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Some reflections on Italy:

The Food: Above all, anything with porcini mushrooms was excellent. The minimalist pasta strategy (mostly noodles, few “toppings,” not much sauce — if any at all) was a refreshing departure from pasta in the U.S. (overcooked, oversauced, over-ingredient-ed, oversalted, I’m oversimplifying). The veal was much smoother and tastier than any I’ve ever had. The fruit was unbelievably fresh, like you’d get from a produce stand in California. Breakfast wasn’t really a meal (if you wanted eggs, it was called an “American Breakfast”). The croissants were light. After-dinner cappuccinos were a must. Paying for water and bread was an unwelcome adjustment. Zucchini flowers were unexpectedly prevalent. The gelato wasn’t transcendent. The tiramisu was.

Four-cheese pasta at Felice a Testaccio in Rome.

The Landscape: I’m just talking about the countryside here, not the cities. Tuscany looked like northern California, specifically Napa/Sonoma. Not an earth-shattering observation since they’re both wine-growing regions with comparable climates. But still, the similarities were striking. Cinque Terre and the coastal region approaching from the south looked like the Southern California coast, specifically Santa Barbara and Malibu. The palm trees, the rugged cliffs along the water, the beach culture, stucco buildings — none of it looked foreign. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t have a unique beauty.

The History: Clearly, the sense of history in Italy is immense. Not just history, but ancient history, the history upon which history is based. And I was surprised at how accessible it all was. There were ruins and centuries-old churches on every block. We were walking amid the ruins of The Forum, inside the Senate chambers, inches from Julius Caesar’s funeral pyre, in the Coliseum, through St. Peter’s Basilica. We weren’t looking through plexiglass or at pictures, but we were right there among it all. I felt finite next to such grandeur, but it was also empowering to feel like I was at the other end of humanity from these immortal ancestors. Corny, I know, but that’s me.

The People: Italians were kind, generous, gorgeous. They all spoke English, which made it easy — too easy — on us. Overall, it just seemed like a much healthier culture than we’re used to. Cities were slow to wake up. Dinner was a long, deliberate, relaxing process (if you allowed it to be). No one seemed to be rushing anywhere. Everyone in August was on holiday. Shops were closed. Everyone was out of town, or in town from elsewhere.

It was a great introduction to international travel. I can’t wait to get out and explore some more, and hopefully make myself worthy of bolder adventures.

I just got back from a five day “business trip” to The Windy City and had a great time. I was tied up at a conference for three of those days but was able to use the other two for a little exploring — which was great, but not nearly enough. I wasn’t able to get up to Wrigleyville, or explore many of the neighborhoods outside of the downtown area. Maybe next time. I was, however, able to cover downtown well.

Saturday:
I arrive at the hotel and get checked in around 4pm. I desperately flip channels trying to catch the Cal vs. Oregon game but am forced to watch it via ticker. After the game, I explore the area a bit. McCormick Place is huge. I hike up a small hill that gives a great view of the entire convention center on one side, and Soldier Field on the other. I make my way back to the room to hop online for some quick dinner and drinks research before meeting up with some fellow Yahoos. We end up at Clark Street Ale House, which had a great tap selection, but no food, so based on a recommendation from the bartender we head to an Irish pub/restaurant a few doors down. My bangers and mash were ok, not great, but enough to hold me over for a trip back to the ale house for some drinking. Trying to stick with regional beers I had a Three Floyd’s Gumballhead (a hopped up wheat ale), a Three Floyd’s Alpha King, a Sand Creek Wild Ride IPA and a Great Lakes Edmund Fitzgerald (an excellent American porter). Next we wander through downtown a bit and make one final pit-stop at a sports bar for some wings and another beer before calling it a night.

Sunday:
I took a nice stroll from my hotel at McCormick Place loosely following the Lake Michigan shoreline all the way to the river. Sites included Soldier Field, lots of sail boats in the harbor, a nice strip of lake-side park with cool environmental awareness art, Buckingham Fountain (think Married With Children), and a great view of the downtown skyline. At the river I cut in a few blocks so I could head back through Millennium Park checking out the Pavilion, the Bean, the Art Institute of Chicago, and the rest of Grant Park. At this point I was ready for some food and begun my search for a true Chicago Dog — which turned out to be much harder than I anticipated. In fact, as beautiful as the parks and lake views were on this part of my walk, I really wasn’t impressed with this part of downtown. It was filled with national chain restaurants and tourist traps, and not the good, local spots I was searching for. Just as I was about to give up I stumbled upon Hackneys, which I vaguely remembered from some Food Network show for having great burgers. I ordered the Bluecheeseburger (an original Hackney Burger generously topped with blue cheese). It was fantastic. What made things even better was being able to order it in from a neighboring pub while enjoying a few pints of Three Floyd’s Alpha King and watching the Cardinals beat the Steelers with a couple of very nice kids from Pittsburgh. Full and tired I took a cab the last few miles back to the hotel. Some pre-conference activities filled up the rest of my night which was capped with a late-night room service Italian Beef.

Monday-Wednesday:
Conference, conference and more conference. Very long days of sessions, and meetings, and parties. I will make a special note on the official event party Tuesday evening which while filled with corporate party clichés was actually a lot of fun. It was in a huge open room at the convention center and included tons of free food, beer, wine, and soda, a skate park (two quarter pipes with a table-top ramp in the middle) with four bikers and two skaters doing tricks for our entertainment, a lounge rock band, a Segway obstacle course, an oxygen bar, a dozen or so Wii and Xbox consoles, an interactive art wall, breakdancers, poker tables (complete with dealers), and the Deloreon.

Wednesday Night:
Determined to have a great hot dog before I leave I make my way to where the internets told me was best dog in town, Portillos. It did not disappoint, I had a great Chicago style dog with everything, and a Maxwell Street polish sausage with onions just for good measure. The after dinner plan was to catch a cab to The Map Room (Chicago’s highest rated beer bar) for a couple drinks then to the Goose Island Brewery in Wrigleyville to have a snack and watch the Cubs/D’Backs playoff opener. I meet up with my buddy Henry and we head to our first stop. The place is great — a solid draft line accompanied by an awesome bottle selection and great people on both sides of the bar. We end up chatting (and drinking) clear through the game never making it to Wrigleyville. After many, many new (to me) and great beers I catch a cab back to the hotel to crash.

Thursday:
The day is slow to start after a wild night but the last required stop on my agenda is for deep-dish pizza. I walk down to Giordano’s which always came up near the top of best-of lists. This, for me, was the biggest bust of the trip. Maybe it was the hangover, or that I ordered the lunch special individual size, but it was disappointing. The dough tasted like a hard, bland, biscuit, the sauce, while good, was all I could taste due to the sheer quantity of it, and the cheese sat like a lump at the bottom on top of a very thin bed of spinach. Oh well, they can’t all be great. So if we’re keeping score, Chicago wins on hot dogs (although NY has great dogs too) and NY takes the top spot for pizza.

All in all it was a great trip, but I am glad to be home to Lydia and Tiger and my great Brooklyn neighborhood.

(pictures coming soon)