Plitvice National Park, Croatia

We had been dying to get back to Croatia since our trip to the beach town of Baska on Krk island back in June. It seems as though everyone in Croatia is friendly and speaks English, plus the natural beauty of its coastline, rolling hills, and greenery is impressive. So on October 18th we loaded up the minivan and headed to Plitvice National Park. Several of our friends had been there and had raved about it. It is one of the oldest national parks in Europe, opening in 1949 shortly after the end of WWII.

The drive down took about 5 1/2 hours, and aside from a place on the border between Slovenia and Croatia that makes amazing veggie burgers being closed, it went pretty smoothly. Our DVD player has been broken for months but the kids were entertained listening to "Anne of Avonlea" on CD, having finished "Anne of Green Gables" on the French Riviera trip. That's what your kids listen to on road trips too, right Jake and Ashlee? I have to pretend like I'm not listening, but L.M. Montgomery just sucks you in to the drama of turn-of-the-century small town PEI.

We stayed just south of the park in Plitvice Miric Inn, a family-run place fronted by the daughter with the parents behind the scenes. Of course they were very friendly and their daughter spoke excellent English. She gave us the advice of parking at entrance #2 and riding the shuttle bus all the way to the top of the lakes then walking down.

This first lake is what we saw almost immediately after leaving the bus stop. 

An extensive network of wood-plank walkways travels around, through, and over the numerous lakes and waterfalls. It gives you the feeling of being right in the middle of a natural wonder.

This is an ode to the Mitch and Jodi Alley Family, although Cade was about twice Juliet's size when they took their Christmas picture. Father of the year right there. This is also an ominous sign of things to come.

Being there in Autumn was superb, with the leaves changing and falling, the weather not too hot or too cold, and plenty of time to ourselves especially in the early morning.

 A picture postcard around every turn.

And with cuties like these we went a little photo crazy.

 Here the kids are sitting on a tangled mass of exposed moss-covered roots along the trail.

Despite the natural beauty, Juliet could only stay entertained for so long, so we had to bust out the time-honored "tick-tock" maneuver to keep her happy at times.

One of the best things about being here, with the kids going to Italian school and traveling as a family so much, is that Isaac and Georgie have rekindled their extremely close relationship that they had started to lose during the last couple of years in Altus.

 These branches were hanging right out over the path and we couldn't resist the photo op.

 Gorgeous waterfalls in the background, but Juliet is starting to fade again.

 I love how the moss hangs down off of the cliff and looks like green waterfalls.

 We stopped here on a bench for lunch. Not a bad view.

The kids just hanging out a bit after lunch.

We packed up after eating and headed down the trail again. With the wooden walkways over the lakes we had been pretty vigilant with the kids, especially Juliet. But for some reason both Ashley and I wandered ahead of the kids as we started out. We had walked no further than 30 feet when Georgie let out a shriek of pure terror. "JULIET!" Ju-B had stepped off the dirt pathway and into the crystal clear water. It was pretty shallow and her head stayed above the water, but it was very cold and she was pretty shaken up. Plus, we had no change of clothes for her. Parents of the year.

You can see how far in she fell by the water marks. Thankfully it was warming up. Georgie had taken off her extra sweater and Juliet wore that as a shirt. Isaac took off his hoodie and we put Juliet's legs through the sleeves and zipped it up in back. Her socks and shoes were soaked so she went barefoot, but we put on her rain jacket to keep her warm. Isaac threw in his hat for good measure. The result? 

 As if the Europeans didn't think we were insane enough already.

 The CamelBak now doubled as a drying rack.

 We ended up carrying her the rest of the day, but it was still worth it.

The last waterfalls of the first half of the hike were especially stunning. We made it down to where we had started and from there boarded a ferry which took us to the north end of the park. From there we hiked down past more lakes and waterfalls to the "Big Waterfall," the largest in the park.

Part of the walkway was flat and clean enough to put Ju-B down in her socks which she had worn-dry. You gotta love how she has to hike up the sweatshirt so the hood doesn't drag on the ground. Classy.

 Still cute though.

There was a cave that must have been carved by falling water at some point, and it had been made accessible with stone steps and iron railings so you could climb from the water at the bottom to the top where the valley road was. I love this picture because Georgie is so genuinely afraid of what is living in the water inside that cave behind them.

We had to climb a fairly perilous, wet, steep staircase to get to this part of the cave, which Ashley did while holding Juliet in one arm. Awe-inspiring or foolhardy, I'm not sure, but I was proud.

 These are the switchbacks leading out of the cave to the path up above.

About this time Juliet had been through enough and decided to sack-out on my shoulder. She slept through the remainder of the hike, and although I enjoyed the admiring glances and "awwww" noises made in several different European and Asian languages as I carried her, my arms were on the limit at times.

 Crossing the lake to the Big Waterfall.

 "Awwww"

 Ju-B completely missed the Big Waterfall, which was a gorgeous and fitting end to our hike.

 We climbed back up to the path but couldn't resist some parting shots. 

 Juliet woke up in time to get a final shot of the fall foliage.

Since we had started early we got back to the hotel with plenty of time to make a rash decision: let's go to Bosnia! The border was only 15 minutes away. None of us had ever been to a predominantly Muslim or recently war-torn country before, so we decided to check that off of our list. That being said, we also barely got out of the car so the pictures are not the best.

 A mosque up on a hill.

 Bosnian countryside and window glare.

Although somewhat similar to Croatia, there was a noticeable change as we crossed the border. Namely in the color schemes of the houses.

We had researched a restaurant in Bihac, the border town, and had plugged it into Google Maps via Trip Advisor. We promptly drove up a dirt path and into a shocked Bosnian woman's farmhouse driveway. I had to do a twenty-point turn in her corn field entrance as she stared daggers at us from her porch. We fumbled around town trying to find the place sans directions but soon realized we were in over our heads. No one spoke English. We had no idea what the currency or exchange rate was (Bosnian mark, about 0.5 euro). We tried a roadside restaurant that was full of smoking men (try again) and then a roadside stand (no euro accepted), but failed at both.

I did not handle the failure well it must be said. The low point was when we made a wrong turn trying to get back to Croatia, couldn't find a place to turn around, and had to play a game of "chicken" with a drunk Bosnian man in the street. The Croatian border guard, seeing the times on our exit/entry stamps, asked me, "Did you eat some (insert Slavic food item here) in Bihac?" I blurted out, "No! We were too scared to do anything!" Ashley was mortified, partly because she wasn't sure if the guy was Bosnian or Croatian at first.

With our tails between our legs, we went back to the hotel and asked if we could eat there. They were very gracious and did not rub the failure in our faces. We met an older couple from Israel on a weeklong trip to Croatia at the table next to ours. He was from South Africa and she from Zimbabwe originally. Their daughter is married and living in Madison, Wisconsin, where they visit twice a year. He moved to Israel shortly before the Six Day War and has been there over 30 years. They have a granddaughter about Juliet's age that resembles her somewhat and they asked our kids all about living and going to school in Italy. They were somewhat shocked that we had driven down there just for the weekend.

The food was excellent. It started with homemade chicken noodle soup and a wine vinegar salad. Then they brought out this big platter of sausages, a whole fish, potatoes, sweet potatoes, carrots, beans, risotto with peas, pasta, kale, zucchini, peppers, and a cucumber cole slaw. We finished everything except part of the fish and the potatoes.

Looking at that whole fish on Ashley's plate reminded me of a time in my childhood when we had come back from a fishing trip and one of the adults was dared by his buddy to eat the eye of a fish. I couldn't believe that he did it at the time. So I said to Isaac, purely in fun, "How many euro to eat the eye?" Isaac said, "Twenty." What? That was totally doable. But I pressed, "How about ten?" "Okay." I chickened out at that point and said, "No, Isaac, don't do it, that's disgusting." But Ashley put 20 euro back on the table and Isaac dug that eye out of that fish head, put it in his mouth, swallowed it whole, and chased it with a glass of water. Georgie and I almost lost our dinners. Ashley could not stop laughing. Way to go, buddy. You totally redeemed that evening after the Bosnia debacle.

Hats off to Ashley for planning, as usual, and to the kids for being very good hikers and travelers. All around it was a great weekend trip.

French Riviera

Over the Labor Day weekend, which was a blessed four day weekend, we drove out to Cannes, France for a French Riveria vacation. As school had not started yet, Ashley drove out early on Thursday with the kids and Megan, Yorba, and Verna Trifilo. Greg Trifilo, Ben Crandall (Charlotte & Luke were in the US), Ashley Shirah, and I drove out later that night after work. Our drive was almost certainly more tolerable without 3 kids and 2 dogs, but Ash & Meg survived and even managed to use gas coupons before crossing the border unlike our posse of four book-brilliant but street-dumb adults.

The house where we stayed was in a small town just northwest of Cannes called Pegomas. The owners live next door and just recently started renting it out on Airbnb. It was a fantastic place with plenty of indoor space for all of us, outdoor space for the dogs and kids, and even a swimming pool.

Isaac and Yorba enjoying a dip.

On Friday we headed inland to Grasse and Tourettes sur Loup. Grasse is famous for perfumes and antiques, but it was a huge bust for us as we couldn't find parking to accommodate an Odyssey and an Outback with a Thule on top. Instead we stopped briefly at Bar sur Loup, a lovely small town, and then had lunch just outside of Tourette sur Loup. We were very impressed with the view of the town as we drove in and there happened to be a small cafe right along the road.

C'est magnifique. The dining experience was so stereotypically French that we thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. As we started to take our seats outside the owner/operator woman pointed to her watch to indicate how late it was (about 2:00 pm) and convey to us very plainly her intention to close the cafe for riposo or mediodia or whatever the sam hill the French call the lazy southern European midday break. Undeterred, we sat ourselves down, conveying to her our very American intention of being served when we darn well want to. She then refused to speak any English to us. Although the town is small, it is major tourist attraction. Tourism is the only thing keeping that town alive. She would be out of business if she couldn't communicate in the universal language. But Megan was forced to dust off her high school French and try to order for us. We ordered three things which we intended to share amongst the nine of us. When she realized that we weren't ordering individual meals, she suddenly discovered her ability to speak the King's English and said to us, very clearly, that "In France, we do not eat like this." The food was great, of course, and we had a great time reliving that dining experience for the rest of the weekend.

Doing our best impression of "too cool for school" French people. I always end up looking constipated and/or angry when I try to do cool. Ashley looks great (come sempre).

And the kids are of course mind-bogglingly cute. Juliet is holding "Verna," her birthday gift that she named after Greg & Megan's new golden retriever puppy.

The old town had a main street for pedestrians only that made a loop around and was lined with shops and houses. You could walk the whole thing in under 5 minutes if you needed to. We, of course, were there for about 2 hours.

Ashley struttin' her stuff. Nice diaper bag, hot lips.

Even I am forced to admit how "cute" the town was. Very pristine and idyllic. Artificially so for the benefit of tourists and separating them from their euro, but still very charming.

Juliet made friends with one of the local cats.

All of the kids found a friend in Uncle Ben. If Ben was miserable without Charlotte and Luke you would have never known it. Except when he got a little mopey while texting in the evenings. Incidentally, the name of Ethan Hawke's character in the 1980s cult classic movie "Explorers" is...Ben Crandall. We just watched that movie recently with the kids and they got a kick out of that.

An idyllic staircase by the gelato shop.

Their specialty flavor was Violet, which no joke is flavored with violet flowers. We have seen rose and lavender flavors here as well. Juliet loved it.

By this time our kids were ready to call it a day, so the Merbacks headed back to the house while the unfettered adults proceeded on to another charming small town. On the way back the kids found a second wind, however, and we took a short hike along a gorgeous river.

This was an old home dug out of the hillside along the river path.

The next morning we split up and the ladies went to Cannes (minus Juliet) while the boys stayed home and lounged by the pool. Ashley found a fish spa and could not allow the opportunity to pass them by.

Georgie jumped right in and let those fish feast on her dead skin cells.

As did Ashley Shirah and Megan.

That night we split up again and Ashley Merback stayed behind with the kids and dogs. They walked into the center of Pegomas for dinner and pastries.

Georgie and Yorba out for a stroll.

This is a local baked good called "socca" that is made with garbanzo (chick pea) flour.

Delicious French pastries.

Monaco was fantastic. We walked through the old town, admiring the view and the exotic gardens. We had a superb meal after being very wishy-washy about choosing a place. I felt Ben's pain being without Ashley there. 

Greg taking in the view of the Monte Carlo harbor. Pinch me.

A Bugatti we saw in a showroom window. A Bugatti, you say? An old Italian brand (the original is the small blue car out of frame on the right) that was resurrected in the 1990s and is the fastest street legal car on the planet. Leaves Lamborghini in the dust. Owned by Volkswagen now, as is Lamborghini. Freakin' rich Germans. This car took my breath away, and I'm not even a sports car guy. Retail? Starts at 2.5 M. Pinch me harder.

The best part of that night happened right here. This is the street that runs in front of the old Monte Carlo casino. We drove over there after leaving the old town and were trying to find parking. The road split, with signs pointing left for parking but right for "Le Casino." There were even gendarmes standing there directing people. We weren't sure which way to go in the Subie (sporting bird excrement and all), but the gendarmes sort of waved us to the right as if we were supposed to go that way. Next thing we know we are in a line of Bentleys and Mercedes and other luxury vehicles driving on this very road. Megan almost came unglued. "Greg! We went the wrong way!" Some yellow Lotus was unloading in front of us and all the tourists you can see there on the opposite side of the road were taking pictures. We could not stop laughing. It was hilarious beyond explanation. Don't mind our Subaru Outback! Just looking for parking. Thankfully the Thule had been removed. I think Megan would have died. If only we had been in the minivan.

The casino was a bit of a disappointment. The anterooms have gambling for the middle class tourists, while the back rooms are for the high rollers. Jackets required in back after 8 pm, and 10 euro to enter. We stayed in the front rooms until everyone (except me - my native Las Vegas aversion to casinos kicked in) had lost at least $25 playing roulette or buying ridiculously priced beverages. On the way out we saw an older, shorter European gentleman escorting a 6-foot tall African model in a designer light blue evening gown into the casino. There ensued a lively discussion of whether she was digging for gold or employed in that oldest of professions. Outside the casino Greg and I had stopped for one last look back when this eye-magnet blonde with stilts for legs walked past us. Naturally both of our gazes were temporarily transfixed. When we turned around, Megan was glaring at us and wagging her finger.

The next day the whole gang headed down to Cannes to catch the ferry to the Island of Sainte Marguerite. There is an old fort and relatively uncrowded beaches there. The Man in the Iron Mask was there for 11 years of his imprisonment. Plus, you can take in the view of Cannes and the surrounding beach towns from almost everywhere on the island.

The view from the old fort.

This is the cell in the fort where the Man in the Iron Mask was imprisoned. Hollywood aside, historians laugh at the idea that he was King Louis' twin brother. An irishman was imprisoned here in the 1800s and wrote many letters that he hid in a hole in the wall facing the window. There is a mural painted on the wall that facilitated his keeping the hole hidden. ("In France, we have artwork in our prison cells.") The letters were found just a few years ago and are displayed right outside the room.

How did you spend your Labor Day?

 See what I mean? Unreal.

 Juliet kills me.

 Georgie just leaves me speechless. Look at Ashley gripping the smallest margin of fabric to keep this picture suitable for public sharing. It's a swimsuit underneath, but still.

Lunch on the island with Greg and Ben in the foreground and Cannes in the background.

Either the kids were really tired at this point or else they were sulking because I had just reprimanded them for doing something totally normal for American kids but unheard of at a European restaurant, even one on an island beach town.

We finished up the day playing on the beach. The water was warm and calm and the view was amazing. The kids found an obscene number of dead jelly fish that were perfectly safe to pick up. Yorba made himself right at home and starting eating the food out of some French guy's bag. Greg and Megan were all over him in a flash, but not before the French dude had picked up a rock that he apparently intended to throw at Yorba. I could see Megan's temperature rising. That dude was lucky he put the rock down. Actually, we were lucky he put it down. Imagine if two physicians and a pharmacist would have been arrested in Cannes over Labor Day for beating a silly Frenchman to a pulp. The temptation would have been strong. You don't mess with the Trifilo's dogs.

Instead we frolicked in the water and kept repeating over and over again how unbelievable the whole situation was. We were in the French Riveria for a four day weekend. We weren't even taking leave!

Ashley was being kind of a downer before we went, saying that she had been there before and it wasn't that great and we should be doing something else with our precious four day weekend. I could not disagree more. That weekend was magical and not to be forgotten. It was a preview of the huge party we are going to have over Thanksgiving in a Tuscan villa with the same crew plus Charlotte and Luke Crandall and Steve, Kate, and Brennan Edstrom. I feel so fortunate to live here and have these rock star friends and my perfect family to share it with. Merci et au revoir, France.

Italy ♥

Italy ♥

On Sunday night when we sat down for dinner I looked around at the spread I had thrown together in 15 minutes and was bowled over with this deep appreciation for ITALIA.  This drool worthy dinner, none of which I had done anything to produce except boil the pasta and lay it out on the table,  and the memories of the weekend shopping for antiques and enjoying fall weather (in September!!) with my family, summed up a large portion of what I love soooo much about Italy.  Beautiful, delicious, artfully crafted food, beautiful things just waiting for me to purchase, beautiful countryside...I feel so in love with this place.

I want to make personal notes about this photo for future reference because the products we ate at this dinner are new to us and they are memorable.  I bought them/received them at an antiques fair that I helped to host on base this past weekend.  When Christmas time comes and we're living in the US again, I want to remember where I can order the best pesto I've ever tasted (that also makes a dang delicious olive oil) and the Balsamic Reduction that tastes almost as good as the $150 a bottle of 12 years aged Balsamic vinegar.   Just in case you're in the market for some specialty Italian items this Christmas, here's some info for you too:

Oro D'Vino

 Balsamic Reduction in many different flavors and sweeter, richer, thicker, and more pungent, by far than any of the store bought stuff.  

Bonamini

Olive oil to die for and, hands down, the best pesto I have ever tasted.  The secret, I think, is in using Cashews because this is the only bottle of pesto that I have seen with Cashews listed in the ingredients.  It is the second ingredient listed, second only to Basil.  I'm going to try making it...I'll get back to you. This vineyard is just outside of Verona and I have heard their tours and olive oil tastings are spectacular.  Come and give me an excuse to go!!

I have also bought a whole hoopla of olive wood products since being over here.  I am slightly obsessed.  Our antiques fair hosted an olive wood family who has been carving and selling olive wood for 5 generations.  Beautiful stuff!  

Miss you guys!  If we could bring you all to Italy and set up roots here, life would be perfect (for me;)!!

xoxo

Ashley

Juliet: First Day of School

This year, Juliet didn't want to get left out of all this school business!  She started Italian Preschool (Asilo!)at the tender young age of 3!! 

When the school day began she was all smiles!  She had been talking about and waiting for this moment all summer long!  But when I picked her up after 2 hours, she was in tears.  Ahh!!  Be still my heart!!  On our drive home she said to me, "Mom, I like Asilo, but I don't want to go anymore.  Nobody listens to me!"  (Ha!)  I dropped her off in tears ever since until, finally, after 6 days, she was dry eyed!! Yay! I feel quite a bit of mommy guilt sending her to school at the young age of 3, something I never would have considered doing with Isaac, and did only one day a week for Georgie.  But our situation is different here.  Juliet doesn't get much peer interaction otherwise and she has two years to pick up some of the language that her big brother and sister will know fluently.  So, even though the chances of her retaining any of it are somewhat slim, we'd like to at least give it a good old college try and hope that the studies are right, that learning another language at a young age develops that part of the brain in a way that is beneficial for future second language attainment.  It's a prayer and we feel right about it.  

More on our Ju-B:

Juliet still manages to maintain the total and complete adoration of everyone in the family.  I could use the "well, she's the baby of the family" excuse but, sorry folks, I really think it's because she's special;)  One of my favorite things in life is to see Isaac, Mr. Moody pants, get all annoyed with her (or someone else) and turn his back on her with the most extreme of grumpy faces and then, by contrast, watch her, completely unaware or unphased, attack him with the biggest, smiling fat kiss right on the lips or cheek (this happens often, folks).  For a millisecond he looks at her with the grumpy face unmoved but, immediately upon laying eyes on her big chubby smile and shining eyes, he so charmingly and entirely starts to giggle!  I feel all warm and fuzzy just thinking about it.  I love this scene...this total, sudden transformation made by a confident, loving smile.  I could watch it a million times!  Its a good life lesson for us, actually.  Something I hadn't contemplated until now...food for thought;)

xoxo

Ash 

Una Ricetta

Can I just start by stating the obvious:  "I am a horrible food photographer."  And you should also know that I am not trying to be good.  I just snapped these with my iphone...no effort put in whatsoever.  The self conscious part of me begs that you know that.  Okay, now that that is over with I move on to the recipe for:

Cheese Stuffed Zucchini Blossoms

Stop the fat intake snobbery and try these now!  

The most important part of the recipe here is for the batter.  You can use it to fry any and all vegetables from Sage leaves to green beans, zucchini slices to mushrooms.  We have eaten fried, stuffed zucchini flowers as an appetizer here a few times (and dreamt of them afterward) and I have a mountain of zucchini flowers growing out of the compost pile in my back yard so this just happens to be what we fried with it.  The first bite will literally make you groan.  They turned out SOOOO freaking yummy!  

I stuffed them with young, soft Asiago cheese:

Dip them in flour, and then in this batter:

1 cup all purpose flour
1 t baking powder
plenty of salt
Mix above and then add:
1 1/4 ice cold sparkling water

Fry them in hot vegetable oil (actually my Italian friend who gave me the recipe said that peanut oil is best), flipping once, let cool on paper towels and enjoy!  You can also slice the flowers up and mix them in with the batter and fry them like little pancakes.  We did this too...also yummy.  Doing the same with sage leaves (fried whole or sliced and used in a pancake) is also AMAZING!  (We did this too...fatty, fatty 2X4:)

Kerry Merback, I thought of you (after I had three or four and could think about anything other than the taste sensations exploding in my mouth) because it occurred to me that this batter kind of reminds me of tempura (except, dare I say, better).  I know how much you like Tempura and, well, this is the Italian version.

I'll say it again, get over your fat intake snobbery and try this once a year or so.  It's a worthy indulgence!

xoxo
Ashley