Lost in the Moment on top of Schloss Heidelberg

Currently, it’s an early Friday evening in France. I worked late in the lab (not notably late, just after most everyone else went home) which isn’t a problem considering I’m only working three days next week. It’s also the nature of running column chromatography. At least it appears to have worked! As we speak my dad is on a plane headed over to “le France” and when I wake up tomorrow I’ll be riding my bike to the “La Gare” bus stop to meet him.

The weather feels like a Texas spring today: a light breeze and warm sun. After riding my bike home from work, I popped open a new bottle of wine and it’s turned out to be one of the better ones so far on my trip. I’m sure there is a refined art to picking out wine at the grocery store, but I prefer the method of cheap whim. I usually go for a local wine (which is usually inherently cheaper) and normally I pick out one that’s been spotlighted at the end of the aisles. This method works delightfully sometimes, and ok some others. This week’s selection earns a “bingo.”

What’s to Come

The following is my plan for the next 10 days with my Dad. This of course will probably undergo a few changes, but the rough outline will hopefully remain intact.

- Tomorrow depending on which bus he’s able to catch from Frankfurt, we’ll probably do lunch or brunch in Strasbourg. We’ll then go rent a car and head out into the countryside to Dijon and Boune (pronounced like bone) which are two towns in the Burgundy region of France. The Burgundy region is known for it’s wine (it’s either first or second in the country for production) and its moutarde (mustard!) I’m planning on hitting up the Côte d’Or (Golden Hills) which contains a plethora of local vineyards to peruse and sample. Depending on time, we may visit a local abbey.

- On Monday I go to work, and I’ll probably send my dad off to the local castle I visited last weekend. I’m aiming to visit the Route du Vin (Wine Road) by car that evening to sample the local Alsatian [see my Q & A below] wine and cuisine. I’ve been unable to do this so far because you really need a car to do it well.

- If France’s weather should decide to cooperate –which is honestly doubtful – we’ll have a picnic on my lunch break with food bought from the open air market that’s open on Tuesday mornings. We’ll get wine, cheese, baguettes, pastries, and ok – a few other things – and make a French picnic of it. Get excited Daddy.

- Tuesday night is Tarte Flambée night at the lab! [See Q & A below] Jean sent an email and said that everyone could bring their spouses and then in the English translation said “this includes Dads too” so it looks like Daddy is going to meet everyone I work with! We’ll be meeting that evening at a local restaurant.

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Q: Ok Elaine, wtf is Tarte Flambée? Speak any English?

A: Tarte Flambée is a traditional Alsatian cuisine. To be honest, I haven’t had it yet. So this is exciting for me. From what I know, it’s a thin crusted pizza that has a type of cream sauce instead of a tomato based sauce. It’s supposed to be par-excellent! The French, like pretty much every other country, have an obsession with pizza. I’m darn close to declaring the pizza a universal human trait, but I’m guessing there are some other continents that would disagree (cough-cough, Asia.)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Flameukeusche_1.jpg

Q: What the heck is Alsatian and the Alsace region? I thought you were in France. Duh!

A: France is divided into 26 regions. This includes the Burgundy Region, Normandy Region, Champagne Region, etc. Strasbourg (the city I live in, reference the map link on the sidebar) is in the Alsatian Region which is known for its unique blend with German culture since we’re right on the border. We are definitely the most badass region of France.

Aside from wine, German identity confusion, and Jews the region is also known for our storks – as in how babies are born. Apparently the stork population almost went extinct, then after some wildlife preserves the population has reached decent levels. Now the region is obsessed. Either that or they like lying to their children about the biological bondage of torture known as childbirth. Sorry: too much Feminine Mystique reading.

Want to know more?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alsace

http://www.tourisme-alsace.com/?lg=en

Q: Are you racist? Why are you talking about Jews?

A: Thanks for asking, I’ve been wanting a way to bring this up! Apparently Elaine from Seinfeld (Julia Louise Dreyfus) is of Alsatian Jew origin. One of my favorite areas to ride my bike through is the Parc de Contades not only because it’s quiet and local, but you see men with long beards and kippahs on their heads. It makes me feel like Charlotte York (Sex and the City) when she becomes a Jew and starts shopping at the kosher food markets in New York. This is also the only neighborhood aside from in the tourist area that you can find anything open on a Sunday. Yes, I’m learning the tricks of the trade to living in Europe.

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-Wednesday night or Thursday morning we’ll be catching a train (fingers crossed) for the Loire Valley and the city of Blois; known as the playground of the kings. The area is filled with huge chateaus and gardens. After a jaunt here, we’ll head north to Normandy so a slightly more somber region. We’ll eat some Camembert cheese, feel like Americans, then head back to Strasbourg. Daddy will leave on Tuesday morning.

- I also told Daddy he might be disappointed because we’re hitting up 2 of the 3 top regions for wine production in France. Looks like wine, cheese, mustard, and castles make the top of our priority list.

I thought this website was cool, and you can go to look up what wine to serve with different meals. Trés chic.

http://www.wines-france.com/



Strasbourg Weather: PMS-y to the Max

If you’re a loyal blog reader, you might be thinking:

“She’s hot, she’s cold, she’s hot, she’s cold…….”


Basically, this is true. Definition of my life in Strasbourg.


So two weeks ago, at the height of my homesickness (and probably a large contributor) the weather was so cold, wet, and miserable Jenny from the lab brought in a sweatshirt and left it on my desk attached to a note which read:

“I thought the Texan might be cold and need this!”


And I did. I wore her brother’s old cross country sweatshirt all last week.

Last week I had to ride my bike in a thunderstorm, and that was no fun either.

Then this past weekend it was so hot, even I – the native Texan – felt fatigued. France has the most fickle weather I’ve ever experienced. It will go from being rather hot and sunny to raining within an hour. One day it’s humid, the next day’s dry. It appears France cannot make up its mind.

I’m slightly convinced this is why people turn off the heaters and don’t have air conditioning: they’d forever be switching between the two so they’re being lazy.



Now for the serious blogging….

Friday
Friday after work we had a small party to celebrate David (pronounced Da-veeeeed) and Pauline’s successful completion of oral exams. Both of them are second year master’s students.

As a refresher, I’m going to run through everyone in the lab so I can just freely use their names. You can match them to pictures if you go back to the lab link in one of my previous entries.

Who’s Who of the Weiss Lab French Chemists

David doesn’t speak very much English and my most significant interaction with him since I got here was when he showed me how to use the espresso machine. We don’t talk very much (obviously) but he’s very nice.

Pauline on the other hand speaks almost perfect English and was the first in the lab to really make me feel welcome and drew out all her favorite restaurants and bars on my map. I’ve really enjoyed being around Pauline and I’m going to miss having her around in the lab.

Jean is my PhD supervisor who is the head of the lab group. He is a colleague of Dr. Sessler, my organic professor back at UT. Jean was born and raised in Strasbourg, did post doctorate work in the US, and likes American rock music. He could not be more friendly and helpful. For instance, today he brought in a type of French cinnamon apple coffee cake for the lab. He’s married to Jenny.

Jenny is an American who came to France to get her PhD and married Jean. She now lives in France and they have two little girls, but she’s still an American citizen. Her daughters speak both English and French and are citizens of both countries. Jenny has been my French mom because she’s always making sure I have everything I need and provided me with all my cooking utensils I use at the dorm.

Vivien is a first year master’s student and works in the hood (fume hood) next to me. He’s young and makes working in the lab a lot of fun. He’s the person I learn most of my French slang from and we talk a lot about interesting cultural differences. Example: he told me girls who dance at clubs in France are just “bitches [pronounced beeei-ches] while his friend told him American girls do this, but aren’t necessarily bitches. This made washing dishes much more entertaining /educational. We kid around a lot, but it’s great because if I have a question he can answer it and never makes me feel stupid.

Jeremy is a French student from the south of France who arrived a few weeks ago to do research. He just finished his 3rd year of college and speaks very good English. I’ve also enjoyed having him around also.

Josephine is another third year French student from Paris. Josephine doesn’t speak very much English, but we talk in mixed French English. Again, very nice, but I have limited interaction with her.

Dinesh is the Indian PhD who most directly supervises my lab work.

Mamadou doesn’t speak a lot of English, but he’s another PhD and is really super friendly. He sings a lot in the lab, and laughs every time I speak French. I think he gets a really big kick out of it. I know you might be thinking I’m just saying everyone here is friendly, but I really like the lab group I’m in.

Anyway, onto our work party. The students and supervisors from our partner lab came, and Jean and Jenny brought in their two little girls after school (they’re about 8 and 12) and then Pauline put together a very French/Alsatian) spread of food. As for drinks, we had Alsatian wine and Alsatian “champagne” called Crêmant. I tried the Crêmant and was proud that I actually could tell the difference between the sparkling white wine and true champagne. Pauline made an assortment of different sandwiches on a type of pretzel bread (German influence here). One had a pâté which I’m actually ok with eating, though will not miss upon returning to the US. Another had thinly cut and cured meat with really flavorful mini pickles, and the other (which was the best) had a type of cream cheese/goat cheese which was seasoned with herbs. We also had cheese cubes, a type of French sausage, and then hard pretzels. It was quite good.

We sat around and talked for a lot time, and when I finally headed home on my bike the weather was so enticing I just threw my stuff in my room and headed back out. I biked all across Strasbourg, timed the ride to the train station for the next morning, and went to finish my quest for Ikea even though I knew it would be closing. I found it off in the distance and decided it wasn’t worth finishing the journey since it would be closing. At least I know the other day when I went looking for it I was – no surprise – very close!

Even the ice cream has flowers in France…

On the way home I stopped off at the Orangerie (the park I ride my bike through on my way to work) and got ice cream at the famous parlor in Chez Franchi. The French like flower flavors, so I coaxed myself out of my favorite tiramisu and got Violette (violet) flavored ice cream! The ice cream was more icy than creamy which I’m just fine with and honestly there isn’t a way to describe the flavor. Maybe it’s the glass of wine I had earlier, but I’m at a loss for a description. The best I can do: picture a very mild, plain vanilla base with a honeysuckle type garnish. Except purple … and violet.

Heidelberg is like Sedenberg, right?

While I may not be a “hardcore” European travel in the sense that I meander town to town with only a backpack and rail pass, I’m hardcore about my “safe and planned” trips. I was up at 5:45 a.m. to get to the train station by bike to catch the morning connection to Heidelberg, Germany last Saturday.

Switching trains in Germany was a cinch after getting to Baden-Baden for Rome. Not to toot my own horn, but I must really be looking like I know what I’m doing anymore because I was approached several times on Saturday by travelers wanting to confirm they were on the right train, or where to go for ____, etc. I used to get only the desperate, last resort travelers asking me questions, but now I’m getting even semi-confident traveler questions. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy.

I arrived at about 9:30 a.m. in Heidelberg. Went and bought a map at the tourist office and set off. I decided to walk along the river toward the old part of the town which proved to be a good choice.

Headed in, reached the famous bridge, but it was under construction, so it wasn’t really that exciting. First thing on my personal agenda was caffeine, so I hit up a café in the marketplace and enjoyed having cream in my coffee again. (The French like it strong, black, and with sugar.) Germans have also caught the habit of “coffee to go” like the Americans, so you see people walking around everywhere, even in the heat, with “to go” cups. This is something you can’t even find in France unless you go to the train station, and even there it’s iffy.

Following my coffee, I took the hike up to Schloss Heidelberg. It was a climb, and someone had numbered all the steps. I took this picture half way up there…. You get the picture. Literally.

Once to the top, I got tickets for the guided tour around the castle. I’ve been shamelessly flashing my University of Strasbourg Louis Pasteur Institute ID card and getting European student discounts everywhere. This brings me pleasure.

After two summers of tours, I’m also getting picky about tour guides. Our tourguide at the castle was really good! She spoke clear English, and intertwined interesting stories along with the history throughout the tour. My tour was a group of Americans (since this is a popular American tourist spot) and I got several questions about if I was traveling alone. This one mom was there with her teenage daughter, and asked if I was alone, so I told her I was working all summer in Strasbourg at the Louis Pasteur Institute and was taking weekend trips and she got this shocked/amazed look on her face.

The tour also felt like a culmination of my traveling experiences from last summer which was very satisfying. Emperor Charlemagne reminded me of Prague and she made a reference to King Ludwig and his “excessive spending habits” (he’s the one who built Neuschwanstein castle I saw last summer) which were references only a few caught. Blog readers from last summer will remember my fascination with Empress Sisi in Vienna. During the tour the tour guide talked about how famous visitors during the restoration included Mark Twain (everyone knew) and Empress Sisi (nobody but me knew who she was.) The tour guide locked eyes with me, and I said “oh that’s right, Sisi was Bavarian of origin!” and she looked surprised but pleased and said “yes that’s right!”

Not only was Sisi one of my favorite historical figures from last summer, but I was the only American there who knew who she was. I also thought it was neat that basically Sisi and I have the same traveling tastes. The western region of Germany, Hungary, traveling in general….. now let’s just hope I don’t end up stabbed by a crazy lunatic during one of my vacations.

I was really hungry after the tour but didn’t want to leave the castle before seeing the gardens that were known as the 8th wonder of the world before the 30 years war destroyed the majority of it because they were built up on the mountainside. I opted to get some German ice cream in the castle, and oh my, it was good. As opposed to the French flower ice cream, this was incredibly creamy and indulgent. After this I went out to the terrace that overlooked Heidelberg.

It would have been impossible for me to dream up weather any more perfect. The sun was out and kept me warm but a transient breeze to ensure it didn’t get too hot. There were blue skies and white puffy clouds and gorgeous Heidleberg all before me.

1) It is simply hard to impress or excite me. I can fake it very well, but I’m really hard to get a reaction out of.
2) It is even harder to get an emotional reaction of me.

I’m not sure if it was the ice cream in my stomach, the heavenly weather, or if the view from the castle side was really just that blissful; but the view brought me to tears. I stood leaned up against the wall of the castle terrace completely present in the moment.

Not only did I feel like the luckiest person in the world for the opportunity to stand right there, in the climate, at that time, but I’ve figured out that it’s the days when I successfully travel by myself that I feel the most a part of the world. To me traveling moves you from a passive audience member of our globe to one of the actors onstage. It makes one feel alive.

I felt the most alive on top of Schloss Heidelberg than I have in a very long time. The countless amount of time (approximately 40 minutes) I gazed out onto the town made every single euro I spent to get there worth it. Perhaps for this experience alone, Heidelberg is officially one of my favorite towns in all of Europe.


I think I was still slightly drunk from the view because when I left the castle to get to the gardens I went down the low exit instead of the high one where I entered. This meant I had to go half way down the mountain to take the path all the way back up. It’s a mistake a tourist should only make once.

Up on the grand terrace garden, I watched two Asian tourists approach these German bikers (as in bicycle) and ask to take their picture with them. The other German bikers burst out laughing and dug out their cameras to take the same picture – but for a different reason.

Early Finish? (late finish by the French time zone)

I’m going to end here. If I feel motivated in the morning, I’ll finish up my entry. This is hopefully going to be the case because otherwise I’m off with my dad for the weekend to write more adventures in my head. I just know if I don’t stop to post now, by the time the pictures get added it will be absurdly late. And this American needs to be prepaired to see a familiar face in the morning!

Happy Reading!

Elaine

Roma Saga Part III

Someone remind me where the time flies, s’il vous plait? Because it certainly isn’t to France.

I’m feeling quite ridiculous that Rome still isn’t finished. Let’s get this done, then I’m posting another entry with the past weekend.

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Q: For real, what in the world have you been doing Elaine?

A: Working 40 hours a week on organic chemistry synthesis, cooking edible compounds for my personal consumption, and planning logistics for my dad’s stay in France. Please take a deep breath and compose yourself.

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Blogging Saga of the Year: ROME PART III

We last left our two heroines at St. Peter’s basilica in Rome. They were amusing themselves watching the beginnings of a peculiar wedding by imagining situations which would allow one to get married in the Vatican.

Following St. Peters, Elizabeth and I made a stop at her favorite local bakery. The bakery was located in the basement of a residential building (actually also neighbors to a sex shop) BUT it was a really cute local bakery. The bakery had this modern, yet local chic feel – something only Italy could pull off. The desserts looked like something from a story book while the interior sported a modern stainless steel look. There was even a flat screen TV mounted that silently played the Italian “E!” fashion channel.

We ordered Elizabeth’s favorite biscottis (cookies) which were these mini tartlets filled with a chocolate cream. While we were waiting for someone to take our order, some locals were coming up and down the steps carrying bags and platters of mini Italian sandwiches, finger foods, desserts, and cakes. Basically I wanted to go to this party or have a bakery like this down the street to cater.

After our cookie stop, we hit up the subway, landed in a random northern piazza, and worked our way south. This means we saw A LOT. We walked, we absorbed, we talked, we took in Roma.

Went back down past the Pantheon, but couldn’t go inside because a mass was going on. I hugged a column instead because I’m silly.


From there we started walking toward the Roman Forum and Coliseum. As we walked past the “wedding cake” Palazzo Venezia -- nicknamed because apparently even the Italians find it gaudy, and I’m not sure how this is possible – Elizabeth and I noticed that the roads were being blocked off by police and that there was a lot of noise coming from the base. Once we started guessing what it was we knew it would be good.

Yes, the two prim and proper only children, who last summer took tea and scones regularly on afternoons following discussions of English literature found themselves in the middle of a gay rights rally in Rome.

You may be picturing an organized rally protest or colorfully classy gay pride parade that one would find in the US. But no class and organization in Rome. This rights rally quickly turned into a Eurotrash gay rights/random street party. What started as a protest, ended as a bunch of trailers and trucks blaring techno music. Cross dressers were everywhere, random people were just jumping in, people were dragging bins of beer, there were ghetto signs hanging off the back of pick up trucks, and this party was just getting started.

We had a really fun time laughing at ourselves ending up in the middle of such a European spectacle.

When we finally had decided the show party was over (and we were still trying to make sense of what exactly we had just witnessed) we walked through the Roman forum and headed toward the collussim. We both had kind of realized that we were starting to need to go to the bathroom.

Traveling Tip:
I’m convinced that Europeans are just perpetually dehydrated, because they hate bathrooms. This also might explain why public urination is so widely accepted here – as I see frequently. When you realize that you even MIGHT need a restroom soon, start looking immediately.

Both experienced travels, we started looking. The ONLY thing we seriously could find were a set of portapotties that were just NOT ok. 40 minutes later, no bathroom, and a worrying feeling in my bladder, I decided that I had major penis envy and declared my hatred for all males.

I also was desperate enough to pay 3 dollars for a diet coke so that we could finally relieve ourselves at a restaurant.

At moments like this you miss the United States, land of the public toilettes, quite bitterly.

Here come the Italian Brides?

After our desperate walking, we took our expensive drinks and crashed outside the coliseum. I didn’t even care to go inside at this point, we just wanted to sit. We were sitting facing Constantine’s Arch, and we both noticed a bride and groom getting their wedding pictures. Both of us nonchalantly made a comment and continued talking about whatever.

Then we saw another. That was odd.

Then there were two more.

Was this a photoshoot? And why would people come to a monument that symbolizes such violence?

And the brides kept coming. When we got back to her apartment we tried to look it up, but we think it must be some type of tradition to get your picture by Constantine’s Arch because we saw about 25 brides and grooms traipse through the tourist’s litter to get in place for pictures.

Elizabeth and I enjoyed this because it spurred conversation regarding “oooohhh look at her dress!” or “omg, I’ll never wear anything like that” and general girly fantasy. It was very fun.

We were both exhausted, so we headed back to her apartment. What was supposed to be a 15 minute crazy, bat out of hell, bus ride back turned into about 30 minutes re-routed and stuck in traffic.

Then Elizabeth remembered. George Bush was coming to Italy that night to meet with the Pope. We got stuck in traffic because of it. All the locals were confused on the bus and we were trying to figure out if we were going to make the right stop. After fighting traffic, we crashed in her apartment and had some Frescati Italian wine.


Sunday

My final day in Rome. Sunday for us was more about soaking up the Italian atmosphere. I did some last minute souvenir shopping and we went and saw a final famous Piazza with a famous statue, non of which I can remember the name of. Normally in this case I’d look it up, but I’m tired and have work tomorrow.

So yeah, famous stuff in Italy. We “brunched” at a local popular café. We both ended up getting this specialty bean soup, that came with freshly grated parmesan and fabulous bread. Amazing.

Afterwards I headed back to the airport, and back home to Strasbourg.

Fini. Bet you though I’d never finish this entry?

It’s past my bedtime. Tomorrow look forward to a post about my weekend biking around Strasbourg, exploring Heidelberg, soaking up the music festival, and spontaneously visiting a local castle.

You know you're grocery shopping in France when.... and E & E do as the Romans Do Part II

First Thing's First: Current update

There’s no doubt you live in France when the top of your weekly grocery list reads the following:
-Baguettes
-Cheese
-Wine

When I pulled out my list this week I smiled inside. There were other things on the list, but that’s how it started. My culinary priorities are clearly straight here. Also, you know you’re a French foodie when you pick grocery stores by the diversity of their cheese selection. In case you're ever in Strasbourg, Gallery Gourmande is my first choice.

I know that if I don’t sit here and tap out another blog it will never get done. I knew I was taking too long on the Rome entry when my postcards to family members made it to the US before the blog got posted. Considering how ridiculous snail mail is, this is embarrassing.

Let’s start with a quick Elaine State of the Union.

I had a fabulous weekend filled with a daytrip to Heidelberg, Germany on Saturday, the Strasbourg summer solstice Fête de la Musique (Music Festival) Saturday night, and a spontaneous day trip to Château du Haut-Kœnigsbourg on Sunday (located near the village Sélestat just south of here).

What happened last week you might ask? Well....

The beginning of last week was not so great. I got really homesick. It was not helped by that fact that I felt horrible. No, I wasn’t sick, but either my body did one of those things where I just wear it out and it decides to enforce compusory rest or I had some type of weird allergic reaction to something. I had absolutely NO energy what-so-ever, my appetite disappeared (quite unusual for me), I slept away most evenings, and felt lethargic all the time. I felt like my blood pressure was really low and I think subcontiously whenever my body acts out of whack (especially dealing with cardiovascular anything) I get paranoid considering I've had two young friends literally drop dead from sudden heart complications.

Bottom line: I felt like crap.

This is further complicated by the fact that – pardon my French – I live in a shit house. The co-ed, down the hall bathrooms smell like urine, get trashed by boys who can’t aim, the walls of our rooms are very thin and I can hear people blaring American 90’s rap and rock at all hours of the night, and my room lacks anything beyond primitive comfort.

I’m complaining, yet I’m getting paid to spend the summer in France. Yes I know. But at this point I’ve almost been away from home for two months, and I really don’t have friends here. Though hanging out with my lab co-workers is helping a lot. Sometimes you just get tired of it.


By the end of the week I was back to my high-energy, power-spirited self. Go figure. I indulged myself in a pity party of homesickness: then got over myself.

Special Guest Star

And surprise! I’ll be hosting a visitor this Saturday.

He’ll come bearing gifts of spicy salsa, my coveted Nature’s Valley Granola Bars that I normally eat every morning, zip lock bags, and a few other American luxuries. Couple more hints for the slow:

- It’s a visitor I had in Europe this time last year
- I’ve known him all my life – literally
- I look like a female carbon copy of him

It’s my daddy!

I made my parents promise he wasn’t arranging the trip because I got homesick. After several conversations where I made it quite clear this damsel needs no rescuing and clarified that I "can do it myself" we reached a deal. More skype phone calls later (in a sentence: Skype is the free, international internet phone service) my parents convinced me that this was sincerely an open opportunity to come, which means I’m going to have a travel buddy! I’ve already arranged to have a four day weekend with work and we’ll be setting off to see France the weekend of July 4! He'll be arriving this Saturday morning so I've got lots to do!

If only he could pack a toilet seat and Rudy's BBQ…..

Roma: Part II of the Saga (might be II of III because I have work tomorrow)

Part of me feels really guilty I got so behind on this blog because I feel like it gives the impression that it was not a fabulous weekend, because it was. I could not have asked for a better Rome experience with Elizabeth and it was worth all the arrangements to get there.

I left off on Saturday. Goodness. I am sooooooooo slow!

As a Catholic, it would be remiss for me to skip the Vatican. So we made this Saturday’s first priority. We both woke up in her lovely apartment, got ready, and set off to beat the hoards of tourists. As two true caffeine consumers, we stopped off and got a cappuccino to go before hitting the Vatican Museum line. We got there right as the line opened, and were able to get inside pretty quickly all things considered.

Where we got our coffee. This is NOT the type of pizza I talk about later.

Overall, I really enjoyed it. I must admit I’m no expert Catholic, and I’m sure that I missed some things that other staunch Catholics would have known all about. However, between me the Catholic and Elizabeth the student in Rome we covered our bases pretty well.

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Random Observation from the Vatican Museum:

Before entering the maze of art and old things, I figured we should hit the bathroom. It was a lucky guess that historic papal governances wouldn’t be taking female bladder concerns into account while designing the Vatican.

We had the same idea as a lot of other women.

Don’t get me started. No male bathroom line and a women’s line that went outside basement entrance to the restrooms. There was a tour group of Japanese and another of Indian women in front of us. Elizabeth and I were enjoying the time to talk, so we weren’t bothered.

Apparently the Japanese women decided to take matters into their own hands. Several slipped out of line and went into the empty men’s restroom unnoticed by the attendance.
They came out, and signaled to a few others. Well the second wave got noticed by the Italian bathroom attendants and they went flying in after them yelling in Italian.

The Japanese women and a few of the Indian women tried a few more times, and I don’t blame them. Helped our line go faster. This was just comical. Also of significant humor was the disturbed look in the men's faces coming out of the bathroom as women were going in.

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I enjoyed the Vatican museum. It had all of the art collections, but my only bone to pick was that you spend so much time on Roman/Egyptian art in the beginning that by the time you finally make it to the Catholic religious art you feel burnt out.

My travel suggestion: go quickly through this first part.

One of my favorite parts of the museum was the hall of tapestries. (Don't remember the actual name, so sue me.) They would be easy to overlook at first, but when you take the time to examine their complexity you realize how hard it must have been to weave. The nativity scene really struck me because it was the first time through the museum where I felt a connection of “oh yeah! this is art familiar to me on a personal level!”

The tapestries proved to be of further signficance to me, as Adamo pointed out, because of one of my all time favorite religious poems, Plan of the Master Weaver, which my mom gave to me after my car accident. Here's a link to a version on the internet in case you're interested.

http://dalekleiner.mystarband.net/masterweaver.html

Simple, I know, but you take it so much it’s easy to get artistically overwhelmed. I firmly believe that this is what’s so great about art museums. No two people go through and find the same things inspiring. Admittedly, famous pieces usually result in the famous reactions – unless they're famously disappointing. I take great pleasure in leaving museums with impressions from art that I’ve never heard anyone else talk about.
The tapestries did it for me at the Vatican.

There was also a Jesus whose eyes followed you like Uncle Sam. This was just amusing.


Elizabeth did a good job setting me up for the Sistine Chapel. The restorations which went on for years are complete and her class went through last week. She said that they all went in there expecting heaven on earth which can ultimately only lead to a let down. So I took her advice and went in expecting just a pretty painting.

Picture of the Sistine Chapel from the internet because you can't take pictures while you're there. Figured this would make a helpful reference for readers unfamiliar with Italian art.

This allowed me to enter and despite the crowds of tour groups, despite the incessant hushings from the guards, and despite all the anticipation I entered and enjoyed it for what it was: beautiful.

After all this Vatican touring, Elizabeth and I were tired and hungry. We decided the best way to rest was to get lunch and rest on her couches at the apartment since it was so close.


When In Rome….

I couldn’t have left Rome without sampling some pizza. So we went to the place just down her street.

In Italy, you pick out the type of pizza you want (we both got eggplant) and then they slice off how much you want, weigh it, and then slip it into a brick oven. When they get it back out they fold it over like a pizza sandwich and give it to you in a parchment wrap.

OH MY GOD.

Let’s be frank.

I’m not sure which was more holy: the Vatican, or this pizza.

The bottom was just lightly crispy. It was oven hot, yet didn’t burn your tongue. The cheese was some type I’d never tasted before. I’m thinking it might have been a type of goat cheese. Very rich and spongy so there didn't have to be a lot of it. The eggplant was a unique topping for me at least, and the sauce was flavorful without being distracting.

This divine pizza coupled with our tourist appetites forced me to use every single ounce of restrant to not inhale the pizza before the apartment.

I don’t have one of my signature food pictures because I was busy eating. This is probably for the better because I want this pizza just as bad as I wanted the gelato last entry.

It’s a good thing I’m living in France. The food is good and I’m eating plenty of aforementioned cheeses, baguettes, pastries, etc….but not like the Italian food. My scale would be getting a big ol’ souvenir in August if my research was in Italy.

We’re both getting old. I needed to rest my feet. When did this happen? I felt like a 40 year old. Goodness that’s old! ;)

Afterwards, we needed another boost. Gelato time!

Seriously, I hope the food in heaven is like the food I had in Italy.


St. Peter’s

What I’m about to say may get me excommunicated.

In the two weeks it’s taken me to write this blog I’ve thought a lot about this and why I had the reaction I did.

I didn’t think it was all that spectacular.

Gasp. Swoon. Faint. Scream. Shame. Anxiety attack. Excommunication.

I thought and thought about it. Here is the Mother Ship of all churches and I wasn’t impressed. This must make me a Catholic mutant right?

Well I thought about it. In the past two summers, I’ve seen some pretty spectacular churches. Many lesser known. St. Peter’s holds most of the religious significance, but I remembered back to last summer.

The Benedictine Abby in Melk, Austria; complete with its rose interiors stunned me.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Melk_Abbey

St. Stephen's Basilica in Budapest, Hungary; a surprising delight.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Stephen

And one of my favorite churches of all time in Vienna; Karlskirche.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karlskirche

I’ve seen old and humble chapels in Edinburgh’s castle, majestic English cathedrals, and Chagall stained glass in Germany.

Sincerely I’m not trying to make myself sound pompous. This just explains why I had the reaction I did.

Never-the-less, it was very impressive and grand. Elizabeth and I also came across the beginnings of a wedding in one of the side chapels. We had a lot of fun watching them set up for this, and making up circumstances that warrant someone getting married IN St. Peters. Everything from mob connections to related to a nun (who was present) made the list

As much as I’d like to keep typing, I’ve now spent over an hour on this blog and it’s after 1 a.m. This little chemist needs to wake up tomorrow and do an acid/base work up on her boronic acid –again- and run a column on her Suzuki coupling product. I also need to plan my dad’s stay here in France.

Never a dull moment. I’m not taking the time to re-read over this like I usual do, so deal with the writing imperfections.

Elaine