Notes on Bucharest

Turn of the century architecture in Bucharest

Overall, Bucharest was a wonderfully pleasent surprise. I had expected to enjoy my time with Razvan and the other guys from Gemini, but in my incredible ignorance about the city, I was expecting the worst of soviet architecture and planning. I was not expecting the wonderful old buildings that are woven through the fabric of the city; the efficient and extensive subway system; how clear the air was; and perhaps most surprisingly, how comfortable I was with the affordances made for non-smokers.

I went to Bucharest to visit a group of engineers that I've been working with for the last five years. For the last four years, Razvan, my main contact, has been encouraging me to come visit. For various reasons it never worked out. When I told him that Kate and I were taking this trip, he encouraged us to stop by Bucharest. Thinly veiled were threats that he would hunt me down and kill me if I didn't show up. Unfortunately, the timing was such that Kate couldn't make it, it would have been pretty bad form to meet up with Kate's mom in Vienna, and then one day later take Kate away for three days. So I spent the last three days here enjoying Razvan's and his colleagues' hospitality and discovering the Bucharest that I never really knew existed.

Monday

Arrived in Bucharest, Razvan picked me up from the airport, let me get settled in the hotel, and then it was out to lunch, to the office to meet the guys, to the presidential palace for a Christmas choral show by the Bucharest Children's Choir, and then to dinner with Catalin and Serban.

Tuesday

Razvan picked me up from the hotel and we were off to the Palace of the Parliament. Originally named the Palace of the People. This building was started by Ceausescu as a gigantic monument to the "triumph of socialism", but really it was just a giant monument to his own power. At 270 meters by 250ish meters, and 80 meters tall and 92 meters deep, it is the second largest building in the world, next to the Pentagon. Most interesting fact: when the communist regime fell in 1989, the building was 70% complete, the incoming government decided that it would be cheaper to finish the building (now at 95%) than demolish it. Whether or not they took into account the 2.5 million euro/month electricity bill they're now saddled with is open for debate.

5 ton chandelier in the Palace of Parliament

After lunch Razvan needed to get some work done, so Florin took me over to the Museum of the Romainian Peasent and then showed me a route for a good walk before dinner. The museum was more interesting for the self-reflection in the audio guide that pushed the attendee to think about why the museum did things, than it was for the actual content. The "museumology" (not sure if I just made up that word) was fascinating. The walk afterwards had me go past the American embassy. I wanted to run to the gates, waving my passport and shouting "I'm an American citizen! I'm an American citizen!" but, better judgement prevailed -- how easy is it to get out once you get in -- and I slowly ambled on.

While Walking

Florin took Razvan, Catalin and I out to dinner at Caru Ce Bere on Tuesday night. This is Bucharest's oldest beer house and is a fabulous place for dinner. The space was built in 1879 and while it may have been renovated, modern bathrooms, for instance, it still looks like it is from 1879. It is a grand, large space. Beautififul wooden beams span the walls and ceiling, an open space in the center is used for dancing, a balcony provides a somewhat quieter environment, and the basement (I think the only section for the smokers) is cozier, and made rowdy by a roving troupe of musicians. The dancing rotates through differnet genres, the professional dancers (men and women) change into appropriate outfits for each genre, start off dancing with each other, and then roam through the tables to snatch up diners (usually the diners are somewhat unwilling, until their friends cajoling takes its toll).

Florin ordered for the table, and we were inundated with a very large amount of wonderful traditional preparations of meat, and appetizers that could have served as a dinner unto themselves. A large quantity of beer rounded out the meal.

At one point in the meal, Florin asked me what I thought was most surprising about Bucharest. I stated that I was surprised most by the fabric of the city: I was not expecting the beautiful late 19th century architecture that dominates the older buildings; I was expecting grey communist tower blocks. I turned and asked him, Catalin and Razvan what surprised them the most when they first visited San Francisco.

Florin said that he was most surprised by people's unwillingness to discuss politics once they had determined that their views differed. He was shocked that in this democratic nation people didn't want to hear differing opinions. After living for 30 years under a totalitarian government that didn't permit people with differing views to open their mouths, he found the lack of debate jaded.

Razvan said that he was most surprised by the quantity of mentally disturbed people on the streets. I will note that Razvan was staying on Sutter at about Leavenworth and his first evening, after landing, his evening walk took him south of Geary deep into the Tenderloin. But still, especially compared to what I've seen in Bucharest, the number of the mentally disturbed on the streets of San Francisco is shocking.

And Catalin said, well, I'm throuroughly embarrassed that I got too drunk to remember what Catalin said. But I do remember watching Catalin dance with one of the beautiful dancers in the restaurant. Florin was quite proud of having arranged that.

Wednesday

It was Razvan's birthday on Wednesday. He swore on multiple occasions, when pressed, that he wanted nothing more than to continue showing me Bucharest on his birthday. Apparently, that's more fun than filling out time cards for Cisco -- stupid Cisco.

We started the day at the Cotroceni palace. This was built by King Carol I, inhabited by Carol and his son Ferdinand. The building was built in the late 19th century and the exterior is a wonderful melding of a typical Romanian monastary with Art Nouveau stylings. The inside changes style room to room based on the whims of the royalty: Louis XV, Louis XVI, a Chinese tea room, a Celtic room for the queen of Scottish origin, a Norwegian room for the sake of having a room that looks like the inside of a Norwegian church, and so on.

A wonderful fish lunch was marred only by the annoyance of a Santa Claus doll at the entrance whose motion sensors triggered it into "Merry Christmas. Ho Ho Ho. Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock..." and so on, every time someone entered or exitted the restaurant.

After some drinks with the Gemini crew for Razvan's birthday, he drove me to the airport, dropped me off, and then moped back to the office to work on those darned time cards.

Thanks Razvan! Thanks Florin! Thanks Catalin, Serban, Vlad, Florin, Alina, Maria, Marius and the rest of the Gemini crew! I had a great time, due primarily to your unending hospitality.

Razvan, on his birthday, wearing protective booties over his shoes

Snowing in Venice

Very Romantic, very cold

Anthropomorphism in Venice Part 2

Sorry folks, I can't help myself.

2 glass eyes

Still watches Finding Nemo every night.

Thick as a board.

As a Bernard in Trebeurden would say: No me gusta Hitler.

OK, this is just too obvious.

Winking? Or something stuck in his eye...

All your mug belong to me!

Potty mouth

Free Day in Venice

Free Day in Venice

We have been going to bars for cichetti as our evening meal. It works like this: you saddle up to the bar and order an ombra. They give you basically the equivalent of ½ glass of house wine (unless you specify) and then you point at the sandwiches and snackies (cichetti) on the bar that you want to eat. The sandwiches and snackies are usually between 1 Euro 50 and 2 Euro 50. The ombra of wine about 1 Euro. The food is pretty filling, and often pretty darn good. There is not usually so many vegetables to be had, but otherwise it makes for a fun, cheap, interesting dinner. Well, and there is no sitting, which can be a drag at the end of a tourist day, but still, it is lots of fun. The first night we had cichetti we left the bar full, happy, tipsy with money still in our pockets.

Last night we went to a new osteria/enoteca and the wine was a bit better. Ok, I will be honest, the wine was a lot better. The snackies were pretty amazing too. The man had two different kinds of artichokes for me to snack on. What else do I need in life? We both realized at some point in the evening that this place was undoubtedly going to cost more than the night before, but decided that was ok. It was better food and better wine and if it cost a bit more, so be it. Well, when the bill came it wasn’t a “bit” more, it was 4 times more. We were not expecting that one.

Thus today became “Free Day in Venice” The goal was to rebalance our budget. We decided we were going to see how much we could do while spending very little money. The morning started with both of us eating just a bit more, and a bit healthier at breakfast at the hotel than usual. Then we walked to the Rialto Market and checked out all the food sellers. We were surrounded by gorgeous, exotic and colorful fruit and veggies. We also wandered though the fish market, itself fascinating. I hadn’t see that many kinds of cephalopod since Japan. Finally, we stood for really an inordinately long time outside a butcher inspecting pork products and the occasional dead fowl. I had a moment of deep gratitude that I had a partner who also wanted to spend that much time looking at and discussing pork products. Then, because we could, we spent some time exploring Detective Guido Brunetti’s neighborhood (for the uninitiated, this is the main character of the Donna Leon mystery novels I love). We didn’t exactly search out his street, just got a feeling for the neighborhood. It was cold, so we bopped into a coffee place to get two café Corretos-- mine with Grappa, Andrew’s with Sambuca. Total spent: 2.60. Caffeine and alcohol together. No wonder Italians seem so happy.

After our pick-me-up we visited the Correr museum. In order to get into the Doge’s Palace, you have to buy a museum pass that covers several different museums, thus the visit to the Correr. It ended up being fascinating. We got to see lots of Venetian art, as well as some lovely historical pieces. As always we spent lots of time looking at the old maps both of Venice and that Venetians drew up of the rest of the world. I just loved watching the change in the city over time. We did basically run though the rooms in honor of Venice’s military power. I learned early on this trip that I have no interested in seeing displays of really old weapons. They are usually just a bit disturbing, and excruciatingly boring.

Then it was time for “lunch.” After extensive searching we got a slice of pizza and bottle of water and ate outside in a campo. Workmen were setting up the stalls for the Christmas markets, so it was an entertaining if not restful lunch. We went to a free exhibit on Vivaldi, which included some interesting background on his life, and a collection of violins and other string instruments. Historical musical instruments generally don’t keep my attention too long, but there was one that I swear was an early prototype for a KeyTar, which I found amusing. For me, the best part of the exhibit was the lovely music they had playing. Inspired me to put on some classical music when we got back to the hotel.

We hit a few other “free” exhibits with less success. One was about the Biennale called “works in progress“. We were pretty excited about that, but as it turned out, it was about the renovations of buildings to eventually house Biennale works. So basically, this door here is being moved and this space here is being transformed into a theater, yada yada yada. We also popped into an exhibit about the interiors of buildings that had works from about 6 different artists together in an old church. Considering I already wrote a blog post this week that had to do with penises, it would be best for my reputation if I didn’t continue to describe this exhibit, but I will anyway, cause I can‘t resist. Visiting this exhibit gave us the opportunity to see a wooden pumpkin with a suspiciously shaped stem (think love valley), a statue of the god Neptune, extremely excited as he tamed the sea, and now unrelated to penises, a bright blue decapitated head of John the Baptist. You may be asking yourself, “what do those things have to do with the interiors of buildings?” I have no idea. And to think, we almost missed it.

Finally we popped into an osteria. This one had prices listed, and they were extremely reasonable. We got two ombre of wine and snacked on a few sandwiches. I was leaning over trying to delicately bite off a piece of salmon sandwich when there was a crashing sound, I was whacked by something, and noticed I was covered in white powder. As is my luck, while I was biting away, a piece of decorative bread (it is Italy, and it is almost Christmas, they have that here) fell from its spot above the bar and onto me, then onto the floor. Bad luck and bad timing. It did get the whole bar talking though.

Now it is time for a nap. My feet hurt.

Jewrism

See, look, we do something more than just eat and drink! We learn too!

We toured Venice’s Jewish neighborhood this afternoon. I found a bunch of things to be interesting, and the following are those that I remember.

Origin of “Ghetto”

The Jewish community in Venice dates from the 16th century when the Venetian republic let Jews settle in the city proper. Previously, Jews were allowed in the city during the day for work-related activities, but had to leave each night.

The city chose an outlying island that used to have a metal foundry as the site for the Jewish community. This island was gated and the gates were closed between midnight and dawn. The Venetian word for foundry is ‘geto’ with a soft g sound. When the Jews inhabited the island, they pronounced it (in Yiddish, these were Ashkenazi Jews) as ’ghetto’ with the hard g sound.

Side-note: the Ashkenazi jews settled in Geto Novo (now called Ghetto Novo). This is a very small island, when the Sephardic jews came in the wake of the inquisition, they needed more space, and they were settled on the site of an older foundry, Geto Vecchio (Ghetto Vechio). So, the older Ghetto is on the site of the newer Geto, and vice-a-versa.

Five Synagogues

The Jewish community in Venice worshipped at five synagogues: the German, the Canton (both Ashkenazi), the Spanish, the Levantine (both Sephardic) and the Italian (a synagogue for the Jews descendent from those who came to Rome after the destruction of the temple).

Today’s Jewish community in Venice uses, primarily, the two Sephardic synagogues (the vast majority of remaining Jews in Venice are Sephardic). The Spanish synagogue in the summer and the Levantine in the winter. The other synagogues are used for specific holidays only.

The Second Commandment

The commandment is interpreted by both the Jews and the Muslims as indicating that there should be no representation of human or divine beings. The Christians have decided differently (although as we learned in Cappadocia, the Byzantine church was split over the use of iconic representations).

The synagogues in Venice were architected and built by Christians since the various trades involved in building were not open to Jews. The architect of the Canton synagogue added bas-relief decoration to the room. These pictures depict various scenes from the torah. There are landscapes and objects shown, but no people or animals, since that would violate the second commandment. Therefore there is a picture of Egyptian chariots being submerged in the Red Sea, but no charioteers. There is a picture of the ark being transported, but without any bearers. They are a rather strange set of pictures.

Head Coverings

In Bologna, I had to take my hat off to enter the cathedral. In Istanbul, Kate had to put a scarf over her hair to visit the mosques. In Venice, I had to wear a kipah to enter the synagogues. It’s all very confusing.

Venice

We are in Venice and it is lovely, and quiet, and cold. Not many tourists this time of year and the place has a magical quality.

I am fulfilling my dream of reading a Donna Leon book while actually in Venice. Andrew keeps asking if we need to make a pilgrimage to the Questra (where the hero in all her books works) So far I have said no. There is a cute little video at the end of the post if you want to share in some of the spirit of this place.

Venice singing boat from Kate Bedford on Vimeo.

Anthropomorphism in Venice

Since there aren't many tourists in Venice right now, I've been forced to search for the thought of people in the fabric of the city itself...

This is a French tourist, forever trapped in the wall...

This tourguide has lost his way... frozen in place with no flock to guide...

This dour old man is used to grimacing at all the passing tourists with their big bold guide books, their ugly backpacks and their constant gurgling of English... Why stop when their aren't any tourists at which to frown?

This poor immigrant from Campania has been trying to sell tourist schlock for so long, he doesn't know what to do when the streets are empty...

The police sit around and watch the day pass, kibbitzing with the forlorn gondoliers...

Auntie Fish-lips, in Venice, at Night

Friday: love valley: NSFW

This post is Not Safe For Work. Consider yourself warned.

Written Friday December 10:

I woke up this morning to the sound of wind rumbling though the cave. I decided wind sounds different when it rumbles though a cave than when it rumbled though a wooden house in San Francisco. This wind this morning was a bit more menacing than the wind at home. I rolled over and thought, “bet no one is going ballooning today” I was right. It has been cold and rainy here and we spent most of the day inside reading, writing blog posts, and generally being lazy. We did make it out of the hotel for one short hike though Love Valley.

Love Valley is named “Love Valley” because of the distinctive phallic shaped stone formations found inside. Our balloon pilot pointed it out to us from above yesterday. He said, Turkey is a Muslim country, and therefore the phallic structures are circumcised. We wanted to check this out from the ground. We walked to the entrance of the valley and, let me tell you, very quickly we were surrounded by, well, um dicks. It didn’t take a lot of imagination. The place has a bunch of very tall very phallic looking structures. Some are a little thinker, some a little thinner, but they all have a general feeling of umm, cock-y-ness to them.


If I were a women in a pre-scientific culture I would come to this valley to do my fertility rituals. The hike wasn’t very long, and truth be told, staring at giant phallic shaped stones gets a little dull, especially when it is cold and windy. We decided we had a whole new definition for “rock hard” and walked back to lunch. As we were walking into town we passed this sign. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.

Troglodytic week Thursday Part II: Underground city

Thursday Part II: Underground city
Cappadocia is made from volcanic ash called “Tuff.” It is relatively soft, as stone goes, so it is easy to, say, carve a church out of the rock, or carve homes into the caves. It is also, apparently, relatively easy to carve deep into the ground. Around 4000 years ago, Hittite peoples in the region dug entire underground cities. After ballooning, we went to Kaymakli. This underground carving was used by successive civilizations after the Hittites as a place of retreat when under military threat. It is 5 stories deep, it has living rooms, light wells, wineries. It is a complex place. It is also, to someone with a slight bit of Claustrophobia, totally terrifying. It took two mini buses to get there, but we arrived at Kaymakli still high from our balloon flight. We were beginning to crash a bit, and giggled that we probably wouldn’t stay respectably long. We are often a little embarrassed at how quickly we go through museums and historical sites. We guessed we would stay just under an hour. Andrew checked the time. Then we used the bathroom, bought tickets, talked with someone who wanted to be our tour guide (no thanks) and walked the distance to the entrance. As we walked down into the entrance I thought, “hey this is pretty cool.” Then we went in deeper. Once I got a few rooms into the complex I realized I was stuck, underground, in a dark ancient place with only one exit, and didn’t know where that exit was. To be fair there is a “path” marked with red arrows.
If you follow the red arrows you will see a lot of the city and eventually end up outside again, the question was how long would that take? To move between rooms you have to bend over as you walk (I have started singing, “walk like a troglodyte” to the tune of Walk Like an Egyptian, it enhances the experience around here) I got into a largish room, took a deep breath, and found a Spanish family with two little kids. The kids were really excited to be playing in caves. They didn’t seem freaked at all. (Granted, they didn’t have to bend over to walk either)

I told myself that if the kids were having fun, I was having fun. Plus, I didn’t want to start panicking in front of them; that would be bad. Andrew and I followed the family through the rest of the rooms, climbing into side rooms and noticing how elaborate this “city” really was. The little boy in the family thought it was really cool that there could be ghosts down in the caves and tried to make ghost noises. Well, if there is one thing that Andrew is truly excellent at, it is making booming deep ghost noises. The little boy loved it.

We took a video to give you an idea of the scope and feel of the place. Andrew kept hitting his head on the tunnel tops, it really was hard to navigate.

Kaymakli underground "city" from Kate Bedford on Vimeo.

Finally, I started to sense a literal “light at the end of the tunnel” I tried to stay calm, no point in panicking after I made it this far. We finally exited and took a deep breath. The kids were still excited posing for pictures with their dad on the rocks. We walked to an open area nearby to try to calm our nerves. We tried to make it look like we were just checking out the outside of the complex rather then breathing though panic. We looked at our watch. It had been 35 minutes from when we checked it last. My best guess is that we lasted just under 25 minutes underground. That was plenty long enough.



Now we are staying in a cave, but the experience is very different from being in Kaymakli. I thought I would do a side by side comparison.


Our Cave ………….Their Cave
High ceilings ………low ceilings (Andrew’s head may never be the same)
Windows to the outside ………….5 story ventilation shafts
Designed for fun and tourist romance …….. Designed as retreat when under attack
Modern bathroom facilities……… You don’t want to know
Carpark just outside……….underground stables
Lots of people waiting to help you with whatever you need……….lots of people outside trying to kill you

Troglodytic week Thursday Part I: Ballooning

Thursday was a big big day. It was balloon ride day. We have been hearing about the extraordinary experience of ballooning in Cappadocia since October. Every friend who had been to Turkey recommended it. We were going for it.

The trip left at 6am from our hotel. The proprietor told us to be there at 5:45. In true Andrew and Kate style we were waiting in the lobby at 5:30. It was dark, it was quiet. And it is time for a digression: I am allergic to cats. I dare say I am freakishly allergic to cats. However, and this is horrible, I love cats. I did something bad in a past life and I am being punished. Turkey has been especially challenging because it is full of cats. Most of them are street cats and a little grimy, so it is possible to resist the temptation to play. This hotel, however, has three charming cared for OUTDOOR cats that tempt me. One will jump into my lap of I am sitting outside and dare to uncross my legs. There is this little kitten, named by a fellow guest Kelebek (butterfly in Turkish) that is my downfall. This little creature is so delicious and loving and coy and endearing I find myself forgetting how allergic I really am. It was cold, Thursday morning, and Kelebek had found her way into the warm hotel. She was hiding from any staff who would kick her out. She was being as cute as possible so Andrew and I would play with her, or at least not kick her out into the cold. She jumped into his lap, he put her down. She got onto the table and looked up at us. He put her down. She purred. I felt like I was in some part of Dante’s inferno: cute kitten tempting the allergy stricken. I mean REALLY, does she have to be that dang cuddly? I went downstairs to take a Zertec and then the balloon pilot came and picked us up. It was still dark outside.

We had some coffee, a few snacks, and met our other balloon riders. We quickly bonded with a mother and daughter team, Liz and Pam from Sydney. The other ballooners were locals and didn’t speak English, so not a lot of opportunity for bonding there.
The sun was starting to come up and we drove to the take off location. I forget how different everything looks at sunrise. It made me want to wake up that early again sometime. A team of guys started blowing up the balloon. It was cold outside, but the fire was hot and kind of thrilling. I was clasping my flip video trying to get every second. Andrew had the still camera. By the end of this experience he had taken 244 pictures. I have looked at them on several occasions now and I dare say they are 244 of the most stunning pictures I have seen. I don’t want to erase any of them. (if you would like to look at some or all of the 244 here is the link to our Picasa album. I think the only picture I don't like is this one of the red and white balloon. Promise they get better) http://picasaweb.google.com/andrewrobbins/GoremeBallooning?authkey=Gv1sRgCOrS78f55c-_fg#


When the balloon was finally up we climbed into the basket, and this is the amazing part, started to float away. We started on a ridge above the valleys, so our first view was high above it all. We could see other balloons in the distance (I counted 20, our pilot told me in summer there are up to 70) closer to the ground. We floated up, and then over, using the currents of air to direct us. Out pilot periodically would rotate the balloon so everyone could see every angle. I periodically glanced over at Andrew who was totally enraptured. At one point we floated down so close to a ridge that we brushed the scrub. Out pilot said that in the summer they pick apricots from the trees as they pass. Winter prevented this, but it was still pretty darn cool. From up high we could see how the wind had shaped the valleys over thousands of years. We could also see our hiking paths and retrace our steps from the last few days. We could see the pigeon valley with its high pigeon coups carved out of the rocks. We could see the rose valley with its red colored rock. We even found the church we had visited.


As we made our descent it started to get cold. As long as the heaters were going full steam to keep the balloon up in the air the basket stayed a pleasant temperature, but without the heaters I wished I had more clothes, a lot more clothes. Descent took a long time, we floated out of the valleys to a more open area of fields. We could see the trucks driving down the country roads getting ready to met us. Before we took off the pilot had showed us “landing positions” holding onto straps and bending our knees. As it turns out our landing was gentle and perfect and directly onto the back of the truck. No landing position needed. We climbed out of the basket and had some Champaign as we watched them deflate the balloon. At this point I was so pathetically cold I started doing jumping jacks and the pilot gave me his jacket, very chivalrous.

After we relaxed a bit the guys packing up the balloon ran and grabbed the mother of our mother-daughter co-riders. They picked her up, squealing, and threw her on top of the balloon, basically using her weight to stuff the balloon into its container. Then they got the daughter, then they got me. We giggled and eventually climbed out. It was time to go, we got back into the car and drove to the hotel. It was breakfast time and the hotel was buzzing with folks getting ready to leave for the day. We drank a lot of coffee and told everyone how much fun we had.

Troglodytic week: Wednesday, Rose Valley

Wednesday we hiked the Rose valley, named for its rose colored rock. Rose valley is very close to Pigeon valley, yet it seemed like we had traveled to a different country. We still hiked though the occasional cave and scampered up rock formations, but the plants, birds and rocks were strikingly different. Rose valley also has some ancient cave churches and we were able to pop into one, Hacli Church, or Church with the Cross.
It almost felt like we discovered it ourselves. The frescos on the walls date from the 9th century. There is something sacred about these small, intimate churches perched up in the caves. The frescos have been defaced, almost all the faces have been scratched out, but you can get a sense of their former glory.

The hike included some steep inclines and some rock formations that were just begging to be climbed on. It was scamper-tastic.

We had lunch in the town of Cavusin. We were pretty beat and haggard by the time we made it to Cavusin and I was HUNGRY. As we were dragging ourselves into town I got worried, what if all the restaurants were closed because it is low season? What if we had to do the whole walk back without lunch? We stopped to admire a cemetery and listen to the call to prayer. When I am out hiking and hear the call to prayer I often find myself thinking, “ok, I can take a minute to be reverent right now, thanks for the reminder.“ A man on the side of the road recommended a lunch place to Andrew. We walked to it. It looked pretty darn closed. We walked in anyway. The proprietor was in the kitchen when we came in and looked concerned when he saw us. With some sign language we determined that no, the restaurant was not really open, but he was making soup and if we wanted soup and rice we could have it, but we were going to have to wait for it. We gave him the thumbs up and took a seat. About 10 minutes later he brought out the best chicken soup I have every eaten. It was perfectly spicy and hearty and warm.

I ate all of it and then mopped the bowl with bread. While we were eating a long table full of workman came in for lunch. They had been building nearby and about 8 of them sat at once and also wolfed down the soup. Then they (and this part is important) went outside and had a smoke with tea. Then they played with this extremely large cute dog. I decided that I am still in doggy-fear rehabilitation, so I should go meet the dog and make a friend. The men playing with the dog kept telling me 4, 4 this dog, 4. I thought OK, so this dog is 4 years old, ok. Then they said, baby baby.
That is when it hit me, this dog was 4 months old. At this point Andrew needed to come out and meet this baby.

Even though lunch was delicious and somewhat restorative, I made us walk the direct non-hilly route back to the hotel. We fell over when we finally made it to our rooms and took long and much needed showers.

This is the fireplace in our cave room. Excellent for relaxing after a long hike.