The Indie Travel Challenge, week 2: "What is an indie traveler?"

So here we are. Week two of the indie travel challenge. This week's prompt is a question I knew would arrive sooner or later, but I was hoping it would arrive later rather than sooner. The question is: what is an indie traveler? And my problem with it is: why do we always feel the need to define everything?

Defining an indie traveler is pretty mucg impossible, in my humble opinion. There are as many types of indie travelers as there are travelers. So who am I to say that I'm indie and someone else is not?

Of course there are those who consider themselves better than most because they go to the most exotic, hard to reach, unknown spots of the world and kind of look down at anyone who would get excited about going to any place where you can get a hot shower and a decent bed. And there are also those who would never leave the beaten path, who would never try whatever food the locals eat (unless they are in Italy or France, that is) and are afraid of getting robbed pretty much everywhere.

Those, of course, are extremes. Then there's a whole bunch of us who are somewhere in between. Who like nice hotels and crowded hostels just the same, who like to explore less traveled by destinations, but won't disdain a touristy museum or monument. We would love to take a whole year off and go travel around the world, but for a number of different reasons -both financial and personal- we just can't do that right now, so we have to travel when we have time off, or suring weekends or even explore our own town on a Saturday afternoon.

Does that make us indie travelers? I think so. Being an indie traveler is more of a state of mind rather than a collection of stamps on your passports. Is that need to go and see what the rest of the world is like, no matter if the rest of the world is 10 or 1000 miles away.

Merry Christmas!

I wish you all a happy Christmas and a wonderful 2012... and I also want to thank all of you who have read my blog and been part of my adventures this year!

Things I loved about Prague

Back from 48 hours in Prague, Czech Republic. The place is absolutely fantastic, so great I wish I could have stayed there at least twice as long. To see the whole photo album, here's a link you can use even if you are not on Facebook.

Prague ham... at all times of the day, even for breakfast. Alwaya accompained by creamed horseradish and a Pilsner Urquell beer. The smokiness of the ham goes together well with the smooth, bold pils. A breakfast (or lunch, or snack) made in heaven.

Gorgeous, colorful houses in Mala Strana and Stare Mesto, the two oldest neighborhoods in town. One on each side of the river Moldava, they are so pictoresque they almost look fake. The best thing about them is they are 100% real.

Old Town Square and its Astronomical Clock looking dramatically beautiful. The square has been the heart of Prague since the 10th century.

Amazing doors and doorknobs that lead into even more amazing churches and sinagogues.

A Middle Ages themed tavern, where the waiter slams a tray full of grilled meat in front of you and says "Eat with your hands!"... what's not to love about that?

Art Deco everywhere. I swear, you cannot turn your head without bumping into some of it.

The travel bug

...I admit it. I'm sick. The travel bug is back, stronger and meaner than ever. This time it looks like it's going to take over my body, my mind, my whole life worse than the other times before.

It got into me a little bit last year, but the problem was I had no freaking money to travel with, so I couldn't do too much about it. Then I got a job and, almost instantly, I started itching for some more travel. New destinations. New adventures. Even if just for a weekend.

Then this morning, while I was looking for a my scarf, I came across a travel wishlist I had scribbled when I first moved to Switzerland, a year and a half ago. I have it here, on my desk. And it makes me smile, because it's awesome. But it also makes me want to pick up my crap and just go.

Seriously, every time I walk by the Lugano train station I feel this urge to jump on a random train and go wherever. But since working is a necessary condition to have money for traveling, I won't do it. What I will do is make sure I go to each and every place on my list as soon as possible.

EUROPEAN TRAVEL WISHLIST

Lisbon, Portugal
Madrid, Spain  (July 2010)
Barcelona, Spain  (August and October 2010)
Bilbao and San Sebastian, Spain
Stockholm, Sweden  (February 2011)
Dublin, Ireland
Oslo, Norway
Tallin, Estonia
Bruxelles, Belgium
Bruges, Belgium
Amsterdam, Netherlands
Prague, Czech Republic (going next weekend!)
Copenhagen, Denmark
Ljubljana, Slovenia
Krakov, Poland
Berlin, Germany  (October 2011)
Reykjavík, Iceland
Sicily, Italy
Belgrade, Serbia
Croatia
Greek Islands  (July 2011)
Istanbul, Turkey
Zurich, Switzerland

Things I loved about Berlin

The Riverside Lodge Hostel, Berlin's tiniest hostel. And I'm not exaggerating: it consists of two rooms and two bathrooms, all spotless and clean, with cool murals and a super nice host, Enrico. The bed was comfy and warm and I loved how everyone had to take their shoes off at the hostel entrance.

Art on every wall, around every corner. Even at a small playground in the middle of the Turkish quarter. My playground, as a kid, never looked this cool.

Beer gardens. Despite the temperature (it barely broke 50F during the warmest hours of the day) everyone enjoyed sitting in the sun, sipping on a good, cheap, draft beer. 

The incredible architecture. The Berliner Dome and the Alexanderplatz needle are just two of the many amazing buildings you see as you stroll down the roads in Berlin.

Street vendors still capitalizing on Berlin's DDR past, selling CCCP flags and other (fake) communist memorabilia to tourists. 

The sky over Berlin. No wonder Wim Wenders named his movei, Der Himmel uber Berlin, after it. It's temperamental and dramatic, just like the city below it.

Branderbourg Gate. Because seeing it on tv is one thing. Hanging out below it, remembering people cheering for their newfound freedom in 1989 is priceless.

Amazing city sunsets, which are always my favorites. Because let's face it: it's easy to see a great sunset on an island in Bora Bora, but it's much more scenic when you see a monument in the way.

The East Side Gallery, aka what remains of the Berlin Wall. Hundreds of incredibly gifted artists from all over the world have contributed to transforming a symbol of repression into one of freedom and hope. 

Street musicians, playing, singing and smiling despite the cold Northern wind that blew relentlessly throughout the day.

Feeling part of a history that, until now, I had only seen on tv and read in books. 

Impromptu art galleries placed in abandoned buildings, where mostly homeless artists place their sculptures and live together.

Paying my respects to the victims of the Holocaust. A sobering experience that anyone who's visiting Berlin should partake in.

Drinking beer for breakfast. Scratch that: drinking incredibly good, tasty German beer for breakfast, and not being the only one in the bar to do so.

And most of all, hanging out with my old friend Cass, who invited me to meet her in Berlin while she was visiting the city. 

This time tomorrow...

...where will we be?
On a spaceship somewhere sailing across an empty sea
This time tomorrow what will we know?
Well we still be here watching an in-flight movie show
This time tomorrow what will we see?
Field full of houses, endless rows of crowded streets...
(The Kinks)

This time tomorrow, I will also be a year older. When I wake up tomorrow morning I'll be 31, which will feel kind of weird since I have just recently gotten used to be 30.

Not to mention that 30 was extremly good to me. One of the best years of my life, actually. I would have never expected it, mostly because I spent all of last summer dreading turning 30. Then, on the eve of my birthday, my car got towed in Milano and I had to spend several hours and hundreds un Euros to get it out of the impound lot. That's when I figured out that 29really  sucked (for more than just that reason, of course, but i won't bore you here with why it was one of the worse years of my life) and that, well, I couldn't wait to be 30.

So on September 29th last year, I woke up in a great mood, feeling that 30 would be a great year.

Turns out I was right.

30 was a great year.

And this time tomorrow I'll be 31. I have a good feeling about it. We'll see.

By the way, I strongly suggest you listen to The Kinks' song. It's awesome: http://youtu.be/AtNP5U_Khd0

A new project, a new beginning

Please, take a minute to check out my new project, 365: a year in picturs. Today I posted my first picure... and I'm looking forward to a year of (hopefully) good photography. Enjoy!

An update

 I'm still alive. There's reasons why I haven't posted anything in a long time. The first one being that I've been on a diet, so there wasn't anything exciting going on in my kitchen for a while. But I promise I will start cooking and posting again soon. In the mean time, I have been enjoying the end of spring and the beginning of summer. I love this time of the year here on Lake Lugano. I mean, look at that mama swan carrying her baby on her back... I had never seen anything like that before.

 I've also been writing some articles for a local newspaper, which is nice because I really missed writing. For a job, I mean. And because of that I got to attend some pretty cool concerts in the area. I've also been going to Lugano a lot because in the summer there's a free outdoors concert pretty much every night. Lugano in the summer rocks.

And last but not least, I've started bartending at the local pool bar, the Lido di Bissone. Pretty, isn't it? Summer is off to a great start, I can tell.

Vegetarian for a month

Everyone knows I love meat. Pork especially in all its forms —from tenderloin to prosciutto— but also beef, especially when it's raw like in carpaccio and steak tartare. Heck, I even like poultry, which most of my family members despise. So to go vegetarian for a month is quite the challenge for me. I have to be careful not to munch on cold cuts when I'm out drinking an aperitivo. I have to remember not to order tartare when I'm out. I have to give up most of my favorite recipes and discover new ones that showcase vegetables and seafood, which is a good thing I guess. And another good thing is that I will have the perfect excuse not to eat the damn Easter lamb this year. I really don't like it, so I'm excited about having a great way to say 'thanks, but no thanks' without offending anyone.

Other than that... it's going to be a long month. I decided to do this for one main reason: to cleanse my system a little bit. It's part of my quest to be healthier this spring, since I kinda overindulged during the winter. But it's hard. Today it's my fourth day without meat and already I'm dreaming of it. I wonder if it will get easier as the days go by. I wonder if I'll like it so much that I'll end up being a full time vegetarian. I doubt it, but who knows?

Happy 2011!!!

The New Year is here. So happy new year everyone!

2010 wasn't a bad year, but it wasn't great either. It was definitely different and it brought lots of changes in my life, some orchestrated by me, some imposed to me by others. But all in all, because I'm a firm believer that change is always good, 2010 was a fairly good year. 2009 was shitty, 2010 was ok... does this mean that 2011 will be awesome? I sincerely hope so. I could definitely use some awesomeness right now. I'm sure that it will be another year of great changes —after all the future belongs to  those who keep moving— and hopefully it will bring me peace of mind and financial stability, two things I need greatly.

Merry Christmas!

Wishing all of you a very Merry Christmas 

from my kitchen to yours!

The 2010 Thanksgiving challenge... cooking the meal in a small European kitchen (without breaking any of my bones)

So yes, this year Thanksgiving is going to be a bit of a challenge. A double challenge, actually. First of all, I have to cook the whole meal by myself —which I know from experience can be extremely tricky. Also, I'd like to cook my Thanksgiving dinner without breaking a knee, which I managed to do last year. Thank God I broke it towards the end of the cooking process, so all there was left to do was making the gravy. So when I slipped and fell and broke my left knee my first words were "Who the hell is going to make the gravy now?" So despite the fact that my knee had swollen to double its size, despite the pain, and despite the fact that my mom wanted to take me to the ER, I braved it. They sat me down in the kitchen with ice on my knee, my leg up in the air and a vodka martini in my hand to ease the pain. From there I barked orders to the rest of the party, which won me the nickname "kitchen nazi". 

Dinner was fabulous, by the way, and I truly enjoyed it even with my broken knee. 

But this year, I'll try to make my Thanksgiving dinner a little less eventful. I've invited about 12 people. If they all show up it will be my biggest Thanksgiving so far, so I have a lot of planning to do, especially because this tiny kitchen was not meant for big gathering. But, well, who cares? I hope I can pull it off. 

So here's the official menu I've decided to make. Brace yourselves. 

Homemade pate'

Creamy mushrooms phyllo triangles

Clams Casino

Roasted chestnut soup

Roasted turkey with truffle gravy

Cranberry sauce

Stuffing with sausage, fennel and apples

Mashed potatoes with goat cheese and chives

Sauteed carrots with sage

Roasted cauliflower with fresh herbs

Apple pie

Just writing it down is scary. The thought of actually cooking it... well, it's scary. And exhilarating. We'll see what happens...

Of carpaccio and memories

Memory is tricky. And I'm not talking —as many of those who know me might think—of the kind of memory trickiness that makes you remember your fifth grade best friend's phone number —236024— and not how Faraday's cage works when your Physics professor asks you in the 11th grade.

I'm talking about a different kind of memory. I'm talking about the truest, more pure kinds of memory. The kind that is spontaneous. The kind that is not summoned. The kind that is, pretty much, a mere reflex.

Take a simple red plastic comb, resting on a wooden shelf, next to a vintage shaving kit. I rested my eyes upon it for a few seconds tonight, as I was drying my hair. And all of the sudden I felt an odd wave of affection towards both them cheap comb and the vintage shaving kit. They used to sit by the bath tub in the house where I grew up, and I used to see them on a daily basis. What I found funny tonight, as I was trying to get excess water out of my hair, is that I've been here since April 22nd, and only tonight, more than two months later, did I notice these memorabilia from my childhood. Of course the house I'm staying at right now is not that same house I grew up in, because in the mean time my parents have moved —here first, to the US afterward— but this house in Switzerland is filled with a lot of random objects that belong to them and that, for one reason to another, didn't quite make it to the "let's take these to Florida" list.

Nevertheless, they are cool. Nevertheless, they make me feel cozy, and happy, and somewhat safe in the knowledge that you can indeed come and go, and travel around the world, and then come back to find that some things have never really changed. Like my grandma's china in the cabinet or a picture of a 5-year-old me staring at me from a frame that is almost 25 years old. The house, although not big especially by American standards, is literally permeated with my parents' and grandparents' history.

For crying out loud, I cannot even go to the bathroom without remembering when my mom used that red comb to comb my hair ("Don't tell dad, we used his comb or he'll complain that we leave hair in it") or when, as a teenager, I would still my dad's super sharp, three blade razor hanging from the the little vintage shaving stand to shave my legs ("Mom, don't tell Dad, or he'll complain that the blades are dull").

Then there are all the other rooms. The bedroom where I sleep, in the very same bed I slept in back then. Some glasses in the kitchen that actually pre-date me. The Encyclopedia Britannica, mocking me from a shelf in the living room: you'll never know enough, as I mock her back: you'll never be updated enough.

All these trips down Memory Lane, of course, have some effects. One is that, never before I've felt more like a teenager than I do now. And I'm not only talking about the lack of job and the bizarre sleeping habits. I have also started eating like a teenager again. And before you picture me scarfing down McDonalds and washing it down with gallons of coke, let me tell you: I never ate crap when I was growing up. But I did eat a lot more pasta then I have eaten later on in my 20s and these days I'm eating tons of it again. And I'm loving it. Which explains why I've been posting so many pasta recipes lately. The other related effect is that I have been cooking Italian recipes only, like they were going out of style. No Asian food. No Mexican. Very unlike me, but —hey— it's the truth.

So here's another one. A non recipe really, since all you have to do to make carpaccio is buying it, placing it on a large dish, cover it with arugola and shaved Parmesan and drizzle it with salt and olive oil. But it's delicious and definitely worth trying.

The Wandering Cook turns 1 today!

...and this, in case you are wondering, it's me turning one many, many years ago. The one on the left is my great-aunt Maria, while the one on the right is my grandpa Andrea. I had never noticed how perplexed I look in this picture —I'm guessing either the cake or the flame had caught my attention while my mom was talking this picture. My blog and I don't share the same birthday, nor we have the same chubby cheeks, but I couldn't come up with a better image for a first birthday because, unlike many other bloggers out there, I really didn't feel like making a cake to celebrate the fact that I actually followed through for once in my life and kept writing for a whole year.

I have many good reasons for not wanting to make make. If you want to hear a couple of them, here they are:
I'm lazy.
I don't overly like cake.
Who the hell was going to help me eat a whole cake since I live by myself?
Good reasons, right?

Anyhow, when I posted about risotto alla milanese exactly a year ago I had no idea what writing a food blog would be like. I wasn't even sure I was going to keep doing it for a whole year because I know myself and I know how fast I lose enthusiasm and interest in things. But I kept writing and posting about food and about my life as the days turned into weeks and months, and as life kept happening around me. Many things have happened in these 12 months —some very good, some very bad, some insignificant, some life-changing—but food, and cooking, have always been there for me, making happy moments even happier and making the sad and crappy ones more bearable. And then, of course, there's you, my readers, that have come to read me and left comments that kept me cooking and writing even when I didn't much feel like blogging.

So thank you, to all of you, wherever you are.