A perfect weekend for Bologna's cafes, a Phil duet, and De Luca comics

How incredibly long was this week? It seemed to last forever but now...now it's the freakin' weekend and we can think about more entertaining things, like planning my wardrobe for Russia -- should I bust out the special reserve, velour sweats with "U.S.A." on the rear? And I wonder: what would it be like to run into Putin at a piano bar? Will he appreciate all my references to the film White Nights, and if so, would he consider singing "Say You, Say Me" or better yet, "Separate Lives" with me? Do you need to be reminded that ooh, it's so typical that love leads to isolation? Fine.

So in addition to imagining possible duets with Putin, how much do I wish I could sit and flip through magazines all day at a cafe like the one below? Unfortunately, the service at below cafe was horrendous (in April, at least), but still, to bask in the sun behind a duomo within ten meters of a Max Mara is always very pleasant. 

At the time we were resting after having gone to an awesome exhibit for comic artist Gianni De Luca's work at (oddly enough) Bologna's archaeological museum.  Here are some of his illustrations:

Check out Juliette, totally freaking out:

The above image was wall-size so as to demonstrate De Luca's mastery of portraying psychological drama in Shakespeare's plays, which he illustrated in a comic series. The exhibit is part of the BilBolBul International Comic Festival which will feature comic artists' works from all over the world. Neat!

Hubs, Porticos, and What might have been

The Hubs chose to study abroad in Italy based solely on the following reasoning: "The girls are really pretty." Well, who's going to argue with that? But something told me he was holding back. "Do you have anything you want to add?" I learned this casual perp interrogation tactic from watching hours of  Law and Order (and I watch ALL of them -- even Criminal Intent). He crumbled like a little girl: "And because they serve beer at the fast food places." Here's my response:

I'm not sure we would've gotten along in college, because while I'm into Italian women, most folks know that I can't handle my beer (this blog should be called I Bought a Ticket and Vomited All Over the World). And also because I had this abusive relationship with France, where, as with all relationships that involve unbelievable cuisine, I kept coming back for more. But now I'm old enough to know that I can have these relationships with many, many countries, and everyone will understand because they're too busy stuffing their faces to argue. This must be exactly how Carla Bruni feels.

Meanwhile, back in Bologna: Tortellini and Retirement Home for Dramatic Italian Artists

Well, if we're going to dive back into "Italian Subterfuge," might as well dive into this little bowl of Bolognese tortellini, which is almost always served in broth. The larger tortaloni, which I think we're used to having in the States, are the ones served with sauce. Not a prob. I'm not picky.

Bologna was the last stop on our Italy trip back in April. It's where the Hubs lived during his junior year abroad (maybe we can convince him to post photos from his long-haired, swarthy days!) and also where his buddy Giovanni is from. While we were walking Giovanni's dogs, he pointed out the only retirement home that I've ever considered living in thirty-five years before retirement:

The Lyda Borelli Retirement Home for Dramatic Italian Artists! Lyda Borelli was a famous Italian stage and silent film star. I am none of those things, but can you imagine all the scheduled activities requiring wigs, curtain calls, feathers and little dogs? Wish I did my junior year abroad here!

An entire area set aside for the manufacturing of Drama

Greece is that good. When we finally left the glorious pile of columns and cornices (and losing battles with Metallica fans -- see below) that is Philippi, we headed back to Bulgaria through the town of Drama, where it was a real struggle to not steal the signs. Oh, but we'll be back...

The next week will be filled with random posts -- anyone up for a virtual trip to Bologna (i.e. food)? -- until our upcoming trip to Russia, Finland, Estonia and Latvia, where I will attempt to go the furthest north possible for a Thai person and try to blog as I do this. Expect photos of red shoes in Red Square! Wild extrapolations on common genes shared by the (allegedly) low-alcohol-tolerant Finns and Asians (long-lost, red-faced cousins?)! Model search '08 in Estonia (I probably just have to open my eyes), and -- hold up, waiting for a description from the Hubs -- oh, I remember: "Latvia's the country that sent the pirates to Eurovision." A sure sign that I'm going to love Riga!

Guest Blog from the Hubs: Well, Hello!

I had been saving this David Brent-esque pose for a special occasion, but then I figured what better way to celebrate Ms. Dip's big win in the Fashion is Spinach sweepstakes! If I were technologically savvy enough, I would have the Ricky Gervais version of "If You Don't Know Me By Now" playing softly in the background, but I'm mentally humming along instead. As if the emotion of her unexpected victory is not enough, Ms. Dip is still fairly emotionally drained from her long rant last night on the hard-core merits of GnR over Mettalica. From all the screaming outside last night, it was clear Lars and company did not agree (nor did the rabid 50,000 Bulgarians in attendance), but then Ms. Dip has never been afraid of swimming against the tide. Having never seen a Guns N' Roses show, I can't really compare, (and they seem like pretty different genres to me) but I will say that Metallica rocked the Cleveland suburbs and the Richmond Coliseum pretty hard circa 1991. These days, of course, I've moved on to mostly Norwegian Death Metal (the early stuff, only) so maybe I'm biased. Either way, there's nothing the guitar gods love more than victory, so let's have a face-melting guitar solo in honor of Ms. Dip's big win!

-- from the Hubs

I WON something! Must be time for the Olympics.

Gosh, it's only July and already it's been a banner year! First there was the Kylie concert, then the Eurovision house party, and this morning, after being treated to a free Metallica concert last night, I found out that there was a hundred percent increase in hits to my site. I was all, "Oh crap, the Metallica fans are riled up and crashing my site to see what I said about Lars." But ACTUALLY, it was because of the "Ms. Spinach bump," since I won a book-giveaway contest on her very fabulous fashion blog. Now you might be thinking, "What kind of prematurely-geriatric person are you, Ms. Dip, to be entering contests online?" A very giddy, happy one!

Naturally, this got me to searching for images of people winning stuff. I scrolled past images of the winning smurf, the widow who killed her lottery-winning husband, and then I got sucked into YouTube for the next hour watching old Olympics commercials, which make me weep (not hard to do). Then I did this test, where I watched the commercial below over and over to see how many times I had to watch before I wouldn't tear up. It takes about six viewings before I become the girl who couldn't cry.

The Master of Puppets: Adventures in Live Blogging

It's a cool, breezy evening in Sofia. We thought we'd open the door to our balcony for a breath of fresh air, to get a view of the Nevski cathedral and maybe to investigate where the incredibly loud bass is coming from.
And then we see the lights from Levski Stadium. And hear the 50,000 screaming fans. And we can hear every single word, note and riff that METALLICA is playing even though we don't live close to the stadium. It's really loud. They've already played about thirty guitar solos, and every song sounds like the three Metallica songs I've heard -- it's either "Sandman," "Unforgiven," or "Sandman." The Hubs is rolling his eyes because 1) the song they're playing is "Master of Puppets" and 2) those other songs are the uncoolest Metallica songs to know. Please. Notify me when they do an a cappella cover of "November Rain." 
And now the stadium is glowing blue. I can hear the fans singing along to "Nothing Else Matters." (Note to self: You actually do know three Metallica songs.) I wonder if the drummer is planning to take a break to lecture people about intellectual property rights. Hm. I'm getting kind of cold. I'm shutting the door. Goodnight, moon. Goodnight, Metallica.

FINALLY. I can finally use my Latin. It was ALL worth it.

Oh, I took Latin alright. Big time. First, the nominative is...and the ablative goes...no, wait...gotta find the dative...but...oh, YEAH. I don't actually remember anything useful from my five years of Latin, because I was too busy doodling and hating myself. Plus, we only translated Catullus, so I'm practically conditioned to only translate poems about pretty boy servants. And exactly what font doesn't allow for spaces between words? It sort of looks Indonesian to me. It probably says something lame, like the year.

Decision '08: Piece of Mosaic or Ancient Dentures?

So I was sitting on a bench in the shade and staring out at the ruins of a basilica and supposedly "St. Paul's prison," when I happened to look down and see what I thought were teeth just laying in the dust. "Gross," I thought to myself. "But not gross enough for me not to pick up." Upon closer inspection, while it still looked like chicklet teeth, it looked like it could've been part of a mosaic. And because my powers of deduction are super-good like Indiana Jones, I thought it might be part of this mosaic:
...which we saw later when we crossed the street from where I had originally found the artifact/smashed denture, which I had left next to the bench for the excavators to find, instead of stealing it and transforming it into a gold-plated pendant that I would drape around my neck and force people to ask me about. Wasted vision.

Another cool fact about Philippi: the original Via Egnatia, which the Romans built in the 1st century BC, runs through the city. You might say, "Whatever, Ms. Dip. It's not like it's the Appian Way or anything." Ha! I scoff at your lateness in googling the importance of Via Engatia! It's only the road on which Marc Antony and Octavian chased down Cassius and Brutus for murdering Caesar. It's only the road they all followed to duke it out at the Battle of Philippi, where Cassius and Brutus couldn't stand the heat and so killed themselves.* You guys should really read more.

*Oh my gosh, did you guys know this stuff?! Now I'm glad that I caved when the Hubs said, "No. I mean, I really think we should go to Philippi. I'm not going to get into it right now, because I know I'll have to explain it to you again later, but it's sort of an important place."

Philippi: Sweet Ruins of the Day

Man, I wish the Hubs would do another guest blog so I wouldn't have to recount the history of Philippi. I'm pretty sure you guys don't read this blog for historical facts anyway. I will just say this: Phillipi had some crazy BC times, involving settlers from Thassos, invading Thracians, Phillip II of Macedonia, subsequent Roman colonization (the famous battle of Phillipi was fought in 42 BC right outside the city walls), and a visit from St Paul the Apostle, who according to the Phillipi pamphlet, founded the first Christian church in Europe here in 49 or 50 AD. Wait. Not finished. Earthquakes, Slav invasions and finally, the Turkish conquest followed in the 14th century, whereupon Phillipi was left ravaged. Sounds like closing time at the clubs on international night.

Now do you want to know what's really cool about Philippi, in case you couldn't tell from the proximity of these photos to the actual ruins? You can walk all over them! Get right up in its grill. Churches, basilicas, a forum, a theater, fortifications, the acropolis and more stuff that excavators have piled to the side because it's raining ruins!

And there are no roped-off areas, save for a mosaic. No one is watching -- mostly because it's hotter than balls out there and no guard is going to risk the brain damage by stepping out from the shady hut to yell at you for posing for photos while sprawled across the remains of a corinthian column. Which reminds me! Another cool thing about Philippi: it's located on the fringes of Drama. More to come!

Thassian Details: Samothrace, Marble and Legs

Home of everyone's favorite winged and headless sculpture, Samothrace is the island in the distance.
This is where marble comes from.

Nice leggies browning in the sun.

It's getting hot in here: Panagia, Kouros, Mystery Fruit, and Theologos

Panagia has lots of windy streets and pretty white-and-pastel houses.
The Kouros of Thassos. This one is special because it's holding something. 

We saw tons of trees with this type of fruit in Thassos. When an older Greek gentleman noticed that we were checking out his trees, he started picking the fruit and handing it to us for us to try. They were tart and fleshy, like plums, though I don't think these ever get to be the size or color of plums. Any ideas?
At this point, when we were walking further inland around Theologos, the old capital of Thassos, it became clear we weren't going to be able to enjoy the old town without constantly complaining about the heat. I imagined that excavators would find me baked into one of these rooftops where I had collapsed after trying to tie my shoe in the sun. 

Loving Alyki long time

Ancient tourist lounges with turkey drumstick. 
Alyki has white marble ruins of a 7th century BC temple and later-era Christian basilicas -- all overlooking or running into the sea. And you can walk all over them. See?Here's the Hubs demonstrating his hiking prowess by climbing over the marble cliffs: and looking out over the Aegean:

Euro Beach: We can finally let our guts hang out.

This is Alyki, which not only has a sweet strip of beach, but also ruins that you can explore. Both marble ruins and ruins of the body.

The Hubs and I stayed in Skala Potamias, a longer strip of beach, where I saw a drunk guy stumbling down the strip with an "I heart ouzo" t-shirt and speedos, clutching his liter bottle of Kamenitsa (because he brought his own beer from Bulgaria). It sort of reminded me of my childhood vacations in Florida where there was always the drunk guy, sipping from his cozy of Bud and wearing a "Naked Volleyball" t-shirt. See? We're all the same.

The Hubs grew more and more infuriated with the couple playing paddle ball in the ocean. We must've watched them for ten minutes. He just kept muttering, "It makes no sense. Look at them. Dropped it. Again. Okay, one more time. Oh, no, didn't get it. How about this time. Of COURSE NOT! IT MAKES. NO. SENSE!"

Where to start?

Oh, I know. How bout my haircut? Do you like it? Especially when it's smeared with sweat across my forehead? Now we can continue.

First, a Bulgaria-related item! Professor Takats sent me a link to this article in the New York Times about a band called A Hawk And A Hacksaw, which uses traditional Bulgarian music in their songs:

The band that A Hawk and a Hacksaw can be compared to — or set off from — is Beirut, also from New Mexico, whose music borrows from Roma and Balkan brass-band music but turns harder in the direction of North American pop. One way Mr. Barnes and Zach Condon of Beirut make far-flung music personal is by singing in daydreamy, Anglophone pop styles. Mr. Barnes’s voice sounds a little like Syd Barrett’s: it’s in the tradition of ’60s English psychedelic rock singers who stretched words to the maximum, creating the feeling of time slowing down.

I'm confused by both the description and grammar, but it sounds potentially interesting, no? So which one of us is going to take a listen and report back to the group?

Now we can get back to Greece and posting about "Everything I learned about the beach, I learned from childhood vacations in Sand Destin and Myrtle Beach."

Thassos: Gyros and Speedos

The Aegean, ladies and gentlemen! Is there such a color as Aegean blue? Because there should be. Just like there should be a term for how hot it gets in Greece. It was so eff-ing hot that I was forced to wear a floppy hat and consider the Edwardian parasol. More on the heat as it becomes obvious that the person you see in the photos is not a goofy tourist, but me trying to keep from bursting into flames -- and I don't mean in a fun way, like at a Madonna concert.

First, we made it to Thassos! And we were rewarded with beautiful coastal views, ancient olive groves, exceptional people-watching, archaeological ruins that run into the sea, and gyros every single day. For me, the colors were probably the most shocking thing about Thassos. Besides the buildings being painted in bright pastels, there was the backdrop of blue skies, fruit trees, and flowers. And the Hubs, of course. The little town of Panagia had the cutest houses and winding streets.Hydrangeas are everywhere on the island!The sun was pretty strong even in the morning. You can sort of make out my new bob.
More Thassian photos to come!

Their eyes were watching us...

...as we left Bulgaria. A perfect example of both Bulgaria's menacing beauty and phototropism in sunflowers.

The Great Honey and Jam Man

It's the season for raspberries and strawberries, and honey is year-round, y'all. This man set up his jam stand along the side of the road where we stocked up on wild strawberry preserves to take back with us to Sofia. We intended to give them as gifts, but after opening a jar and tasting a spoonful, the jars have stayed in our kitchen and will not be leaving. Here's a close-up of the strawberry jam, next to the nuts in honey (left) and the blueberry jam (right):Extreme close-up (because the strawberries are so mesmerizing in their goo):So even though one of Larry's Bulgarian high school students claims that the two greatest things about Bulgaria are nature and free downloading, this jar of jam is a fair runner-up to those fairly great things. Another great thing has to be Bulgaria's closeness to Greece, which we'll be visiting tomorrow when we brave our first road trip to my first big fat Greek island ever -- Thassos. Opa! I predict we get lost only twice, which is already over-confident. I suggested we drive around the Sofia ring road a couple times to get the lostness out of our system, but the Hubs wasn't amused. I promise to bring back more pictures that will tempt you to come visit us. Even if they're of another country.

Hike Yagodina! (Skip the caves.)

Seriously, the road signs push all sorts of caves on you like the "Devil's Throat," which supposedly had the tallest underground waterfall in Europe, but we tried it and other than the showcase of bikers getting wasted outside before they climbed a ridiculously long, high, slanty flight of slippery and concrete stairs, there wasn't much to see inside. We much preferred walking around Yagodina, which derives from "yagoda" or strawberry. It was a cute village surrounded by hills, pines, and gardens filled with raspberries, currants, and roses. And tractors.We were walking past this barn when we heard a low but steady hum. All the crevices between the bricks in the entire building were filled with bee hives and hovering bees. It was a little scary. A close-up (er, as close as I was willing to get to busy bees): Far from the bees:See the minaret in the left middle ground? There are more mosques and ethnic Turks in this region since it's closer to Turkey, and historically there was that thing called the Ottoman occupation. The Hubs thinks this is a perfect place to play chess while waiting for your horse-pulled wagon. We liked Yagodina.

Thracian campsites

Mm, not really, but here are the little A-frame cabins we stayed in in Pamporovo. Cute, huh? We ate lots of meat and played Apples-to-Apples -- one of my all-time favorite games because you can play it completely wasted and still win. But folks, let's take a moment to honor talent. We wouldn't have been able to find Pamporovo if it hadn't been for Larry, who was born with the prized "navigator gene." These people will go on to survive life's mazes, while the Hubs and I and our kind (the lost kind) never manage to find our way to life's mazes, eventually becoming extinct due to blisters formed by hiking boots that were never properly broken in.
Look at how expertly Larry splays his map and actually seems to know where we are, as indicated by his pointing to a spot on the map. Man, I bet he'd be able to figure out mall maps, too. Have you ever tried finding a Lady Footlocker? The Hubs and Sidney enjoy a Timmy and Lassie moment. This is Joslyn modeling her hiking accessories, which includes Sidney with her own backpack!

Gettin' down in Shiroka Luka

After arriving in Pamporovo on Friday, we dropped off our bags and went on our first hike in the village of Shiroka Luka, which is located about 14 km southwest of Pamporovo. In case you have no idea where any of this is -- I had only a fuzzy idea until someone took out a map and said, "We're here." And I said, "OOooh." -- we're in the Rhodopes which are in the south of Bulgaria and very close to the border with Greece. Only a three hour drive from Sofia!

Shiroka Luka has a lot of Bulgarian revivalist architecture, which means the buildings were made during the 19th century with wood and stone construction. On the hiking trail, we couldn't get over being surrounded by so many wildflowers. Look at this Dr. Seuss flower:Carolyn found kitties! At first we saw a very small cat, which we thought was a kitten, and then an old baba (grandmother) said that it was the mother (teenage preggers) and that the babies were wandering around (see below). Then she asked if we wanted to buy her homemade rakia. On our hike we saw a snake. That was cool. We also happened upon this slate-roofed house. And here is a sculpture of a maiden hugging her harp. We hunted for another, more famous rock formation which was supposed to resemble a praying maiden, but I missed it the first time we past it, and then when it was pointed out to me again, my brain broke down trying to imagine the form of a praying maiden in the cylindrical rock. It looked like lipstick to me. Damn, the magic eye! Anyhow, I thought this statue in front of the music school was pretty good.

Wish it was a four day weekend.

This is Sidney, Larry and Joslyn's emotive dog. She embodies how we all felt after a weekend of sunny skies, mountain air, and ribs. In her mind she's visualizing the Rhodopski wildflowers, butterflies, hummingbirds, and ribs. Now she's huffing because she wishes she had just one more day frolicking in the sun with a belly full of ribs. I know we are. This little trip to the Rhodopes healed us from the stress of Sofia city-living. How so? Well, we we went from this:*

To this: This is the Trigrad Gorge in the Rhodope mountains. More photos of Bulgaria's natural beauty to come later in the week!

*This photo was taken in the winter months so it's not true to the warm weather and leafy trees we have in Sofia right now, but it captures the claustrophobia and traffic pretty well.

Blogger survives explosion, earthquake, and long day at work, feels desire to hide in Italian grocery store forever

This morning around 6:45, I heard the sound of what I thought was the upstairs neighbors dropping heavy boxes -- like if they contained pianos -- on the floor. (Aren't these artichokes beautiful, by the way?) This isn't unusual since the neighbors have children -- aural assault experts -- who like to bang furniture or throw 20 (twenty) minute tantrums. Understandably they are cooped up inside all day and obviously can't play outside in the construction. Tragically, they are the reason I went out and got a job. In my half-dreaming state, I rationalized that the sounds meant that they were finally moving out.

When we got to the office, however, we received news that a military explosives storage facility had exploded in northwest Sofia, blowing out all the windows in the area, and shutting down the airport for the day. So the sounds we heard were not of personal freedom from tiny banshees, but rather 20 tons of TNT mistakenly going off the day before America's birthday. (Most perfect size pears, right?)

Wait. It gets more insane than this fresh pasta display and the fact that they have tortellini made from truffles. During the afternoon, we had an earthquake. It was a 3-pointer which is nothing to a Japanese person, but...no, actually, it was kind of nothing here, too, but we were shocked when we were told. Global warming? Who can say?

At some point in the day after dealing with people who wanted to destroy my spirit, I started to look at my Italy food photos again and thought to myself that I wouldn't mind being wrapped in thinly sliced meat.

Then I saw the Ham Wall in all its leggy glory and knew that I definitely wanted to be drowning in meat for the long weekend. Let the healing begin!

To all my peeps in America -- Happy 4th of July! Now go get 'cher grill on.

Milan: It costs a million dollars.

What's there to say about Milan? It's classier than drinking your liquor from a watermelon. But boozing out on your stoop is way more affordable than anything under the famed glass ceilings of the Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II. Italian subterfuge is expensive, folks! Luckily, our upcoming hiking trip to the Rhodopes, will offer some earthy Bulgarian respite from one of our regular "why don't we just open the window and start throwing money out" European vacations. (Thank you, Carl, for coming up with the technical term.)

I included this photo because 1) the duomo is looking cleaner than the last time I saw it and 2) that's Giovanni in the foreground, center slightly left. He's panicking because he runs on a constant flow of coffee, cigarettes, and sweets, and we just found out that the Sicilian bakery he usually goes to is closed. Fortunately for all of us, the Pasticceria Freni had another cafe a few blocks away, where we could indulge in some Sicilian desserts.

Cassatina -- sponge cake stuffed with ricotta cream, wrapped in almond paste, and topped with lemon icing.
Giovanni informed us that in Sicily they give you the filling separate from the pastry so that you fill it as you go, and the pastry never gets soggy. I was totally fine with my cannoli already filled. Those candied orange peels were quite fine, too.