You already know about the live Nativity. Well, Todi's going one better, and on Good Friday will supplement its usual procession with the life-size corpus from San Filippo di Benizi from the Porta Romana to the Duomo with a detour to the Nicchioni, where they will have a staged crucifixion! I don't know yet who has volunteered to be one of the three, but I do know who's going to be our Blessed Mother: Eleanor!
And here's how she was chosen:
Don Riccardo wanted someone virginal, and thought that was more important than the concept of a 17-year-old young woman mourning "her" 33-year-old "son". Hmmm. The math on that's a bit odd.
When I asked about our Madonna for the live Nativity, I was told that she was divorced and clearly not virginal. Others I suggested were sloughed off as "too old" (42 or 43?). So, it's Eleanor.
We're all going to be in costumes. I have the fabric now, and I have to check in with the dressmaker tomorrow. Rumor has it that she'll do each costume for 15 euros, which I call a serious bargain. Failing that, I'll be able to do them with ... my new sewing machine (!!!!!), courtesy of my darling parents and wonderful husband!
Love,
Alexandra
Sunday, March 3, 2013
Double Blessings
 |
| Note the nuns in their uniforms as well! |
 |
| The bishop emerging from the ambulance |
Love,
Alexandra
Saturday, March 2, 2013
Simpler Times
I just finished washing the dishes after dinner. Why was I washing the dishes? Because two children are out camping with the Scouts, one fell asleep before dinner, one is out on the town, and one needed to be in bed and out of sight after a rough afternoon of homework.
While I washed dishes I reflected on how commonplace our lifestyle seems to us right now, and how it might not seem that way to everyone else. You see, I was washing all the dishes by hand in a one-basin sink because we do not have a dishwasher, unless you count 5 children. That got me thinking on everything else we took for granted back in Atlanta.
In Italy, we have:
* no dishwasher
* no microwave
* no toaster
* no deep freezer
* a refrigerator so small it fits under the counter
* a three-burner gas stove we have to light by hand
* no clothes dryer
* one tiny car, which seats 4 and has a top speed of 50 mph
* parking a block away for that car
* 1000 sq ft for 7 people
* no air conditioning
* 4 windows, one for each room
* a "yard" that is a 3-ft by 20-ft balcony
* metered electric power so small that we cannot run the washing machine and the oven at the same time
And do you know what? It is enough.
Lest you think we are serious throwbacks, here are some items from the other end of the spectrum:
* 6 cell phones
* 5 laptops
* 3 iPads
Michael
While I washed dishes I reflected on how commonplace our lifestyle seems to us right now, and how it might not seem that way to everyone else. You see, I was washing all the dishes by hand in a one-basin sink because we do not have a dishwasher, unless you count 5 children. That got me thinking on everything else we took for granted back in Atlanta.
In Italy, we have:
* no dishwasher
* no microwave
* no toaster
* no deep freezer
* a refrigerator so small it fits under the counter
* a three-burner gas stove we have to light by hand
* no clothes dryer
* one tiny car, which seats 4 and has a top speed of 50 mph
* parking a block away for that car
* 1000 sq ft for 7 people
* no air conditioning
* 4 windows, one for each room
* a "yard" that is a 3-ft by 20-ft balcony
* metered electric power so small that we cannot run the washing machine and the oven at the same time
And do you know what? It is enough.
Lest you think we are serious throwbacks, here are some items from the other end of the spectrum:
* 6 cell phones
* 5 laptops
* 3 iPads
Michael
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
International Living...
I found it! The ethnic foods section in our HUGE supermarket (down in Ponte Rio, 3 miles from centro). The supermarket is the size of a small Kroger, and contains clothes, a small hardware section, a school supplies aisle, a large deli section, and the normal accoutrements of a grocery store as you'd expect (except for having eggs on the shelf instead of in the refrigerator section).
What you can't find (or at least I couldn't, until today) is anything other than Italian foodstuffs. Or at least foodstuffs compatible with Italian cooking.
In the corner waaaaay to the back of the store, I accidentally spotted it:
You can't get refried beans here, but you can get a 10-kg (that's 22 POUND) Easter egg. And that's not a joke:
Love,
Alexandra
What you can't find (or at least I couldn't, until today) is anything other than Italian foodstuffs. Or at least foodstuffs compatible with Italian cooking.
In the corner waaaaay to the back of the store, I accidentally spotted it:
 |
| Our ethnic foods |
 |
| Florence showing some of the rest of the store |
 |
| That is a water/juice/drinks section |
You can't get refried beans here, but you can get a 10-kg (that's 22 POUND) Easter egg. And that's not a joke:Love,
Alexandra
Monday, February 25, 2013
Vignettes
Some insights from our past week...
1. We had arranged with Nonno Enrico's wife to pick up a 3-liter tin of olive oil on Saturday (this was Friday). However, Friday late afternoon we were down in the village and weren't sure whether we really had enough oil for our dinner. I went over to Enrico's stand (the lights were on! Hurray!), and the lights went out...Luca was leaving. I gave out a shout, and he gladly re-opened for me -- and upon seeing me said immediately that he hadn't got around to decanting my 3-liter tin, he was so sorry, but he'd have it ready tomorrow as promised. Responding that it was fine, I just needed a small something to get by for dinner, he gave me a 250-ml (8.4-ounce) bottle. Yes, you read the verb correctly... gave. I love our community here.
2. Tricia asked the bishop to bless a rosary that James had given her. He happily did so, saying that he'd bring us each one blessed by Pope Benedict to the following week's Mass. When I was waiting to talk to Don Enrico after Mass the next week, the bishop saw me, came over, and said that he had our gifts. Sure enough -- not just a rosary each, but a beautiful signed photo of our retiring pontiff. Isn't that lovely?
3. Tricia couldn't resist a beautiful purse in one of our local shops, and was also eying a blouse. In Italy, returning items isn't terribly common, and one must ask if it's possible. Anyway, the lady said that Tricia could take it home & think about it...if she decided to purchase it, please bring just the tags back. When she rang up Tricia's purchase, there was no charge on the blouse at all -- it was taken away on the honor system!
4. Leo saw me hefting the heaviest.cart.ever up the hill -- we were just at Consolazione -- and stopped to give us a lift. Just because. Speaking of whom, he called me from the airport as he was leaving for vacation in Argentina just to confirm Tricia's and Michael's travel arrangements so that Sandro would be there on time and in the right place.
5. I went to the garden store, and got some more plants. The lovely lady (whose name I've forgotten...something Maria) put the pot, plants, and soil in the car. We went to pay (after everything was loaded!), at which point she told me that I couldn't pay today because her cash register was on the fritz. "Just come back in the next couple of days and we'll get you all set up," she said blithely. I suggested that at least we should write down what I'd taken so we didn't forget something by mistake?
6. At the dentist: Ashley had a sore tooth and Florence was concerned about her tooth grinding. I took them both in for an evaluation with a private dentist. He saw us at 4, agreed with the night guard for Florence, and had a very specific recommendation for the type of guard based on her bite. Rather than scheduling an appointment for the molds, etc. he went ahead and did it right there. I remembered when I had mine done how much I wanted to gag...Florence, who has a much more sensitive palate, reported that it was completely fine and she had no trouble with it.
Moving into another room for Ashley (already cleaned), he wanted to do an x-ray to confirm his visual evaluation that everything was okay. I did ask specifically if he could shield her neck (thyroid protection), and he assured me that that was fine. The assistant showed up with a style of x-ray vest with a built-in neck guard. Who would have expected that, given that we're in the middle of nowhere? I certainly wouldn't. When the x-ray had been developed, he explained why her tooth was sensitive, described extremely clearly exactly what was going on with it, and answered all our questions very knowledgeably.
The time came to check out. Rita, the assistant, set up the 2-week appointment to pick up Florence's guard. She was ready for me to scram, and I had to cough hesitantly and ask how much I owed them. Looking surprised, she signaled for me to wait for a minute. After conferring with the dentist, she decided that we owed them 20 euros.
Alexandra
1. We had arranged with Nonno Enrico's wife to pick up a 3-liter tin of olive oil on Saturday (this was Friday). However, Friday late afternoon we were down in the village and weren't sure whether we really had enough oil for our dinner. I went over to Enrico's stand (the lights were on! Hurray!), and the lights went out...Luca was leaving. I gave out a shout, and he gladly re-opened for me -- and upon seeing me said immediately that he hadn't got around to decanting my 3-liter tin, he was so sorry, but he'd have it ready tomorrow as promised. Responding that it was fine, I just needed a small something to get by for dinner, he gave me a 250-ml (8.4-ounce) bottle. Yes, you read the verb correctly... gave. I love our community here.
2. Tricia asked the bishop to bless a rosary that James had given her. He happily did so, saying that he'd bring us each one blessed by Pope Benedict to the following week's Mass. When I was waiting to talk to Don Enrico after Mass the next week, the bishop saw me, came over, and said that he had our gifts. Sure enough -- not just a rosary each, but a beautiful signed photo of our retiring pontiff. Isn't that lovely?
3. Tricia couldn't resist a beautiful purse in one of our local shops, and was also eying a blouse. In Italy, returning items isn't terribly common, and one must ask if it's possible. Anyway, the lady said that Tricia could take it home & think about it...if she decided to purchase it, please bring just the tags back. When she rang up Tricia's purchase, there was no charge on the blouse at all -- it was taken away on the honor system!
4. Leo saw me hefting the heaviest.cart.ever up the hill -- we were just at Consolazione -- and stopped to give us a lift. Just because. Speaking of whom, he called me from the airport as he was leaving for vacation in Argentina just to confirm Tricia's and Michael's travel arrangements so that Sandro would be there on time and in the right place.
5. I went to the garden store, and got some more plants. The lovely lady (whose name I've forgotten...something Maria) put the pot, plants, and soil in the car. We went to pay (after everything was loaded!), at which point she told me that I couldn't pay today because her cash register was on the fritz. "Just come back in the next couple of days and we'll get you all set up," she said blithely. I suggested that at least we should write down what I'd taken so we didn't forget something by mistake?
6. At the dentist: Ashley had a sore tooth and Florence was concerned about her tooth grinding. I took them both in for an evaluation with a private dentist. He saw us at 4, agreed with the night guard for Florence, and had a very specific recommendation for the type of guard based on her bite. Rather than scheduling an appointment for the molds, etc. he went ahead and did it right there. I remembered when I had mine done how much I wanted to gag...Florence, who has a much more sensitive palate, reported that it was completely fine and she had no trouble with it.
Moving into another room for Ashley (already cleaned), he wanted to do an x-ray to confirm his visual evaluation that everything was okay. I did ask specifically if he could shield her neck (thyroid protection), and he assured me that that was fine. The assistant showed up with a style of x-ray vest with a built-in neck guard. Who would have expected that, given that we're in the middle of nowhere? I certainly wouldn't. When the x-ray had been developed, he explained why her tooth was sensitive, described extremely clearly exactly what was going on with it, and answered all our questions very knowledgeably.
The time came to check out. Rita, the assistant, set up the 2-week appointment to pick up Florence's guard. She was ready for me to scram, and I had to cough hesitantly and ask how much I owed them. Looking surprised, she signaled for me to wait for a minute. After conferring with the dentist, she decided that we owed them 20 euros.
Alexandra
Cioccolatissimo!
Tricia and I had the opportunity of touring the Perugina plant last week. Perugina has a very interesting history which tied together several bits and pieces of Italian culture.
At the turn of the century (possibly before), Signor Buitoni had a pasta shop. In 1907 (that historic year!), he decided to add a few sweets to his offerings. He made a rum-filled sweet called the "Rosanna" and a few others...which quickly took off! Pretty soon, the sweets side of the business eclipsed the pasta portion.
Fairly early on, Buitoni partnered with a couple (the Spagnolis) to work on some of the marketing and to develop products. They introduced chocolate to the mix, which became wildly popular. One inspired day, Luisa Spagnoli (who in her own right was a clothing designer at the time -- more about that later) decided to use the leftover bits and pieces from the chocolate fabrication process, mash it up, and cover it with chocolate. Makes me think of "refrigerator soup", you know? All the dribs and drabs that get tossed in together & served? Or "leftover casserole". Made with chocolate, one would expect it to be a bit tastier, though.
And it was. She called her creation "pugno" (I think) -- meaning in rather crude slang "punch" (as in a punch to the face). After the others tasted this, it was time to rename it; with a bit of jujitsu they changed the violence to love, and the pugno became the "Baci" (meaning "kisses").
Overnight it was a huge success. To the point that they had to build a new factory almost immediately. Now, our tour guide proudly pointed to a display where were shown the three icons of Italy: Vespas, Baci, and...Fiat 500s! (You knew I'd drag my car into it somehow, didn't you, since I hadn't gushed about it for a while?)
We had a wonderful time watching the Easter eggs in production. They're such fragile items that an enormous number did not pass quality control and had to be melted down. So interesting.
What would a trip to the chocolate factory be without a trip to the chocolate factory store? A wasted morning, if you ask me. So, loaded up with our annual provisions (including a particular chocolate that I haven't found elsewhere -- dark chocolate with red fruits -- really scrumptious, and I don't even LIKE dark chocolate!) and a sampling of the Rosanna (which everyone associates with their grandmother since that's what she would have in the candy bowl!), we went on our way.
Believe it or not, we were actually ready for some lunch (real food), and tried to find the restaurant recommended by our tour guide. La Collina Verde was the trough specified, and we were told it was next to the hospital. Negotiating Perugian traffic and traffic circles and all the excitement that entailed, we made it to the hospital. Then what? We circled around the parking lot, feeling a bit calmer now that we were out of traffic, and found niente. No Collina, no verde.
As we were about to leave the parking lot none the fuller, we saw a sign: "La Collina" !!!! Could this be it? As a confirmation the sign was -- you guessed it -- verde. Unfortunately, that was all the confirmation we received: the place looked like a 1950s roadside motel from the states, including the putrid color, in this case a yellowish orangish beige.
Expecting Norman Bates around any corner, despite the architectural disconnect, we wandered into a deserted courtyard -- peering this way and that for any indication. Aha! A sign for a trattoria! As we turned to the right, a fellow in a penguin suit popped out from behind. He told us he could fix us right up. Thinking he was with the accommodations portion of the resort, we told him we were just looking for a salad or light meal. No problem! He could take care of everything.
You know how in the cartoons they pull performers off the stage using the crook of a walking stick? Tricia and I felt vaguely as though we were being pulled INTO the restaurant with this technique. Or maybe he was using a cattle prod.
Docile as lambs, we surveyed our fate: a sea of empty tables with beautiful damask tablecloths -- the works. Oh my word, what had we got ourselves into? Was this going to be a three-martini lunch with a three-martini price?
Directly facing me across the table was not my lovely companion, but a television. That was on. Ick. So I asked kindly (given that we were the only ones there apart from a canoodling couple who had eyes only for each other) whether the TV could be turned off. Absolutely not, I was told, but they would cheerfully move us to another table. The waiter-cum-penguin escorted us to an alternate location, where I continued to have front-row seats for the so-called entertainment.
Seeing that that wouldn't do, he figuratively shrugged his shoulders, waddled us back over to the first table, and turned off the TV.
And he didn't like me.
Anyway, we looked at the menu. First good sign: it was all in Italian (no menu turistico here!). First bad sign: it had a ton of stuff that we didn't recognize. I started inquiring about what exactly we would get -- no sheep's eyes or anything even more revolting, you know the precautions one always makes. Thawing, our waiter went to inquire with the chef, because some words had two possible culinary meanings -- either cherry tomatoes or a type of cheese -- and came back quite cheerfully with the response. Tricia asked for the fish platter, but expressed some concern about tentacles. Not knowing the word for that part of marine anatomy, I had to use hand gestures, which caused some amusement, I'm sure.
Back he came, cheerfully now, bearing salad which he placed carefully on a table that was pulled up next to ours. The most elaborate salad ceremony commenced. We had a toss here, a toss there, a sprinkling of olive oil, a crank of salt from the large hand grinder...you get the idea.
Thereafter, we had a most convivial luncheon. The food really was quite delicious, and Tricia's fish platter (sans tentacles, but avec shrimp heads) was a sight to behold. At the end of the meal (about 3:30 or so) we had a look around the restaurant. During the course of our salad tossing, shrimp dissection, and coffee stirring, the entire place had become packed. We couldn't believe how many people were just now getting around to their lunch!
Time to move on. Feeling like contented lionesses, we trundled off to my Italian icon and set our sights for the next whistle stop on our Perugian tour. Having heard about Luisa Spagnoli, how could we resist going to her shop in downtown Perugia?
Ironic note: as we were circling around trying to find the shop, I was back on my old stomping ground of our Questura-hunting days! However, that didn't help our locating the shop. As I had pulled over to ask a bus driver (who compassionately told me that he was a stranger here himself) about her shop, Tricia mused, "What's Spagnoli?" Not really listening or paying attention, I said I didn't know.
We reviewed the schematic provided by our Perugina tour guide one more time. Hmm. It did say to keep going this direction, so...even though it looked rather residential...we continued. Under the bridge (with a smaller archway on the right for pedestrians -- very sweet), up the hill, and our faith ran out. As I turned around, I nearly ran smack-dab into a sign reading, "Luisa Spagnoli" !!!!!!
We found our shop. It was an outlet. And the clothes were lovely...beautifully designed and tailored. And not expensive given the materials and construction. Tricia found a few items. I wasn't really looking, but as she was checking out, I saw it: a cone of yarn!!!!! Voice trembling with excitement, I inquired as to whether these were decorations or for sale.
Well satisfied, both Tricia and I left with our purchases (and our Luisa Spagnoli bags), and decided that it was time to head home.
Love,
Alexandra
p.s. The pacchini turned out to be tomatoes, in this case.
At the turn of the century (possibly before), Signor Buitoni had a pasta shop. In 1907 (that historic year!), he decided to add a few sweets to his offerings. He made a rum-filled sweet called the "Rosanna" and a few others...which quickly took off! Pretty soon, the sweets side of the business eclipsed the pasta portion.
Fairly early on, Buitoni partnered with a couple (the Spagnolis) to work on some of the marketing and to develop products. They introduced chocolate to the mix, which became wildly popular. One inspired day, Luisa Spagnoli (who in her own right was a clothing designer at the time -- more about that later) decided to use the leftover bits and pieces from the chocolate fabrication process, mash it up, and cover it with chocolate. Makes me think of "refrigerator soup", you know? All the dribs and drabs that get tossed in together & served? Or "leftover casserole". Made with chocolate, one would expect it to be a bit tastier, though.
And it was. She called her creation "pugno" (I think) -- meaning in rather crude slang "punch" (as in a punch to the face). After the others tasted this, it was time to rename it; with a bit of jujitsu they changed the violence to love, and the pugno became the "Baci" (meaning "kisses").
Overnight it was a huge success. To the point that they had to build a new factory almost immediately. Now, our tour guide proudly pointed to a display where were shown the three icons of Italy: Vespas, Baci, and...Fiat 500s! (You knew I'd drag my car into it somehow, didn't you, since I hadn't gushed about it for a while?)
 |
| Tricia with our shopping bags |
What would a trip to the chocolate factory be without a trip to the chocolate factory store? A wasted morning, if you ask me. So, loaded up with our annual provisions (including a particular chocolate that I haven't found elsewhere -- dark chocolate with red fruits -- really scrumptious, and I don't even LIKE dark chocolate!) and a sampling of the Rosanna (which everyone associates with their grandmother since that's what she would have in the candy bowl!), we went on our way.
Believe it or not, we were actually ready for some lunch (real food), and tried to find the restaurant recommended by our tour guide. La Collina Verde was the trough specified, and we were told it was next to the hospital. Negotiating Perugian traffic and traffic circles and all the excitement that entailed, we made it to the hospital. Then what? We circled around the parking lot, feeling a bit calmer now that we were out of traffic, and found niente. No Collina, no verde.
As we were about to leave the parking lot none the fuller, we saw a sign: "La Collina" !!!! Could this be it? As a confirmation the sign was -- you guessed it -- verde. Unfortunately, that was all the confirmation we received: the place looked like a 1950s roadside motel from the states, including the putrid color, in this case a yellowish orangish beige.
Expecting Norman Bates around any corner, despite the architectural disconnect, we wandered into a deserted courtyard -- peering this way and that for any indication. Aha! A sign for a trattoria! As we turned to the right, a fellow in a penguin suit popped out from behind. He told us he could fix us right up. Thinking he was with the accommodations portion of the resort, we told him we were just looking for a salad or light meal. No problem! He could take care of everything.
You know how in the cartoons they pull performers off the stage using the crook of a walking stick? Tricia and I felt vaguely as though we were being pulled INTO the restaurant with this technique. Or maybe he was using a cattle prod.
Docile as lambs, we surveyed our fate: a sea of empty tables with beautiful damask tablecloths -- the works. Oh my word, what had we got ourselves into? Was this going to be a three-martini lunch with a three-martini price?
Directly facing me across the table was not my lovely companion, but a television. That was on. Ick. So I asked kindly (given that we were the only ones there apart from a canoodling couple who had eyes only for each other) whether the TV could be turned off. Absolutely not, I was told, but they would cheerfully move us to another table. The waiter-cum-penguin escorted us to an alternate location, where I continued to have front-row seats for the so-called entertainment.
Seeing that that wouldn't do, he figuratively shrugged his shoulders, waddled us back over to the first table, and turned off the TV.
And he didn't like me.
Anyway, we looked at the menu. First good sign: it was all in Italian (no menu turistico here!). First bad sign: it had a ton of stuff that we didn't recognize. I started inquiring about what exactly we would get -- no sheep's eyes or anything even more revolting, you know the precautions one always makes. Thawing, our waiter went to inquire with the chef, because some words had two possible culinary meanings -- either cherry tomatoes or a type of cheese -- and came back quite cheerfully with the response. Tricia asked for the fish platter, but expressed some concern about tentacles. Not knowing the word for that part of marine anatomy, I had to use hand gestures, which caused some amusement, I'm sure.
Back he came, cheerfully now, bearing salad which he placed carefully on a table that was pulled up next to ours. The most elaborate salad ceremony commenced. We had a toss here, a toss there, a sprinkling of olive oil, a crank of salt from the large hand grinder...you get the idea.
Thereafter, we had a most convivial luncheon. The food really was quite delicious, and Tricia's fish platter (sans tentacles, but avec shrimp heads) was a sight to behold. At the end of the meal (about 3:30 or so) we had a look around the restaurant. During the course of our salad tossing, shrimp dissection, and coffee stirring, the entire place had become packed. We couldn't believe how many people were just now getting around to their lunch!
Time to move on. Feeling like contented lionesses, we trundled off to my Italian icon and set our sights for the next whistle stop on our Perugian tour. Having heard about Luisa Spagnoli, how could we resist going to her shop in downtown Perugia?
Ironic note: as we were circling around trying to find the shop, I was back on my old stomping ground of our Questura-hunting days! However, that didn't help our locating the shop. As I had pulled over to ask a bus driver (who compassionately told me that he was a stranger here himself) about her shop, Tricia mused, "What's Spagnoli?" Not really listening or paying attention, I said I didn't know.
We reviewed the schematic provided by our Perugina tour guide one more time. Hmm. It did say to keep going this direction, so...even though it looked rather residential...we continued. Under the bridge (with a smaller archway on the right for pedestrians -- very sweet), up the hill, and our faith ran out. As I turned around, I nearly ran smack-dab into a sign reading, "Luisa Spagnoli" !!!!!!
We found our shop. It was an outlet. And the clothes were lovely...beautifully designed and tailored. And not expensive given the materials and construction. Tricia found a few items. I wasn't really looking, but as she was checking out, I saw it: a cone of yarn!!!!! Voice trembling with excitement, I inquired as to whether these were decorations or for sale.
Well satisfied, both Tricia and I left with our purchases (and our Luisa Spagnoli bags), and decided that it was time to head home.
Love,
Alexandra
p.s. The pacchini turned out to be tomatoes, in this case.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
La Conchiglia Hotel
I have completed the first leg of my trip to the outskirts of Washington, D.C. for my grandmother's 90th birthday. Since this is a personal trip I decided I didn't want to start it by leaving Todi at 5:30 in the morning by taxi. Instead, I took three trains and a (much shorter) taxi ride to get to Rome tonight, and I'll have a short ride to Fiumicino in the morning.
We found the hotel on a web search where my two criteria were "near the airport" and "inexpensive". It must be the off season, because for 40 Euros I am in a beachfront hotel that was once popular with movie stars (according to my driver) and has been brought up to modern standards within the last 5 years.
The decor in my room is thoroughly modern with rectangular shapes, simple colors, and interesting use of painted steel and glass.
For example, notice the doors to the closet on the right, below. They are steel, asymmetrical, and lit from within to emphasize the pattern of holes. That pattern is echoed in the desk in the background (below the flat-screen TV).
Do you see the cube hanging from the wall? That's the fridge.
The bed, with the glass shower wall to the right:
The bathroom also has high-design fixtures and layout. Sorry about the color. The light is actually very good, but my iPad doesn't do a good job of selecting the right tones.
They really did try to make it nice. A towel warmer, even.
There you see that teasing glass shower wall from the other side. This would be a nice room to share with your significant other. Well, except for one thing. This particular room opens onto the lobby:
But they do have other rooms.
Oh, and a nice restaurant, too. Nothing spectacular, just run of the mill delicious Italian food. Since it is right in the coast, 10 minutes from where the local fishing fleet lands, I opted for pasta with seafood. It was amazing. Fresh pasta (slightly unevenly cut spaghetti) and fresher seafood. The seafood included some tiny calamari served whole! Jeremy would have thought they were very cute.
Internet? Free.
Michael
We found the hotel on a web search where my two criteria were "near the airport" and "inexpensive". It must be the off season, because for 40 Euros I am in a beachfront hotel that was once popular with movie stars (according to my driver) and has been brought up to modern standards within the last 5 years.
The decor in my room is thoroughly modern with rectangular shapes, simple colors, and interesting use of painted steel and glass.
For example, notice the doors to the closet on the right, below. They are steel, asymmetrical, and lit from within to emphasize the pattern of holes. That pattern is echoed in the desk in the background (below the flat-screen TV).
Do you see the cube hanging from the wall? That's the fridge.
The bed, with the glass shower wall to the right:
The bathroom also has high-design fixtures and layout. Sorry about the color. The light is actually very good, but my iPad doesn't do a good job of selecting the right tones.
They really did try to make it nice. A towel warmer, even.
There you see that teasing glass shower wall from the other side. This would be a nice room to share with your significant other. Well, except for one thing. This particular room opens onto the lobby:
But they do have other rooms.
Oh, and a nice restaurant, too. Nothing spectacular, just run of the mill delicious Italian food. Since it is right in the coast, 10 minutes from where the local fishing fleet lands, I opted for pasta with seafood. It was amazing. Fresh pasta (slightly unevenly cut spaghetti) and fresher seafood. The seafood included some tiny calamari served whole! Jeremy would have thought they were very cute.
Internet? Free.
Michael
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