Friday, February 29, 2008

Turin

One of Pat's Italian co-workers, Alberto, invited us to a ski vacation in his hometown of Torino, a former Olympic city at the base of the Italian Alps. We left last Friday for a four-day trip with Alberto, his girlfriend Polly (an American), and Mark (an Australian).

The first day we visited Alberto's mom and then drove up to their mountain holiday flat. She treated us to some caffé, homemade limoncello, and pastries. Yes, homemade limoncello, the good stuff—a perfect combination of 100% alcohol, special lemons from the south, sugar, and water. His parents are from the south of Italy, where this drink is popular, and they have certainly perfected their homemade brew—it wasn't syrupy like some versions we had down there. His mom knows as much (or less) English than we know Italian. Since our translator, Alberto, was preoccupied with some other things, we had a conversation based mostly on charades. It was very entertaining and we discussed everything from vacation spots in the south to bull seals eating geckos and sunburn on the mountain.

The homemade goods—limoncello, red wine (with a handwritten "2006" sticker label), and olive oil.

The next day we headed out to the slopes. Since I have never skied before, I spent the day exploring the mountain town of Sauze d'Oulx (Italian mountain with a French name and Swiss-inspired chalets) with my camera while Pat signed me up for ski school.

Newer chalets.


Old, twisty cobbled streets.


Dried sunflowers over doors.


Nice little artistic details—this is all hardware for a shutter.


Great stone roofs everywhere. It might be slate, but each piece is usually 1" thick or so which I think pushes it into a new category.

Both days we were on the mountain, we had beautiful weather with brilliant blue skies, a beaming sun, and warm enough temperatures during the day that I felt like I should have brought a short-sleeve shirt i.e. actual sweat. I dare say it was as warm as many of the English "summer" days last year. I enjoyed spending some of the afternoon soaking up the sun on the porch while reading a book.


Meanwhile, Pat had brushed the cobwebs off his snowboarding skills and was enjoying the snow. He really enjoyed being out in the mountains again, but found the laissez faire Italian approach to skiing frustrating. Unlike American slopes, they don't mark the runs really at all and the maps don't help so you don't know where you're going or if you're on a blue slope or a black diamond.




The next day they dropped me off for a 2 hour individual lesson at ski school and hit the slopes again. I started on the bunny hill using a cool conveyor belt to get back up the hill. There I learned the essential snowplow—stand tall with legs wide. That progressed well so the instructor took me to the top. From there, we took switchbacks back down the mountain that crossed the regular runs. It went pretty well and I really enjoyed it. Now don't get the wrong idea—this wasn't the swish-swish of real skiing, but the chhhr of snowplowing down a mountain. I only fell once when an oblivious 4 year old and I were snowplowing right towards each other. I panicked, since I figured I would do more damage to him than him to me, and lost my balance trying to avoid him.

I met Pat for lunch and we headed back to the top. We had hoped to go down together, but you have to be a good skier to keep up with a snowboarder. Snowboarders need more momentum to keep going. I was just too slow and the paths I was taking were too flat for him so we met up at various points as our paths crossed. Being on my own, without an instructor to follow, was a whole different ballgame. I tended to fall more on my first solo run, but nowhere near as hard as I did on a snowboard. With the slow pace and previous day's workout, Pat was exhausted so we headed to the flat for a little R&R. Now I can say I learned to ski in the Alps—I sure never thought those words would come out of my mouth! So, in summary, sore, but not broken. I'm happy to report that the ambulances going up the mountain weren't for us.



That's me trying to figure out how to get up after a fall.



That night we headed back to the city to have dinner with Alberto's parents and got to sample mom's cooking—a genuine Italian dinner with the antipasti (salami, cheese, bread, and spreads), primi (a creamy porcini mushroom pasta), secondi (veal and what I think was a spinach/egg omelet), and a digestive (raw leek dipped in homemade olive oil and balsamic vinegar). Excellent. We were all thoroughly impressed. Alberto told us later that his mom apologized that she didn't make sides since she hadn't had much time that day. It's just an entirely different perspective on cooking.

After dinner Alberto's Aunt and Uncle came over to visit. They don't know much English either, but there was a lot of wild gesturing and passionate talking. I did have a limited political discussion with his uncle. He asked if I liked Obama or Clinton. Of course, I said Obama. He emphatically agreed with me saying simply "charisma." I kind of got the feeling that he didn't like Hillary since he thought she should be busy in the kitchen or something, but I let that go because I like Obama, I was a guest, and he's Italian and they tend to have old-school gender roles. In case you're interested, he doesn't think McCain should be elected because he's too old.

Polly told us that when this group gets together, there's usually singing and music. Between them, they play the piano, accordion, keyboard, guitar, etc. Alberto and his uncle both have CDs. Unfortunately it was too late to use instruments because it would disturb the neighbors. That would have been something to see! I was overwhelmed by their genuine welcome of us into their family and their patience with our pathetic Italian. I think an old teacher of mine would have described them as "ebulient," just bubbling over with happiness. It was a great experience.

The happy family... Top row, left: Pat, Aunt, Uncle, Dad, Mark. Middle row: Jamie, Alberto, Polly. Front row: Mom.

The next day we took a quick tour of the Torino city centre and, on the way to the airport, did a mad dash through the grocery to pick up some essential Italian food at bargain prices (for us that means olive oil good enough for dipping). Downtown Torino is very beautiful. There are some similarities to Rome with some traditional building materials and lots of shuttered windows. Like the old part of other Italian cities, the exteriors are nice, but somewhat repetitive. Where they open up into entrances and courtyards, it's very grand and makes you feel like you've discovered a jewel. Polly said the city's been referred to as "little Paris" and does have some elegant large-scale features with arcades that stretch blocks and blocks in front of shops. We'll have to see if that's really a fair comparison once we actually get to Paris :)

One section of the arcade.


Courtyard off of the arcade.


La Mole Antonelliana with its landmark spire.


Piazza Castello

Things we learned in Torino:
  1. Courtesy of Mark, Paul Hogan (of Crocodile Dundee fame) started out as a painter for the Sydney bridge and was "discovered" when he gave a TV interview about his work. He's well-liked for being a genuine, down-to-earth guy who's pretty much like the character he played.
  2. There's a parking garage designer in Italy that is a genius. In the underground city centre lot, there are motion sensors attached to LED lights on the ceiling above parking spaces. When the space is occupied, the light turns red. It's so easy to glance down an aisle and know if there are spaces, you'd never have to be disappointed by the short car again!
  3. Seeing references to the winter Olympics years after they are gone is a little bit like visiting a ghost town.
  4. Moms are usually right. We got rosso (red) from the sole (sun) and are now peeling in spots.
  5. Ski boots are really hard to walk in. If you want to sink a body in the river, don't bother with cement blocks, slap those bad boys on.
  6. If I had a helmet with stuffed animal ears stuck to it, like the 4-year old skiers, I'm sure I'd be an awesome skier. It sure seemed to work for them.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

when the bed's a rockin'...

...it must be a 10 second, 5.3 magnitude earthquake. Yes, here on the isle of Britain, we experienced something rare and truly unique last night—the UK's "...biggest earthquake in nearly 25 years." With an epicenter near Market Rasen (in Lincolnshire) it was felt across Yorkshire (where we are) and as far away as Wales, London, and Scotland (all of the colored circles on the map below).


So, since Pat and I have very different accounts of this event, we're both going to tell the story. First, a little background. Pat has been known to search out the slightest sound in the middle of the night with his eagle-like hearing because he must know what's causing it—and must stop it. Jamie has been known to turn up the TV louder than necessary so that she can hear the soft parts comfortably and really doesn't care what squeaks or where it is—if it's really important it will be obvious in the morning.

With that being said, here's Pat's side of the story. Written by the man himself:
I woke up to the bed moving around and everything in the room shaking; the windows, the curtains, the shelves, everything on the shelves, you get the idea. I said to Jamie "I think we're having an earthquake." Her reply was simply "It's just the wind, go back to sleep."

Jamie's side of the story went something like this:
Pat: "I was right, it was an earthquake last night."
Jamie: "What earthquake?"

Then it dawned on me. In my extreme grogginess, I remember Pat saying, "What is that?!" and the bed vibrating like someone had just turned over with a thump. I vaguely remember some other noise, but I think it morphed into my dreamworld. I don't remember saying anything coherent, but did think to myself, "Who knows what it is, just go back to sleep already." In defense of my oblivious state, it was very windy (20mph+) yesterday and the windows tend to rattle when that happens. That doesn't explain the house moving of course.

So that was today's drama in England. No damage here, although there were reports of moving beds, 30 minute power outages, falling chimneys, and collapsing masonry elsewhere. One man was injured by falling debris. From what I can tell, none of our stuff moved at all.

Monday, February 25, 2008

Happy Birthday LAUREN!!



Happy Birthday from the top of the Italian Alps! Hopefully you have a little less snow in Chicago than they did in the mountains. Considering it's melting there, it might be a tie.

We hope you have as much fun celebrating your birthday as we did :) We look forward to seeing you and Jeff in the spring!

Thursday, February 21, 2008

funny signs, part 5

Today's topic is business names in York.


Pub signs range from the funny,


...to the cleverly morbid,


...to just cute, but maybe a little too furry.


If dogs don't do it for you, how about slugs? Despite the name, The Slug and Lettuce is a popular chain and has pretty tasty food.


Well, they either foster the really intelligent or the really obnoxious... probably both.


Uh...? No comment.


Ye Olde Shoppe


This one made both of us do a double-take. You won't find a BigMac here—that's across town. This establishment, of course, has an extra "a" and sells furniture.

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

Happy Birthday MOM!!


We're wishing you a Happy Birthday from Edinburgh!

This wasn't exactly taken in February, but I know how much you like flower and door shots so we thought this might fit the bill. We hope you have as happy and cheery of a day as you can manage in the middle of February and wish you a stress-free year!

Thursday, February 14, 2008

Happy Valentines Day!

I'd have to report that Valentines Day in the UK is much the same as in the US. Celebrated more by the chocolatiers, florists, jewelers, card and lingerie shops, it's not as overt in other places. I think the most noticeable change in York is that they changed the color of the nightly ferris wheel illumination to red for the season of love. Personally I think it's a little more demonic than romantic, but it's a fun change that we can see from our living room window.


Known as the Yorkshire Wheel, it was built so York wouldn't feel left out after London, Manchester, and Birmingham built theirs. At 54 metres, it's almost as tall as the Minster (nothing is allowed to be taller) and offers panoramic views in "42 climate-controlled pods each holding up to eight people at a time." According to the web, there is a special "...VIP pod with a leather interior, DVD sound system, phone and fridge for the Champagne." Sounds like romance to me—for a whole 13 minutes anyway. We haven't ridden the wheel, so can't comment on whether it's worth it or not. (You could just save $12 and click on this link for a video of the ride)

The wheel does have a history of love. Last Valentines Day they used it for speed dating—a girl in each pod and a guy getting on and off at each turn of the wheel. As far as I know, it didn't produce lasting romance. However, it is registered for weddings.

So kiss the one you love and consider renewing the old vows while spinning above York!

Wednesday, February 13, 2008

pea soup

Not being a fan of legumes, this is my favorite kind—thick fog...







Sunday, February 10, 2008

Staithes

What do you do when the sun comes out and temperature soars to a blistering 51˚F in February? Go to the beach, of course. Hoping to soak in some rays (and much needed vitamin D), we optimistically brought our sunglasses. We ended up using them too, more for the hazy glare than the brilliant sun.


Unknown to us, and for reasons we don't understand, people seemed to be setting controlled fires all over the moors. This means that thick smoke was blowing toward the coastal cities, settling in valleys, and lingering in the somewhat hazy air. Together, this gave us the impression of approaching Los Angeles vs. the, rural seaside city of Whitby on the edge of the North York Moors National Park. From Whitby we headed north to Staithes, a small fishing village stuck in the crook of a river gorge. Luckily, we were able to avoid the thicker smoke, but only had filtered sun at best.


Staithes has a long history in both fishing and mining. In its heyday, it was one of the "...largest fishing ports on the north east coast of England" with 300 men actively fishing and the train coming through 3 times a week to disperse the catch. Like many other cities along this part of the coast, they claim Captain James Cook since he lived here a short time. Fishermen can no longer make a real living here because the port is too small for modern boats.


Staithes is, and has been, rich in minerals and still has an active Potash mine. As you walk along the shore at low-tide, it's easy to appreciate their geological heritage. The huge eroded cliffs and big variety of exposed bedrock are probably a geologist's dream, exposing lots of different layers and types of rock. You regularly hear the eerie sound of gravel slides off the cliffs too. As we explored the bedrock, I stopped to pick up some of the cliff debris, which had been polished by the sea, before we got chased back to the village by the rapidly rising tide. The last thing either of us wanted was to be caught between actively eroding cliffs and the cold North Sea in February—sun or not.




After exploring the coast, we headed up Cleveland Way, a footpath out of town. We walked by some pretty foul-smelling pig barns and emerged into peaceful sheep pastures whose inhabitants were less skittish than normal. They weren't the prettiest sheep, with their wool turning into little dreadlocks that eventually became yarn hanging from their skin, but you've gotta love them anyway.


At the crest of the hill, we were able to see the dramatic coastline from above and the pasture land below. This is definitely one of the things we love and will miss about England.




As a village, we didn't find Staithes to be that impressive. If I was limited in my time on the coast, Robin Hood's Bay wins out. It's more picturesque and polished, with more attention to detail and good views all around. We still had a good time exploring Staithes as there's something new to see wherever you go.

Friday, February 8, 2008

A Wet Wonderland

Oh wait, that's suppose to be Winter Wonderland. Then again we are in York. The ground became saturated, the river was bloated, fields became lakes, train tracks were flooded, we had a pond develop in the Green across the street, a substantial amount of water seems to have been pumped out of the basement of our building, a road nearby was closed due to high water, two of the three ways we get to the train station were blocked by water, and there was still more rain coming.

Normal


High


Impassible


There are life preservers mounted on posts along the river, even in spots that don't see a lot of foot traffic. We used to find them silly thinking that, first, you would have to be stupid to fall in and, second, the current wasn't going to take you anywhere anyway. Sure, if you didn't know how to swim, it might be a problem, but you should probably be keeping your distance anyway. Seeing the speed of the river now, the life preservers make much more sense although, in many cases, you'd have to wade out into water to get one or just grab one as you float by.

The floodgates for streets and private residences closed as the water got higher, some working better than others.


That plastic bag keeping your bicycle seat dry isn't going to help you much now.


Good weather for the ducks although they didn't seem to want to venture into the open water.


Railings barely poking out of the water.


Only the very top of a park bench is still visible.


Don't get me wrong, there weren't torrential downpours and it wasn't raining all of the time, but nothing ever dries. Even the streets stay wet pretty much 24-7 due to dew, frost, fog, etc. Combine moisture with very little sun or warmth and it's not going anywhere. So, it got to the point where any rain meant puddles... or lakes. This must be why rubber boots are so common here. For a very appropriately timed marketing campaign celebrating this mucky season, click on this link for the "Marvelous Mud" commercial.

Even though this flooding caused damage for some and clean-up for others, it wasn't the worst York has seen. In 2000, the river was the highest since they began keeping records at 17ft 8.5in above the normal summer level. Flooding-related costs were estimated at £1.3 million. By my unscientific observation, we were at 14ft this time.





After the rain eased up, the winds came. At 40mph, they gave the flooded river white caps and caused innumerable road closures due to both trucks blowing over and the risk of more accidents. As Pat can attest, having the highways you take home closed can give you an ulcer. Not only did the stopped traffic add an extra 1/2hr. onto his commute, but the absence of any detour signs was equally frustrating when all of the ways you know home are blocked.

On a positive note, the BBC says sun should set in York at 4:56pm today so we're making progress and it's noticeable. The crazy thing is that daffodils are already like 5 inches tall here. They haven't bloomed, but the crocus and snowbells are. We're getting a nice little warm spell, sun, and a break from the rain. Not as warm as what you guys have had recently, but it hasn't been anywhere near as cold either. Sounds like spring, but people say our winter might not have started yet since it comes later every year.

We'll see. Even without much snow to speak of, it's been an interesting "winter" so far.