Prague Pictures

Since we haven't been the greatest at posting pictures, here are a few recent photos of our trip to Prague in June!

Prague, June:

Home Sweet Home

The highly anticipated call from the Navy housing office arrived last Tuesday. There is a policy that has been enforced since 2008 referencing "direct assignment" aka if you move to Naples and there is base housing available for you, you must take it. Ben and I had moved here with the intention of living on base for the first year or two and then moving off. This time it worked in reverse for us.
Upon moving here in March we sat through an area orientation that basically scared the daylights out of us telling us that if we moved out in town the chances of us getting our home broken into were really high. We were then told the day after that there was nothing available for us on base so we had to live in town. How do you like that?

We selected our home in beautiful Posillipo after seeing about 15 places, zero of which had potential except for this one. As you all know, it is tiny and the trek up 107 stairs every day is not highly appealing but we loved it and made the best of our one man kitchen.

The second part of the Direct Assignment policy: if there is nothing available for you, you must live in town until something does become available. After a minimum of four months in town, you are able to break your lease and the government will completely fund your move back to base. If you decline it and choose to move back there later on, you will have to pay for your own move as well as wait for any housing to be available and there was no guarantee of a timeframe. By the way, keep in mind that we are in Italy. Renting your own moving truck and giving your guy friends a six pack to move your things doesn't work here. Not only because of the truck rental situation but also because it is darn near impossible to find anyone in the world to move furniture and boxes up and down 10 flights of stairs for all of the six packs in Europe.

Back to our phone call. We received a call, literally the first working day after our four month minimum in town was met. The housing manager informed us that A. There was something available for us. B. It was not available for us to see C. We would have to give our landlord two weeks notice and D. We had to make our decision within 48 hours. But, oh, no pressure.

The one positive part of the housing rep's call was that the unit was a newer unit. Another feature that is very rare among the units on the Navy base. I decided to do some investigating and dragged my friend Jen over to the place. I figured that if we couldn't see the actual place we could at least see what was around it. Sooooo....we walked over and lo and behold the cleaners were inside getting it cleaned up. We poked around and looked through the windows- and I forgot to mention that this place is on the FIRST floor. That means no stairs at all.- and saw that the living area alone was probably the size of my bedroom, living room, and kitchen, the kitchen was massive, and the two extra guest rooms were a good size. This bodes much better for those of you who actually decide to come visit. :) Then, as we rounded the bend Jen gasped and I had to see what she was looking at. I looked inside the window and saw a massive walk in closet. That about sealed the deal for me. Just kidding. Although I have to say that I am looking forward to spending plenty of time in that closet because I could practically make it an extra bedroom for myself. No more ugly Ikea wardrobes from the base housing department!

In reality, this was a very, very, very difficult decision for us. Were we willing to trade our view of Capri and Sorrento (a full water view, I might add) for life in suburbia among Navy wives and nothing to do in our area? We had to put alot of thought into it and spent time making a pros/cons list, playing devil's advocate, listening to comments from the peanut gallery (more specifically, people who thought we were crazy for even entertaining the thought of living on "Alcatraz"), and really figuring out what would be best for us over the course of the next two and a half years. Because once you're there you cannot move off.

My Mom always tells me that everything always unfolds in the way that God has intended for us. The night before our 48 hours were up it started to storm. Thunder, lightning, and the whole shebang. It honestly sounded like the screens were about to fly off the hinges and the wind howled through the windows. That, along with my current bout of insomnia, made me realize that the weather is not always going to be fine and dandy in Posillipo. That two months out of the year it pours here and that for a good two additional months it is gloomy and somewhat miserable. Who wants to look out the window much less venture downtown in the middle of winter? I can only imagine how much Ben's road rage (which he has tamed extremely well) would grow driving to and from work every day in the middle of the rain. Or how difficult it would be for him to find a quiet place in our apartment to study as he starts his MBA program at the end of September. Or how not fun it would be for me to leave the apartment to go anywhere on a bus in the middle of winter. Talk about isolation. Why prolong the move and live unsettled for who knows how long until we do decide to make the move? Once something is actually available and the chances of it being new are very slim.

Without trying to overdramatize, I can honestly say that it broke our hearts a little to call the housing office and accept the offer. Knowing that we will no longer be eavesdropping on our Italian neighbor's conversations (not that I knew what they were saying, I just liked hearing them next door), chatting with our chicken shop owner friends downstairs, shopping in the Salumerias (salami/cured meats shops), watching the Italians convene in the piazza outside on Saturday and Sunday, and hopping on the bus to get to the center of downtown Naples is not easy. I may even miss the staring that Neapolitans like to do when I talk. But I can say that Ben and I were extremely blessed to have the opportunity to live the full Italian experience for the past five months. We made the most of life in Posillipo and were proud to call it our home.

We would never have been able to make the Italian friends that we've made, stop and talk to the locals, learn our way around the public transportation system, and sit on our terrace enjoying the sunset with a glass of wine if it weren't for this opportunity. It's given me the ability to learn more Italian and the confidence to venture out by myself. I've loved every minute here and we know that we will leave with plenty of fond memories of life in our Italian town.

On the other hand there will be no regrets when we can turn up the heat as high as we want during the winter and speak with whomever we want, whenever we want, in English!  We are looking forward to a little piece of home.

--Fast Forward to Moving Day--
The last two weeks sped by and "packing up day" finally arrived. It was gray and gloomy outside when we woke up, it matched our mood perfectly. It's humorous to think about how different the packing process was this time vs. the experience in San Diego. The three movers knocked on the door, breathless of course, came in with their boxes and surveyed the place. Tony, the manager in charge, spoke excellent English and they got to work immediately. Instead of carefully wrapping each and every item up as they did back home, they literally places everything in drawers directly into boxes. Quite frankly some of the items that the movers back home wrapped meticulously (a toothbrush holder, really?) was a waste of time and these ones were all about getting the job done as fast as possible so that they could enjoy the rest of their afternoon. Tony requested a radio while explaining that they got into a squabble on the way here and had to deal with some silence on the car ride over so they were in need of some music to "avoid the tension in the room." I couldn't help but laugh at that and handed him our ipod speaker. Ben and I got to listen to some groovy Italian rock in the beginning followed by Jay Z and Red Hot Chili Peppers. Quite an interesting selection but nevertheless entertaining.

The movers took a smoke break on our terrace and I went outside to check on them. One of the movers asked me a question in rapid Neapolitan (keep in mind, I'm starting to understand Italian pretty well but once they start with this Neapolitan business it all goes out the window) and Tony translated for him, asking, "He wants to know, Signora, how you could leave this for the Support Site?" This question did not strike me by surprise because A. We've been asking ourselves the same question for the past five months- should we stay, should we go, blah, blah, blah and B. Every Italian looks at me like I have three
heads when I tell them I'm leaving Posillipo to go to Gricignano. We all know that they are not the most practical when it comes to decision making (it's a common fact that the Italian culture is all about being passionate and spontaneous) so it's easy to understand why they think I'm crazy for leaving the most beautiful neighborhood in Naples. I responded to his question by making a pregnancy gesture and didn't even need to explain myself. It registered immediately that in no way, shape, or form can anyone pregnant walk up and down those stairs every day, no less carry a child up there. Not that we plan on it any time soon at all, but we will be here for three years and can't take that chance. And when he saw the kitchen, you could see that he was starting to see the bits and pieces of the puzzle.

And wow, it felt like Christmas bringing boxes down from the crawl space! It was like opening our wedding presents all over again because there was so much up there that we haven't seen in 8 months, much less been able to use. Knowing that we can pull these items out and use them at our convenience with our AMERICAN outlets in our apartment will be very, very nice. Now the question is, do we have enough to fill all this space? The answer is definitely no.

Our polleria friends and the owner of the mini mart downstairs were definitely not happy when we told them we were leaving. Max, who Ben sees every day and spends alot of time chatting with, was very sad. I told him we would come visit him every week (you better believe I'll be spending the majority of my time taking the bus to come downtown!) but he shook his head and gave me a hug saying "But you my veep, I see you every day!." Veep stands for "VIP, very important person," because he always jokes that we are his VIP, don't ask me why. :) Probably because he sees that I drag countless friends to come downtown and visit me, in my avoidance of going to Gricignano, to enjoy downtown.

Anyway, to make a long story short, we are moving. We, or rather I, had to be dragged off of living on base in the beginning, happy with my comfort zone and little America, to living off and then am now resigning myself to the fact that we are moving out of town to move back on and convincing myself that it's a good thing. I guess you could say that I am very sentimental once I find my security blanket, as is my husband. Funny though, I would never in a million years have thought that I would be the one to make that final decision to accept our offer and move. Poor Ben has so much going on with starting his MBA that moving at this second was the last thing he wanted to do. Can you blame him? Sometimes you've just got to just go with what's practical and not necessarily what's favorable. But I do have to say that we don't want to hear about how our favorite spots (all downtown, of course) are only a drive away because it is nothing like waking up in the morning and being instantaneously happy because the sun is shining and the water is so close that you feel like you're on a cruise ship. Or hearing an accordionist play "O Sole Mio" outside our terrace like they did today (I felt like this was such a treat on our last full day here :) ). On the other hand, there is nothing like being able to hop on a bus to get to and from work easily every day, put ALL of your stuff away in real, built in closets (haven't seen those in awhile) and pressing that magical little button on your dishwasher. Ben has happily retired his drying rack and dish rag and I can tell you that there is not one single ounce of sentimentality there. I am also thrilled that he is going to be able to resign his daily road rage during his commute and hand me the keys to the car! Not to mention that we feel incredibly spoiled to have 1900 sq feet to play with when families of four have to fit in the same amount of space! We are very lucky.

So, everyone, thanks for listening and being supportive! I will be thrilled to post pictures of our second and final Italian home!

Mom's Blog

It's long overdue but here is Mom's version of Naples!

Since I’m the first house guest to visit Tricia and Ben in Naples, Tricia has gracefully acquiesced to allow me to be a guest blogger on her blog for the chance to write about my visit with them from my perspective.  So here goes…

After a long, seemingly endless journey to Naples that included 19 hours of travel time and a tight dash between airlines in Munich, I finally arrived in Naples met by Tricia and Ben’s smiling faces. That precious sight melted all the fatigue away. They’ve been so eager for visits from family and friends, I truly felt received like royalty, but wish the weather was as welcoming. The stifling heat and humidity, reminiscent of my years in Manila, took my breath and energy away.

The 25-minute drive to their apartment from the airport gave me the opportunity to observe Ben’s driving skills as he weaved in and out of traffic in his Fiat Punto, honking his horn like a native. He can certainly “run with the champions” at this point and from what I hear from Tricia, his indignant road rage has given way to a cunning, calculating passive-aggressive style that assures his survival on the Italian roadways. He maneuvered his way through some narrow city streets on teeth rattling cobblestone roads, some made for four-legged transportation ages ago.  One way streets would go any way the driver wanted it to be, making it necessary to lean on the horn at every blind turn. Driving there, like their strong espresso coffee, is not for the weak-hearted.  I guess Ben’s military training is coming in handy.

It was an experience entering their lobby to look up and see five flights of stairs (107 stairs in all), without elevators, to get up to their penthouse apartment (they are on the 4^th floor but the Europeans count the ground floor as 0). Tricia wasn’t kidding when she said it was a “mini-workout” to get to her floor---that is, depending on how old you are; it was a maxi-workout for me. Let me tell you, after 3 weeks of climbing stairs and walking long distances on those uneven city streets, it guaranteed firm glutes and thighs. Thank God Ben was there to bring up the suitcases.

One last aerodynamic Feldman, Athena, was there to greet me as she “flew” around the room in such a state of ecstasy to see a familiar face, or is it because she knew there would be forbidden tidbits coming her way in the kitchen? We finally settled down to Tricia’s special chili—the All- American comfort food for the travel weary. There’d be plenty of time for Italian food.

Jet lag can be a good thing. I woke up before the Italians did and took pictures from Ben and Tricia’s veranda overlooking a piazza on one side and the most magnificent views of Mt. Vesuvius, the Gulf of Naples, old castles and the city skyline on the other. There were residences and inns on the cliffside with an elegant, gated villa (most likely Mafia owned) on the promontory.  In the soft, early morning sunlight, it was a little like paradise.

First order of the day was --you got it-- a trip to Tricia’s weekly one-day Neapolitan street market.  Leave it to Tricia’s Filipino genes to find all the bargains complete with her “fluent” Italian to haggle for bigger discounts.  They had clothing items, Italian shoes, kitchen items (where I bought more espresso cups for Ben’s mean brews), flowers and various other sundry items. It was a lifesaver to buy lighter clothing to survive the summer heat.  Watching people was just as fascinating as watching what people bought. Ben was the great tour guide in the afternoon where we strolled through the shady streets in Vomoro to window shop, people watch, and eat gelato.

Their apartment is located in a great area called Posillipo, complete with macellerias (butcher shops with great salami, sausages, prosciutto and cheeses), pizzerias, beauty shops, little groceries stores, a polleria (rotisserie place), a seafood shop, a churros with nutella stand, pharmacies, coffee shops and even a church just a few doors away that summoned me to mass with its church bells on some mornings.  The piazza below provided some weekend entertainment for us as we leaned over the balcony to watch  crowds of people—families with babies, amorous  couples (I mean amorous) and groups of friends who came for pizza and gelato until after midnight.  Parking their motorcycles and tiny cars in tight spaces facing every which way, always left us wondering how in the world could they untangle themselves to get home?  Even a garbage truck on a late Sunday night got into the act!  Across the street is a bus stop—which has delighted Tricia because she refuses to drive in Italy. She has become a whiz at getting her way around by bus, metro, funicolare, boat and speed trains (for longer distances).  When commuting with her, she only had one request—no English spoken lest it attract the wrong attention; so I found out the hard way. No sooner did I say something in English when we’d feel several pairs of eyes staring at us. For some reason, people there are fascinated by people who speak English, like we belonged to some unusual human species.  I suppose the pickpockets would feel the same way, too.

My definition of “walking distance” is very different from hers.  For me, it might mean a few city blocks, for Tricia, it means walking until your feet or stamina give out. We did a lot of walking by her definition, but it was also a good way to see places you might never see when you are in a car or to work off the pizzas and pastas.

The legendary Amalfi coast is more beautiful than travel books would describe.  Positano, a medieval port city built on a cliffside was one of the most picturesque places I have ever seen.  Some years ago at an art and wine street fair, I remember seeing a booth with a photography-as-art display of photos from a town built on cliffs in Italy—and I remember thinking, “I’m going to see that magical place one day, wherever it might be”.  It was Positano.  What a marvel it was to see how these homes were built tiered on the rock face and artisan shops, hotels and restaurants built on the bluffs.  There is only one narrow street that snaked all the way up to the top and stairs which provided the only other access up or down.  Bougainvilla vines and flowers grew around everything like a giant garden which made the whole picture a jaw-dropping  piece of Heaven---and Ben said his meal was the best he’s ever had in Italy.

Speaking of food.  Those who know our family know what foodies we are.  We believe that sampling a country’s cuisine is as important as appreciating the people.  You haven’t lived until you try the Neapolitan pizza (I am told, pizza was invented there) with its thin crust and salsa di pomodoro sauce freshly made with a slightly sweet variety of tomato.  Being seaside, my favorite was pizza with mozzarella and alici (anchovies) and Tricia’s more exotic favorites were the grilled squid or octopus salad. When Ben was hungry, we could entice him to sample some of our strange menu choices, but he drew the line at the octopus. He liked the vongole, pasta with clams topped with parmesan cheese (which is a mortal sin in Italy when served over seafood).  In Prague, we tried the fried cheese with boiled potatoes (not bad) and their thick, dark goulash soup (not too bad, either).  If we worked the farms like their people did in the past, we probably could eat their food everyday without turning into blimps.

 It is interesting to note that dogs are allowed in restaurants and many hotels. Here is a photo of Athena patiently waiting her turn to get a morsel of Ben’s pizza when we visited Vietri.  She likes Italian food.

Tricia’s pantry looked like a well- stocked Asian market with every imaginable ingredient you might need to cook up a meal because she loves Asian food and can’t find an authentic restaurant there.  She made a great Pad Thai, lo mein dish,  lemon chicken, and scallops with lemon grass among other things. Leftovers usually go with Ben to work the next day, probably making people wonder what asian smells are coming from his warmed up lunch—and where he is getting the stuff.  She’s become a great cook; I’d have asked for smelling salts a couple of years ago if I had been told what a talented cook she’d eventually become.  Ben is as talented at dishwashing  (without a dishwasher) as Tricia is at cooking.  Great division of labor.

Ben graciously let us take the opportunity of visiting Rome, the Eternal City, for a couple of days and Prague for three to take advantage of great summer fares.  Much as I love Rome with its mix of rich, historical monuments among the “newer” (later century) buildings, it was almost too uncomfortable with the suffocating heat and the crowds of people that travel in the summer months.  Long lines everywhere, packed metros—not good for the claustrophobic.  Nevertheless, we had a wonderful visit.

Prague, the city with a thousand spires, has been beautifully restored after the Cold War.  It is a completely different city from the one I saw in the early 90s shortly after the Iron Curtain came down; I would describe it then as a beautiful woman that aged badly.  Sadly some of the magnificent churches or basilicas that spoke of deeply Christian roots have been turned into symphony halls or places for performing arts.  It made one feel like a peasant to see the grandeur of the lifestyles that were lived in those palaces and estates. The rich and famous of today have nothing on those folks back in the day.   With Tricia’s ever roving eye on shop worthy stuff, she swears by their finest quality Turkish pashminas, her favorite Mango brand store and gorgeous crystal.

We did some day trips to Sorrento and Capri that took us by hydrofoil in no time at all.  Sorrento is home to the Sorrento lemons that grow as large as cantaloupes.  Lemonade is not its usual by-product, but rather a liqueur called limoncello, basically made with 100 proof alcohol and a few drops of lemon. It must be drunk chilled to cushion the shock. Creamy limoncello is also an option. What can I say? Those haunting love songs that speak of romance in those places hardly do them justice. What makes these places more beautiful is their history. They weren’t built from designs of master city planners, but evolved over time with lots of stories to tell. Without our technology, they were still really built to last.  Capri goes all the way back to the Bronze age and one can also still see some Roman villas that were used as vacation homes by the wealthy Romans in the time of Tiberius Caesar.

Europeans know how to live. They take long afternoon rest periods called “riposos” to recharge their batteries and to take long leisurely lunches (if need be) or naps...and they drink plenty of wine.  If you haven’t done your shopping by 1 pm, you might need to wait til 4 or 5pm. They also walk everywhere and do a tremendous amount of socializing.  They also make time for public displays of affection (PDAs as my children call them).  Italy, the Land of Romance, is no myth. It is not an unusual to spot a couple locked in a death grip of a steamy embrace that makes one wonder when they will come up for air.  Sometimes, if these kissing couples might be around a coffee shop, the patrons make the scene their afternoon entertainment as they sip their cappucinos.  I’ll bet those stress -relieving habits offset their smoking habits.  They just might live longer than their non-smoking, stressed- out, workaholic counterparts in the West.

On one Sunday, Ben, Tricia and I got on a Hop On Hop Off bus that tours Naples. These tour buses point out significant monuments, streets or museums along the way where one can hop off to do more exploring.  After visiting the world class museum in the heart of town, we walked the streets to enjoy local color and to see how the Neapolitans live. We watched wedding parties coming out of churches and walked through little streets and alleyways in Old Town to poke into the little shops. We discovered a street that sold artisan pasta in every imaginable flavor, shape and color.  Imagine basil, pistachio, pepperoncini, lemon, sun-dried tomato, spinach, squid ink and carrot pastas?  A creative cook could go crazy with possibilities!

Seeing the American base was a real experience.  After wandering around antiquity and history, there is this little patch that looks like a total transplant from the US, as if some giant laser beam cut a slice of America and patched it onto the Italian countryside. Within the confines of the gates were immaculate lawns, modern apartments, basketball courts, football fields, schools, hospital, commissaries and anything else that would belong in a newly minted town in the US.  I suppose one would be able to live there and never feel they left America.

Before this comes to a close, may I add a few more points to Tricia’s travel advisories (if she had any)?

1.     Don’t go to Europe in July or August unless you want to encounter armies of perspiring Europeans.

2.     Don’t have a perm before travelling in the summertime unless you want to look like the wild man from Borneo.

3.     Don’t go without getting on the stairmaster to get in condition at the gym if you plan to stay at Tricia and Ben’s 5^th floor apartment (without elevators)

4.     Don’t speak English on public transportation when you get there.

This can go on forever with the million little impressions I came away with, but I need to say that this was never really meant to be a travelogue--- rather an account of the precious time I spent with Tricia and Ben in the faraway place they now call home.  

Ben, thank you for putting up with all the girl chatter, getting recruited to drive us places, doing dishes, bringing home Disney movies for mom-friendly entertainment in the evenings and allowing us to share some weird dishes with you. You are truly a son to me. Tricia, thank you for being my constant companion, tour director, translator, cook, and confidante. Thank you both for sharing your new friends, for loving your mother and allowing me a chance to get a wonderful glimpse into your newly married life.  What a special opportunity you have to start a new life facing many new experiences together.  I know it isn’t always easy to be far from your close friends and family and it isn’t as glamorous as it sounds living in Europe sometimes, but all of us who are an ocean away are always thinking of you and looking forward to being with you when you come home…and thank God, we are only a vonage call, skype, facebook or email away.

I love you both!

Mom

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