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Books: Norwegian Wood

Tue, 30 Dec 2025 02:36:34 +0000

I’ve been a fan of Haruki Murakami for a while now, and Norwegian Wood frequently shows up near the top of folks’ must read list for him. It was interesting both in how similar it is to some of his other works, and how much of a departure it was.

In terms of things which struck me as classic Murakami, it leaned hard into what I think of as ‘slice-of-life’ narration that he does really well. Throughout the book we get a whole lot of details about the various places the main character lives – a student dorm and an interesting little garden house – the food they eat, the routines they follow. All of the description adds up to give a very particular, very Japanese feeling for me that I don’t get bored with. I’m not sure if the same level of detail in an American story would hold up for me.

The characters also struck me as very deliberate and precise. So many of them knew ‘I want this’ or ‘I am this type of person’ and in fact much of the crux of the book comes from the conflicts and situations that arise where those differences overlap. There is a particular expression of character that Murakami seems to use consistently, and Norwegian Wood was no different.

The big departure, though, was in the lack of the fantastic. In the intro he even calls it out as his only ‘realistic’ novel. It’s hard to disagree on that count. With only one particular scene, everything described does seem to have actually happened. Strangely, though, the lack of, well, strangeness, didn’t detract for me even though that magical realism in his other works has seemed so central. There was a sort of drifting, lyrical quality to things still, and even in his more fantastic books the grounding in concrete description is always key.

It wouldn’t necessarily be the first book of his that I’d recommend for a new reader, but definitely among the more accessible.

Books: Wild Seed

Sun, 21 Dec 2025 21:35:32 +0000

Anyone who’s talked books with me for any amount of time knows that Octavia Butler is one of my favorites. I’ve read basically everything I can get my hands on that she wrote, and in fact it’s been a few years since I read a lot of them. In light of that, I’ve started re-reading and to mix things up I’ve been using audiobooks as the format.

Wild Seed is among my favorites of Butler’s less-known works. She gets a lot of (justified) credit for things like Kindred and Parable of the Sower but Wild Seed for me hits on some of my favorite aspects of her earlier work. In it she builds out an alternate universe with strange, even implausible rules and gets us to buy it completely. The story while large in scope hinges on the carefully realized characters. And last but not least, there’s a strong line in it of how social groupings, especially smaller communities, work (or don’t).

The Patternist series that Wild Seed is a part of varies a lot for me, but this is far and away my favorite entry in it, a great place to start reading Butler if you haven’t, and I’m glad I revisited it.

Europe 2025: Siena

Thu, 14 Aug 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Retiring to Sienna

For the final destination in our trip, we decided to take a car. In part this was to be able to enjoy the Italian countryside, but also so we could maintain control of our own schedule when it came to the return trip. It would have been a couple hours by train, and the prospect of doing that with a flight schedule to keep made both of us nervous.

With our additional luggage, the tiny car that we’d originally slated to rent just wasn’t going to cut it. Even with an upgrade we had to keep one of the bags in the back seat. They bumped us up, though, to a nice BMW. It had lots of fancy lighting and unlike our rental on Crete the navigation system synced up properly which was a blessing.

BMW

It was a nice drive from Bologna to Siena, with all the hills, small towns, church spires and vineyards you’d expect. There were also a surprising number of long tunnels cutting through the hills.

🎶 Secret tunnel 🎶

Our place in Siena was called Siena Hills Apartments. Even with a stop at a full-sized Decathlon on the outskirts of Bologna, we were early for check-in. The folks at the desk encouraged us to just wait downstairs at the restaurant and bar.

Siena skyline

We took the elevator down and followed the signs to more of a dining room than a restaurant. The “bar” was just a counter along the room with three bottles of liquor on a shelf. Even stranger, everyone sitting at the tables in the early afternoon looked to be at least thirty years older than we were… and they were staring at us. It honestly felt like we’d wandered into an old folks home and were the most interesting thing that’d happened there in an age.

Amber noticed as we’d descended some other branding on the signs in addition to the Siena Hills Apartments. A quick web search explained all – apparently the facility was a retirement community, but since it wasn’t entirely full they rented out the remaining rooms for travelers.

Cycling the Hills of Tuscany

The entire reason for us going to Siena, though, apart from the good things we’d heard from my brother and sister-in-law, was a special treat for me. We’d originally been talking about going to the Dolomites which get rave reviews online, but the mountains are really about hiking which is neither of our jam. Then Amber had the brainwave – what if I wanted to bike in Italy. A little searching and emailing turned up a private guide for the one full day we had to be in Siena, perfecto!

The meeting point was a bike shop called Siena Velo. We arrived a little bit early, and Amber dropped me off, parking in the neighborhood being a hassle. I wandered into the shop where it was very evident that the guy running the shop spoke as much English as I did Italian. He managed to convey that my guide would be along, though.

Siena Velo

Smile, you’re biking!

My guide showed up soon after. Francesco was one of those people you just know is a cyclist. He had that triangular frame, wide shoulders, wiry strong legs. At some point early on I asked how much biking he did. It turned out he was semi-professional rider.

“What’s that mean specifically, semi-professional?” I asked.

“You train like the professionals, you just don’t get paid yet.”

I, as the kids say these days, was cooked.

We started in the city and had about five kilometers to ride until we hit the real countryside. It started off fine, with me keeping a reasonable pace even with a fair amount of hills.

Tuscan castles in the distance

The smiles are fake but the fun is real

The Chianti region was so gorgeous to ride through. Vineyards and farms were everywhere, down little winding roads, behind hedges. Often the farmhouses were built up right to the edge of the roads, as if they’d been constructed before there had been much motor traffic. About 30% of the time we were on gravel, which I’d always wanted to try. (Truth be told, I prefer standard road biking.)

The vineyards

Me and the vineyards

We took a break at a spot and had some local cola and cold water. Not pedaling, it was easier to have some good discussion. We talked about school – Francesco is going to college in economics – and many other topics.

Breaking for local cola

Past the halfway point, I’ll be honest, I was struggling. In the initial messages I’d confidently said I could comfortably ride up to 60 kilometers (about 40 miles) and that was true. But the description of Chianti as “rolling hills” was not what I thought of as rollers. These climbs were intense and long. The roads were winding, so most of the time you couldn’t see to the top. It would seem like the segment you were on would top out when you just reached the turn, only to be cruelly betrayed as the climb continued.

But those downhills were exhilarating. Zooming down as fast as I was willing to go, the wind cooling me off from the growing intensity of the sun, the scenery flying by. It was awesome and made the pain worth it.

Lunch was at Agricola Fabbrini, basically a small farm that served lunch. The meal was pitch perfect for that point in the ride, with nothing too heavy but lots of flavor (and water). There was a panzanella very like what we make at home, cured meats, and a light frittata. Wine they made on site was available, though I only had a little bit given the remainder of the ride still before me.

Agricola Fabbrini

Homemade after meal wine

They toured us around the farm after we had eaten. We got to see their cattle – much fewer than they used to have apparently. The dining room had pictures of their prize winning bulls from years past. It was so fun to see, and you could hear their pride in the heritage of the farm as they showed us the various fields they owned and how far they ran.

A young calf

Prize winning cattle

There were also chickens, lovely little flower gardens, and as we mounted up to ride off ripe fig trees.

Figs warmed by the sun

The last stretch of the ride was the shortest, but my legs were really hurting by then. In the earlier parts I could slow down a little or take a brief pause and then bounce back. By this stage, the pain in my quads was making it hard to just keep moving at all.

My guide would zip out ahead, often out of sight, then turn back to encourage me when I’d lagged long enough. “Let’s go, let’s go!” I can still hear him chanting as he pulled away from me as if we were on flat ground.

Thinking of the ride even now brings a warm smile to my face. Truly a highlight of the trip, and such a caring and thoughtful gift of Amber to come up with it!

‘You want the bike? Now pedal!’

I wonder what Amber got up to while I was riding?

What Amber did instead

Refreshing Sienna

The ~~retirement home~~ apartments did have a pool, and we got some good time lounging over the couple of days we were in Siena. At one point I decided I should take advantage of the “bar” such as it was. They had a brief drink list so I picked a negroni. It was brought out by a nervous looking young staffer.

“It’s the first one I’ve ever made. Tell me if I did it right?”

Thankfully for both him and me, his instructions must have been good because it was a nice mix of bitter and sweet, icy cold and perfect for the poolside.

Our nicest meal was at Al Tocco where we ordered Florentine steak, a massive thick cut served upright. For pasta along with we had the pico pecorino, which was done just right.

Hilariously, an American couple at the next table over from us was ordering after dinner coffee and asked for a cappuccino. The waitress’ dismay was visible to us, and we chuckled, being in on the “secret” knowledge that Italians will normally make no secret at all. Cappuccino is only for the morning! You cannot have it after lunch, let alone after dinner!

About Sienna

Okay, so I do actually know what Amber did while I was biking. She parked the car carefully, and walked into Siena to see the place before we did our big visit the next day. The care in parking was called for because of what’s known as the ZTLs – Zona a Traffico Limitato – where driving is prohibited in certain areas. Siena was known to have these, and they are not well marked much of the time. Amber was nervous the whole time driving in Italy because of the horror stories she’d heard of folks getting 300 euro tickets in the mail months after a trip because a camera caught them.

Steep streets in Siena

It turned out that we had timed our visit for some sort of city-wide festival. Amber found them setting up for the evening activities, with long tables running down the streets where folks would be dining later. Even by the time she left later in the afternoon, though, parking was a nightmare so between that and my exhausted frame we didn’t venture back.

Tables ready to party

Different neighborhoods of Siena all have their own flag and symbolic animal. This was on full display, including costumes.

Neighborhood flags

More flags

Yet more flags

The next day when we did come back for our entry to Il Duomo, things were still happening. We managed to catch a small parade, complete with song which echoed down the narrow stony streets.

Festival parade in Sienna

Singing in the square

Il Duomo

A long walk uphill from the nearest parking was the big sight to see in Siena – a medieval cathedral called Il Duomo.

Il Duomo

Images in the entryway

Big old doors

Like many of the grand places in Europe, it was timed entry. We lined up in the already streaming sunshine with all the other tourists and waited our turn. I was slightly nervous that my shorts would be a problem – we’d heard of such requirements before but forgot the day of – but thankfully I wasn’t given a bag to cover my shameful knees.

Il Duomo stripes

Stripes and ceiling

The interior had a really interesting striped pattern, with dark black lines running horizontal everywhere. The effect was very bold, making the space far more dynamic than many churches I’ve seen.

Looking up

More choir books

The choir library

It’s hard to really describe in detail how intricate and beautiful such spaces are. So much goes into them over so many centuries, it’s hard to do it justice.

Paintings in Il Duomo

The pulpit

Statues in the museum

Heads of saints (?) watching

It’s us

Across the court was a museum which had many additional objects and rooms. Amber didn’t follow up the stairs more than a level or two, already hurting from her tromping around the day before.

Books in the museum

Among the features of the museum, though, was that from the top floor you could get out onto a narrow walkway and see amazing views across Siena.

View from the top

Il Duomo in panorama

The rest of Siena

The climb back down from the panorama

Backtracking

After our tour of Il Duomo, it was time for us to head back to Bologna and begin the return trip home.

Bags packed to go

Along the highway, we stopped at a roadside spot for some food, except it wasn’t on the side – it spanned the whole highway! This seemed novel, but it was absolutely packed with angry fussy travelers (ourselves soon contributing to that number) so we grabbed our food and split as fast as we could.

Our return flight to the US was from Athens, so we took another bus in the sky “courtesy” of Ryanair from Bologna back to Athens. Amber had picked out a little bed and breakfast calls the St Thomas B&B. We arrived late, but one of the draws of the place was that it was very close to the airport but also walking distance from a taverna.

The host had been told we needed an early departure, and ordered us a taxi and had breakfast already prepared and in our room fridge since we would be gone before the normal meal began. He had sad news, though, when we made to head out to the taverna. Apparently it was closed because it was August. We ended up picking at some of the breakfast items a little early and just going to bed.

Getting the extra bag added turned out to be a hassle because our tickets were with Air Canada, but the first leg was Swiss Air instead. Sharing no systems, we had to walk to a separate desk where someone called up Air Canada to get things settled. Thankfully for once lines weren’t enormous, so our problem didn’t slow anyone else down and we were there in plenty of time.

There was, though, one leg of the journey we were concerned with. In Zurich, we had only 55 minutes from landing until the flight to Vancouver departed. We talked to the staff and there wasn’t much to be done. “If it let you book it, it should be possible.”

We got off the plane as promptly as we could in Zurich and literally ran through the airport. With great relief, when we turned the corner to where the gate was, we found enormous lines still waiting. We joined a first line that was doing passport checking, and by the time we got through that the boarding line hadn’t even drained entirely.

The rest of the trip went smoothly, and Cora picked us up at the airport. Such an amazing time, and a fun look forward to what life might be like for us when the kids have moved out.

Europe 2025: Bologna

Sat, 09 Aug 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Getting There

The flight from Athens to Bologna was a mixed bag. We were right up at the front in the second row, and oddly one of the seats in the first row wasn’t present so I actually had leg room. But, being Ryanair, the boarding was significantly delayed and people were cranky. Amber also felt unusually nauseated on the plane. She gets motion sick pretty easily, and we were glad to hit the ground in Bologna.

It was hot when we got outside and found a late taxi. By this point it was a little after midnight, and we showed the driver our address. He shook his head. “Sundays, the center of city is closed. I can’t drive all the way there.” Nervously we agreed for him to take us as close as he could manage, imagining as we did schlepping a kilometer with our three big bags in tow over cobblestones. Fortunately, it turned out to only be about three or four blocks from where the Sunday only-walking zone kicked in to our apartment.

Interesting language choices for programmers

We buzzed in and very tall, old looking wooden doors swung open to us. Amber had received a PDF file with multiple pages of instructions in colorful text and separate numbered boxes. We managed to find the cabinet of lock boxes to get the key, but for several minutes couldn’t figure out which one was ours. Tired, hot, and frazzled, it felt like an escape room puzzle box. Eventually we reviewed the sheet again and found where the lock box number was listed after trying the code unsuccessfully on about half of them.

The elevator up to our flat was painted bright red. Unlike almost any elevator I’ve ever been in, the instant you pressed the button for your floor, the doors started slamming closed. This proved to be a fun game for us throughout the time pretending we’d shut the door on each other.

The flat was up on the fifth floor, with a nice open plan and wood floors and the bed up on a loft. The appliances were all new, and it looked pretty apparent that this was a pure rental, not someone’s actual apartment. Also it was rather steamy being on the top floor and exposed to sunlight during the day. The instructions asked to keep AC use to a minimum, but it was hard to keep the temperature liveable at all as it turned out Bologna was facing a heatwave that week. So much for cooling down a little post Crete!

The apartment

The artwork in the apartment was an odd mix. There was a large painting of an angel who looked either in ecstasy or about ready to pass out. Beside it were a couple of prints that looked to be from Alaska. Nice bookshelves lined the walls with a healthy selection of travel related books and random Italian volumes.

Art in the place

We flopped down into the bed as soon as it got cool enough, glad to have arrived at the next stage of our journey.

I <3 Bologna

Cooking Classes

As anyone who knows us is aware, food is our jam. Given that, a major component of our time in Italy was local cooking classes. We scheduled these through the excellent Cesarine website and could not have been happier with the results.

Our first full day in Bologna was a class with Maurizio. We took breakfast at an outdoor cafe in the plaza across from our apartment where sadly they refused to make Amber’s cappuccino iced (“No freddo!”) Then we walked the fifteen minutes out towards the edge of the city walls for the class at 11am. It was already hot enough that we were second-guessing whether the walking had been a good idea, but we arrived with a subtle glow about us.

Cooking with Maurizio

While we’ve taken classes before in spaces that are designed for classes, we love this style which just takes place in people’s homes. Maurizio had a lovely apartment with an unfortunately blazing porch, filled with eclectic furniture that perfectly suited it. We also got to enjoy his little dog, Dante, who constantly wanted to chase after the ball.

Dante, ever vigilant

With logo-emblazoned aprons on, we set into making pasta from scratch of two different types – a ravioli and a fettucini. This being northern Italy, these were made with flour and egg.

Ready to cook!

One time in the distant past we had made fresh pasta ourselves, but this turned out to be much easier than our memories. You make a little hill of flour, then with your fingers in the classic Italian pose form a crater or volcano into which you crack an egg. 100g of flour, more of less, work for one egg. You then slowly whisk up the egg, pulling flour into the mix until it turns to a ball of dough.

Once the dough has come together, with sprinkles of extra flour if it’s still too sticky, you knead it out by hand for a while. This mostly involves folding it over in half, then squishing it before repeating. As someone who doesn’t like getting my hands messy this stage was mildly stretching, but I went along.

Pasta rests, but we don’t

Once the dough had reached a texture that Maurizio could tell was right, we left it to rest for a half hour in plastic so the gluten could develop. While we did that, we prepared the filling for our ravioli, with fresh ricotta cheese and sauteed spinach. I enjoyed seeing Maurizio’s kitchen where he had a full on electric slicer for salamis and other meats. Standard issue in Italy apparently.

Filling prep

After the filling was ready and the dough sufficiently rested, we got down to rolling it out. This again was more to Amber’s skill set than mine, but we got things out into a thin enough layer. For the ravioli it was then a matter of spreading the little balls of filling and folding over before cutting between them with a specialized tool.

Keep it rolling

The fettuccine, while possible to slice by hand, was better served with a custom tool called a “chitarra” (aka guitar) where you simply set the rolled pasta over wires and press down to make even cuts.

Perfect fettuccine

The end results were delicious, even from our amateur preparations. The local wines helped out I’m sure.

Ravioli served with thyme and a little Parmesan

Our second class, also through Cesarine, was with Paola. We learned from our first experience and taxied there, as it was equally hot and her apartment was even further out from the city center.

Paola’s sunny kitchen

This class covered a different slice of foods with a little overlap in pasta making. We made piadina, an Italian flat bread. It made a delicious start.

As you knead it

Paola showed us the tricks to make tortellino (a specific size of tortellini). Much of the initial part of the pasta was familiar now, but she disagreed on a couple points, such as folding over and oil in the water for pasta. Controversy of the cooks! In any case, we learned the easy technique for sealing up the tortellino.

Perfect tortellino

The meal concluded with tiramisu, prepared pretty easily in small cups. We dined on Paola’s back porch in the shade by her garden, and all was well with the world.

Food Tour

Along with the cooking, we also had the opportunity to take a day long food tour to see how three different Italian classics are made – Parmigiano Reggiano, balsamico tradizionale, and prosciutto. Our guide picked us up from outside our apartment and had a car to drive us to the various locations, along with arrangements pre-made with the providers for our visit.

Welcome to the home of Parmesan

The first stop was where real Parmesan is made. Like all of the foods we experienced that day, it’s a DOP product, meaning that it’s restricted by not only location but process and ingredients. The dry white cheese in a plastic bottle this is not! Each location is controlled and tracked, with its own number so you can trace back the product you bought to the very spot it originated.

We spent quite a bit of the tour dressed up in paper gowns with foot covers while the workers went about their tasks with the huge copper vats. Although some amount of technology has been allowed into the process (witness the cleaning video below), it still includes some very manual steps. The judgement of when things are ready is also a facet where humans have yet to be replaced.

Here are a few too many videos of the process in action.

Cutting the cheese

Hoisting Parmesan

Retrieving the Parmesan

Cleaning up

A byproduct of the process is ricotta, which is made by recooking the whey that’s made in the vats. This was being packed as we ventured through the factory.

Ricotta packing

Once the fresh cheese has been retrieved and sat a while, it gets put into a metal container before going to spend a few weeks in a salt bath (not pictured here). Then comes the long wait.

New wheels before heading to aging

The factory includes a large space with row after row of shelves, running up several person heights towards the ceiling. Here the cheeses age anywhere from 12 to 36 months before they are ready.

Fresh on the shelves

Older entries, still aging

Things don’t always go to plan for every wheel. You can see some of them puffing which indicates something went off in the fermentation that gives Parmesan its unique flavor. Other wheels show cracking. The wheels are frequently checked with a little hammer, the sound enough to tell the master cheese makers what’s up inside the rind.

Something’s wrong here

Crackin’ up

Our next DOP item was on a private estate where they made real balsamic. I wasn’t fully aware, but nothing I’d ever had, either in Europe or in the US was the traditional thing. The aging process for traditional balsamic is laborious, with the end product taking either 12 or 25 years, minimum, to be ready.

Not that long in the past, this product was only available in the region, and traded or gifted between families. Only late in the last century did they begin to expand production enough to be able to sell some of it at a rather high price point.

The process starts from grapes grown either on the estate or nearby. The juice is squeezed and cooked before being ready to go into the barrels for aging. The balsamic is aged in the highest floor of the house, the room packed with barrels. It’s important for the development that it be hot there in summer – and it was! – and cold in winter. The balsamic needs to breathe. Each line of barrels is where the vinegar progresses through it’s aging process. Once a year they move liquid from the bigger barrels to the smaller.

Balsamic lines

The oldest line at the place we visited was started in 1888 and has been in continual use since. While the barrel leaks a little, they don’t mess with it for fear of screwing up the magic.

The oldest line, started 1888

The final product has to pass inspections that only allow through 1/5 of the candidates, even from the very rarefied set of families that are in the business. A meal was served after this tour, with free access to bottles of their product. Quite a genius selling device that. We bought home two tiny bottles for a hefty price.

A real Lamborghini

The last visit was to a place that makes prosciutto. As big fans of jamon, it was interesting to watch how this was done and contrast and compare the flavors of the product. There were a lot of cold rooms here, and a lot of places where they were aging varying grades of product, often with differing colors to the fats they use to seal it and different stamps depending on quality.

So much meat

Heresy to the Italians but I still appreciate the funk of the Spanish style cured pork legs better, but I have a deeper appreciation for the time and care that goes into prosciutto after the tour.

Eats

Needless to say, eating in Bologna was also a highlight, even when we weren’t in a class making it ourselves.

The first night we rocked out with no reservations, just to see what we could do at a couple recommended spots nearby. The first place we tried it was a really weird interaction – they said they didn’t have any, but then were having conversations with other folks who plainly didn’t have a reservation right beside us.

We wandered off and found another spot that looked busy and had a small cluster of people lined up. When we asked, apparently the line was for those without reservations, and it wasn’t too long so we joined the queue. The food was okay, though the pasta more al dente than I expected. We tried a fried zucchini blossom, but it mostly tasted of cheese and batter. The waiter switched between vigorous Italian and a shockingly British accent as people constantly maneuvered in and out.

Rolling pasta

We learned our lesson there and did better research and reservations for most of the later nights. The exception was Simoni Salumeria, which was more of a deli sort of place we took a chance on to great success. The great charcuterie and cheese came with perfect bread beside. I learned there to appreciate the mortadella, which I’d always viewed a little suspiciously as too much like baloney to be that good. I was wrong. Completely wrong. It’s luscious and fully deserves its standing in the meat counter.

At a recommendation from one of our guides/teachers, we got a reservation at Vicolo Colombiana. Tucked down a tiny street after which its named, we got an early slot easily which worked great for us. Here we had tortellini in brodo di cappone, perfect little pastas in a savory broth, and guancia di manzo, beef cheeks so wonderfully tender.

Another favorite was Trattoria da Me. I was expecting this for some reason to be a super traditional spot, but it turned out to be a very modern take on the cuisine. The waiter was boisterous and friendly, lighting up the room whenever he came in and full of suggestions. Here we tried again with the zucchini flowers and unlike our first night now I get the allure, the subtle flavors and textures of it. The waiter was extremely excited for us that they had the lasagna, which was normally only on Sundays, so we obviously had to go for that. We also did the rabbit and a side of fresh tomatoes that sang of summer. Truly an awesome meal.

And of course we can’t talk about food in Italy without Amber’s favorite, gelato. One of our spots in Portland is a gelato place run by an immigrant from Italy, so it was a thrill to go back to the source. I can’t give you the blow-by-blow because of how many times we would stop in for a little frozen treat. Whether on the way to an activity, or just popping out at 10pm across the plaza by our apartment, sweetness was never far away.

Gelato

More gelato

About Town

Bologna is a beautiful city. I honestly wasn’t too sure what we were going to do there, but it proved to be a perfect introduction to Italy for us. One of the most recognizable sights in the city were a pair of towers – one of them significantly leaning, take that Pisa! – and it was only a few blocks down the street from the apartment Amber found for us.

Garisenda and Asinelli – Bologna’s two towers

The city is very walkable near the center, and its architecture was a joy to explore. In Athens there were many landmarks which made an impression but the overall sense of the city apart from those spots was “generic European” to me. In Bologna on the other hand, there was an immediate sense that you were in Italy, similar to how you could land me in any corner of Barcelona and I’d know where I was. I could imagine myself in an Umberto Eco novel, criss-crossing the city alleys after dark.

A key component of that feeling of place was how the walkways and paths were built, the arching covered paths that you took from place to place.

Arched walkways

More arches

So much of the city was clearly built before the advent of cars. The narrow ways, the cobbled stones, the sense of winding your way through a maze made even the walk with Google maps to a restaurant something of an adventure.

Delightful little sidestreets

Shade down the way

A fun little side note, at least in downtown Bologna, pertains to the various grocery stores that we visited. Where normally stores are mostly a single open space, everywhere we went instead we found the places obviously carved out by connecting multiple rooms across what had to have been different apartments or shops previously. Now they were strung together in a winding maze. It made hunting for supplies extra adventurous, as you never knew what the next room would hold.

I’m not lion to you

Our days were often shaped around the excursions and classes we were taking, but there was a heatwave on which also sapped the remaining energy out of us. Most days followed a pattern of waking, doing an activity, then crashing at the apartment in the hottest part of the afternoon, maybe even napping, before emerging to dinner in the evening. Rough life.

We did some shopping in the city. An outpost of the sporting goods store Decathlon, which we frequented in Barcelona, was around and Asher dearly missed some of the swim trunks we’d gotten him there. Unfortunately it turned out to be a tiny one in Bologna so no trunks there.

Amber’s other obsession was to get some supplies for making pasta at home. We went to several locations looking for the right type of rolling pin like we’d seen in our classes. It took us eventually to a kind of cluttered, bazaar-like shop with narrow walkways down the aisles that two people could barely pass by, but we found the roller she was after. A chitarra proved impossible to find oddly enough, so Amazon it was.

Last but not least, at the balsamic place the meal had ended with an aperitif of homemade liquor aged on walnuts called nocino. I enjoyed it enough that we started asking after it at a few wine spots around, and while what we found wasn’t nearly as good, it was worth taking home.

We saw two other major sights in Bologna. One was the Basilica di San Petronio, a church bordering one of the plazas near our apartment. Only part of the front face was finished. Legend has it that the Pope of the time wasn’t too happy with it approaching the size and majesty of some other cathedrals, so he put a halt to the project and it remains unfinished to this day.

Outside the Basilica

Inside the Basilica

In a room off the main space of the cathedral were a series of really cool looking old choir books. These volumes were huge to be visible to folks from a distance while singing during services. Even so, the margins were decorated lavishly.

Choir book at the Basilica

It was a constant amazement too, throughout Bologna, all the little touches where things were decorated and gilded, painted and finished in style. The level of detail was so far past what I’m used to in the States, it’s really hard to imagine the world in which the work was done.

Such fancy decorations

Even the ceilings are fancy

The other big destination in Bologna was a set of sculptures of various figures from the Gospels, grieving over the dead Christ. Apparently these terracotta figures may have been painted and arranged different back in the day, but the exquisite way in which their emotions were captured was moving to see.

Some screaming

More screaming

SO MUCH SCREAMING

Our apartment was right across from the Piazza del Nettuno. As the name suggests, this plaza featured a massive statue of the god Neptune.

Neptune in the Plaza

Our cooking instructor Maruizio told us a story about this statue, though. The legend is that the artist originally wanted Neptune’s, well, manliness, to be rather more in keeping with his stature as a god. His patrons, though, refused and so Neptune was crafted in more modest proportions.

The artist, however, got his revenge. If you stand at just the right angle behind the statue, Neptune’s outstretched hand… well, look and see for yourself.

What the artist intended

In the States at least, we often view the past as being some more tame and bland time. I believe the facts of the matter are quite different than that impression.

Ahem

What I read along the way

Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction - Various
The Great When - Alan Moore
Smiley’s People - John le Carré

Europe 2025: Crete

Sun, 03 Aug 2025 00:00:00 +0000

Transport and Accommodations

We landed at Chania International Airport, a small place but not surprisingly so. I mean, Crete’s an island after all, how big of a need was there for airports? We grabbed our rental car just outside the terminal, briefly tried to get the navigation working, but were foiled by “Attaching with USB and starting your navigation app.” We settled on me holding up the iPhone while Google maps did its thing and got on our way.

An oddity we noticed during the half hour drive was how folks perpetually pulled over until their cars were overlapping or even entirely in the shoulder when there was space. Faster traffic then would buzz by in the partial lane. It took a few minutes to realize this was the driving cultural norm, not just some weird tentative driver ahead of us. Amber did her best to follow suit.

Greeks using the shoulder

The JCrete unconference which drew us to the island was held in Kolymbari, off almost to the western tip of Crete. By the time we entered the sleepy little seaside town it was already getting dark. The apartment we had rented was on the furthest end of town towards the Orthodox Academy of Crete (OAC) where the unconference would be held. Following the map, we turned up a narrow one-way street with cars parked along it. The buildings were almost entirely unnumbered, and the map pinned a location that very plainly wasn’t our apartment. We fumbled around for several minutes, walking up and down the street until we realized that a big wooden sliding gate we’d passed by was our entrance.

Our rustic apartment

The apartment was a rustic place. Behind the gate was a porch with a long table, barbecue (which we never ended up using), an outdoor shower, and some loungers. The walls were made of stone which kept it somewhat cool inside, although we did kick the AC on when we were in. The living and bathrooms had plainly been renovated not long in the past, with a nice modern flair that suited the space well.

Modern touches in the apartment

Once we’d dropped the luggage off and gotten the apartment cooling, we trekked out in search of dinner and groceries. There were a couple of small general shops that we’d passed on our way in, and near them some tavernas. We picked the one that looked least bar-like and were pleased with the tasty lamb and, you guessed it, Greek salad. The whole place was pretty slow, and one older man was doing all the waiting, complete with a rattling plastic cart that he used to roll out whatever goodness he was delivering and take the dishes away.

A “feature” of the apartment that we weren’t really prepared for was the cicadas. While present almost everywhere we went in Crete, they seemed to especially congregate on our porch. We referred to it as the “cicada sex club” given it’s popularity. Twice while we were there I wrote a little at the otherwise wonderful outdoor table, but the noise was right on the edge of headache-inducing so we didn’t spend much other time there.

Cicadas getting noisy

JCrete Day 1

The first day I woke up, ate some yogurt for breakfast, and then trooped out past the edge of town and uphill towards the OAC where JCrete was set to begin.

Path up to OAC

JCrete is an unconference. Unlike the traditional conferences I’ve attended in the past, at an unconf there are no planned speakers, no prior agenda, lots of healthy chaos. The day begins with people proposing sessions, which then get voted on, and the sessions with the most votes get scheduled and happen. Adding to the yearly chaos, the rooms were named after Norse mythology. Just what you’d expect for an event in Greece, right?

As the “J” in JCrete suggests, the central programming topic is Java. It had been about a year and a half since I was using much Java in my professional context (moving from New Relic to GitHub meant trading my backend Java for Ruby, TypeScript and a smattering of Go), but I found it was like riding a bike. I quickly immersed, and ended up proposing a couple of sessions even that got selected.

My session that first day was about “Surviving the AI Hype” and was a discussion forum for folks who’s roadmaps are overrun with AI features. I enjoyed the various perspectives on how to work with the hype and not burn out, how to push back when things don’t make sense and engage where the tech fits. Other highlights for the day included hearing about some of the new on-ramp features to make Java easier to start with – less ceremony for getting a program started, no shade to public static void main – and structured concurrency.

Lunches were at one each day, and partners and family, which are highly encouraged to come along to JCrete, were welcome at that point. The food was always an excellent variety of Greek dishes, and the conversation at the tables lively. The first day featured an evening meal at OAC as well, which made for easy planning. Our friends Ben and Anna arrived during the day, and we finally caught up with them there.

The first day of JCrete being about the third day since arriving, the jetlag hit hard in the afternoon. I knew the pattern well enough to struggle through, though, knowing that I’d feel better rested soon.

Unconference planning

JCrete Day 2

The second day at JCrete brought some wonderful sessions exploring new APIs in the JDK – Gatherers and stable variables in particular. The sessions were often just someone interested cracking open an IDE and writing some code live to demonstrate the newness. This was refreshing versus the usual conference polish and prep.

View from OAC

That afternoon one of the other attendees had mentioned that they needed a ride to the airport. Amber and I, being who we are, gladly agreed to give them a ride in the afternoon. Little did we know until following up that Crete has not one, but two airports. And the flight was from the second airport, Herkalion, which was two and a half hours drive away. At least we got a chance to see a large part of the length of the island. In fact, we’ve now seen more of Crete than Ben and Anna, who have attended the conference for years.

In the evening we ate at an Argentine seafood place down by the beach with Ben and Anna. The beachfront road was frequented by a variety of cats who prowled along looking for tasty treats. They hit the jackpot with our crew, who were unable to refuse feeding a cute kitty.

JCrete Day 3

The third day of JCrete had sessions in the afternoon instead of the morning so folks could make an excursion to some beaches. The downside of this plan, though, was that the approach to said beaches was an unpaved road as specifically excluded on our rental contract. That plus the really early start time convinced us to just stay in town and have a late brunch with our dear friends instead.

The sessions for the day included a rousing discussion of low latency Java – largely in the financial sector with high-frequency trading – some retro gaming on the JDK, and a session titled “Java in Space.” Came to find out that while Java is used plenty in mission control software, it is not actually on satellites. I learned a ton though about low Earth orbit, and the complexities of making sure that even in the vastness of space things don’t run into each other, a growing problem thanks to Starlink.

After sessions we spent some beach time, bobbing in the Mediterranean waters which I have missed a ton since moving away from Barcelona. Up at OAC after that a Cretan evening was scheduled, with folk music, dancers, and traditional food galore. And yes, even I was coerced into dancing (badly) as the video shows.

Dancing _cringe_

JCrete Day 4

The final day of normal sessions started back at the standard morning time. There was a discussion of JSON libraries, which I found fascinating coming from other language ecosystems where so much is already in the box compared to Java. I do hope Java gets an equivalent to require 'json'; JSON.parse(...) someday. There was also some solid discussion of observability – a topic still dear to my heart – and a lightly attended session I proposed about writing technical books.

Monastery near OAC

The evening plan was a full barbecue at the OAC put on by members of the unconf planning crew. The food was tasty, and the socializing fun, with little to no threat this time around of dancing.

The JCrete crew

JCrete Day 5

The last day of the unconference many folks had already left, so typical sessions were replaced by a morning of hacking. It was a joy to spend that time across a table from Ben, working first on a proposal for a refreshed version of one of our books, and then jamming on a retro game ported to Java that he’s been trying to get into working order.

Hacking with friends

JCrete was an exceptionally great time. I will admit to being a little leery of how well the unplanned format would work with a large crowd. I’d done it before with smaller groups, but never with a multi-session output. It was surprisingly rich, often insightful, and always fun. Looking forward to attending again in some future year.

Around Crete

While our time on the island centered around JCrete, we did get out a bit beyond driving folks to the airport. After one of the evening events, Amber had looked up loukoumades, and found a restaurant named Kosmas. We dragged Ben and Anna along for the twenty minute drive there one evening. It was an interesting change, heading into the more populated and touristy stretches of Crete closer to Chania. It highlighted just how quiet and secluded Kolymbari was.

We parked on a busy street, found our way into the restaurant, and cracked open the menus. To our dismay, while it listed all sorts of desserts, there were no loukoumades to be found. Mildly panicked, Amber flagged over the waiter and asked after our favorite Greek treat. Apparently, they’re just gifted alongside a meal rather than being ordered – actually a common occurrence at many of the restaurants we visited, although more often it was a flan/custard with citrus and a shot of raki. Fortunately they were willing to sell us the loukoumades as long as we ordered the baklava too. Minor sadness I couldn’t try because I was doing an allergy test excluding nuts which I’d shown some sensitivity too (news flash: didn’t help and I missed pastries in Greece and pistachio gelato in Italy because of it 😭).

Amber vacationing the right way

The other favorite activity was just getting down to the beach and resting. The apartment Ben and Anna had came with loungers and shade on the small strip of beach in Kolymbari, and the ladies spent a good deal of time there. Ben and I joined when we could after sessions, bobbing in the water and talking for hours.

Little shrines were common all over the place

Back in Athens, Amber had spotted an olive wood cutting board at one of our meals. This gave us our shopping quest on the island. We trotted back on an afternoon to the busier part of Chania, looked at a few shops randomly before doing more Googling and finding a place that specialized in just the sort of rich, natural wood products Amber was after. We ended up buying another suitcase to fit that and some gifts that we received from friends. It was worth it though.

Another very Greek thing that happened during our visit was a music festival down by the water in Kolymbari. I’ve called it a quiet sleepy place, but that only holds most of the time. Many of you will be thinking “Oh, did you go to it?” but realize that live music is not Amber’s jam. She’s a wet blanket at almost any concert to begin with. Once the festival got going – about eleven o’clock at night – it was loud enough to rival the cicadas during the daytime. I’m pretty sure checking the clock that it ran until at least 3 or 4 in the morning before finally settling down. Hilariously the next day the apartment owner contacted us and gifted us twenty euros to buy a bottle of wine. I think he was aware just how loud it had been so very late at the festival.

We flew back to Athens briefly, then got our next hop on Ryanair to Bologna. Needless to say, that last leg was delayed, overpacked, and full of angry crowds pushing as if we didn’t all have a seat assigned on the plane. At least it was cheap. You get what you pay for.

What I read along the way

Orbital - Samantha Harvey
Livesuit - James S. A. Corey
Brave New World - Aldous Huxley

Europe 2025: Athens

Thu, 31 Jul 2025 00:00:00 +0000

After more than a decade, Amber and I were finally getting the chance for a long trip without the kids.

Getting To Athens

Our first major destination was Crete, where we’d be attending JCrete. But one does not get to Crete direct from the west coast of the United States. First stop, Athens.

We’d booked with Air Canada, which I’d traveled on before relatively happily. Not too many weeks before the departure date, though, they cancelled a leg of our flight. We had scheduled our classic super-duper early morning departure, but when Amber scrambled on the computer to reschedule she ended up finding something mid-afternoon our original departure day. It ended up losing a partial day in Athens, which will be pertinent later, but was so much more comfortable.

How I feel about early flights

The Portland Airport had some major renovations since the last time we’d been through. The rather narrow check-in area had been knocked way back, making room for a spacious modern layout underneath a ceiling of light wooden shapes that felt very Portland. The drop-off had another major new aspect too – Cora drove us up and dropped us off, as she was staying at home for the duration. Asher had already left the day before and would be splitting time between the grandparents, leaving Cora solo. It was such an odd feeling for my daughter to be doing something so, well, grown up, but the time had come.

The trip itself was uneventful, as one hopes for with air travel. Our route went Portland, Vancouver, Munich, Athens. The only minor hitch was in Munich where we had to go through passport control. Beyond the stations where documents were checked was a glassed in area with some doors marked plainly as “exit only” with lots of red and signs. Yet apparently someone had decided after walking through to turn back around and come back through the doors. This set off alarms, and everyone in the intervening space had to stand around in the shrill, piercing noise for about fifteen minutes until some incomprehensible protocol had been followed releasing us.

With the late departure we got into Athens relatively late. A cab dropped us downtown at our hotel, the Skylark. The air was thick and humid as we got our luggage from the back. The hotel was definitely hipster tinged, mostly in ways that made us Portlanders feel right at home.

Lighting, curtsey of BIRD

The only off note in the hotel environment was in the elevator. It had a full screen in the ceiling with a fancy purple geometric animation running in a loop, and played an annoying dance beat. While the music itself grated a little, it stopped the music every time the doors opened before resuming at the same spot. Any sense of rhythm was entirely lost but hey, folks heading up to the “club” on the top floor might have enjoyed it.

Gotta hand it to them

After we checked in it wasn’t quite late enough to collapse. We keep a firm policy of staying up until 9PM to start kicking the jet lag when travelling. We found a little gyro spot around the corner, got the first of many Greek salads with some fries but failed to order the meat we’d expected. We were so tired that we didn’t bother fixing it and just ate up before heading upstairs to bed.

Did you bring your antlers?

National Archaeological Museum

The breakfast included with the hotel was rather nice, so we enjoyed the morning dining on the many pickled treats, Greek yogurt, and strong coffee. Our plan for the day was to go to the National Archaeological Museum, one of the major places to see in Athens apart from, you know, the Parthenon and all that.

I haven’t studied Greek history a ton, so the museum was very revealing about the many many different eras and regions that we think of now as Greece. The museum had many spacious, open rooms with statuary, leading off then to smaller rooms off to the sides with glassed in cases showing off the antiquities.

Aphrodite giving Pan the chancla

An interesting point to me in looking at all those objects was the wide variety in their quality. Some things were so incredibly intricately crafted, a wonder to look at, clearly something from a different age. Then other items, while so old, honestly looked a bit like you could find them at the Portland Saturday Market without them being out of place.

Ancient jewelry you could imagine buying

And then there were a few bits that, well, I’m not much of an artist but judge for yourself.

Art?

Another oddity was coming upon various things which looked strangely modern, often for reasons that the creator would have had no clue about. For instance, one of the statues, I think maybe of one of the Furies, really just reminded me of some old witch from a Studio Ghibli movie.

Looks like something from a Ghibli movie

And ancient people weren’t above enjoying a little cuteness in their days either.

This hedgehog is chill instead of fast

Having said that, there were some spectacular pieces. The statues were often so lifelike and flowing it was hard to believe they were made of stone. And then down in an open courtyard by the cafe was a fabulous mosaic of the Medusa. The fine detail – and the fact it had held up through all of those years – was amazing to see.

Medusa Mosaic

Overall, it was a solid museum I would highly recommend for anyone making it through Athens.

Got your nose!

After the museum, we set out on a quest. You see, every year the Holy Trinity Greek Orthodox Cathedral in Portland throws a Greek Festival, and one of Amber’s favorite things is a dessert item they serve there called loukoumades. These lovely little fried dough balls, coated in honey and cinnamon, are a yearly treat. It seemed like a miss to come to Greece and not see how the “real thing” stacked up. A little web sleuthing turned up a couple possible locations. The most traditional option, Krinos, was a short walk away so we headed out.

Loukoumades from Krinos

We went in with some nerves. Were we in love with a fake, Americanized version of the treat? But the answer was a resounding “no!” Krinos’ loukoumades came in a slightly different shape – circular rather than the donut hole style we were familiar with – but the light crispiness, the perfect sticky sweetness of the honey, the dash of cinnamon all hit just right.

On the walk back to the hotel we passed a shop with tables out on the sidewalk selling spices. We almost went by, then Amber paused. The salesman started offering advice, asking questions, and in general pulling us in like fish on a hook. By the time we left he’d managed to sell us several different local spices and a couple varieties of local honey – one of Amber’s hobby items to gather when traveling.

Dinner that night was at Karamanlidika. We didn’t get reservations set, and when we arrived we found the corner of the brick building surrounded by quite a few people. We asked and mostly they were without reservations too, and bit by bit folks were being let inside so we lined up.

Tasty Karamanlidika

I’m glad we did. The place was effectively a restaurant attached with an awesome deli. We had a number of classics – fava bean “salad” that was more of a paste but delicious, another typical but delicious Greek salad, lamb meatballs, anchovies in white vinegar and of course a massive charcuterie plate. It’s a deli after all! A lovely red wine to top it off, and we were rolling when we left.

But of course, one cannot just have dinner when traveling. What about dessert? Another of the loukoumades places – called Lukumades wasn’t too far away, so we walked off some of the meal and joined the evening throng down the narrow streets.

Lukumades, new school

Where Krinos, which had been open since the 1920s, represented tradition, this place was all about remixing the classics. You want your loukoumades with filled with chocolate or pistachio? Dipped in some sort of frosting? Served with gelato? Savory instead of sweet with goat cheese? You got it buddy! It was like the Salt and Straw of loukoumades.

Overall I’ve got to say that it wasn’t as good as the originals. However, the same chain did have an outpost at the airport and hey, even not-the-best loukoumades are still loukoumades!

Howdy

Roman Agora and Out

One part of our time in Athens was a failure. We lost most of a day getting there with the flight re-arrangements, and we didn’t realize that the entry to the Parthenon and Acropolis were time-ticketed events. Finally researching when we were in town, we found that there just wasn’t a reasonable time for us to make it to these iconic locations. At least we could see them from a distance.

Acropolis in the distance

Fortunately, Athens has more ruins than just the Parthenon. And in fact, many of them don’t entail hours standing in line, in the hottest part of the day, while climbing huge stairs.

Our chosen backup was the Roman Agora. We didn’t get out of the hotel in a hurry, so it was still very hot near the middle of the day by the time we approached. Following Google maps, we popped to the edge of the site, only to find that the highlighted entrance was closed. It wasn’t obvious at all which way to go, so we picked a direction and started circling around to try and find an entrance. Of course, we picked the wrong way, ending up circling 3/4 of the rather large area before getting, sweaty and already tired, to the entrance.

Sunshine at the Agora

The Agora was beautiful, large with columns climbing up into the sky that really caught a sense of majesty. It’s amazing to think that those were built so many thousands of years ago and still stand.

The long view near the Roman Agora

We made a relatively brief tour of the museum that was there – we were fast approaching the “oh, more old stuff” point in viewing archaeological relics. Backtracking the way we’d walked to the Agora, we grabbed a cafe lunch. The fans at the edges of the outdoor seating really sold it.

From there it was back to the hotel to check out, and a taxi to the airport. It proved to be a frustrating check-in, as there was a whole system for people to self-check their bags but literally no one was doing so and one single attendant was helping everyone by pressing buttons on the self-serve screens. By the time we got to the front we just stepped up to one of the machines and it worked fine. No idea what the holdup was there. That tenor held throughout the boarding process – everyone was packed together a little too tight, and a little fussy and angry as things were delayed. We walked out through the punishing heat, though, boarded the plane and were on our way to the next stop, Crete!

What I read along the way

And Then There Were None - Agatha Christie
The Living Mountain: A Celebration of the Cairngorm Mountains of Scotland - Nan Shepherd
Interior Chinatown - Charles Yu
What Moves the Dead - T. Kingfisher

Harvest Century 2024

Sun, 15 Sep 2024 00:00:00 +0000

An unspoken part of the distance riding scene is the fact that it starts early. This makes a lot of sense given that most of the rides are in summer when the midday heat can be a problem. The more of the ride you get done before noon the better.

A foggy sunrise heading to the start

The Harvest Century, as one of the latest rides of the season, is pretty chilly to start but this year the foggy views kind of made up for it.

Views like this make the early start easier

I first rode the Harvest Century 2011 on a rented road bike (I’d just started with my hybrid which I would soon replace with my trusty Cannondale). Since then the ride has moved its starting point from Hillsboro to Canby, although some bits of the ride still overlap. One common point with many Portland area centuries is a stop off in Champoeg State Park. My family showed up there this year to cheer me on in old-fashioned style.

Go Daddy Go!

Although the hills weren’t as intense as the Ride Around Clark County 2024, there was still plenty of climbing. I’m happy with my time although my rear-end sure wishes my times were closer to the 6 hour marks I used to be capable of.

And we’re done

Here’s to a season of biking in the books. Bring on the next!

Bridge Pedal 2024

Sun, 11 Aug 2024 00:00:00 +0000

One of my long-standing goals is to get more of my family biking. Amber’s had some back issues when trying to cycle before, though, so it mostly falls to the kiddos to try and fulfill those dreams.

The Providence Bridge Pedal seemed like a natural outing to try on for size. Part of that was the relatively short distance – less than twenty on paper, and spoiler alert we ended up doing about eleven. Another part was the view from the top and the chance to ride on full freeways that are normally car only.

Family starting off on the Bridge Pedal

Across the summer I did get out and bike with the kids some in preparation. Evidently I needed to do more, though, as they struggled quite a bit with the long climbs up Portland’s various bridges. While my son’s energy levels can’t be denied, they apparently don’t translate directly to leg strength.

Climbing the bridges is no joke!

We ended up taking a pause and my daughter’s knee (which she’s ended up having surgery on since) bothered her enough for a pickup there. I managed to convince my son to finish through as only one bridge remained, and we did get there in style. Popsicles at the end sweetened the deal, even if it meant standing in some crowds.

My dream of doing some long rides isn’t forsaken entirely, though as both kids are entering their teenage years I’m aware that I have a limited window yet to get them engaged. We’ll see how next year goes, and I’ll start a little sooner training next time around.

Ride Around Clark County 2024

Sat, 27 Jul 2024 00:00:00 +0000

My second big ride of summer 2024 was the Ride Around Clark County. This reprised another ride I did many years ago. I’m pretty sure the course had changed, even in the last few years, and all I remembered was that the original was a solid effort back in the day. The elevation map confirmed that hadn’t changed.

Elevation map of RACC with two big hills in the middle

Those two big humps in the middle scared me a bit. I’m nowhere near the condition I was in a decade ago when I was first riding centuries, so something had to be done. I left my alarm at school-time hour to rise, and used the hour and change before work to start training.

I found a route out my front door that tallied about 10 miles with over 1000 feet climbing. This gave me the sort of routine elevation I needed in a pretty concise amount of time.

Day of the ride was a long drive from Sherwood up to Vancouver where things started. There wasn’t a big crowd at the start when I set off. The course was really nice, with lots of countryside and wooded areas to loop through. In the middle of those gnarly hills was a rest-stop at an old mill beside a creek which was very picturesque.

Old mill at the midway point

Peaceful creek by the old mill

Along the way I met an old guy who was walking his bike up a steady hill. I slowed down to chat a little with him, ask if he needed help. He said that he didn’t, but his hip just couldn’t take the climb anymore. “Thought my knees were gonna go out before my hips, but here we are.” New life goal: be that old grizzled guy on the course toughing it out.

The last rest stop was at a park near Camas. A long climb led away from the park, but the bike lane was generous and comfortable. After that it hooked back west through miles and miles of suburbs, the ground almost perfectly flat. I could tell I was pretty worn out because even this smooth way without more climbing it was a struggle to keep my speed up.

I crawled back into the parking lot where we’d started. After the Pioneer Century ending with everything shut down I was quite glad to find the sandwich line still in action, if a little slim on the pickings. Still ham on white bread has rarely tasted so good.

Europe 2024: Portugal

Sat, 29 Jun 2024 00:00:00 +0000

Lisbon

For years we’d heard great things about Portugal. Finally it was time to check it out for ourselves!

Steep hillside with houses in Lisbon

We took a cab from the airport per usual. At the end of the ride we got our first hint of a problem we’d struggle with across this leg of the trip. The driver insisted there was an extra fee per passenger which hadn’t been mentioned before. But we were tired from the flight, so rather than fight, we rolled with it. Turns out, weird stuff like this kept happening with cabs unless we ordered them on a service like Bolt. Word to the wise, make sure the meter’s running.

Bad vibes only

The neighborhood where we’d rented an apartment was a little rundown but nothing troubling. We schlepped our luggage upstairs in the tiny elevator. Everything was in place, including a little garbage can beside the toilet and prominent signs in multiple languages informing that you couldn’t flush the TP. What? Really? In Europe? This turned out to be common where we went in Portugal, not just a fault of this building’s plumbing.

Lots of cool graffiti though

Another hurdle in Lisbon – quite literally – were the many many hills. We’re very accustomed to walking when we’re traveling. A quick glance at the map often looked reasonable to avoid the cabs. Almost without fail, though, more than a couple blocks would yield steep stairs climbing skyward, hills with charming if ankle-threatening cobblestones, and a sheen of sweat by the time you arrived.

Tiling

Lisbon was, on the whole, a colorful city. A lot of architecture was vaguely similar to Barcelona, but with more bright paint livening it up.

Building with green tiles and a rounded end

Even more distinctive, though, was Portugal’s typical tiling. While not every building was fronted with various tile patterns, almost any walk you’d see at least a couple. In some areas, the tile included images amongst the artistic geometry.

More pictorial tiling

The tiles were common enough, they showed up even in the tourist shops for purchase. Given that Lisbon seemed a little run down at times, this use of tile was a cool counter-balance to what could have been a dreary urban setting.

Tight shot of bright orange tile

Green and red starbursts

Castelo Sao Jorge

In the city, one of the major sights was the Castelo Sao Jorge, crouched on the hilltop. On our second day, we started the hike up to it. Small carts with padded seats kept zipping by us, bringing folks to the castle. Less than halfway up we broke. When an empty cart asked if we wanted a ride, we said sure and hopped on.

View of the city from Castelo Sao Jorge

In the outer courts of the castle, an immediate point of interest was the plethora of peacocks roaming free.

Peacocks at Castelo Sao Jorge

It had been a while since we’d eaten when we arrived, so we grabbed food from a little outdoor cafe inside. This gave us a chance to watch the peacocks. They watched us closely in turn. Hovering endlessly around the area, they clearly expected a hand-out we were quite willing to provide.

Asher feeding the peacocks

The castle contained a museum. Along with that, it also had a camera obscura in one tall tower. While I associate these assemblies of lenses and mirrors to project images with the distant past, this one was only installed in 1998! Still a pretty cool view of the city, though.

Lisbon through the camera obscura

As we were getting ready to go, there was a long set of stairs running downward, the final destination not visible from the top. Asher really wanted to see if it was an exit, even though it wasn’t marked as one. The gals stayed smartly up top, but I trooped down with my energetic son, and guess what? It wasn’t an exit. We climbed back up.

Asher wanted to see where the stairs went

Sintra

Our one big day outside of Lisbon took us to the town of Sintra. There we visited not one but two interesting spots – the National Palace of Pena, and the Moorish Castle. We booked a driver through Bolt at a reasonable price, even going between towns in this fashion.

National Palace of Pena

The Palace was rather busy, with timed entry for folks, long lines for the buses that made the final approach, and people everywhere. However, it was an impressive sight perched up on the hill, with bright yellow walls and complicated stonework everywhere.

Crowded exterior at the National Palace of Pena

The Palace was very much not an ancient castle, “only” dating from the 1850s. This was evident in the size of many of the spaces, which were actually rather spacious. It also showed up in the frequency of bathrooms, which must have been a luxury innovation at the time. The interiors were lushly decorated and a lot of fun to tour through.

Dining room at the National Palace. We weren’t invited to stay.

As we’d seen elsewhere, patterned tiling was all over the National Palace.

Tiled courtyard

Downhill from the National Palace was the Moorish Castle. This was a much older structure, falling apart in many areas. We walked down to it through deeply forested hillsides.

Woods near Sintra

The day was rather cool at the higher elevation. At the castle that didn’t get much better as the winds whipped through with little of the castle body to block the breeze.

Tree growing within the castle

Perched as it was on a hill, the Moorish Castle used its surroundings to good effect. This meant that the walls were nothing like a simple flat rectangle. They swooped up and down in either direction, following the folds of the hilltops.

Stairs down

Stairs up

All the climbing was worth it for the stunning view from the highest points.

View from the Moorish Castle

After we caught a Bolt back to Lisbon, we had it drop us off at the TimeOut Market. We got there late enough the market was largely shut, but a huge open space was devoted to food vendors. We all got to pick what we wanted. Following my meal, I tried out a sampler of different ports which was lovely. The rest of the family took advantage of the gelato situation available. A massive screen in the center of the tall tables was showing the European Championships (~~soccer~~ football, France versus Belgium while we were there, so no one got too rowdy.)

Eating at the TimeOut Market

The Food

As ever, a big part of our time in Portugal revolved around food. We scheduled to take a cooking class. It started with a trip to the Mercado 31 de Janeiro market where our instructor showed us a variety of local vegetables and meats, and gathered up what we’d need for the class. It was a relatively big group, with some hailing from the US and two others from Switzerland (who interestingly spoke the rare Romansh language and filled us in on all the details about it.)

The dishes bore a lot of resemblance to things we’d had and made in Spain, but with some twists here and there. The kids enjoyed blending a gazpacho-like soup and coiling up a fruit rolled cake.

Family at the cooking class

One of the treats that folks talk about in Portugal endlessly is pastel de nata. These are tasty little egg custards in a flaky shell. Easily eaten in a couple of bites, they’re available all over the place. We found a pretty good location for them near the Castelo Sao Jorge. Sadly, we had also just learned of Asher’s egg allergy not long before the trip, which took some of the shine off this delectable treat.

Pastel de Nata

One evening we went to a fado restaurant, which is a classical combination of soulful folk music and good cooking. The spot we chose was probably among the classier places we went on the trip, and the music was engaging even though we couldn’t follow the words which were undoubtedly fraught with meaning. The menu had some lovely steak, pork cheeks, and duck. I also sampled the vinho verde, a local vine variety made with newer grapes giving it a bright flavor.

Probably the highlight of our eating in Portugal, though, was Cervejaria Ramiro. Like many folks, we were aware of this seafood restaurant through Anthony Bourdain who sang its praises for the quality and freshness. He wasn’t wrong. Although it had been many years since Mr. Bourdain visited – and the small spot depicted on the show had now burrowed its way through room after room, level after level of the building it was in – the seafood absolutely delivered. Much of it was offered by weight and there were so many varieties of shellfish it was hard to know precisely what was being picked, but what a lovely problem to have.

Cervejaria Ramiro

It wasn’t uncommon for restaurants to have paper table covering that it was okay to write and draw on. This led to a family hangman habit across the trip. That led to a highlight of my life as a dad when I managed to Rickroll Cora. She then proceeded to respond with games drawn from Monty Python. I may have my faults as a parent, but I’ve done something right.

Can you guess the hangman?

Farewell

That brought us to our final days in Lisbon and Europe for the summer. We encountered then one of the downsides of apartments versus hotels, because our flight wasn’t until the afternoon but we had to leave at eleven. We asked around at a couple of the hotels in the block, but they were rather uninterested in holding bags when we hadn’t taken a room out. Ah well.

Not ready to leave

This led us to the airport many long hours early. We looked at the map and it seemed that a park wasn’t too far away, so the plan was for the ladies to hang with the baggage while I took Asher to get his wiggles out before the long flights began.

Sadly, like many US airports I’m sure, Lisbon had literally no way to walk to or from the airport. We followed every path we could, but there was no way out without walking on huge multi-lane roads that plainly weren’t meant for pedestrians. Defeated, we went back and rejoined the throng of people waiting for their flights.

After that, the flight out was delayed back to Dublin where our primary round-trip tickets were returning home from. We got in super late, and the kids were on the verge of breaking down. We assumed that hunger was part of the reason, but the only thing open was a chippy across the way. We bought a pile of deeply fried, not that appetizing food. It went almost untouched because everyone was so tired. At least we got a bit of sleep before hopping the flights back home the next morning.

Obligatory PDX carpet photo