let us know. 

We started our day in Siena, where we learned about a crazy horse race that happens twice a year in the village square in the name of the Virgin Mary. Siena has 17 districts (in a town of 55,000, they are not huge districts) and each district is randomly assigned a horse. They party for three days and then the jockeys get on bareback and do three laps around a hilly semicircle with sharp corners. The jockeys often fall off, but the horse who crosses the finish line first wins regardless of its rider’s status, which seems fair to me. Then, there is more celebration. Otherwise, it is a very cute town with very narrow streets. It was founded about 1000 years ago by bankers, who built a lot of religious stuff to redeem themselves for being bankers, and then town construction essentially halted 300 years later. Today, it’s all protected as a UNESCO world heritage site, so no touching. 

Siena (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Inside the dome of the Siena Cathedral (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After Siena, we drove out to an organic farm in the Chianti region for lunch. Let me say this about the Tuscan wine country: if Florence is absurdly beautiful, Tuscany is basically inconceivable. I have no words. It’s somewhere between the original definitions of sublime and beautiful; it has the awe-inspiring quality of the sublime, but none of the terror, and much of the softness of the beautiful. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, you can look up Edmund Burke. I don’t recommend reading the entire book, but the ideas are interesting. 

Tuscany, with San Gimignano on the hill in the background (Photo/Jason Rafal)

(Photo/Jason Rafal)

With lunch, we had four types of wine: a white, a young Chianti, a merlot, and a dessert wine. I wouldn’t say that I can pair food and wine now, but I’m starting to get it. Also wine is delicious. 

After lunch, we went up the hill to San Gimignano. As Agatha put it, this is a perfectly preserved medieval town because nothing of interest has happened here in 600 years. In San Gimignano, we had the best gelato in the world (according to a panel of experts) and took more pictures of Tuscany being gorgeous. And then we all got back on the bus and took a nice wine-induced nap. 

The best gelato (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Lastly, we went to the leaning tower of Pisa, where we refused to take pictures of ourselves holding the tower up. I did make us take a selfie, which hurt Jason’s artistic pride a great deal. The tower has been stabilized, so some people climbed it. We wandered around instead. 

The leaning tower of Pisa (Photo/Jason Rafal)

If you come to Florence and have more than a day to explore, get out into the countryside. And then call me so that we can discuss Burke. 

Italy, Days 5 and 6: Firenze

We departed Rome and took the train to Florence. It was a high-speed train, which was pretty great, and it only took us about an hour and a half to get there. The Italian countryside between them was, of course, lovely. As we went north, the clouds came down and the rain started again. The train internet was the fastest I’ve seen in Italy, so I took the opportunity to post a few blogs.

A rainy train ride (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Let me just effuse about Florence for a minute. I’m already in love with Florence. It’s almost absurdly beautiful, with its little streets of shops and picturesque river. Just wandering around, I came across several beautiful old buildings and piazzas. It’s also a bit less hectic than Rome, which is a nice change. Really, just lovely. Come to Florence.

We spent much of our first day in Florence trying to decide what we wanted to do in Florence. We figured that out, had two incredible meals, and did some shopping. Overall, a very pleasant day.

Ponte Vecchio (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Palazzo Vecchio (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Tuesday promised to be less rainy, so after sleeping in a bit, we wandered. We walked down across the river again and headed toward the Giardino di Boboli. We bought tickets and walked through the garden, which was massive, hilly, and had dozens of paths that seemingly arbitrarily happened across statues and other works of art that were scattered throughout. There was also a fountain gate guarded by statues of the wind and goats, which I appreciated. It was lovely and green and damp-smelling, and all in the middle of a city.  

The Florence Cathedral (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A statue in the Giardino di Boboli (Photo/Jason Rafal)

For lunch, we stopped by the Piazza San Spirito and had far too much food and a bottle of wine. I wanted to try the vegetable soup, so I ordered a small soup as well as a regular-sized pasta dish. The soup was huge (I have no idea how big a large would be) and there was a lot of pasta as well, so we spent a long time just eating, drinking, and waiting for the want and ability to eat more. It was very Italian of us, especially since we didn’t start lunch until around 2.

Far too much delicious food (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Post-lunch espresso (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After lunch we decided to go to the Piazalle Michelangelo, which apparently had the best view of the city of Florence. Of course, this meant that it was uphill, which meant that we dragged our overly-full selves up a steep hill and then a lot of stairs. The view was beautiful, though. Definitely worth the climb.

At the Piazalle Michelangelo (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After some more exploring and a nap, we went off in search of dinner (again, we were on Italian time—around 8:30. Only took us six days to figure it out…). We found the Trattoria San Lorenzo, which had good reviews on Yelp, and sat down. If you’re ever in Florence, this place is great. There is currency from all over the world taped to the bar, which is interesting to look at, and the food is amazing. They also have awesome middle-aged male waiters—when Rock Your Body started playing in the restaurant toward the end of our meal, one of them started humming along.

Just a small note about gelato—it’s for before dinner. Don’t go expecting the good gelato places to still have any gelato out at 9:30. 

Italy, Day 4: In Which We are Serenaded for Someone Else’s Birthday

Today was almost completely unplanned. We had considered doing a couple of museums, but it would take a lot of time and effort, and we’re not very patient people. I wanted to go to the App ian Way, which was the old road to Rome, so we walked in that direction after breakfast. When we got near the , there was actual nature, which was lovely. There was finally no threat of rain, so the walkers and bikers were out in force. After wandering around the paths near the Catacombs of St.Callixtus for a bit, we decided to move on to my next desired destination, the Giardino degli Aranai.

A building along the Appian Way (Photo/Jason Rafal)

 The giardino was a bit of a hike from where we were, and Jason was getting hungry and tired, so we decided to try to find food first. We quickly realized that it was Sunday, which meant that most of the good restaurants were closed. We decided that our best bet would be to head back toward the Colosseum, which would have food areas pandering to tourists.

 After being ambushed by a bike race and finding a way through the giant wall (the most difficult part about trying to navigate Rome by foot), we got back to the Circo Massimo. We found a restaurant that was both open and crowded (with both tourists and Italians) and were ushered to a seat. I have noticed that Rome has very proactive and primarily male restaurant hosts. They stand in the sidewalk and usher you to a table if you seem at all interested (or try to start up a conversation if you’re just passing by, which was difficult for me as a shy tourist).

An alarming sign on a railway bridge (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A bike race in Rome (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The wall (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Some Romans marching around (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Lunch was accompanied by Chianti, which was dangerously smooth. We also shared some delicious tiramisu. Jason thinks that tiramisu is the first step toward making me like coffee, which seems unlikely, but I’m happy to eat tasty creamy desserts.

Dog parking (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After lunch, we headed to the giardino, which was up the hill from the Roman Forum. It was a beautiful area—lots of cobblestones and trees, both of which I like. We finally arrived at the giardino, which is actually a tiny, lovely park. It has benches, a small grove of orange trees, rose bushes, and a gorgeous view of the city. We had joined the group who was sitting on the rock banister and looking out at the city when the people started singing.

A fountain at the giardino (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole and the view (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Over the next few minutes, we pieced together that someone had hired two opera singers, a brother and sister pair, to serenade a middle-aged woman for her birthday. Using an iPad and a speaker to play the music, the brother sang My Way in an extremely heavy Italian accent, slowly gaining the attention of the entire giardino. His sister, who was wearing a floor-length burgundy dress, then sang a song from an Italian opera (we both recognized it, but couldn’t tell which one it was). After more rounds of applause, the pair sang happy birthday to the woman together. With the performance over, we headed out.

The brother sings My Way (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The sister sings an Italian opera (Photo/Jason Rafal)

 We were kind of at a loss for what else to do, so we headed for the Jewish ghetto, which was close, on the assumption that it would have more open stores than the rest of the city on a Sunday. Indeed, unlike when we had walked through on a Friday, the place was hopping. The restaurants were full at 2:30 p.m., and there were groups of children playing in the streets. We stopped at a gelato shop so that I could try a frulatti (seems to be a fruit smoothie) and took a look at the section of original wall, which is near the Teatro Marello. The Roman ghetto is apparently the oldest ghetto in the world. The informational sign made it seem like the Jews just chose to live next to the wall, which was an amusing/sad way of putting it.

Fontana delle Tartarughe (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Late afternoon sun over the Roman Forum (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Walking back to the Colosseum metro stop, the street was a zoo of people. We couldn’t figure out why, but a large area of the street was blocked off, and crowds of people were just walking in both directions. Between that and the men trying to sell “selfie sticks” (little extender arms that hold your cell phone and allow you to take pictures from a couple feet away with a remote), it was fairly overwhelming. It’s definitely a bustling city. It’s been great, but I think I’m ready to move on.

Italy, Day 3: In Which We Get Drunk and Go to the Pantheon

We had breakfast at the hotel again. Weirdly, when we got to the breakfast area and I told the attendant our room number in Italian (I’d been practicing!), she had no idea what I was saying and we had to repeat the number in English. We decided that since this hotel was more for international travelers than Italians, she must have gotten the job based on knowing some English.

 We decided to go over to Vatican city and explore that part of Rome. Jason’s feet were basically made of blisters because we had walked so much the day before, so we went to the nearest metro stop and bought tickets, then took the metro to the Vatican area. Upon our arrival, we realized two things: 1) getting into the Vatican would cost us either 400 euro or several hours and 2) I would not be allowed in at all because I was wearing a skirt without tights. This was particularly puzzling because there was no shortage of women in leggings in line. But, apparently, knee skin is much more scandalous than skintight fabric. I realize that this is probably a dumb American thing to think, but it seems silly all the same.

 Because neither of us wanted to put in the effort to remedy these two things, we decided to wander off toward the Pantheon instead. On the way, we found the impressive and medieval-looking Castel Sant’Angelo, which was built over the mausoleum of Emperor Hadrian. It says something about the quality of this preserved castle/museum that we were able to get lost several times while guiding ourselves around. The views were beautiful, and several ceilings featured intricate frescos.

The view from the Castel Sant'Angelo (Photo/Jason Rafal)

 After finding our way outside, we started looking for lunch. We have a habit of finding good-looking places using Yelp or Jason’s Rome app, and then instead stopping somewhere else on the way. Today, that means that we headed through a couple of beautiful Roman allies and found a pasta shop across the alley from a homemade pastry store on our way to somewhere else. We sat down and ordered pasta and a bottle of the house white wine, with Jason arguing that it was more economical than purchasing two glasses. We may have been behind on wine tasting, but we were definitely starting to catch up. We spent a lovely leisurely lunch hour eating ravioli (Jason) and pesto linguini (me) while we slowly drank the bottle. I amused the waiter by acting alarmed when he tried to take my plate when it still had a couple of noodles on it. It’s nice to eat slowly. I’m not sure why I usually eat so fast.

(Photo/Jason Rafal)

 After lunch we teetered into the pastry shop and bought some dessert before heading out again. We found the Piazza Navona, and soon after we stumbled into the back of the Pantheon. We went in (apparently my knees were not as offensive here) and I pretty much just stared at the ceiling. If you’ve never seen the Pantheon ceiling, it’s a dome that looks like layered rock leading up to an open circle, through which we could see the blue sky. Not being religious, the ceiling was definitely the thing I most appreciated.

The Pantheon (Photo/Jason Rafal)

 After managing to get out of the Pantheon without embarrassing ourselves (I hope), we went to the Trevi Fountain, and were both extremely disappointed to see it under construction. The fountain, and the building behind it, was coated in scaffolding, and a temporary walkway had been created so that tourists could go close enough to the fountain to throw in coins. We did not partake.

As we wandered around, we came across a parade, or a protest, that somehow involved the labor movement. There was lots of flag waving and shouting. The area was surrounded by police, but they seemed pretty relaxed.

(Photo/Jason Rafal)

 We went home to regroup before taking the metro back out for dinner. I had wanted to go back to the area where we had lunch, but I couldn’t figure out where it was, so we wandered until we found a few restaurants in a small piazza and sat down. The couple who sat next to us at dinner were from Morocco—they had just come up to Rome for the weekend. It turned out that the man, who had excellent English, had gone to college. He did a year at UT before deciding to move to Virginia, where he went to JMU. He said that he moved to Los Angeles for a bit after school, and enthused about California.

Italy, Day 2: Gatto di Foro Romano

On Friday, Rome was rainy. We had breakfast at our hotel and started to walk toward the Roman Forum in the drizzle. On our way out, we saw that a tree a few blocks from our hotel had been hit by lightning in the thunderstorm the night before. The blackened stump was being demolished by several chainsaws, and the scene was surrounded by excited locals and police people.

The crowd around the tree (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Streets flooded by rain (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We wandered toward the Colosseum with a map for guidance. Although the map showed the general area in green, it did not show the massive, ancient wall between our hotel and the Roman Forum. We walked along the wall until we found a narrow road that showed occasional patches of cobblestones under the pavement. There was no sidewalk, so we ducked out of the way of cars whenever necessary. After walking by several tall and intimidating gates in the wall, we found that one belonged to the Canadian Embassy. After a few more minutes of walking, we gave up and used Jason’s phone to figure out how to get out of the car-dominated embassy maze.

The Canadian Embassy (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We found our way to the Circo Massimo, and we were suddenly surrounded by huge ruins. After walking through the Capitoline Museo, we joined the line of tourists waiting to buy tickets for the Colosseum (it was Friday, and rainy, but there were still a lot of groups). I’m sure I can’t say anything original about the Colosseum, but I’ll say this. It was massive; it was intricately built; it was crumbling. Jason found facts about the structure on his Rome app. It turns out that it was partially funded by the raiding and pillaging of Jerusalem (Jason was irritated to still have to pay 12 euro to get in) and that before the maze of tunnels was built under the floor, it could be flooded for water-based entertainment. Unfortunately, the potential for gladiator fights with sea monsters was put to an end by Titus, who decided that the space was needed for animal cages and equipment. I should note that some Googling revealed that this whole flooding the Colosseum thing is still under debate, but we decided to go with it.

Nicole reaches out toward Jupiter (we think) at the Capitoline Mueso (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Colosseum (Photo/Jason Rafal)

For lunch, we looked for a place recommended by the same app, but ended up going to a restaurant next door instead. We were serenaded by a saxophone player, who played Stevie Wonder and posed for pictures with us before demanding five euro. After our bruschetta and pasta (delicious), we struck up a conversation with the Russian sitting at the table next to us as Jason drank his post-meal cappuccino. In broken but understandable English, he explained that he traveled to Rome for work frequently, and he gushed about how much he loved the woman who owned the restaurant. He told us that this particular trip to Italy was because they always went somewhere for his boss’s birthday. Our friend had wanted to go to Havana, but he settled for Venice at the boss’s request.

Jason and the saxaphone player (Photo/Nicole Harrison, who was somehow unable to make Jason’s camera, which was on autofocus, focus)

Roman street (Photo/Jason Rafal)

 After lunch, we visited the Roman Forum. The forum feels like an assortment of crumbling bits of buildings that were dumped into a pit in the middle of the city. There are a lot of pillars and bits of pillars, half-walls, and inscribed stones. I found it extremely difficult to actually feel the age of the Roman Forum; it’s simply too old for me to relate to. It’s definitely awesome, and it’s wonderful that it’s preserved in the city center, but I can’t picture it actually being used. Maybe I need to watch some more reenactment movies.

A tourist stands in the rain and looks over the Roman Forum (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole in the Roman Forum (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Roman Forum was dotted with cats that lived among the ruins. Most of them stayed away from the human-populated areas, far out of reach of the retaining chains, but one was sitting right next to the walkway, and when I knelt down, she walked up and rubbed on my hand for a minute before politely (but firmly) walking away and sitting on the other side of the fence.

The forum cat decides that it has had enough of Nicole (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After a visit to the Jewish ghetto, near the Fiume Tevere, we started the long walk home. Jason’s feet are not in great shape, but hopefully we will be able to continue adventuring tomorrow. We have sampled pizza and pasta, but we are behind on wine. 

Sunset in Rome (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Italy, Day 1: Benvenuti a Roma

Story by Nicole

We didn’t learn any Italian before coming to Rome.

The closest we got was when we boarded our second plane, from Newark to Rome, and Jason realized that the screens on the seats in front of us had games, among them a language learning game. We quickly became masters of arbitrary nouns—gatto, carne, etc. But 12 hours later, as we were sitting at lunch at a ristorante near our hotel, I could not remember how to ask for the bill. I checked the book five times, and each time, I thought I could remember the simple phrase. Then, when I put down the book and tried to repeat it to myself, my mind was completely blank. Sleep deprivation is a funny thing.

We spent an entire day traveling. We flew out of Denver at 10 a.m., landed in Newark at 3 p.m., took off for Rome at 6 p.m., and got to Rome at 8:15 a.m. I still have no idea what time it is anywhere.

Landing in Rome. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Rome has been rainy so far. It goes in waves—varying layers of clouds, then a light drizzle, then pounding rain. The streets are flooding in places; cobblestones may not always be the best way to channel water. The city is wet, somewhat dirty, surprisingly quiet. I love it. 

Our hotel is a Holiday Inn Express, which is annoyingly American, but the receptionists put up with my disorientation and terrible accent well so far, which is definitely a plus. Our balcony looks out over rows of working-class housing in various stages of dilapidation, as well as a metro station. We are just southeast of the city center, possibly in Municipo V. It’s hard to tell on the map.

The view from our hotel balcony. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Tomorrow will (hopefully) be a day of interesting adventures and better pictures. Maybe I will even make some progress with my Italian phrases. 

Leonardo da Vinci-Fiumicino airport. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Surface-Level Observations of Vancouver

Story by Nicole

For the 4th of July, we went to Canada. We met Jason’s immediate family at the Vancouver airport, rented a Dodge Caravan, and stayed in an adorable condo on the beach. It was a beautiful and relaxing trip, during which we made several American observations about Vancouver.

Coffee is decidedly lacking.

We have no pictures that represent this observation. Jason may have been more inclined to take them if he was inspired by fantastic coffee, but alas, it proved difficult to find. For the Rafals, a family dedicated to coffee drinking, this was the low point of the trip. On our last morning in Vancouver, we finally found acceptable coffee at the 49th Parallel.

Even the signs are polite.

A sign provides a gentle warning against trespassing. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Public Market on Granville Island is an overwhelming display of edibles and other goods.

Marc and Nicole through one of the Granville Island Public Market entry doors. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A display of colorful macaroons at the Granville Island Public Market. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Poutine from the Granville Island Public Market. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A Granville Island reflection. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Residents love their nice cars.

A Porsche parked at Kits beach. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Stanley Park is a lovely place, but a vast and confusing wilderness for the Rafals.

Nicole attempts to explain to Emilie how to get out of Stanley Park. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Water droplets on a rose in the Stanley Park Rose Garden. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Water+mountains+city=beautiful Vancouver.

A water taxi on the English Bay. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole climbs on public art. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Marc and Anne enjoy the Reflections terrace at the Rosewood Hotel Georgia.(Photo/Jason Rafal)

A view of downtown Vancouver from Kitsilano Beach. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Backpacking Trip That Wasn’t

6/28/14

Story by Nicole

We’ve wanted to backpack to Herman Lake in the Arapaho National Forest since before we had backpacking equipment. It’s a stunning mountain lake at the top of a ridiculous four and a half mile hike that climbs from 10,000 feet to 12,000 feet. This trail is not for the faint of heart (or lungs), but as soon as we saw the top in the summer of 2013, we knew we would be back. So, in June of 2014, with 40-pound packs, we made our backpacking attempt.

With the starting of Map My Run, our journey begins. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole heads up the trail. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

One thing we had wondered about was whether the area would be melted out enough to camp. The ground was soaked, with water running down the trail, and we began seeing snow at around 11,000 feet.

The water-glazed path. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We stopped a couple of times for snacks and pack readjusting. We were not quite fit enough to make it up in one go.

Nicole prepares her pack for the next step of the journey. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

It is fairly difficult to climb the Herman Gulch trail without the Sound of Music starting to play in one’s head. The scenery is starkly beautiful, with green fields full of wildflowers contrasting against white mountain peaks. Avalanches and late snow had pushed the full growth of the meadow, but the trees and mountains remained as stunning as always.

We pause in an avalanche path. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

About a mile from the top, we started running into significant amounts of snow. We put on crampons and followed the faint trail on top of the snowpack.

Footprints through the woods. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole takes on the final climb. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

At long last, we made it to the top. We instantly decided that it was far too cold, snowy, and wet to camp that night, but we were happy to see the lake again. A random man at the top took some out-of-focus pictures of us. In them, we are blurry, exhausted, accomplished.

We reach the lake at last. (Photo/Random Guy at Herman Lake)

We spent half an hour at the lake, catching our breath and eating a snack. We made friends with a marmot, who could not decide if we were sources of tasty food or danger. He waddled from rock to rock, hopping up to peer at us occasionally. Don’t worry, we did not feed him.

Our marmot friend hides in the rocks. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole perches on a rock beside Herman Lake. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

In the end, we headed home, promising each other that we would try again later in the summer.

Backpacks at Herman Lake. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

An Overabundance of Green

Story by Nicole

On Father’s Day weekend, we took a trip to Gunnison to see Nicole’s dad. After work on Friday, we drove southwest into the mountains. Gunnison Valley was incredibly green, with verdant rolling hills contrasting against the white-peaked mountains.

On Saturday, we went to see Ann, Nicole’s former 4-H leader. Ann raises cashmere goats in Gunnison and allows local children and teens to lease them. She feeds and houses them, and the 4-H kids care for them, comb their cashmere, train them, and show them at Colorado fairs. Ann’s farm also provides a home for miniature sheep, a llama, and two Great Pyrenees.

Casper bemoans his haircut and hurt nose. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Ann offers her goats radish greens. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A spotted kid considers her next move. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Intense interest. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The spotted kid decides on a nap in the shade. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole is attacked by a very small ram. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Saturday night, the three of us went to the Gunnison Valley Observatory. Along with a roomful of children and parents, we learned basic facts about telescopes and space, then viewed Mars, Saturn and two of its moons, a globular cluster, and two galaxies through the 30” telescope.

The Gunnison Valley Observatory at dusk. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

On Sunday, we took the Silver Queen lift up Mount Crested Butte. We planned to hike to the peak of the mountain, but when we were waiting for the lift, we learned that the peak was still too snowy. We rode the lift up to hike anyway.

Beginning the ascent. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Our view of the upcoming ride. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Mount Crested Butte peeks above the trees. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Scenic descent for an empty chair. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Britton slides across some snow while fetching a long-lost chinstrap. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Looking down onto the town of Mount Crested Butte. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Following the Yellow Brick Road down the mountain. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Britton making the final steps of the descent with his findings. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

We arrive at the base area. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After the hike, we treated ourselves to burritos and tamales at Teocali Tamale and then headed out to Peanut Lake, home of the Gronk.

A proclamation of identity. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole stands in front of the Gronk. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Gronk stretches toward the sky. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The view across Peanut Lake. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Heading home from the lake. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

"I can run in snowshoes!"

Story by Nicole

“You sure get an early start,” the park ranger commented as Jason rolled down the driver’s side window. It was 6:40 a.m. on Christmas Eve morning, and we had just pulled up at the Black Canyon of the Gunnison Visitor Center. The lone park ranger, after we assured him that we were dedicated photographers and not lost tourists, got into his truck and headed off into the pre-dawn light.

We were heading out to the rim of the canyon for two reasons: Christmas shoeshoeing, which I had been excited about for months, and dawn photography, which we had decided on the night before. The morning was cloudy, so we weren’t expecting a spectacular sunrise. We finished layering clothes (we had packed for the arctic), slung cameras around our necks, strapped on our snowshoes, and headed off on the Oak Flat Loop Trail.

For a while, we worried about heading down to the river, which we had been expressly warned against (it’s apparently very hard to get back out, summer or winter). After a while, though, the snowshoe trail diverted from the river trail, and we trekked across a ridge on the inside of the canyon rim.

Our view of the Black Canyon through the trees. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Forty-five minutes later, we saw the sun peak through the clouds and touch the top of the ridge opposite us. We climbed out of the canyon and headed home.

Morning sun reaches the top of the canyon wall. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole treks up the side of the canyon. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Jason experiments with running with snowshoes. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

The Gunnison River through rock formations. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Looking down into the canyon. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

We spent Christmas Eve night and Christmas morning with Britt, Nicole’s dad.

Britt cuddles with Daisy and Mocha. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole and Britt stare into the bonfire. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The fire envelops a paper advertisement. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Faces in the fire-lit darkness. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Mocha sleeps in on Christmas morning. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

The next two photos are sunset photos from Monarch pass and Blue Mesa Reservoir. While they did not fit into a narrative, we liked them. The first was taken when we stopped on Monarch pass on the way to Gunnison. The second was Jason’s single picture of the sunset at Blue Mesa Reservoir on Christmas Eve before his camera battery died.

A sunlit mountaintop visible from the summit of Monarch pass. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Sunset at Blue Mesa Reservoir. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Thanksgiving 2

חנוכה

Story by Nicole

We were planning on a second, Hanukkah-themed Thanksgiving on Friday evening, but Jason, Christina, Maia, and I all went to the National Mall during the day. It was clear and very cold. We took the metro to the Smithsonian stop and detrained to visit the museums.

A stoplight blocks the sun in Falls Church, Virginia. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The Washington, D.C. Metro Smithsonian stop. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Christina examines a silver tree in the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The half-frozen pool in front of the U.S. Capitol. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Mist envelops a bridge railing in the U.S. Botanic Garden. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Sunlight illuminates a purple orchid at the U.S. Botanic Garden. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The interior curve of the Hirshhorn Museum building. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Nicole, Maia, and Christina near an exhibit in the Hirshhorn Museum Sculpture Garden. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

A train rushes by the Federal Triangle stop of the Washington, D.C. Metro. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After we returned to Marc and Anne’s apartment, the festivities began.

The crumble topping on Maia’s unbaked southern apple pie. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Kristin and Anne raise their arms to…something, while Maia and Emilie look on. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Harley the Boston Terrier inversely examines the camera. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Challah

This series of photos depicts the process of making challah on Thanksgiving day, 2013.

Maia and Marc discuss logistics for kneading the challah. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Marc shapes the challah dough while Maia looks on. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Everyone participates in the six-strand challah braiding activity. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

After much discussion, the challah takes shape. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Finishing touches: Maia works on completing the braid. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Marc loads the braided braid onto a quarter sheet. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Marc brushes the braid with egg yolk prior to baking. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Marc removes the baked bread from the oven. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The finished challah. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Mixing Families in Washington, D.C.

Story by Nicole

Thanksgiving 2013 took place in Falls Church, Virginia, after the severed promise of a terrible snowstorm. Jason and I arrived on Wednesday night, and everyone spent the first evening relaxing and getting to know one another (Jason’s parents met Christina and Maia for the first time when they showed up on the doorstep on Wednesday morning after driving all night from Boston, Massachusetts). Thanksgiving preparations began.

Marc begins preparing the turkey. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Thanksgiving eve also marked the first night of an unusually early Hanukkah. Jason’s family debated the correct songs to sing while Nicole and Maia looked on, both amused and intrigued.

Two candles mark the first night of Hanukkah. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The next day began with learning to bake challah from Marc’s tweaked family recipe, which was altered to gain the flavor and texture that he remembered from his childhood. For more about the challah, you can see the challah photo essay.

Close-up of the finished challah. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

The rest of Thursday was spent in cooking and occasionally running out to the Korean market for forgotten items. Jason managed to find a project when he noticed that his parents’ dishwasher was still covered by the plastic film used to protect the metal during shipping, and his slightly obsessive insistence on its removal paid off in extra shiny appliances.

Jason expresses his horror at the plastic film that he found still attached to his parents’ dishwasher. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

Shortly after the bread was finished, Maia began working on the pumpkin roulade, a sort of sponge cake roll with whipped cream-based filling.

Spices are added to the batter for the pumpkin roulade. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

The batter beating resulted in a loss of structural integrity in the mixer whisk, a dilemma solved (temporarily) by a combination of electrical and scotch tape.

Jason and Marc examine the failure of culinary engineering that threatens the manual creation of whipped cream. (Photo/Nicole Harrison)

I decided that Thanksgivng, amidst the chaos, was the best time to begin writing this blog. None of those words were included, in the end, but they were typed with sudden spurts of speed and focus.

Nicole focuses on writing within the cooking environment. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

At 6:30, the beautifully brined and baked turkey was finished.

Marc slices the first piece of turkey. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Later in the night we enjoyed Maia’s roulade, which had experienced whipped cream failure in the fridge. In the moment of clarity following the moment of anxiety, Maia pushed the mushy cream to either side to encourage the running that was already occurring and topped the roulade with fresh spots of whipped cream.

The finished pumpkin roulade. (Photo/Jason Rafal)

Mt. Princeton Hot Springs

Story by Nicole

The Mt. Princeton Hot Springs are nestled in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, near the virtually invisible town of Nathrop. I’ve been here several times; the warm water and stunning views do not disappoint.

(Photo/Nicole Harrison)

It is somewhat of a balancing act, deciding when to come. In the summer, the mid-70s weather makes the 90-105 degree water somewhat unappealing. In the winter, the water feels amazing, but the stinging wind and snow can make you wish for goggles and a snorkel. 

This visit was the second annual trip to the hot springs with Tom. Kayla was the fourth person rounding out our group. When we arrived on Friday night, light snow accompanied us. As we soaked, it became increasingly wet and heavy, making our towels into nothing more than cold, wet, somewhat stiff wind blocks. Snow definitely makes soaking in hot water more interesting, between the stinging sensations when one’s body is out of the water and the fascinating dissipation of snowflakes into the pool.

Overnight, the wind came up, and the morning it was clear enough to see the snow-covered peaks. We soaked until the wind chased us away, then headed home to Denver.