What to do on vacation
Nothing. Just be sure to do it well.
Gail and I lead an extraordinarily full and busy life. We burn the candle at both ends, all the time. So when we get out of the social loop, we tend to seriously recharge the batteries. This year we decided to go to one of the most magical places we have ever been to, the great thing is the we were able to get one of the Maui SUP Rentals and they were able to do the delivery at the airport which was extremely convenient for us.
A busy day here includes reading, playing bridge online, napping, eating, napping, eating, more bridge and going to bed to read.
The younger folks on this trip may be trotting the mile downhill to town, and then walking the 5 miles back uphill, but not us. That’s why God made taxis–which are very luxurious here, all 7 passenger vans from Mercedes or even Lancia. I haven’t seen a Lancia in 30 years in the states, who knew they were still producing luxury vehicles here?
Lunch today across the street at the Hotel Catarina. We noticed something–something else we haven’t seen in 30 years at home–the menus for the women have no prices. This might seem sexist, but it reduces by half the heart attacks caused when Americans see what a meal costs. Good thing Brad and I travel with our nitroglycerin pills.
The food is worth it, though. This is the calzone I had:
What a calzone would look like in Heaven
Notice the plate–the Amalfi coast is a big center for ceramics, and most of the places we have eaten have their own tableware custom made.
So after some more reading and another nap, we went to the town of Ravello for dinner. More impossibly narrow roads that you think must be one way until a city bus passes you going in the other direction. I’m not sure we actually found the town, but we ended up at a nice place for dinner, high on a hill with a view forever.
The beautiful daughter on top of a hill overlooking the Mediterranean
Dinner was excellent, as all the food we have had here has been.
Timbale of tuna tartare “perfumed by the citrus of the sea”
Gail’s raviolli. The black letters just above and to the left are the restaurant name baked in to the custom platter.
Two servings of fish in “crazy water”
Kate and Chloe both had the pesce al’acqua pazza, fish in crazy water–which means poached in water, wine, oil, garlic, cherry tomatoes and rosemary. We like the name also as much as we liked the fish.
The drive back to our apartment was easier, because there was so much less traffic. And the headlight let you know when someone is coming around a blind curve. We had to stand outside for 15 minutes until the man came from the parking area to take our cars and put them away for the night. I decided I should put the time to use, so here is the best shot I got of the Amalfi area.
Amalfi at night
Tomorrow I’m heading about 150 miles south of here to the narrow part of the instep of Italy, where the itty-bitty burg of San Demetrio Corone hides in the hills. My grandfather, Angelo Aristede Genarro Pisarra, was born there on via Castriota #15, third alley left. Grandmother, Maria Rosa Canade, was born on the same street, second alley, first house. I’ve got some exploring and photographing to do.
Stalking the perfect Bellini
On a recent trip to Hawaii, I spent my time stalking the perfect lava flow. Now that we’re in Italy, I’m changing my focus to the perfect Bellini, a champagne cocktail with peach juice and fresh peach.
The good news is that I think I have found the absolutely perfect execution of this little masterpiece. The bad news is that it was the very first one, I don’t think I will ever find a better Bellini than we had our first night here.
This marvel of perfection is what they served me at the Hotel Santa Catarina, the very very upscale hostelry across from our apartment. Hillary and Chelsea stayed there during the Clinton presidency. Kim Kardashian honeymooned there ( that may not be a virtue). It’s as beautiful a hotel as you could ever imagine
The service is beyond compare. We just wanted a drink while Kate and Brad were checking out the new digs, and this is the table they laid for us. Those green olives are the best any of us has ever had. The pistachios were perfect and the cashews were rich and buttery.
Later that evening we had dinner in their seaside restaurant, reached by an elevator that goes 8 stories straight down the cliff. The food and the service were impeccable. You pay the bill at the hotel front desk, for some reason. Granddaughter Demi was inquiring about where she might go to buy some coffee for the morning, but it was late and nobody would be open, so the front desk manager made us a care package of coffee, tea, sugar and a carton of cream. You don’t find that kind of courtesy and kindness at the HIlton.
Last night I had a Bellini at a more casual place. I think you can tell the difference just by looking:
More juice, less Champagne, less real fruit. A very poor imitation of what I started with.
It’s kind of a shame when the very first example you find of something is the best there is–you can’t really hope for more in the future. It would be like hitting a hole in one your very first round of golf–might as well just quit, it isn’t going to get any better.
Here’s something I’ve had many times in my life, but never quite like this:
We ate lunch today in a trattoria our taxi driver was touting–maybe it’s really good, maybe his cousin owns it. The food in general was decent, but the artichoke was spectacular. This is clearly a different type of artichoke than we get from Castroville, and it was cooked then marinated in oil and spice. Every last bit of it was not only edible but delicious.
The weather has not cooperated. We have had intermittent rain showers but think it will be clearing up tomorrow, which is fortuitous because we are planning to get our car out of the parking lot (which is quite a distance away; they pick your car up and then deliver it back when you want it.) and head off to some of the other small towns on this beautiful coast.
Amalfi itself was jammed today with tourists who arrived in an armada of tour busses from Rome and Naples. Kate’s daughters, who have been raised essentially as pagans, decided to get dressed this morning and attend Sunday Mass at the large church in town. Chloe announced that they wanted to “Get down with Jesus”. I did enough of that when I was a kid in Catholic school, so I let them go alone. They both are still smiling and beautiful, I guess Jesus is down with them.
For some reason I woke up this morning at 5:45. A nap broke out in the late afternoon, but now it’s time for me to get some real rest to be bright and cheerful in the morning. You like me better bright and cheerful.
They have pizza here. Who knew?
There is nothing like a quick 11 hours of sleep to make you feel better.
Jet lag vanquished, we ambled down the hill towards the city. It’s a walk of perhaps three quarters of a mile made exciting by the cars whizzing past within centimeters. We had to stop every few hundred yards to gaze at the sea and the buildings clinging to the cliffs.
I don’t know what this tiny structure is or why there is a stairway to the roof, it’s just part of the fascination of the Amalfi coast.
We ate lunch on the town square, in a place called Piazza Duomo. Gail did something she would never do at home–she ordered pizza.
This isn’t a bit like what we serve at Fat Slice. It was tasty, but not up to our standards. Too thin, not enough cheese, not enough meat. Clearly, these people don’t know much about pizza.
Brad had a Caprese salad, which is what I usually have. It looked, and tasted, simply wonderful. The local tomatoes are rich and ripe. The mozzarella was made within the last few days, maybe hours. The balsamic vinegar is of a much higher quality, the basil leaves were fresh picked.
Paying the bill is a bit of an adventure as well. The waiter brings a wireless machine to the table to scan your credit card. European law prohibits him taking your card away from the table; there is very little credit card fraud that way. The system is quick and safe, I wish we had it at home.
Walking into town was all downhill. Returning to our apartment is a taxi ride.
Gail and I played two quick tournaments on BridgeBase, and now it’s time for my nap. More after dinner.
Buongiorno!
Welcome to Amalfi, Italy. Gail and I have come here with Kate and Brad and granddaughters Demi and Chloe for eleven days of fun and sun.
Or fun, at least, since it isn’t sunny. Yet. I have the faith those clouds will leave us soon. Faith and the weather report.
Getting here was easy, at least the first 8000 miles. It’s always the last little bit that gets you.
We flew from San Francisco to Chicago to Rome. Got our rental car and braved the Italian highways. I haven’t driven a stick shift since the last time I rented a car in Italy, six years ago. The family was told they could not laugh at me for at least 24 hours. But laugh they did, when I could not figure out how to start the car. It is a BMW wagon with a diesel engine. Turns out you have to hold down both the clutch and the brakes before it will start.
At home, driving is easy. Here, it is work to try to read the roadsigns, notice that there is no speed limit, and observe that people take the lane markings as mere suggestions. The final 20 miles of the trip is on the coast road, which is perhaps one and a half lanes wide. This doesn’t seem to slow traffic very much, even though there is a constant dance of vehicles in too-tight spaces.
We got to the house we had rented over the Internet, and were appalled It was ghastly, small, tacky, and a very long way from the city. Deciding that the place just wasn’t acceptable, Kate got online and found somewhere much nicer and closer to civilization. Since it was a last minute rental, she haggled on the price, then we went to see it, planning on working on the price some more. We left our luggage in the first house because you can’t haggle very well if you look like you have no options.
The new house is stunning. Kate and Brad looked at it while the rest of us enjoyed a cocktail in the hotel across the street. They brought the realtor back and we sat and talked and charmed each other until it was time to try to beat him out of another 10%.
The thing I hate about about negotiating is that you never know if you really got the most you could have. How much money did I leave on the table because I didn’t ask for enough? I’ll never know, of course, but I think we got a good price and certainly made him come down from his original offer.
In any case, we are very happy. This apartment is lovely and just a short walk into town.
Now it’s time for me to go explore. Stay tuned for the rest of the adventure.
Not so much Spice
Dinner tonight at Spice Modern Steakhouse, just a block down the street from Karl and Susan’s condo. We called ahead, because after all it’s Friday night, and they said if we hurried right down immediately we could get a table.
So we jumped up, slipped into our shoes and hot-footed it to the restaurant. They gave us a table on the back deck, overlooking Lake Eola, out in the evening breezes. We did notice one important thing, though.
See the crowds filling all the tables? I didn’t, either.
That’s right–the place is empty. They just lied about needing to hurry in. Karl and Susan live here; they’re regulars. The hostess should know better than to lie to them. Karl doesn’t forget. Strike One
The concept of this restaurant is strange. They advertise as a steak house, and they have a sushi bar. I think they need to decide what they want to be, because they can’t do both.
We ordered. There was much confusion. They have chili. Or maybe they don’t. They do! No, they don’t! Eventually, we got an order in, but then the waiter had to come back because he hadn’t gotten Gail’s order down right.
The wedge salad came. It was good:
A big ol’ hunk of lettuce, blue cheese dressing, tomatoes and bacon. 1950 is calling and it wants its salad back.
We ordered the edamame, and liked it. Steaming hot with just the right amount of sea salt.
We ordered the chicken-spinach flatbread. It was so-so.
I ordered the warm goat cheese and cranberry spinach salad.
Goat cheese and cranberry spinach salad, not warm
I got a plate of pretty good salad, replete with cheese, cranberries, spinach and glazed walnuts. Everything about it was good except for one thing—no warmth. I think it’s just the cheese that is supposed to be warm, but it wasn’t. Did the chef forget? Did it sit on the counter too long and cool off? I can’t tell. I just know that I ordered a warm salad and got a cold one. Strike Two.
Gail ordered a hamburger, medium rare. She got a hamburger, well done. Karl’s burger was medium rare, why couldn’t they both be? Strike Three, but not out yet.
The manager came over when Gail told a busser about the burger. He wanted to make it right, but in his mind that meant cooking another burger. Gail wanted to eat with us, no wait 10 minutes for another plate. It took her quite a few tries to disabuse the manager of the concept of just replacing her meal and instead of comping it. I don’t think he was really listening. Strike four.
Karl wanted a slice of onion with his burger. One, single, simple, whole slice of onion. This turned out to be impossible to achieve. They brought him a single ring of onion. They brought him many rings of onion, but could not wrap their heads around the concept of a single, complete slice. If you can’t master the simple things, how can anyone expect you to be good at the hard stuff? Strike five.
I ordered a rainbow roll from the sushi bar. They served it at the same time as my salad. Who eats his entree and his salad simultaneously? I eat things sequentially, like most people do. Strike six.
A rainbow roll is a California roll with slices of various raw fish on top. A California roll is comprised of crab, cucumber and avocado. Spice uses krab, not crab. That’s the processed fish substitute that costs less. Because it’s worth less. Or worthless. Krab comes in either long sticks, presumably like the meat from a king crab leg, or all shredded up, like the meat you pick from a Dungeness crab. The shredded up kind is much better, both in taste and in texture. Spice used the long solid chunk version. Why would a pricey joint on the lake use the cheap version of the cheap substitute of the real thing? Because they don’t give a damn, that’s why. Strike seven.
Four year old kids playing tee-ball don’t get seven strikes, and I’m sure as hell not willing to give a hip, slick and cool downtown lakeside hot spot seven strikes. Spice Modern Steakhouse is out of the game as far as I’m concerned.
Star Trek Into Darkness
Zachary Quinto and Chris Pine star in the latest episode of the Star Trek sag
This is the way to make a movie. Get a good script and let the visuals tell the story. Use the special effects as something, well, special, not the reason for the movie’s existence. Build characters and let the audience relate to them. Have the good guys win and the bad guys lose and virtue triumph. The end.
Director J. J. Abrams does exactly this in Star Trek Into Darkness. The first 10 minutes of the film contain almost no exposition, just imagery, and you let the story unwind itself into your consciousness. Then everything opens up, you get involved in the characters (who you already know, which does make it easier for the director), the story takes over and you are on a whirlwind for the next 2 hours and some, hurtling towards a predestined happy ending that will leave you breathless for the next episode in 3 years or so.
We saw STID in IMAX 3D, which is surely the best way to enjoy one of these booming blockbusters. Two days ago we saw The Great Gatsby in Real 3D, which is some other kind of projection technique that doesn’t compare. The first movie always seemed to be reminding me “Hey!! This is 3D!!”, while the Imax production is completely immersive–you don’t much think of the process, you’re just in the movie. The sound system is magnificent, although excessively loud. I almost always wear earplugs in the theater, but they are a stunning necessity here. Even with the best earplugs I can find, it was exceedingly, painfully loud. I can’t imagine how anyone could sit through this movie without ear protection, but I know why we are creating generations of young people with premature yet profound hearing loss.
The special glasses for the Imax theater.
Seeing Gatsby, we received our glasses in individually wrapped plastic packages–although they had been worn before, they had been processed, cleaned and re-wrapped. Going into the IMAX theater, they just handed us these. They claimed that the glasses are cleaned and sterilized between wearings, but I wouldn’t bet my lungs on it.
Only a heel with the soul of a Klingon would reveal the plot, and that isn’t me. What is fascinating is that this is a re-work of the second Star Trek movie, The Wrath of Khan. The plots are most certainly different, but there are some brilliant similarities and echoes of the first movie in this one.
Chris Pine, as the new James Kirk, does a creditable job, but the real star, to me, is Zachary Quinto as Spock. Or maybe I’ve just always loved Spock the best. Zöe Saldana is just too pretty to be Uhura, as far as I’m concerned. I think they build her part up to justify her paycheck; she strikes me as much less important to the story than the producers want her to be.
There are a couple of first rate bad guys here, but I can’t tell you who they are, that would give it away.
Any movie of this genre depends on great special effects, and Star Trek Into Darkness succeeds mightily. Importantly, though, the special effects never overwhelm the story or the characters. This director knows the effects must support the story, not the other way around.
Since this was opening day, we thought there would be a crowd. Surprisingly, there were only about 25 people in that huge theater at Universal here in Orlando. I know the crowds will turn out for this movie, just wondering why there weren’t more ardent fanboys for the early showing.
If you are a Trekkie at heart, you will already be planning to see this. If you aren’t, go see it anyway, and then you will be a Trekkie. It’s a really good movie and you’ll like it. Bring hearing protection.
Thursday in Orlando
The party continues.
Getting a pleasantly slow start to the day, we trundled off to play bridge. Gail played with Susan, I played with Martha, a bridge teacher/director/club owner who is a good friend of Susan’s.
The game was small, 8 tables. We came in 2nd by only 1 miserable point, which we never had any opportunity to pick up. Yeah, that’s it.
The big deal was dinner. Peter Parker becomes Spiderman, Bruce Wayne is Batman and Clark Kent changes in phone booth to become Superman. Karl decided some years ago to start cooking, and has become quite the gourmet chef. When Karl slips on his custom made chef’s coat, he becomes Julian, chef de cuisine at his own private palace of fine dining, 530 on the 18th. Julian doesn’t just leaf through a cook book, he researches each recipe online, knowing the history and background and concepts behind it. We spent the day playing cards; he spent the day cooking. All day.
We were 7 for dinner–Karl, Susan, me and Gail, Martha (you have to give people dinner to get them to play with me), another friend Jerry (a fiesty female type) and Frances. Lovely, wonderful Frances.
Frances
The meal was a major Karl extravaganza. We started with crackers and cheese and artichokes with the pre-prandial drinks, then moved to the table for the main event.
First off, an homage to Gail, her favorite starter, beef carpaccio:
Raw beef, sliced thin and pounded thinner. Drizzled with a thin aioli and topped with watercress
Next was a perfectly prepared composed guacamole salad:
Avocado chunks in a cucumber timbale
To make a meal a feast, you just add frog’s legs:
Breaded and fried frog leg.
Finally, the main course. A sweet potato gratin, salmon with miso sauce and asparagus avec hollandaise.
Chef Julian’s piece de resistance.
There was no dessert; we were left with the sweetness of the sweet potatoes as a perfect finish to the meal.
There was another purpose to this dinner party: a large box had arrived at the Rowleys house, and needed to be dealt with:
A mystery to be unveiled.
Well, Gail was there, but she declined to open the box, because it was a present for Susan. The box cutter was quickly applied:
If there was a union for carton openers, SR would qualify.
Susan dug down in the packaging and figured out what was inside:
The moment of realization
Then raced over to hug her best friend in the whole world:
Best friends forever
Then had to go to her husband:
Still in tears.
What was in the box, you wonder? Art. We have a piece of sculpture that Susan particularly admires, by Kevin Nierman.
The long ladder-like item next between the mirror and the window. It is ceramic balls on a wire frame.
Gail asked Kevin to make a similar piece for Susan, and it came out beautifully.
So that was our dinner–the best company, fantastic food and some tears. Life is good.
Gatsby not so Great
Leonardo DiCaprio and Carey Mulligan star
The bottom line: Gail says it’s hard to follow Robert Redford.
We saw the movie in 3D, which may have been a mistake. This movie features too many scenes just to show off the 3D effects. Visual pyrotechnics don’t substitute for character development.
My very own, personal, 3D glasses. I think they clean them before they re-package them.
Being a director is a huge power trip, spending many millions of dollars, marshaling the efforts of hundreds or thousands of talented people in search of your own, specific, particular vision. The great directors, like Hitchcock or John Ford, leave an indelible stamp on a movie but let the story shine through. In the old days, there were studio executives watching over them to keep the production in line. These days, though, sometimes the director gets so enamored of his vision that he lets it overpower the story and the acting and there is nobody to rein him in. I think that’s what happened here.
Baz Luhrmann has directed 5 feature films, and they have gotten progressively more overblown and visually overpowering. I loved Strictly Ballroom, a small Australian film from 1992. Moulin Rouge was a tremendous spectacle, and cemented his reputation. Australia was a dud, as was his version of Romeo and Juliet. This garish, flashy, overdone testament to cinematic wizardry may end his career.
Gatsby has been eagerly awaited by the Luhrmann faithful for some time, yet only managed a 50% on the tomatometer. Given one of the great books of American literature, Luhrmann has chosen technical wizardry over solid storytelling everytime. It looks great, it just isn’t great.
DiCaprio does a decent job as Jay Gatsby, the lovesick bootlegger. Carey Mulligan plays Daisy in such a fashion that I never felt I had any idea what she was thinking, she just drifted through her complicated romantic situation. Tobey Maguire plays Nick Carraway as much more Peter Parker than Spiderman, which is probably apt but not very riveting.
Gail expected from the tattered reviews that she would like the cars and the clothes more than the movie itself, and she was right. The costuming and the sets are excellent, the cars are just delicious. Again, a case of the director putting more emphasis on the look of the film that the story. Will Hollywood never learn that characters drive box office?
The new Star Trek movie opens Friday. Now there are characters I can root for.
Partying on
Our airport greeting committee
Life in Orlando, for us at least, is just one continuous party. It starts with the raucous meeting at the airport, and just goes on and on.
Today, we slept in a bit to get accustomed to the time change, then played on computers for a while, then went shopping. I was hoping to find some new shorts–the selection here is better than it is at home. We went to the local mall and were stunned by the lack of customers–you could have shot a cannon through Dillards, hitting neither customers nor clerks. Nor size 44 shorts, sad to say. I knew I was the largest man in Ethiopia a couple of years ago, didn’t realize I’d have the same problem in Florida.
Lunch was at a chain sushi joint, Bento Cafe. One of the most unpleasant meals of my life, because of the incredible noise factor. There was an air conditioner, or ice maker, or Kenworth semi-tractor in the corner of the room which was so loud and intrusive I would never consider going back. The food was decent, not great. They only use Krab®, the imitation crabmeat, not the real thing. I’d pay more to get the good stuff. The tray with sugar had only the pink sweetener, which I think is ghastly. The design of the place is uber-modern, including a series of hanging lights in front of the kitchen area. Three of these lights were very obviously burned out, which looked really bad. Bento was a definite loser, even if they did give Karl a (small) piece of red velvet cake in his bento box as dessert. I stole it.
We were on our way to the movies to see The Great Gatsby, and were early. So we took a peek into the Corona Cigar Company, better known locally as Scotch and Stogies. This is a bar that only serves Scotch, with a huge selection of the expensive single malts. They sell cigars, too.
Not a lot of women hang out in this place, it’s so macho it has to shave every day.
The Cuban influence is strong here in Florida; I’ve never seen a store with just cigars before. Hundreds and hundreds of boxes of cigars, ranging from $1.00 to a small fortune.
The most expensive stogie in the store–pre-Castro Cuban. That’s $450 EACH
I’m not a smoker, true, but I just can’t imagine that a 54 year old cigar would still be good, much less worth $450. This would be an ego purchase much more than a true connoisseurs delight. The serious cigar smokers have their own, locked humidors on site:
Where the in crowd keeps their stogies.
The name badges on the lockers show a lot of law firms and financial counselors. More high-testosterone behavior.
Susan and Gail, with their 3D glasses and their ice bucket of Hess Chardonnay. All is right with the world.
Then it was movie time. The theater is one of the very fancy modern types, with heavy leather seats that lean back, lots of arm rest space and you can even bring in wine, which they sell along with the popcorn and Milk Duds at the concession stand. Surprisingly, the wine is priced similarly to what you would pay in a decent mid-price restaurant–they don’t try to soak you like they do with the sodas and candies.
Susan and Karl have a friend, Tim, who lives downstairs in the same building. Tim lived in Ethiopia as a kid, where his parents were missionaries. When Susan suggested that we should go with Tim to an Ethiopian restaurant for dinner some day, I pushed for today. Now. Right away. I’ve been thinking about a plate of shiro and doro wat lately, and this was too serendipitous to pass up.
Picking Tim up at the apartment, we headed out to the most touristy area of Orlando, International Drive, and the Nile Ethiopian restaurant. It looks just like everyplace I ate in Addis Ababa, down to the TV screens playing Ethiopian music and dance. I loved it.
Although I am well known as a non-drinker, I make a huge exception for Tej, the honey wine of Ethiopia. It is served in a small glass flask you drink from, and I was ordering one as we walked in the door.
Tej. It isn’t orange juice.
We let the expert order for us, and got a huge platter of assorted food–this is exactly the way you would get it in Ethiopia:
injera by wat, a variety of dishes all to be eaten with the injera bread in the basket.
There are no forks or spoons. You take the bread (injera), which is more like a wet washcloth, tear off a piece and scoop up some food from the platter. There are lentils and cabbage and beef stew and lamb stew and chicken stew and spinach and some other lentils and salad and some things you will never identify. All of it is spicy, some of it is very spicy, none of it was as spicy as it would be in Africa. There is injera on the platter under the food, which you eat last. It is soaked with all the juices and is the best part of the meal.
We loved it. I had three flasks of Tej, which doesn’t have much alcohol but if you try hard enough, you can get a buzz on. Three glasses is hard enough.
Then we drove home and had frozen yogurt. Now I’m writing. That’s enough fun for one day. Tomorrow we’ll do something else.
Off to see the Wizardress
Dallas. Yet again.
We are on our way to Orlando to visit Susan and Karl. Just had the best possible connection. Landed at gate A15, took the train to C terminal, boarded our next plane.
This little one is on her way to see Mickey and Minnie.
We’ll be here five days, then home, then more adventures.
There is always excitement when Gail and Susan get together. Stay tuned.
Totally Unauthorized 