Wednesday, June 24, 2009

Feast of St. John


I'm still enjoying a relaxing week in Roumieh with very little activity, and I have embraced it knowing that my friend Patrick is arriving on Friday night, so we'll have lots of touring to do together. Yesterday, I did make it down to Beirut for coffee with a classmate from the LFB program at IMD in Switzerland, which was great. We got caught up a little bit, discussed business and family, enjoyed some refreshing drinks and agreed to meet up again before I leave Lebanon.

Today is the feast of St. John the Baptist (Mar Youhanna), and he happens to be one of the patron saints of Roumieh, so every year they have a big mass down at the old Mar Youhanna church down the mountain. I went down with some of the cousins to celebrate the mass, and it was a beautiful way to spend the evening. People native to Roumieh from near and far came for the mass, and the choir had practiced for weeks for the occasion. Nassif and his fiancee were the star performers, and their voices were exquisite. Hearing the old style music, while the sun was setting in the distance and the priest honored St. John, was wonderful.

Following mass, everyone gathered to enjoy freshly baked cakes, sweets and manoushe. After a while, Mounira and I decided to walk back up to her place, which was a more intense hike than I had anticipated, but I suppose I had to make some sort of pilgrimage in reverence to St. John. Of course, half of the village stopped their cars on the way up to offer us a ride, but I, perhaps stupidly, insisted on walking. By the time we made it to Mounira's, I stopped for a glass of water and then continued home because I was in dire need of an ice cold shower. Only moments away from heat stroke, I was home, cooling off and preparing for an early night.

Monday, June 22, 2009

Relaxing in the Village

After a month of traveling, it's nice to just sit back and relax for a bit. I keep saying that I'm going to go somewhere, but I haven't left Roumieh since I got here on Friday. It's just too easy to sit outside in the mountain breeze, sip some Turkish coffee and enjoy the simple things in life. Besides, time with family is never dull.

One of the funniest things I think I have ever heard was said over coffee yesterday afternoon. The usual conversational twists and turns that start with domestic Lebanese politics, then lead to the Palestinians and eventually Israel and the West, ended up with a mention of the holocaust. Someone said, "Hitler not only wanted to kill the Jews; he also didn't like Gypsies, Muslims and short people."

"Yes, akeed, during the war, we were very afraid of Hitler in Roumieh because we have too many short people."

You never know what you're going to hear next in this place.

Natasa, Borut and Grega all were hoping to come to Lebanon while I am here, but for various reasons, none of them could make it. Another friend, Patrick, decided to come next weekend though, so I get to do some touring afterall. With that guarantee of being forced out of the village coming up, for now, I'm going to take advantage of some quality relaxation.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

It's good to be home again... at least one of them. It's a beautiful summer in Lebanon.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Under the watchful eye of Ataturk, it is forbidden to access facebook from the Istanbul airport. I am on my way to Beirut! Ya habibitna Beirut, shoo sayer bi dinii...

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

The Turkish Bunny Hop

A wise man once said, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." I certainly bit into one big surprise chocolate tonight. It started innocently enough with me inquiring about the possibility of seeing a Dervish ceremony this evening. Lily at the hotel said it would be no problem at all, and she proceeded to organize everything for me. Around 5PM, I received a phone call from her, "I have arranged for you to go to a very nice place for the Dervish ceremony, and they have folk dancing, live music and a belly dancer as well. Dinner is included and your driver will pick you up at 8:15."

I immediately had my doubts about this all-inclusive package, and I also was frighteningly aware that I would be alone within reach of a belly dancer. What was done was done, though, and I decided to bite the bullet and see what would happen.

Arriving at the restaurant, a traditional Turkish drummer started playing a beat and marched me into the dining room, where I had a table for 25, set for one. They had my Mezze waiting for me at the end of the table closest to the stage. "Gangsta's Paradise" was playing over the stereo system, but oddly enough, it was being played with Turkish folk instruments. When Brittney Spears' "Toxic" came on next, I knew this was destined to be an interesting evening.

The other groups had been seated, and it was time for the Dervishes to come out. The band, including a great vocalist, did an excellent job of playing the moving religious music while the Dervishes spun themselves into a trance with their white robes floating gracefully at their sides. With one hand reaching towards God and the other drawing energy from the earth, the Dervishes put on a good show, but it was obvious that these guys weren't the real thing, and my troublesome sense of humor made me want to break out in song, "Oh Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel..." All kidding aside though, the Dervish ceremony was very calming and almost magical, and I would love to see the real thing some day.

A few folk dances and one hip rocking belly dancer later, it was time for some audience participation. I managed to remain seated using my photographer ruse as an excuse. The belly dancer embarrassed a few poor men, and then some random group dancing broke out. Soon, the Turks returned in force for another folk dance with the unavoidable display of the Turkish flag and some grunts of national pride. With that out of the way, the Turkish guys then started grabbing people from the audience and started one final display of Turkish culture, The Bunny Hop. I could barely contain myself when I realized what was happening around me, but I finally let out a chuckle when a mentally handicapped fellow in the middle of the line started grabbing the chest of the guy in front of him instead of the shoulders. Luckily, the stranger in front seemed to be aware of who was behind him and shrugged it off.

I had officially seen all I could handle, so I packed up my camera and made my way out the door. My driver seemed more than happy to be leaving a little earlier than expected.

Tea - a rather pointless monologue

Let’s talk about tea for a moment. I can hear John laughing already, but I have no cans of tea for you to sniff at the moment, just a few observations about tea as a culture. I have been in many tea drinking societies around the world, a couple on this trip already, and they all do things a little differently. Possibly to improve the world’s understanding of me as a person, I think I should share some of the positives and negatives I have experienced when it comes to tea. First of all, I strongly agree with the Persian tradition (also Turkish, Kurdish, Iraqi) of serving tea in clear glasses. The beautiful amber color of properly brewed black tea should be enjoyed by the imbiber through an unadulterated glass vessel, period.

As long as we’re talking about black tea in the Middle Eastern tradition, I have to say that the Persians do it best, followed closely by the Kurdish. The refreshingly sweet addition of cardamom to the black tea is delightful, and the occasional addition of saffron in Persian tea just makes it a step more regal. Turkish tea is nice, but it dulls in comparison to its Eastern neighbors. The Turks do a fine job, however, on the apple tea that is also prevalent on the Anatolian peninsula - it’s similar to a hot apple cider though, and can hardly be classified as tea. The best thing about tea in the Middle East is its relationship to hospitality and relaxation. In the regions I have mentioned, it’s virtually impossible to live out a day without being offered or invited for tea numerous times. Sitting back and enjoying this hot golden beverage with a healthy dose of sugar just feels right in this atmosphere. Drinking tea helps lend a pace to life; it’s time to converse, time to negotiate, time to soak up the sights and sounds. It’s much easier to complete a major purchase when you and the salesperson are both sitting back with a tea in hand, as is so often the case. It puts both parties on equal footing in a relaxed situation - the exchange of money and goods becomes secondary to the sharing of tea.

Tea in the “Western” world tends to be a major disappointment. Nothing was more disappointing than ordering a tea at the Ritz-Carlton in Istanbul and being served a bitter, over-brewed white cup of brown nastiness. It took four packets of sugar just to overcome the tangy bitter flavor of scalded tea leaves. The British like to combat improperly brewed tea (ok, sometimes properly brewed too) with milk and sugar. This is the bland man’s attempt to emulate the perfectly balanced Masala Chai of their former colonies in South Asia. Masala chai is supposed to be a blend of sweet and spicy with a touch of milk or cream to help bring balance to life. It’s an incredibly pleasurable beverage, but it is very different from the Middle Eastern tea beverages and a proper role-model for British tea lovers. In America, we’ve been overwhelmed with trendy new tea shops that offer every imaginable blend and flavor under the sun. I’ve fallen in love with many of these establishments, but a tea purist would find many faults in their offerings - that’s ok, I’m a moderate tea lover at heart, so I’ll take advantage of their fruity blends and bastardized versions of tea staples from around the world.

I had in mind to continue my tea lecture with writings on my experiences in Japan and the fine green teas of Asia, but instead, I’ll end things here with the option to continue when I make it to China and might be confronted with more tea traditions or tea travesties. Time will tell.
Even God is not immune to the imposing nature of technology today. I'm having tea in Goreme and the prayer call from the mosque was briefly interrupted by a cell phone ringing over the loud speakers. Unfortunately, the conversation was not broadcasted.

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Kapadokya - Caveman Style





The wind is whistling around the rocks and hills as I sit in my big comfy hammock-like chair and stare out the “window” of my cave. I think there might be a storm tonight, which could only add to the surreal experience of peering into the life of Kapadokya (Cappadocia). It’s like another planet out there with the towering rock formations littering the landscape. Hell, it’s like another planet in here too - I mean seriously, I’m sleeping in a cave.

Aside from the disappointment of finding out that I could have stayed at the Flintstones Hotel down the road in Goreme, today has been a very nice introduction to the region. Rocks, caves, churches, mountains, “fairy chimneys,” mosques, hotels, restaurants, tea houses; they all start to look the same after a while, but the peaceful atmosphere and mystical nature of this region are captivating. Early Christians took refuge in the caves and underground cities, carving out homes and churches from the volcanic rock. They had an invisible civilization, as it were, and their mark on this land is moving, unfortunately, so have the Christians. Back in the 1920s, there was a forced population swap where Christians from Kapadokya were moved to Greece and the Muslim Turks were transferred from Greece to here. It’s a tragic story of politics that changed the history of this region forever, but it has made it no less fascinating to visit.


One of the highlights of the day was stopping at a local ceramics workshop in Avanos. Deep inside yet another cave, one family has been producing and selling ceramics according to local tradition for the last 200 years. One of the potters demonstrated how they still use a kick wheel to turn the pottery. He made a perfect vase in about 3 minutes. They offered to let me try, but I didn’t want to embarrass the potter by making a something better and faster. Later, one of the guys in the shop asked me if I had seen the whirling dervishes perform yet. When I told him no, he announced that his cousin that had demonstrated the pottery-making was also a Dervish. “He spun around on that wheel so much as a child that he couldn’t stop, so now he goes every night to perform as a Dervish.”

I’m finding the rural regions of Anatolia to be much more to my liking than the bustling city of Istanbul. Cities can be a lot of fun, but I love exploring and relaxing in the more authentic locations.

Monday, June 15, 2009

I am resting in a cave somewhere in Turkey, and I like it.

Two Days in Istanbul... not Constantinople





14 JUNE 2009

I had planned on having my first couch surfing experience staying at someone else’s place here in Istanbul, but I didn’t manage to find a host, so I ended up at the Ritz-Carlton instead. Not a bad trade, in theory, but I would have preferred to meet some more locals and have someone with whom to explore the city. That said, I’ve been very well taken care of at the Ritz, and Istanbul is a beautiful city. Straddling two continents, split by the turquoise waters of the Bosphorus, minarets shooting up towards the blue sky from every neighborhood in the city, Istanbul is enchanting in many ways, but I’m not in love. With 16 million people, Istanbul is a huge, busy city, and somewhat overwhelming.

On the way to the hotel from the airport, my taxi driver lectured me on Istanbul traffic and then nearly got into a fist fight with a particularly rude motorcyclist. Instead of wasting my time with a fight, he wrote the number of the license plate on his hand and simply said, “I kill him later.”

Saturday, I decided to hire a guide and explore the old town. Together, we explored the streets of Sultanahmet, visiting Hagia Sophia, the Blue Mosque, the Basilica Cistern, Topkapi palace and the spice market. In between, we stopped at one of the more reputable rug wholesalers in town, and in a moment of weakness, I ended up purchasing three beautiful carpets from the Ararat region of Turkey. My guide had stepped out for a cigarette while I made my carpet selections, but when she returned, she said that I had picked out her favorite one. “When he pulled out that carpet at first, I immediately fell in love - you have great taste for beautiful things.”

Wandering around the spice market, I was impressed by the honesty of one vendor vying for my business. “Come in, we cheat less here, just enough.” The great success of the day was when we hailed a taxi to go back to the hotel and ended up with the same driver that had taken us into town. Over 30,000 taxis in the city, and we managed to find the same one twice. My guide was very happy because she said she almost always has to argue with drivers from the old town. The spice guy may cheat less, but taxi drivers here have a tendency to cheat more. That’s why it’s always better to get a driver at one of the major hotels because the hotels only allow the more honest drivers to work their properties.

It was my intent to have a relaxing day today, perhaps spending it by the pool at the hotel, but the Concierge, Cenk, had other plans for me. Cenk sought me out at breakfast to make sure I had a good tour yesterday. He pulled out a map and asked what all I saw on the tour so that he could plan out the day for me. His list included three suggestions, Dolmabahce Palace, a Bosphorus cruise, and a visit to the Ortakoy neighborhood. I decided to take his advice and do all three. I took a taxi over to Ortakoy, where I wandered around a bit and then boarded a boat to see the city from the water. After an hour long cruise, I decided to walk back to Dolmabahce and my hotel from Ortakoy because it looked deceivingly nearby from the water. Though longer than expected, the walk was very pleasant, but it ended with a disgustingly steep uphill trek from the river to my hotel.

Upon my return, Cenk announced that he had made dinner reservations for me at a place voted one of the 50 best restaurants in the world, Kosebasi. I was very excited to try the restaurant, but I have to admit that I was not impressed. The best part of the meal was the bread - a variety of fresh baked Turkish flat breads that were fantastic. Otherwise, all of the food was good, but nothing memorable. I went heavy on the eggplant tonight with yogurt-eggplant dip, pickled eggplant dip, and Patlincanli Kebap (minced lamb kebabs with grilled eggplant) all accompanied with a tomato salad, a Turkish cheese pastry and a small Lahmacun (meat pizza). The food was nothing special, and the service was mediocre as well. The place seemed to do a lot of delivery business with the breads, pizzas and kebabs, and I would probably be very satisfied with the restaurant as a delivery place, but I strongly disagree with the rave reviews the restaurant received in general. I took a short stroll after dinner, and then returned to the hotel for a tea and a scoop of pistachio ice cream.

Tomorrow, I leave for the Cappadocia region, where I hope to get a more authentic view of Turkey.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Iraq in a nutshell - Pistachio probably

The Main Gate of the Erbil Citadel
The Kurdish flag flying in the old Erbil Citadel

Fish grilling to perfection

The finished product
Eating ice cream with a former Kurdish body builder
The Erbil Citadel
Kurdish Textile Museum
Enjoying Arguileh
Some big Kurdish Guy
Lazgin and our "ninja"


What exactly did I get while I was in Iraq? Probably lung cancer, possibly some new business opportunities, definitely a desire to go back and spend more time. My time in Iraqi Kurdistan was very brief, but it was full of priceless experiences and the incredible hospitality of the Kurdish people. I have nothing but good things to say about the Kurdish people and the enormous strides they have made towards creating a stable and prosperous region in a very turbulent part of the world. The welcome I received rivaled that of my own champions of hospitality back in Lebanon, and it was one of the very few places in the world where I actually felt completely comfortable being an American.

My friends in Iraq are definitely very well-connected within the Kurdish regional government, and I had the great pleasure of meeting some of the movers and shakers of the region and learning more about the Iraqi Kurdistan. I have many interesting and entertaining stories from my short time in Iraq, but I don’t feel that it is appropriate for me to share many of the details in an internet post. I will, however, give a brief explanation of how I spent my time in Erbil.

As the guest of some successful business people in Erbil, I was lucky enough to be able to visit some of their stores and offices and to learn more about business in Kurdistan. I was able to sit in on a meeting with two Swedish Kurds that are trying to develop the film industry in the area. I enjoyed many glasses of perfect Kurdish tea that reminded me very much of the warm glasses enjoyed with Mansour out at Willow Creek Inn. Multiple times a day we would sit back and smoke some excellent Arguileh (aka Hookah or Shisha) with various fruit flavors, sometimes even with the tobacco packed into some fresh fruit. The thick sweet smoke felt icy against my face, and the Shisha we get in the states or Europe pales in comparison. The food was all excellent, although most of it was transplanted from an area I am very familiar with, Lebanon. One night, amongst some very important company, we enjoyed some local fresh-water fish, grilled to perfection by an open fire. One evening, we negotiated our way into the historic Erbil Citadel right at closing time, and wandered the ancient streets and visited the Kurdish textile museum.

The most important thing I can say about Iraqi Kurdistan is that it is a wonderful place, where I felt very safe and very welcome, and with any luck, I will be returning soon. The opportunities available in the region are innumerable, and I sincerely hope that I can find a way to take advantage of them. Next time, I hope to spend a great deal more time in the region and explore some other parts of the area, particularly the mountains. Who knows? Maybe I’ll even bring a tour group with me one day. Many thanks to the people of Kurdistan!

Saturday, June 13, 2009

Iraqi Kurdistan - First Impressions


07 JUN 2009
Arif, Lazgin and I flew together on the Austrian Airlines flight to Erbil in Iraqi Kurdistan. I really felt genuinely excited, and surprisingly (at least to me personally), I wasn’t the slightest bit nervous. Exiting the plane in Erbil, a friend of Arif’s from airport security was waiting for us with a flashy bus with tinted windows. We were taken to the VIP side of the airport, where our temperatures were taken to check for swine flu, and we were ushered quickly through passport control and into a very posh lounge. Apparently, normal procedure prohibits vehicles from driving up to the airport, so usually you have to take a special airport bus to the waiting cars, far from the terminal. It wasn’t a great shock to figure out that Arif’s friends had their bright white Toyota Land Cruisers waiting right outside the door. The not-so-standard procedure that Arif always follows involves a leisurely stop at the office of the head of airport security for a cup of tea.

I felt immediately comfortable in these surroundings, not just because of the special treatment my friend had arranged, but because everyone was very eager to welcome me to Kurdistan, and the laid-back-drink-some-tea-ten-minutes-means-two-hours culture was right up my alley. Laying here at 2:30AM in a fortress like hotel that doubles as the British consulate, I have really seen very little of Kurdistan or even Erbil, but I’m very content and really like the place. I met for juice and arguileh with some of the guys in the early evening, and then a large group of us went out to the beautiful restaurant Marina in the Christian district of the city. The food was great, the live music was moving (they even played my favorite Iraqi song, Khuttar), and the company couldn’t have been better. On the way into the restaurant, though, everyone had to pass through a security check including a metal detector. Funny thing about it, they started to search my camera bag, but Saad told the guard, “he’s American, he won’t blow himself up,” and I was sent on through. We did note, however, that the metal detector wasn’t on, and they didn’t search any of the other guys because they didn’t have bags - we’ll give the security team a D+ for putting on a good show.

Driving at high speeds along the European highways suddenly pales in comparison to flying 100mph down the seemingly endless straight roads of Erbil in a Toyota Land Cruiser, the windows of which are tented so much that it is practically impossible to see outside in the dark, slowing down only to gently hop over the occasional speed bump. Tomorrow, the real exploring begins.

Austrian Airlines Premium Class Meal: Assorted appetizer plate including Hummous, Moutabel, roasted vegetables and fresh bread, Prawns in a creamy parmesan tomato sauce served with buttered rice and sauteed spinach, assorted Arab sweets and hot tea for dessert.

Leaving Slovenia


I arrived in Istanbul last night, and I am finally back to free high-speed internet access, so I'll be catching up on my blog posts over the next couple days. Not all of them will be in chronological order just to forewarn you.

06 JUN 2009
My last day in Slovenia was the perfect culmination of another great visit to the country. I rode with Natasa’s brother, Borut, to Celje, where we spent some time hanging out at Tropic Bar and having a great lunch prepared by Natasa’s mother. It’s like being home, surrounded by close friends in a country I love, eating Eta’s great food. Upon returning to Ljubljana, I met up with my new friend Jorge and another local couch surfer. The young Slovenian girl that was hanging out with us was quite the character, but I really enjoyed meeting her. The amusement started when she told Jorge, “I have to tell you, I have emotions.” It turns out that she had a Guatemalan roommate while volunteering in Ecuador to whom she was obviously very close. Just by fact of origin, Jorge had given her “emotions.”

When asked if Jorge reminded her of her friend Marcial and why, she replied, “You move and you smile.” Who knew that non-Guatemalan people were so cold and stationary? During dinner at Pizzeria Osmica, things got even more interesting. The girl began to explain how Latin people touch each other a lot more than Europeans in general. She admitted that she was sad because she really wanted to ask Marcial to “lay on top of [her], just to feel his weight and presence” before they said goodbye, but she was too shy. “Next year though, people laid on top of me,” she said very matter-of-factly. The conversation took another radical turn when she mentioned the interesting reactions one gets “if you just ask someone to touch you anywhere.” Apparently, she attempted this experiment with one girl and one guy, and the girl was very uncomfortable, but touched her behind the ear and “gave [her] emotions.” The guy touched her hair, but she was unmoved by that. Jorge recommended that she not try that question on people in Guatemala if she ever visits.

Soon enough, it was time for the young girl to go back to work on editing a film for her university. Jorge gave her two pecks on the cheeks to say goodbye, and she practically melted. I did the same, and she said, “He’s just American.”

Jorge and I finished the night by meeting some of the folks from his youth hostel for some drinks and a long walk in the rain and lightning. Trying to jump over a large puddle, I sorta kinda ended up jumping into a large puddle and splashing the poor English girl behind me. She pointed out every puddle for the rest of the night and asked if I’d like to jump in again. As far as these young folks were concerned, the night was young, but at 2AM, I thought it best to retire to my hotel to pack and rest before my 6AM departure to Iraq. Many hugs and multiple goodbyes, followed by the chorus of “please stay alive,” and I was back to the hotel, ready for another adventure.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Safely back from Iraq. Nothing but great experiences, and I can't wait to go back. More detailed posts to come from here in Vienna.

Monday, June 8, 2009

"Don't tell the authorities," were the last words spoken to me tonight. Needless to say, I am having a fascinating time.
Hot. Random power outages remind me of Lebanon. I think I like it here.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Very well cared for in erbil. Tea and nuts, who needs more?

Friday, June 5, 2009

Getting to know the bar with Valeria

Having returned from my excursion to central Verona unscathed by the wrath of the photo Nazi, I changed into my bathing suit and went to the pool. The wind was a little chilly for swimming in an unheated pool, so I chose to soak up some rays instead. A very eager young Italian gent was working the pool area and seemed quite bored, so he kept bringing me things like water, towels, even a Caiparinha. After a couple hours at the pool, I went back inside to write some emails and check up on the happenings on facebook. The computer room was apparently part of an art tour of the hotel for some visiting Americans. The large group all properly labeled with their names and hometowns wandered in, surrounded me and started commenting on the creepy clown pictures all around me. The guide explained the origins of the various pieces of "art" in the room, and even pointed me out as one of their guests. Who knew I was a tourist attraction?

Soon enough, it was time to get changed and take advantage of some more of my room perks, specifically, a cocktail and dinner. At the bar, Valeria, the bar tender, was excited to have her first guest walk through the door. I gave her my cocktail voucher and she began to mix me a "Siren" cocktail. She handed it over to me saying, "It's really quite odd. Do you know what it is?" It was a blend of pear juice, pineapple juice, vodka and saffron, the golden color of which was meant to be reminiscent of the sculpture I had illegally photographed earlier. Chatting a bit, Valeria and I started talking about her favorite drinks. This young Italian woman was easily bored by traditional drinks and enjoyed experimenting at the bar. She promised to make me one of her favorite drinks after dinner. I enjoyed my Siren along with some fantastic olives, sundried tomatoes and Parmeggiano Reggiano.


Down in the restaurant, all of the staff were eagerly awaiting my arrival for my "Flower Paintings" dinner. They gave me my choice of tables in the empty restaurant, and immediately poured me a glass of Prosecco. After receiving my approval for the menu the chef had prepared for me, they dashed off to get things rolling. I carefully noted every part of the meal, and I intended to photograph it as well, but sometimes I got a little fork happy before I could grab my camera.

I started with an amuse bouche of a poppy seed encrusted scallop with a balsamic reduction. Next came some fantastic fried zucchini blossoms stuffed with ricotta cheese and anchovies, perfectly fried langoustines and a mango puree.
The next course was a plate of kamut noodles with a ragout of rabbit, valpolicella olives and marjoram.
The main course consisted of lamb medallions "cacio e ovo" served with artichokes and a savory baked egg custard. Coconut-lavender semi-freddo served as a palate cleanser. Dessert was by far the most creative of the dishes, and I have great intentions of repeating it when I get home. It was a "Sweet Club Sandwich" - thin slices of saffron and basil cakes layered with strawberry and vanilla gelato, pineapple "fries" and strawberry "ketchup".
Everything was topped off with a nice espresso and some friandises.
After dinner, I went back up to check on Valeria at the bar. She was ready to fix me her special twist on a Caiparinha. Fresh oranges, muddled with some sugar syrup and crushed ice, a splash of amaretto and Schweppes Bitter Lemon to top it off. It was fantastic - such a refreshing drink, and the orange/amaretto combo was very good. Valeria and I then proceeded to go through every bottle on the shelf discussing possible combos, the good and the bad, and even trying a few samples of the more unusual bottles. I woke up bright and early the next morning to drive to Slovenia. Multiple Slovenia updates to follow.

Thursday, June 4, 2009

"Artwork" at the Byblos Art Hotel

Creepy shrunken heads at the bar
Creepy clown in the computer room
Creepiest clown in the computer room
Uhh, yeah, this was in the hallway
My absolute favorite, man falling from balcony. Love it.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Verona Photos

Verona's Roman Arena in the background
Mmmm...Gelato
Some statue on some Piazza somewhere in Verona
Mr. Alighieri
Does this guy know "Prepster" is written on his up-turned collar???

Byblos Art Hotel Photos

The pool

My generously sized bathroom

My Room

The Hotel lobby

Front driveway of the hotel