My Sennheisers

If you're a discerning know-it-all audiophile like me, you'll have realised that the earbud headphones that come with iPods and the like are pretty much rubbish. Like listening to a cheap radio. And how does anyone keep them in their ears? Is there some kind of make-up glue involved? I can't so much as turn my head without one ending up dangling.

So being the cutting-edge techie guy that I am, I've considered shopping for a proper pair of ear-canal, noise-cancelling, hear-every-nuance-as-the-audio-engineers-intended-it pair. But you know what? I don't really need any.

Why? Because I brought My Sennheisers, that's why. Purchased twenty some years ago from a hifi shop on State Street in Madison, Wisconsin when I was a mostly-broke college student. Thirty-five dollars, I think. HD-40s. They came with yellow foam over the cans but they faded and shrank and were lost long ago. I put socks over them to play Half-Life on Margo's PC at night and she'd see me and laugh at me. Then I visited the foam store in Montavilla and got them well kitted out in fresh black foam and now I bring them with me every day. I am rocking on the train. I am rocking at my desk. I am rocking wherever I want to be.

In 1986 Run-DMC released a song about their favourite trainers called My Adidas. I would like to write a song about My Sennheisers. They've got bass. They've got good imaging. They've rocked me in many countries. They've rocked me for many years. They rocked me today and they will rock me tomorrow.

Cool

Today I saw a train named after John Peel. Isn't that cool? They do that here - name trains after famous dead people.

Who is John Peel, you say? He is only the legendary DJ without whom you may have never heard The Smiths, The Fall, New Order, or The Sugarcubes. Who are they? Okay, you are not cool enough to read this. Go back to your stamp collecting.

One day a while back I saw my train engine was named for Joe Strummer. How cool! I was rocking to London. And Liverpool named an airport after John Lennon! How cool is that?

Coffee Card

I got my first UK coffee card yesterday. It's a bit of a big deal but I need to explain why.

In my previous life in Portland I had maybe half a dozen coffee cards: Stumptown, The Coffee Plant, J Café, The Bipartisan Café. A card is not just a rewards program. They show that these are places you frequent, places where your face is familiar, and your wallet cards help define you that way.

When I left Portland, I also had to leave behind that life I'd built, all those little networks of acquantainces and activities. (One of my baristas cried on my last visit; it was quite touching.) And as we're seeing, it takes quite a while to rebuild a new life.

For a while I was despairing of ever finding a favourite coffee shop in Ipswich because there aren't many independent ones around, anywhere. Around the UK there are three biggies: Starbucks, Costa, and Caffé Nero. So I was quite happy to have taken a chance on a new coffee shop on the waterfront called Coffee Link and discover that it's mostly like the coffee shops of the Northwest. Independently owned. Fair-trade coffee roasted by the owner. Newspapers to read. Comfy chairs. Tables big enough to spread a newspaper on. Good music playing. And most importantly, coffee served by someone who knows about coffee.

One of the things I miss about the Northwest are small businesses owned by people who are just crazily passionate about what they do. Coffee roasters, microbrewers, winery owners, chefs and restauranteurs who just want to make phenomenal foods and drinks. Margo and I are often amazed at how many Britons settle for bland food. There's a lot less of that passion, and we have to work harder to seek it out.

Italy, Day 9: Vatican and Return

It's our first morning back in England. No one has made me an Americano. I am sad.

Our last day in Rome was a bit tricky because we needed to check out by ten but our train didn't leave until nearly 7 pm, so we packed and after breakfast we took the Metro to the Termini station and checked our bags there.

Then we went on to the Vatican. We would have liked to seen the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel but we knew the lines would be long, and they were. This was the part of the line that we could see:



So we continued on a short way to the Piazza San Pietro and the Basilica. This was another of those moments where you pass an entranceway and the massiveness of what you see gives you pause.





I understand Nero used to race horses around this.

We saw the line to enter the basilica was also daunting but it was moving well and we decided to go for it. It was only twenty minutes to get through the security check. We were given a choice of just entering the basilica, entering a queue for the catacombs, and entering a queue for the cupola. We went for the cupola. We probably shouldn't have.

The cupola line was slowest. We thought that once we'd entered the interior we'd have some freedom of movement but we didn't - we were roped off and shuffled forward for another hour.

We paid the seven euros apiece for the lift to the dome balcony. The interior is massive and Margo and I were scared to get close despite the fencing.





We could have climbed the 320 steps to the cupola at the very top, but we were all too scared. We were relieved to get to the balcony exterior.





Then we took the lift down and entered the basilica: another "wow" moment. Just the atrium itself in the entranceway could swallow most churches. It is a huge, huge space. And amazingly, neary every inch of it is decorated; paintings and sculptures adorn every wall and corner and everything else is filled with little frescoes and gold filigrees and other adornments.









Now it was time to sit and rest and feed, which we did with all speed. When we could stand again, we took the Metro to the other side of the Spanish Steps and an entrance to a large park system that houses the Borghese gallery and villa, a zoological garden, and many other walks, gardens, and sculptures. We settled at a kids' play structure near the Piazza di Siena. We noticed how some of the trees have no canopy except at the top: it's a deliberate pruning effect.



A few steps over our shoulder was the Temple of Diana. On the interior of the dome you can see her prey: small images of various animals and fish.



This was a neat structure: the beams are like double-sided piano keys. Tipping it to either side pushes air through a piped valve sounding a musical note.



Later, lying on the grass, Sarah collected daisies, and Margo made her a daisy chain.



Relaxed, we stood up and made our way back to the Metro and Termini station. We had dinner, got some more paperbacks plus a Doctor Who and the Daleks book for Sarah, retrieved our luggage, and boarded the Palatino for Paris. Our train cars were newer this time.



We had almost 24 hours of travel time ahead of us, but somehow we didn't kill each other. It was a good thing that Margo scheduled lots of time between legs, as our Palatino arrived two hours late into Paris, but we still got to the Eurostar terminal comfortably, even early.

Arriving in London, it was good to speak English again when giving taxi directions and ordering food. And the sunny, warm weather we'd become used to was still largely with us, though a bit cooler. Unfortunately, I'll have to get used to instant coffee again ...

Italy, Day 8: Ancient Rome

We're back in Ipswich now. We've had some chance to shower, unpack, relax, and watch the new Doctor Who episode, and now I'll take on the task of writing about the remaining three days of our trip.

So. Day Eight. Thursday. After breakfast (my stomach showing more interest in being fed by now) we found a nearby entrance to the Metro subway system. For such a large city, Rome's Metro is puny: just two lines, which intersect at the Termini railway station. We changed at Termini from line A to B and got off at the Colosseum, our first stop of the day. We'd been warned in guidebooks and elsewhere about pickpockets on the subway and outside attractions like the Colosseum so I was once again on edge.

When we'd arrived the day earlier we'd purchased a Roma Pass each at the train station. For 18 euros we got free entry to the first two of a list of exhibits, plus reduced fees at any further ones, plus three days of travel on subways and buses. We used our Roma Passes to get into the Colosseum.



The flooring is being rebuilt in the lower right. I'm not sure if the plan is to rebuild the entire floor.

We bought Sarah some figurines at the gift shop and she wanted to play with them as we rested outside.



Nearby is the Arch of Constantine.



Behind the Colosseum lay many ruins including Palatine Hill and the Forum. We entered that area, first wandering over to the massive Basilica of Constantine.



We took in the ruins of the Forum, and climbing out, looked back on it all.





Climbing over Capitol Hill and admiring Michaelangelo's stairway on the other side, we then made our way a few blocks onward to The Pantheon.



I especially wanted to see this because of its influence in architecture. It is the single best-preserved piece of Roman architecture, and its dome influenced Brunelleschi's Duomo in Florence, Michaelangelo's dome for Saint Peter's Basilica (which we'd see the next day), and arguably most of the domes that followed, including Saint Paul's Cathedral in London and the U.S. Capitol Dome. The interior is just massive, and very overwhelming.





Margo and Sarah had a sit-down lunch in the piazza in front of the Pantheon while I got a slice of pizza nearby.



Sarah finished early and joined me by the fountain.



At this point I should write a bit about being a tourist in Rome. We took precautions against pickpockets by, well, not carrying anything in pockets, and being conscious of people in our personal space as we walk. But another annoying aspect of being a tourist is how often strangers approach you for money. Some are panhandling, and some are aggressively selling things like those little metal balls that make insect-like noises, or flowers, or sunglasses. Just sitting here at the fountain for a few minutes, we were propositioned several times. Sarah learned to ignore them.

We returned to our room for siestas. I wasn't sure the other two would wake up in time for dinner. When they did, we agreed to go ahead with an earlier plan to have dinner in the shopping area around the Spanish Steps to observe people taking the traditional early-evening stroll and enjoy La Dolce Vita. Because, when in Rome ...



It seemed every street in the area was full of people strolling. The streets were a mix of shops, especially fashion shops, and dining.



We had dinner at a trattoria. We got an appetizer of zucchini blossoms stuffed with ricotta, then breaded and fried. Sarah had her pasta pomodoro. Margo had a tasty dish of pork and nicely salted potatoes. I tried saltimbucco - a dish of veal and prosciutto in a tomato sauce. I liked it a lot. I also ordered asparagus, which arrived below two fried eggs. Margo ate my eggs, but we admired the darkness of their yolks.

After dinner we wandered until we found the Trevi Fountains. Sarah made a wish by throwing a coin over her shoulder.



I should add a few words about Rome itself. It has a rivalry with Milan to the north; Milan is the sophisticated, clean, career-oriented city; Rome is the family-friendly city of brutality and beauty. Me, I'd probably prefer Milan. I just didn't feel at ease in Rome, though Margo did. I thought it was noisy and dirty. Streets and sidewalks and buildings are crumbling. I saw graffiti everywhere, not just on old buildings, but important newer ones, and subway cars were completely covered. Traffic is a mess, and the air is unclean. There is marble and sculpture everywhere, but it is pitted and stained, and you have to imagine what it might have been like to see past its current state. But I did appreciate the massive history of the city. Margo and I had been reading a lot before and during our trip about the historical events in the city and the empire it sustained for over a thousand years. My Clarks are still lightly covered in historical Roman dust and I can wonder about its origin.

Some Observations

(written April 11)

Smoking is pretty common, but most public places (restaurants, trains) don't allow it.

The weather has been sunny and in the 70s F, but still quite cool in mornings and evenings and indoor. Most women wear leather jackets and boots, and most men wear smart jackets.

Light orange (burnt orange?) is a colour people wear sometimes. Men and women sometimes wear scarves.

I'd considered buying a pair of sunglasses as a sourvenir, but I don't like the current aviator-like styles, and that's mostly what I see. Bring me some squinty ones like they wore in The Matrix, about, what, ten years ago?

I have yet to see an Italian sports car. It sort of makes sense as mostly we've been in the narrow streets of old city centres. But the sports cars I have seen are mostly German and British. Most cars I've noticed are Fiats, Alfa Romeos, Peugots and Renaults, and Volkswagens.

So far we've almost completely avoided processed foods without even trying. It's been a painless diet. No corn syrups, enriched flours, nothing fried. All our breakfasts and dinners have featured fresh, probably local foods. We know fast food exists but you have to seek it out. It's more easily found in train stations and other such places.

Italy, Day 7: Siena to Rome

(written April 11)

My day started badly with several early morning trips to the bathroom with ... how shall I say it delicately? Montezuma's Revenge without Montezuma. I couldn't say what caused it, but Margo suspected the plate of greens may have exacerbated it.

Today was mostly a day of travel. We arose casually and had breakfast (just a bread roll and banana yogurt for me, though I didn't pass up my Americano). We checked out and got help calling a cab.

I didn't mention it before, but the cab rides through Siena (both ways) took us right through the busiest streets. (On the way back, we even cut across the Campo.) In the old city, inside the walls, there's no pavement, just paving stones; no sidewalks either. So pedestrians must constantly get out of the way of the taxis, cars, delivery trucks, small buses, and scooters that continually travel the streets as fast as they can (which is to say, faster than I probably would). There are no traffic signals in the old town, but it's an organised chaos: nobody is held up and I didn't see proof of any accidents.

Once at the train station, we had less than an hour to wait for our next trip: a train toward the west coast to the city of Grosseto, where we would then take another train to Rome. The ride to Grosseto was easily our nicest in Italy. Unlike the earlier Trenitalia trains we'd taken (including our overnight from Paris) this train was newer than the 1960s. We also had about eight cars that were mostly empty, and our route took us through gorgeous Tuscany countryside.

I started noticing patterns in the landscape. The rolling hills are green, sometimes in rows, sometimes just cut, but never wild. Trees are planted in lines along roads and borders, often tall, narrow, bushy trees. Houses are on hilltops. Houses have terracotta roofs and narrow windows with shutters. The walls are thick stone, if our hotels were any indication. The masonry keeps temperatures cool inside. Wall colours are light orange, creamy yellow, and tan. There are lots of arches over doorways, terraces, and passageways. It's common to see clothes hanging to dry.

I wasn't feeling energetic but was okay, though most of the morning my stomach felt like a hard drive being defragmented.

We had about an hour to wait in Grosseto before boarding our train to Rome. This was an older coach again, but all the seats were in compartments. We joined a compartment with just one other passenger. Sarah stretched out.



After a while we started getting our first glimpses of the Mediterranean. We never got right next to it but did see it often between buildings and industrial plants.



I also started noticing more palm trees and swimming pools. The architecture become more plain and modern.

We arrived in Roma Termini station around 5 pm. I was on edge because I'd read about the pickpockets in the station, as well as other tourist hotspots like the Colosseum. Getting off our train, we got even edgier as a large bunch of loud young men were congregating on the platform next to us. At one point it looked like a fight was imminent but nothing seemed to come of it. The station was hugely busy. I was glad to get into a cab.

Rome has much wider streets than the other cities we'd seen, and the buildings are much more what you'd expect in a huge city: tall apartment blocks and other similar-looking buildings were mostly what I noticed. We did pass a large, attractive park on the way. The traffic was quite slow at first but sped up as we got away from the station. There were lots of exhaust fumes in the air. Scooters and motorcycles darted in between cars. Even now, sitting in our room, it's quite noisy outside.

Our room is high up in another apartment block. This apartment was broken into hotel rooms. There are maybe four rooms in this unit. So it's like staying in someone's apartment: we have a gated from door, then a door to our unit, then a door to our room: three keys. This is the view across the street. At the top of the hill you can see the walls of the Vatican.



I'm not feeling up to dinner so I've found a supermarket down the street and brought back litres of juice, bananas, and slices of provolone cheese. Margo and Sarah are about to go to dinner.

Italy, Day 6: Siena Sights

(written April 10)

When I wake up, this is what I want most: my café Americano. I like the thin, china-like cups. So far they've been made in small pots containing about two cups.



Sarah and I left the breakfast room a bit early to sit outside. The hotel's courtyard is surrounded by an archway with outdoor seating.





Sarah wanted to take some pictures, too.



Then we walked to the Duomo, just a few minutes away. It wasn't yet open for visiting, though, we so walked to the Piazza del Campo nearby.


Sarah wanted to throw a coin into the fountain.



The Civic Museum is inside the building with the tower, but it wasn't yet open either, so we walked nearby shopping streets. We also stopped into a cafe and got drinks at the bar: espresso for me, macchiato for Margo, and a pastry for Sarah.



We visited a bookstore and Margo found some English-language paperbacks as her supply was low. I browsed a dictionary and as a result I can now call Sarah a testa sculacciata (spanking head).

By now the Duomo was open so we headed there. We endured the line and went in. (I was wishing our camera performed better in low light ...)





Much of the floor was decorated with frescoes.



After this we were all ready for a break, so we went back to our room to charge our batteries.



Later I went for a walk and found a nice hillside path. From here you can see both the Duomo and the tower of the city hall building on the Campo.



I was lucky enough to be there at noontime when the bells started ringing. I could hear bells in all directions. If you look at the bell in this picture, it's in motion.



Later in the day, Sarah and I came back to take in the countryside view and play on the play structure.





For dinner we went to the Osteria Le Logge. I had high hopes that this could be the best meal of our trip. It had a good write-up in this month's Vanity Fair as well as recommendations from other sources. We ordered a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino that was made by the owner, and we liked it a lot. Margo ordered antipasti and enjoyed it. My risotto made me moan. Sarah didn't like her ravioli, but she's just a kid. Margo had orchette pasta (little ears) with a chile-spiced tomato sauce and fresh ricotta; she didn't finish it as it was too strong for her taste. My salad arrived; it was just greens, no other vegetables. I had to add my own olive oil and pepper. I probably could have done as well walking out to a nearby pasture. For dessert, I got a dolce tipici (typical) that was about the same as what we had last night, no better. Margo enjoyed her crema al cafe with gelato. But by then two hours had passed. We asked for our bill. Time passed. Sarah was wearing down and eventually crooked and arm and fell asleep on it. Our bill didn't arrive until half an hour had passed. By then our good humour was mostly gone and we were glad to get out into fresh air again. Maybe it was a bad night for them; we don't know but we wouldn't recommend it as we paid twice as much for food of about the same quality as we'd had previous nights, while having the slowest service we'd seen so far in Italy.

Italy, Day 5: Florence to Siena

We started our day with a lazy morning. After breakfast we checked out and walked the few blocks to the central train station and boarded, unbeknown to us, The Busiest Train In Italy.

Today's late morning train, between two major Italian cities, at the end of a holiday, was just two cars. The track was not announced until a few minutes before departure. We knew we were in trouble because we saw a school group going for it. Margo and Sarah got seats, and I went for a corner by the door. But people kept boarding. And boarding. It soon got London Underground crowded. Mashed up with people on all sides. All the aisles full of people standing. We'd stop at a station and the doors would open and it must have looked like a Marx Brothers sketch, but still people kept boarding. A girl was sick and vomited. The trip was supposed to be an hour and a half but was closer to two because of the extra time in each station. But, apart from a few Americans, nobody complained. The locals were laughing, and people were quite helpful coordinating exits at stations. The sick girl got lots of tissues and wipes from strangers, and there was no mess left by the time we arrived in Siena.

Unlike Pisa, we didn't have to wait too long for a taxi. While checking into our hotel, Il Carmine, Sarah took a runner around the courtyard.



It's a lovely hotel, and we'll take more pictures. Margo's planning has been great.

It was early afternoon, so we found a nearby cafe and got some paninis with prosciutto and cheese with drinks and took them to a nearby park with a nice view plus swings and a slide that Sarah enjoyed.



Back in our room, I had a quick nap and then went for a walk while Margo napped. Siena is quite small compared to Florence. So far we've only seen the central city, which is actually walled in; the streets are narrower and paved only with stone. Here are pictures of the streets plus two main attractions, the Duomo church and the large Piazza del Campo plaza; we'll visit both in more detail tomorrow.











For dinner, we went to the closest of the trattorias recommended by the hotel (and cross-referenced by Rick Steves). It didn't open until 7:30, though, so we went to another nearby trattoria that opened at 7:15, also recommended. We started with an antipasti platter that included cured meats, olives, a thick wedge of cheese, liver pate on toast, and mushroom pate on toast. Sarah had her penne pomodoro; Margo had fagioli (beans) and lamb and artichokes; I had scaloppina (veal in tomato sauce and capers) and spinach.

Sarah hadn't taken a nap and was getting crabby, making us cross, until we started insulting each other in writing with the notepad I'd brought. Here are some of Sarah's insults (spellings corrected):

Dad is a goofy goober.
My feet are so smelly that they could kill my Dad.
Dad drinks wine that could kill all of us I mean Mom and me.
Dad has freezing breath that kills Mom and me.
Whatever Dad touches, it makes it smelly.