Food, wine & music in Frascati

Last Sunday my friend Ana and I took a day trip to Frascati. The Lawyer (a guy I had a little flirtation with when I first arrived) had invited me there one evening but I turned him down since he asked me at the absolute last minute and I just don't roll like that. But he made it sound really cool so I put it on my list of cities to check out. Frascati, about 20 mins away from Rome by train, is known for its wine so it’s a popular nightlife destination for Romans looking to do something different on a Friday or Saturday night. But without access to a car, Ana and I decided to just go for the day.

It’s a beautiful little town but that’s not really saying much because Italy in general is beautiful—you gotta be bring a whole lot to the table if you want to stand out as a special, unique city. Physically I wouldn’t rank it any higher than say Milan. BUT the trip to Frascati will stand out as one of the best, most-authentic days I had during my entire stay in Rome.

There was a huge street market going so we wandered around the town for a while (it seemed like every single resident and their dog was out enjoying their Sunday afternoon passagiata), looking at the random merchandise, stopping in the church and checking out the views of Rome. Finally we stumbled onto a piazza that had cart after cart of the very thing I came after: PORCHETTA.

Last year a porchetta shop opened on my block in New York. It got great write-ups and there was always a long line out the door but I would pass by the place every day without so much as a second glance. I'm just not normally a pork eater, if I have it five times a year its a record. But now that I was in Frascati (right next door to Ariccia where porchetta comes from) I had to have it—if only to be able to tell all those downtown hipsters I had the real deal :)

So we stopped a man on the street and asked him to point us to the best place to buy porchetta. We bought the sandwiches along with a large container of sundried tomatoes, artichokes and grilled eggplant (all of it drizzled in olive oil) and walked down the street to the cantina he recommended.

Now this was the coolest part: you buy your lunch then bring it to a tiny little cellar that serves nothing but homemade wine. For 1 Euro we got to fill up a pitcher with wine from the huge barrels in the back of the shop, spread out our food on a picnic table and eat and drink to our hearts content.

While we were eating we chatted with the owner of the cantina as people came in and out with empty bottles to fill up with wine (someone even came with a empty liter bottle of Pepsi, no joke). As our wine ran out, Max (the brother of the owner) came over and filled our glasses back up with wine from his pitcher. He was clearly nuts (in the best possible way) but we somehow got into an interesting conversation with him about Italy (he emphatically insisted that he wasn’t Italian, he was Roman) that segued onto the topic of music and he told us he was a musician who performed all over Lazio. Suddenly he stood up and ran out of the shop. Five minutes later he came back with his guitar, plopped himself down at our table and started to sing for us.

Aside from us, there was an older couple from Rome who had driven to Frascati for lunch. Between listening to the beautiful Italian songs, talking with the older couple, speaking in French with one of the customers (he was explaining the concept of the cantina to us but asked to switch to French as his French was better than his English—yay for knowing a foreign language!) and chatting with the shop owners, it was an incredible afternoon. We stumbled out of there 3 hours later, tipsy from the delicious wine (in addition to the two carafes we bought, Max must have filled our glasses 4 times), stuffed from all the great food and grinning from ear to ear. I live for those kinds of experiences.

One funny thing to mention: there were tons of gnats flying around the cantina, one even fell in my drink. I’m really squeamish in general but the owner insisted that they wouldn't hurt us and it was totally normal to have them around since they just finished making a fresh batch of wine that morning. Um… ok. We spent half the time swatting gnats and trying to keep them from falling into our meal. As we were leaving Ana joked, “Don’t worry. If we’re lucky we only ate 10 of them.”

A real Amsterdammer

Ahh, Amsterdam. How I love that beautiful city.

I met E’s sister-in-law at her wedding in Ardeche this August. She’s a super sweet girl and her husband (E’s brother) is also really great. We had a blast in Ardeche so when they invited me to come to The Hague to celebrate her 30^th birthday in November I agreed. Even though I hardly knew the couple, I figured there would be a few other people at the party who I did know so it would be fun.

E, who lives in Paris, just signed on for a new film (she’s an Art Director) shooting in Amsterdam so she would be there; an old friend from college in New York happened to be in Amsterdam for a business trip and to celebrate his 28^th birthday; I would get to see a bunch of friends who I haven’t seen since E’s wedding; I planned to take a train to Berlin afterwards to see a dear friend who’s been doing the music thing out there for the past 2 years; and I’d get to see another part of the Netherlands and visit my beloved Amsterdam again after a long 2-year absence.

In the end none of that worked out. The production on E’s film got pushed back so she wasn’t coming to Amsterdam after all. My friend in Berlin got a last-minute gig in Spain. A few of my Amsterdam friends were out of town or busy with work. My New York friend and I kept playing phone/email tag and didn’t end up meeting up. None of the people I knew ended up going to The Hague for the birthday party so it was just me with 40 semi-strangers. And it didn't help that by the time November rolled around I was broke from my train trip around Italy. Plus it was freezing cold and rainy every single day—which is such a pain in a biking city. It was just one of those trips. But when you travel you have to be prepared for everything to go wrong and just be determined to have a good time anyway. Not to say I didn’t have a great time—its impossible not to in Amsterdam—but if I hadn’t gone, things would have been much better on my wallet.

(Vending machine dining on Leidseplein at 2am. Surprisingly delicious)

I arrived on Wednesday and my friend picked me up from the train station and took me back to her place to drop off my bags before she went back to work. The absolute first thing I wanted to do was go to the movies to see ‘This Is It’, the Michael Jackson documentary. Rome being Rome, they only have a handful of random English-language movies playing at any given time. Everything else is dubbed in Italian. And I desperately wanted to see the film before it left theatres (by the way if you haven’t seen it yet, go immediately. I cried like a baby the entire way through. Then again I’ve been a die-hard MJ fan my whole life).

My friend lent me her bike and I spent the entire week trying to be as much of an Amsterdammer as possible. I wanted to relax on this trip, to see just how lazy I could be. I spent long luxurious days in the brown cafes, rode up and down the canals just to admire the scenery, went vintage shopping on the Nine Streets (I bought a fabulous fur coat and a great army tote bag) and the Dam, ate anything Dutch I could get my hands on, hung out in various English bookshops, had lovely dinner parties with my Dutch friends, met friends for drinks, checked out a couple music venues at night and visited a few sites (including the Anne Frank house which was incredible).

(Anne Frank House)

(Hotchpotch at Moeders restaurant)

I even became a local at Café Winkel—I went there so often that the waiters started saying “See you tomorrow!” when I left. They’re known for their delicious appeltaart and once I tasted it I kept going back for more. Plus its a super cute café in a great neighborhood—cozy and warm and I would stake out my favorite seat in the corner, order my pie and latte, read a book or write in my journal and watch the rain fall outside for hours. It was blissful.

On Saturday I left for the birthday party in the Hague. I was a bit self-conscious since the party would be full of strangers and people I barely knew. But I was determined to make the best of it. I helped with the cooking and the setup.

I was prepared for a lousy time but it actually turned out to be really cool. Nothing to write home about but a nice atmosphere. I mingled with the guests and met lots of interesting people—among them a renowned physicist and a rock musician and a Dutch guy who entertained us with stories about his trip to Compton (LA).

On Sunday afternoon we took a tour of the Hague.

Stopping by the beach for pancakes, and the city center for raw haring, a Dutch quick snack speciality. I'll try it once but that was more than enough for me (note: it does not taste like any sort of sushi). I guess its an acquired taste.

Then we walked around the city center, window shopping and checking out the Sinterklaas displays (is it just me, or is the concept of "Black Pete" very bizarre?). The Hauge is a really nice city but its no Amsterdam so I was happy to get back on Sunday night.

On my last afternoon in Amsterdam I went to check out the new Jimmy Choo collection at H&M (it sucks by the way) and happened to park my bike in front of a coffeeshop.

I’d never been inside of one before. The last time I was here my friends wanted to show me the real Amsterdam, minus the stereotypical touristy stuff so I skipped it. The thing is, I’m not a smoker but I always thought it would be interesting to give it a try in Amsterdam since its legal and all. I hesitated for a couple minutes before finally deciding to go in. I went up to the bar and looked at the menu while I waited in line. I felt kind of stupid trying to figure out what was what while everyone else just came in an expertly ordered their drug of choice. By the time my turn came up at the counter I was already feeling a bit lightheaded from the contact smoke so I decided to leave. I’m such a lightweight (this summer I tried pot brownies for the first time and spent an hour throwing up in the bathroom) Lord only knows what that Dutch weed would have done to me! lol, maybe one day I’ll finally try it but not this time.

So that was my trip. I had a great time and it was so awesome seeing all my friends, but by the end of the week I was so ready to get back to Rome. I’m not sure when I’ll get to go back to Amsterdam again... but next time it had better be warm out! That winter weather is no joke!

Day 3-5: Torino

Last 4th of July I went to my old college roommate’s apt in Union Square (NYC) for a party on her rooftop. While I was there I heard a couple girls speaking in Italian so I started talking to them about my dream of living in Italy. Dani (from Rome) and Val (from Torino) were both working for an Italian company in New York. We ended up hitting it off and hanging out a few times before I left for Paris and Val invited me to come visit her in Italy. So when I was planning my trip to Cinque Terre I decided it would be the perfect opportunity to check out Torino, a 3 hour train ride away.

The walk from the station down via Roma was my first taste of the city and I liked it immediately. The best word I can use to describe Torino is elegant. It has this very regal, almost aristocratic feel. It reminded me a lot of Vienna. The wide boulevards and piazzas, the grand, historic cafes, the twinkling lights strung up everywhere...

I stopped at Mood Café for a cup of coffee and little snack, and read my book and people watched while I waited for Val who was picking me up around 6pm to go to her friend’s place where we would be staying for the night. Her friend and her boyfriend live in an apartment in a villa in “The Hills” of Torino, where all the noble families and celebs live. Apparently, a lot of these families are now broke so they’ve turned part of their homes into condos—you have to have an “in” to get one of these coveted apts. This particular villa was on a large, gated property, just gorgeous. I wish I could have taken pictures of the house itself but the owners are super strict so I didn't think it would be the best idea. They don’t even let their tenants walk on the grounds… not even to sit quietly under a tree with a book. There’s even a big dog roaming around just in case anyone gets any funny ideas (ok, the dog isn’t to keep the tenants away but I’m sure it doesn’t help that he’s there).

(my bedroom at the villa apt)

That night we met up with Val’s friends for dinner. She was sweet and specifically collected her friends who spoke English so I could converse with everyone. We went to a typical Piedmont restaurant and the food was delicious. We had about 3 bottles of wine, starters, entrees, dessert and coffee... the meal was quite an event.

(mixed appetizers: polenta, asparagus, artichoke, etc)

(Risotto w/ sausage, zucchini and truffles)

(Torino's famous chocolate)

After, we went to this bar called Pastis in the trendy nightlife area for drinks.

(It was Halloween, obviously)

On Sunday, Val and I took a tour of the city. She brought me to a historic café in Piazza Castello (the biggest in Italy) for breakfast and then to the National Cinema Museum at the Mole Antonelliana building, the symbol of Torino.

While we waited in line I was thinking “Ugh, I like film but this is going to be incredibly boring.” Nope, it was fantastic! One of the best museums I’ve ever been to. It’s such a thorough, concise collection of cinema. Starting from the very beginnings of the industry (the cameras they used, peep show boxes, etc) to present day stuff (the current exhibition was on Manga). And it covered everything from lighting, to studios, to directors, to advertising. It was so interesting and really cool to see all the props, costumes, photos and things from famous movies.

Later we went to the church that holds the Shroud of Jesus, the cloth He was reportedly wrapped in after the Crucifixion. They only bring it out on rare occasions but a photographic copy is on display all the time. Its incredible b/c there are blood stains in the places He was wounded (His head, His side, His wrists) and the faint outline of a man’s form imprinted on the fabric. Of course no one knows for sure if this is the real deal but its incredible to imagine that you may possibly be looking at the actual cloth that wrapped Jesus’ body.

That evening Val had to leave and I was invited to link up with Fede, one of Val’s girlfriends, for a pizza & beer night at her apt with a couple of her friends. We hung out chatting about life in the States (she spent nearly a year in San Diego learning English), dating in Italy, all sorts of stuff. It was a really fun, chill night.

The next day I had a long, lazy breakfast at a popular café in The Hills, just reading my book, watching the rain fall outside and ogling the hot bar guy.

Then I did a little shopping before heading to the station to catch my 12:30pm train to Milan. I really like Torino. Its a beautiful, clean, sophisticated city.

Day trip to Umbria/Lazio

On Sunday I went on a day trip to Umbria & Lazio with a new friend I made here in Rome (a French Au Pair from Paris). Her language school planned the trip and she invited me to come along.

I barely made it though, and all b/c of daylight savings time. On Saturday night before I went to bed, I set the clock on my iPhone back one hour. I set my alarm for 6:30am since I had to meet the bus at Termini station at 7:45am. I woke up around 6:20am and decided to get out of bed and check the time online to make sure my iPhone didn’t do something funny during the night… sure enough, it was 7:20am NOT 6:20am! My phone automatically adjusted the time at 3am so my clock went back two hours instead of one. I had just enough time to brush my teeth, throw on some clothes and sprint down the street to the bus (thankfully I live only 15 minutes away, add one reason why its good to live in SanLo). I arrived at 7:50am but I wasn’t the last one… a lot of people seemed to have clock issues that morning. We actually left one poor girl behind who arrived at Termini at 8:02am and couldn’t find the bus.

Our first stop was Orvieto. There were about 20 of us on the trip, lead by Marina’s language teacher who was an excellent tour guide and gave us a full explanation of all the sights. Sadly my Italian is still really shaky (aka nonexistent) so Marina had to translate for me. And as English is her second language it was easier for her to do the translation in French. So I got an Italian lesson AND got to practice my French, not bad. We saw the Duomo (where I learned about those ever popular Italian names),

wandered around the tiny streets (I love Europe and their little cobblestone streets, barely big enough for two people to walk through), saw the first home of the Popes before they built Vatican City (who knew!),

and took in the incredible view from the walled edge of Orvieto.


Afterwards, we had 2 free hours for lunch. A group of us branched off in search of a Slow Food restaurant recommended by my new friend Elyssa (an expat who’s been living in Rome with her Italian husband for about 8 years). It was completely booked so we went back out into the street to try to figure out where to eat. An old Italian couple were leaning out of their window watching the street (why do old folks love to do that?) and called out to us, asking us where we were from (we made quite a colorful group). We rattled off the list of countries (England, America, Holland, France…) and chatted with them for a bit. We asked for their recommendation for lunch and they pointed us to Ristorante Cocco, a tiny place just across the street. We got there just before a huge crowd of Italians showed up, filling the rest of the tables. And it was one of the best meals I had in a long time… the 9 of us shared 3 bottles of vino rosso della casa, 2 bottles of water, a starter and main dish/pasta each (I had caprise to start followed by tagliatelle with black truffles… SOO good) and paid only 11 Euros per person! Comparably, the other group when to a place near the Duomo (tourist central) and paid 17 Euros for "5 pieces of ravioli and a soda".

We rolled out of the restaurant completely stuffed and sleepy from all the wine to meet up with the rest of the group for a tour of the Duomo (it was closed in the morning for mass) before moving on to the next village.

Civita di Bagnoregio is nicknamed The City of the Dead b/c in its 2,500 years it has survived 24 earthquakes, Nazi occupation and bombings and is still standing... for now. It's literally this tiny medieval village perched on the very top of a mountain.

The eerie thing is that mountain beaneath it is finally starting to crumble so they don’t know how long the village will survive (parts of it have already fallen off!). Its connected to mainland Italy by a long, narrow bridge that snakes its way up the mountain to the city gates. It took us about 20 minutes to walk there (mainly uphill, my legs are so sore today!) but once you get inside its the most incredible sight.

The village looks frozen in time—you can walk the entire place in about 10 minutes, everything is rustic and ancient, including the people who live there.

There are one or two B&Bs, a couple of trattorias and a church in the center of the piazza, naturally the social hub of the village. There are about 14 residents now (bless their brave souls!) but crowds of people from the village down below swarm the piazza in the evenings; eating roasted chestnuts, listening to music and hanging around chatting with each other.

It was incredible… and to know that the village won’t be around forever makes it even cooler that I actually got to see it.

So the trip was fantastic—even the 2 hour drive was pleasant, just watching the beautiful Italian countryside. We made it back to Rome around 7:30pm. An exhausting but wonderful day.

Total spent for the day:

Bus ticket— 12 Euro

R/T cable car to Orvieto— 2 Euro

Lunch at Cocco— 11 Euro

Napoli & Positano

Simona and I spent 3 days in Positano, passing through Naples along the way. First of all, Naples is insane. I would never have believed that a city like that exists in picture-perfect Italy. Naples is raw and gritty and dirty… its not hard to imagine that you’ve dropped into a 3^rd world country. But the Neapolitans are so damn proud of their city—you gotta love that. And the pizza! Only once in my life have I tasted pizza nearly as good and that was in a small hilltop town near Florence (I can’t remember the name of the place but my friend Shelby and her boyfriend brought me there when I went to visit her a couple years ago and the first bite literally brought tears to my eyes it was so yummy). On the way to Positano we had lunch at Trianon Pizzeria at the suggestion of one of The Expat’s friends. The pizza was good but didn’t blow my mind. On the way back home, we went to Da Michele. Simona and I were outside debating if we should share one pizza (they’re pretty big) but a guy standing near us leaned over and said that the pizza is too good to share and we each had to have our own—enough said. The crowd standing in front waiting for a table (some for nearly 2 hours!) was so thick we could barely make our way inside. We got pushed to the front of the line since we ordered our double mozzarella margarita pizzas to go. We sat on the curb around the corner from the pizzeria to eat and OMG… BEST PIZZA EVER!! No joke.

The dough was perfectly baked, thick and spongy with a slight smoky taste from the wood burning oven, the tomato sauce was so light and simple, the cheese was unbelievably fresh and the basil seemed to take on the flavor of the olive oil they dribbled on top. Excellent. I’m plotting when I can go back to Naples— if only for the pizza. It’s totally worth the 20 Euro, 6 hour R/T train ride—its that good.

Anyway Positano: in a word, magical. It reminded me a lot of Santorini, just in a different color palatte (pretty pastel houses stacked on the side of the mountain instead of all white ones). And everyone was SO friendly and helpful. We kept saying, “Are we just deprived New Yorkers or is everyone extremely nice here?” We made friends with the owner of our pensione (the hotel has an amazing rooftop terrace with breathtaking views. One morning we woke up early to watch the sunrise),

the waiters at the restaurants, the guy at the supermarket, the deli guy, everyone. And it didn’t hurt that everywhere we went there was a group hot guys saying ciao to us and telling us how beautiful we were :) We were told we should have come during the summer but I much prefer going someplace in the off season—you’re not fighting with crowds, you can find cheap hotel deals and you get to see a place for what it really is. Plus the weather was still in the 80s so it was perfect.

We spent our days lounging around at the beachside cafes chatting with the owners, eating lemon ices on the beach and wandering around the tiny downtown area.



At night we went for long dinners at places either recommended by my Lonely Planet or by the locals. We struck out twice in the food dept—first thinking that just because we were at a beach town the seafood would be good. Second thinking it was ever a smart idea to try sushi in small town Italy… oh well.


After dinner we tried to find a bar to have drinks but apparently that doesn’t really exist there. So we just hung out on the terrace of the restaurants drinking wine and free shots of lemoncello. It was a fabulous weekend. Pos is every bit as beautiful as people say it is. We were daydreaming about leaving everything behind and moving there for good. People are happy, everyone knows each other, there’s like zero crime. And the best part is that they work for about 7 months out of the year until the winter when everything shuts down and then get to take a 5 month vacation—not a bad life.