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.

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

The Photo Nazi

Things at the Byblos Art Hotel were pretty quiet while I was there, but that just meant the staff were all that more eager to be of assistance. The room rate I had booked at the hotel was based around the Marc Quinn art exhibit in town, and it included a ticket to the exhibition, a special cocktail, a “flower paintings” dinner, and complimentary transportation to and from the center of Verona. I was determined to take advantage of all the perks.

Still hopped up on my perfect cappuccino, I grabbed my camera and headed out the door with the hotel’s driver. He dropped me at the edge of the main square, and I was off to explore Verona. It wasn’t my first time in the city, but back when I visited in high school, we were young brats that didn’t really know where to go and didn’t really pay attention to where we were. I remember visiting the supposed home of Romeo’s Juliette and seeing the Roman arena, but otherwise, Verona was a very unremarkable city in my mind. As it turns out, Verona is quite a nice little city, and I thoroughly enjoyed my second visit. I wandered down the streets taking pictures and taking in the architecture and atmosphere. The goal of my time in Verona was to visit the art exhibit at Juliette’s house. Apparently, Marc Quinn is some up and coming British modern artist, and not surprisingly, I had never heard of him before. I had a ticket to his exhibit though, so by God I was going to see it.

Making my way to the exhibit, I made a detour to check out some of the smaller piazzas, watched the tourists along Via Mazzini, and stood under the disapproving glare of Dante Alighieri. Fighting through the crowds in Juliette’s courtyard, I soon realize that the museum I am so eagerly trying to reach is closed. I had another hour before the museum would open, so I went to grab a gelato and wander some more streets. With a cone of banana and coconut gelato in hand, I stumbled upon a fabulous pastry shop full of local cakes and sweets, but alas, it was closed for the day. Back under the balcony Shakespeare made famous, the doors of museum were opening, and I was one of the first people inside. I handed my ticket to the woman at the register who then stared at it, turned it upside down, looked at the back, and then asked me, “What is this?”

When I explained that the piece of paper she was holding was a ticket for the exhibit given to me by my hotel, she grumbled some choice Italian expletives, printed a new ticket and sent me on my way. At the top of the stairs, an Italian gentleman that suffered from some form of brain damage saw my camera and yelled, “NO FLASH!” followed by a cordial, “Buon Giorno, ticket please.” He insisted that I start my exploration of the exhibit on the 3rd floor, so I made my way up the next flight of stairs. Once there, another museum employee came to me and said, “Photo si, flash NO!”

“Ok, no flash.” I examined the photograph-like paintings of flowers and some glasswork, and I even took some pictures, but I didn’t dare use my flash. One more floor up was Quinn’s most famous work, the Siren. It’s a very peculiar golden sculpture of Kate Moss in an incredibly modesty-compromising position… but she is wearing underwear. Less than floored by the masterpiece, I still felt it was necessary to take a photograph for posterity. I made sure that my flash was off, snapped a picture, and within seconds, a young Italian woman came running in yelling, “NO PHOTOS! NO! NO! NO!”

“I was told no flash.”
“NO PHOTO!”
“Downstairs they said, photo si, flash no.”
“Now you are upstairs, NO PHOTO!”

Fine by me, Il Duce, I already got my damn photo.