Festa di San Giuseppe

In Italy, 19 March is the Festa di San Giuseppe, the Feast of Saint Joseph. It is also Father's Day in Italy and the kids do projects in school to honor their fathers. Isaac's project this year was particularly special to me so I decided to share it here. The picture is of me in my office at work, and the title is underlined by a stethoscope.

It says, in Italian:

"Il mio papà si chiama Wayne ma tutti lo chiamano Joey. Ha 37 anni e vive con me e la mia mamma e le mie due sorelle qui a Sarone. E magro e alto, i capelli sono ricci, castani e corti, il viso ovale e scarno, gli occhi sono azzurri, i naso e grosso e la bocca non troppo grande. In genere a casa indossa abiti sportivi, ma quando torna dal lavoro si cambia scegliendo abiti più comodi. Al mio papà non piace portare ornamenti perché preferisce uno stilo semplice. Lui parla con una voce bassa e seria en in inglese ma qualche volta in italiano. Il mio papà è gentile, non urla spesso ma quando lo fa è perché è a causa di una giornata pesante al lavoro. A lui piace il calcio, stare con gli amici, e mangiare. Al mio papà piace mangiare tutto quello che fa la mia mamma, perché a lui non piace molto cucinare. Non gli piacciono molto neanche la TV o i videogiochi perché dice che non fanno bene. Il mio papà è serio, si arrabbia facilmente, pero e una persona affidabile. Secondo me un papà migliore di lui non esiste. Il mio papà è bravissimo e gli voglio tanto bene anche se sta un po troppo in bagno."

In English it roughly translates as:

"My dad's name is Wayne but everyone calls him Joey. He is 37 years old and lives with me and my mom and two sisters here in Sarone (our town). He is thin and tall, his hair is curly, brown and short, his face is oval and skinny, his eyes are blue, his nose is fat and his mouth is not very big. At home he usually wears athletic clothes, but when he comes home from work he changes, choosing more comfortable clothes (what?!). My dad doesn't like adornments because he prefers a simple style. He speaks in a deep, serious voice in English but sometimes in Italian. My dad is nice, he doesn't yell very often but when he does it is because of a bad (literally "heavy") dad at work. He likes soccer, being with his friends, and eating. He likes to eat everything my mom makes, because he doesn't like to cook very much. He does not like TV or video games very much because he says they aren't good for you. My dad is serious, he gets angry easily, but he is a very responsible person. According to me a better dad than him does not exist. My dad is great and I love him very much even though he stays in the bathroom a little too long."

I had the biggest smile on my face when I read that! My favorite part was my eschewing of "ornamenti" because I prefer "uno stilo semplice", but I also love that he wrote I love to eat, don't like video games, and have a fat nose! 

Thank you, Isaac, for writing that for me. I love peering into your point of view, it helps me realize that I need to work on "non arrabbiarsi facilmente" and "non stare troppo in bagno". I also love the fact that you can write a paragraph about me in a foreign language. Dream come true. Love you, buddy.

Sevilla!

Ever since I lived in Spain I have dreamed of visiting Sevilla, the largest city in Andalucia, the southern part of the country. So when it came time for the annual Trifilo-Merback 3-day weekend trip sans children, I advocated for Sevilla. I didn't really even know why we had to visit, I just knew we did. Turns out I was right.

This kind of thing is everywhere. Brightly-colored buildings with a North African flair. Sevilla is where the Romans, the Moors, and later the ships returning from the New World would all enter the Iberian peninsula.

This is the gothic cathedral of Sevilla, the largest cathedral in Europe, with its mudejar-style bell tower called "La Giralda". Mudejar is the architecture style that was developed by combining the North African influence of the Moors with the European Renaissance.

This is Alcazar, the castle of Sevilla. Admittedly it doesn't look very impressive in this shot, but after European castle-fatigue, the Moorish arches and intricate patterns begin to inspire you more than yet another tower with turrets. The door behind us is the main entrance, but the entrance to the yellow building on the right is where we, and many others before us, went first.

You walk into this room and you see this painting. Which doesn't look like much, until you see Christopher Colombus under the Virgen's left hand, native Americans under her right (the darker figures in the back), and Colombus' ships below. This is the room where the goods from every single ship returning from the New World would have to pass through customs to be taxed. This painting is the very first painting of the New World in Europe.

And this is the ceiling of that room.

This is the staircase that leads up from that room to the royal chambers. We couldn't get enough of the tiles on the walls. Upstairs they had an exhibition celebrating the long tradition of tile-design in 

Sevilla.

Next we walked through the main entrance and into the courtyard. The arches have to be seen to be believed. Ashley said it felt like she was back in a 1st world version of Morocco.

This was the detailed design of the walls of the courtyard. You almost couldn't believe how intricate everything was.

Listening to the audio guide, amazed by the surroundings.

The halls inside of the castle. 

This was the main party area of the castle, a huge square room walled in by triple arches on all four sides and covered with a huge dome. Oh the parties they must have had here.

The intersecting lines in the pattern of the dome form stars, symbolizing the heavens above. The riches of the New World paid for all of this.

Another view of the courtyard.

This was the room of the dolls. The Moors forbade any and all imagery - portraits, sculptures, etc. So after they were banished, two very small "dolls' heads" were carved into the bases of the arch behind Ashley. We loved this room, which was right off of the main domed area.

These are the upper two floors of the dolls' room. Women would look out from the latticed windows on the 2nd floor on the people gathered below. Originally, it was open to the night sky and the 3rd floor and roof were built later.

Now we are out in the gardens of Alcazar. This pool had a giant green dome in the center, underneath which were statues of women who looked like they at one time had fountains in their mammary glands. My facial expression shows that I am imagining the debauchery that went on inside of this thing.

There were orange trees everywhere. In the gardens but also all throughout the city. Bitter oranges, not sweet ones. They tasted more like lemons than oranges. They are used to make marmalade and oils for scents. Megan was so overcome she just had to climb one of them. Greg is not impressed.

This is a two-story promenade in the center of the gardens. I liked these gardens better than Versaille or Schloss Schoenbrun. It was much more manageable, organic, and lively.

Here is Ashley inside the promenade leaning out.

Here am I from the other direction.

Ashley sitting in one of the promenade windows.

This is a shot of the promenade from the fountain that you could see in the background of my picture above. Gaudi, the famous architect from Barcelona, must have spent some serious time here because you could see the beginnings of his style everywhere.

At this point Megan was starving. She doesn't eat a lot, but she eats often. So we busted out Trip Advisor and found the #25 rated place in the city which was only a few blocks away. Bodega Santa Cruz, a busy bar in the wonderful Barrio Santa Cruz. Close to the tourist stuff but feels like a local place. It was PACKED with Spaniards, jostling each other and shouting out their orders for tapas and beer. 

I finally got to put my castellano skills to good use and ordered us a bunch of stuff: tortilla (egg & potato omelet), paella, pacheco (AKA cocido, a garbanzo stew), chorizo (amazing Spanish sausage), Jamon Serrano (Spanish cured ham), and the find of the trip, which was the specialty of the house, pringa. It is a mixture of ground chorizo and pork served with bread that was unbelievable. The Trifilos don't eat red meat, and we try to eat meat as little as possible, but we ate A LOT of pringa that weekend.

Megan's hunger satisfied we went inside the cathedral, which charges 8 euro entry. Why? Because behind Ashley is the final resting place of one Cristobal Colon, AKA Cristofero Colombo, AKA Christopher Columbus. Ashley is making a sad face because she wanted to pose like an explorer and I told her to be reverent. Each of the pallbearers carrying Colombus' coffin is wearing one of the four symbols of the Spanish crest.

Inside the treasury, Ashley tripped on a hidden step and made a loud "gurf!" noise. Then she couldn't stop laughing about it. Lots of New World gold stolen and displayed in those rooms.

The inner courtyard of the cathedral, complete with orange trees and stunning views. I had purchased an Atletico Madrid scarf, which I somehow escaped my mission and our previous trip to Madrid without buying.

Greg and Megan. Megan got braces a few weeks ago and we all teased her the whole time about looking like a teenager.

That night we went to a Flamenco show, complete with two guitarists, three male vocalists, and five dancers - three female, two male. It was outstanding. Different than I had imagined, but I think it was more modern and cutting edge. A lot of free-form clogging/tap dancing with music and singing. We bounced around to different tapas places afterwards, eventually ending up back at Bodega Santa Cruz to finish out the night with some pringa.

The next day we rented bikes, which was a great idea. We rode down to Plaza de Espana, the enormous public square south of the center of town. It was built for an Iberian-American Exposition back in 1918 or so. They filmed part of the Star Wars prequels here.

All around the perimeter are tiled murals for each of the provinces in Spain. I had to get a picture with the Madrid mural, of course.

A moat surrounds the square and you can rent row boats. Ashley looks fantastic here. As do the bridges.

Here, not so much. Well, the bridges still look good. Bad timing.

Trying to get as much of the Plaza as possible. It really is huge.

Next we rode around the park associated with the Plaza, and then headed down along the river until we got to the Plaza de Toros. No bullfights until March, but it was cool to be there at the heart of bullfighting country. It is a brutal, awful spectacle, but it is just so dang Spanish. 

We ate lunch in a charming, less-touristy neighborhood. Originally we tried to eat a a locals-only bar, but the owner-operator was extremely rude and wouldn't let me order almost anything I asked for. So we went next door to a more tourist-friendly place. I felt like a big Spanish failure.

We finished up our ride here, at the Metropol Parasol, which is the largest wooden structure in Europe (I think). Ashley and Megan were so glad to see the sun that they both laid down right there on those steps, soaking it in.

That evening was almost perfect. We sat outside on the hotel terrace in the twilight, watching the clouds turn colors, listening to the bells of the Giralda, and watching the various church towers start to light up. We talked all about Megan and Greg's impending adoption of Ming, a 15 month old toddler in China, and tried to share our experiences of being parents. Megan is sort of smirking here but in reality she was thoroughly enjoying herself and no one wanted the evening to end.

We ate at a restaurant near Bodega Santa Cruz, which was sort of fusion-modern Spanish. Greg and I bolted to watch the Atletico Madrid game at...where else but Bodega Santa Cruz. We had more pringa, of course, and then went back to find Ashley and Megan still at the restaurant thoroughly enjoying themselves. Our server was from Italy, which Megan picked up on because of her accent (huh?) and we utilized our Italian skills a bit.

The next day was shopping in the morning (boring) followed by Bodega Santa Cruz AGAIN (could not get enough of that place) and then catching a taxi back to the airport and home. The feeling was unanimous: Sevilla is fantastic, Spain is amazing, and pringa is the devil when you are trying to be a good vegetarian.

Guys' Ski Weekend AKA Mancation

Back in early 2013 Greg Trifilo and I received an e-mail from Kwame Curtis, the former audiologist here. He had just gone to Nassfeld ski area which is on the border of Italia and Austria. He was so stoked about it that he pretty much told us that we were going there with him for the first annual Guys' Ski Weekend. It was fantastic, and even though Kwame left for San Antonio in June of that year, we have carried on the tradition every year since. Last year Greg, Ben, Steve and I went to Cortina d'Ampezzo, and this year, minus Steve who is in SoCal now, we went to Tarvisio, which is northeast of here right on the border with Villach, Austria.

The snow conditions were not great, but the hotel and the views more than made up for it. Our hotel was easy walking distance from a ticket office and lift. It also had a great restaurant where we had lasagna and frico. Just like that first year, Greg and I shared a king size bed, but this time with no comforter folded into the shape of a heart. When we got back and told this to Megan her response was, "Of course you did."

Here are Ben and I at the top of Tarvisio. It was hard to find good off-piste stuff because of all the unmarked hazards, so we mainly stuck to the groomed runs.

This is the little town that is at the top of the gondola. Hard to believe that people live up here year-round. We skied the gondola pretty much all day. On one of the runs, Ben split his brand new ski pants wide open at the crotch. He skied like this for almost two full days:

Except that the split kept advancing and eventually spread from the crotch to the ankle. It was a little breezy and he got a lot of stares, but Ben is the kind of person who can blow that stuff off.

This is our lunch table at one of the restaurants in that little town. The view was outstanding and led to the following shenanigans:

I decided to take one of those pretentious Instagram-like photos of my feet up on a chair with our lunch view in the background. We joked about writing a caption like: "Just chillin' during our lunch break at Tarvisio. #thisismylife" We couldn't stop laughing about it.

Then came this moment when, their pasta and wine having arrived, Greg and Ben decided to take their own pretentious Instagram-like photos.

"Lasagna, gnocchi, and trofie with red wine for lunch at Tarvisio. #welivehere #notevenonleave"

Another shot of all three of us from the town. 

In all seriousness, the lunch was outstanding. We skied the gondola a few more times then headed back to our side of the resort. We came upon the only two-seater ski lift left on the entire European continent, where Ben snapped this picture of us from his chair.

The run that would have taken us from the top of the mountain directly to our hotel was closed off, making it technically off-piste. I was nervous that there wouldn't be enough snow or that there were too many unmarked hazards, so I insisted that we ride the chairlift down the mountain, which was the officially recommended course of action. We ended up pretty far from our hotel and needing to walk quite a ways to make it back. I caught no small amount of grief for my rule-obeying ways.

That night we walked from our hotel into downtown Tarvisio and found a great mom-and-pop restaurant with a huge fireplace where they would cook meat for carnivores but also delicious home-made pasta and more frico. We had a very serious conversation about our respective upbringings (Catholic, Evangelical, and Mormon) and how those informed but did not dominate our world views.

We decided to not ski Tarvisio again the next day, as we had covered the entire thing, and instead head to Nassfeld, which was only 40 minutes away and sort of on our way home. That was a fantastic decision.

 Greg at the top of Nassfeld. It was so very cold and windy up there, but the views were outstanding. 

This is the other side of Nassfeld, looking down into the Hermagor valley. Ben discovered a quasi half-pipe off to the left of this run and we pretty much skied that the entire morning.

Here I am at the top of the half-pipe. You can see how it curves to the left as you go down. The lip of that right side was very steep, almost a full 90 degrees, and we had a blast launching out of it, railing along the edge, and then dropping back in.

To finish out the day we made our way to the east side of the resort where we skied the run that Megan, Greg, and I had discovered last year, an off-piste section with lovely powder at the beginning, a sketchy middle section with trees and unmarked obstacles, and then a wide open section with more jumps than you could imagine. We ate speztle and kaiserschmarrn at the lodge and then finished up the day.

From there it was a short just over two hour drive home. The next day my body was screaming at me for abusing it for two full days, one of those moments when you realize you are getting old. Ben will leave in October so we need to find a replacement for Mancation 2016.