The Institute of Appropriate Priorities

Easter Island Odds and Ends

Sat, 18 May 2013 10:30:40 -0400

Mandatory sunset shot

Fallen

Dry stone work

Speechless

Not how archeologists think the Rapa Nui did it

Rev the engine and surf your way into the harbor

Honored in three languages

Imported wildlife

Obsidian looking for a tire

Modern Rapa Nui monuments

Easter Island Odds and Ends

Easter Island Scenery and Ecology “To be an ecologist is to live...

Fri, 17 May 2013 10:30:51 -0400

There should be seabirds all over these islets. There aren't.

Lakes in volcanic craters like this one were the only source of fresh water for the Rapa Nui--no streams

These reeds were here before humans arrived, proving Thor Heyerdahl's theory of South American contact wrong.

Easter Island was formed by a volcanic hotspot, like the Hawaiian Islands, with cones everywhere.

Just pretty.

The road from Hanga Roa to Ahu Tepeu. Littered with obsidian shards.

Scotland?

Not much life on these rocks.

Tropical butterflybush, a milkweed from South America.

Easter Island Scenery and Ecology

“To be an ecologist is to live in a world of wounds,” observed Aldo Leopold. Easter Island is so wounded, it’s hard to find its ecological pulse. All the native trees? Gone. All the native birds? Extinct. One of the world’s largest seabird colonies? Wiped out. A couple of lizards? Forgotten. Soil? Eroded away. There never were any native mammals—this is, after all, one of the most isolated places on the planet.

Why did this ecological disaster happen? The mystery of Easter Island has haunted scholars for decades and spawned numerous and often contradictory explanations. The latest can be found in Jared Diamond’s Collapse (“not his best book” says Claudio, our archeologist guide). Whatever the ultimate causes—war, overpopulation, little ice age, runaway moai building, rats—the ecological and human disaster was complete. Then, in the ultimate ecological insult, the Chilean government allowed the island to be used as a sheep farm, which is the end stage of degraded landscapes all over the world, from Greece to the Scottish highlands.

Which is what the scenery actually reminds me of. Stark, austere, forbidding, harsh—these aren’t words that usually apply to Polynesian paradises. Yet a drive across the island or a walk along the cliffs reveals an island mostly covered with volcanic rock, grasslands, the occasional plot of Australian eucalyptus trees, and other alien species from everywhere but Easter Island. I saw just three species of birds—a small hawk and a small finch from Chile, and pigeons. I saw more rainbows than seabirds (one albatross). I did see a couple of mammal species—cows and horses, still grazing freely.

“Much of the damage inflicted on land is invisible to laymen,” added Aldo Leopold. But the damage inflicted on Easter Island is obvious to everyone, not just ecologists. Easter Island teaches us all that land can be pushed just so far. Ultimately, my visit to Easter Island is tinged with great sadness—for the people who created such wondrous monuments, and for the land and its creatures. Both are gone forever. Will we learn the lesson?

Easter Island Dwellings I should have paid more attention to the...

Thu, 16 May 2013 10:30:32 -0400

Dwellings at Orongo ceremonial village

Inside an Orongo dwelling, courtesy of a sympathetic Park Ranger

Dwellings old and new near Ahu Tahai.

Dwellings at Ahu Tahai

Elliptical stone foundations and round dwelling at Ahu Tepeu

Ruined dwellings at Ahu Tepeu (the ruined Ahu is in the distance)

Cave entrance off the road to Ahu Tepeu

Mysterious platform inside the cave.

Adjacent shallow cave with apparent fire circle.

Easter Island Dwellings

I should have paid more attention to the guide. After all, he’s just the guy who restored the sights he’s showing us. And he knows more about Easter Island than just about anyone in the world. Perhaps a little too much. In any case, I (along with some others) tended to wander off and explore. So most of what I know about Easter Island is from Wikipedia.

Which says that the Rapa Nui had three kinds of houses—grass huts with elliptical stone foundations, round stone houses, and stone versions of the grass huts. The last are found at Orongo Ceremonial Village, home of the bird man cult, which islanders followed after the end of the moai building period. The stone houses, at least, have very low ceilings (as does the unnamed cave I explore). Although the Rapa Nui were presumably shorter than most of us today, I certainly hope they spent a lot of time outside.

Easter Island Heads IV: Ahu Tahai Complex and Ahu Tepeu Easter...

Wed, 15 May 2013 10:30:47 -0400

Ahu Vai Ure

Ahu Ko Te Riku

Ahu Tahai proper

One of these things just doesn't belong here.

Ahu Tepeu. I am Ozymandias.

Ahu Tepeu ruins. Note moai (from 10 mile distant quarry) is different stone from ahu (local).

Weathered and eroded moai at Ahu Tepeu.

Easter Island Heads IV: Ahu Tahai Complex and Ahu Tepeu

Easter Island is rimmed with ruined ahu and moai, hundreds in all. Most are inaccessible except by walking. Fortunately the dirt road from Hanga Roa, where I’m staying, winds easily along the ocean’s edge. Just outside the town is the Ahu Tahai complex, consisting of three restored ahu with moai, including one with restored eyes. The restoration was completed in 1972 by archeologist William Mulloy, who is buried on the site. The road meanders through an austere, even bleak, lava rock landscape broken up by pasture. It’s not very well traveled; I see only a half dozen cars in two hours. After ambling about three miles from Hanga Roa, I come upon the unrestored complex at Ahu Tepeu, including ruined dwellings and a large ahu. At first I have a hard time telling the Rapa Nui work from the natural lava stone, since it’s all the same color. Almost overlooked on the seaward side of the ahu are two broken moai. Only a relatively small head survives of one; the other is quite weathered and broken into three pieces. I’m alone at the site for a good 30 minutes, time for a solo lunch—except for the silence and ghosts, of course.

Easter Island Heads III: Anakena Beach and Ahu Nao-Nao Anakena...

Tue, 14 May 2013 10:30:00 -0400

Easter Island Heads III: Anakena Beach and Ahu Nao-Nao

Anakena Beach is the legendary landing place of the first Polynesian colonists to find Rapa Nui, but today it feels like almost any other warm tropical beach on a Saturday afternoon. After the peace and serenity of Ahu Tongariki, the bustling crowd (by Easter Island standards) at Anakena comes as a bit of a shock. In addition to Easter Island’s biggest sandy beach (of two), beach lovers can enjoy buying souvenirs and food. The palm tree plantation is also a shock, but presents a picturesque backdrop for the restored ahu bearing seven moai in various stages of repair. The water is chilly by tropical standards (this is a subtropical island in autumn), but refreshing. I’m wondering if the people enjoying an afternoon at the beach are locals or tourists. Whichever they are, it’s the most crowded place outside of Hanga Roa, the main town, and there are only a handful of people here. But Anakena today is a place for recreation, not living. Now, only silent moai bear witness to the forgotten settlement of those original colonists.

Easter Island heads II: Ahu Tongariki Before 1960, the scene at...

Thu, 09 May 2013 10:30:36 -0400

The view from Rano Raraku. Note people for scale.

Most moai weigh about 45 tons; the big one weighs over 75.

Typical pattern of stones at an ahu.

Topknots (pukao) just rested on top of moai. How did they lift up both moai and topknots? Good question.

Favorite "do not" sign ever.

A collection of pukao. From a completely different quarry with more iron rich volcanic rock.

Easter Island heads II: Ahu Tongariki

Before 1960, the scene at Ahu Tongariki was similar to that in much of Easter Island—toppled and broken moai, and wrecked ahu (ceremonial platforms). Then a tsunami washed over the entire area, spreading all of the stones over several acres. Although archeologists painstakingly labeled and identified all the stonework, that seemed to be the end of the story.

Then in the 1990s a Japanese crane company decided it wanted to help out a restoration project in Easter Island. Claudio Cristino, our archeologist guide, is telling us about the night he got a call from his boss. “Where do they want to restore?” “Ahu Tongariki!” “Who’s the idiot who’s going to lead that project?” “You are.” Several years later, the project was completed, with the largest number of restored moai anywhere on the island, including the largest individual moai (over 75 tons).

The site is magnificent, with towering cliffs and crashing waves and deep blue ocean surrounding it. Rano Raraku rises in the distance. Here we can see the complete statues, not just heads. Although stylized, they’re not identical. Did they reflect real people? Moai supposedly reverenced ancestors. Did a village leader have that particular expression? Our guide has theories, but no definite answers. Something about that very lack of definite answers makes Easter Island particularly frustrating and yes, haunting. And, in the end, silent faces reveal nothing.

Easter Island Heads I: Rano Raraku I first heard about Easter...

Wed, 08 May 2013 10:30:42 -0400

The classic National Geographic cover shot.

A mountain of tuff (relatively soft volcanic rock)

Partially carved

How many noses can you find?

Do the pock marks represent smallpox?

Easter Island Heads I: Rano Raraku

I first heard about Easter Island when I read Aku-Aku, the popular book by Thor Heyerdahl (and follow-up to Kon-tiki), as a kid. Heyerdahl theorized that South Americans reached Easter Island and taught the Polynesians how to carve. Although his theories have been definitively refuted, his book fired the imagination of millions with his story of enigmatic statues in the world’s most isolated inhabited location. I’m one of those millions. I can’t believe I’m actually here.

Everyone wants to know three things about Easter Island: Why did the inhabitants start carving the giant statues known as moai? Why did they stop? And how did they get them from the quarry to their destinations around the edge of the island? Unfortunately, although theories abound, definitive conclusions are scarce. Fortunately, simply standing among these amazing works of art is an esthetic and spiritual experience unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

The most famous images from Easter Island come from Rano Raraku, also known as the quarry or the factory. The volcanic crater is the island’s only source of “tuff”, hardened but easily worked volcanic ash used by the Rapa Nui to carve almost all the island’s moai. The heads, variably buried in the soil, stare into the distance. For such a famous spot, it’s surprisingly easy to get away from the modest crowds and stand alone among the moai. They seem on the verge of speaking. I’m remembering that teenage boy, and feeling the wonder of discovery. Although Rano Raraku is indeed haunting and enigmatic, ultimately, it’s the ineffable silence I’ll remember.

Santiago, Chile is Los Angeles. It’s near the mountains...

Tue, 07 May 2013 10:01:26 -0400

A black sand beach on the shores of Lago Todos los Santos

Volcan Osorno, with just barely visible Volcan Puntiagudo and Tronador in the distance

Volcan Osorno yet again

White on white

Lago Todos los Santos

Petrohué Falls

Introduced salmon swimming upriver to spawn

Petrohué Lodge

Volcanic pebbles, mostly air

Petrohué Falls

Santiago, Chile is Los Angeles. It’s near the mountains and the ocean, has the same climate, nearby vineyards, even smog. A two hour plane ride south is Puerto Montt—Chile’s Seattle. It rains a lot (hence the temperate rainforest), is a seaport exporting a lot of timber, and is an outdoor playground. It’s also got volcanoes. And Vicente Pérez Rosales National Park—Chile’s first. The park includes Lago Todos los Santos and Rio Petrohué—tinted blue-green by runoff from glaciers on Volcan Tronador, on the border with Argentina. Its pride is its share of Volcan Osorno, a perfect snow-capped cone (apparently it erupts from outlets around its base instead of from the peak).

They say that Teddy Roosevelt, on his last post-presidency travels before his death, visited the area and pronounced it more beautiful than Yosemite. Whatever the truth of the story, his visit is credited with inspiring the creation of the Park. The Petrohué Lodge, on the shores of the lake, has been run by the same family for a century, and provides a good base for boat trips on the lake, hiking, climbing or fishing for (introduced) trout. It’s not far from extremely popular Petrohué Falls (chutes through the lava rather than a classic waterfall) with an almost clichéd view of Osorno in the background. A rare clear day, a boat ride, a visit to the falls, a lunch at the lodge—a perfect day.

It’s impossible to nurse a pisco sour. I’ve just not nursed two of them. I’m...

Mon, 22 Apr 2013 10:00:59 -0400

It’s impossible to nurse a pisco sour. I’ve just not nursed two of them. I’m sitting in a bar/restaurant in a mall. I could swear I’m in Los Angeles. The mall is open to the evening air, which is cool and dry with a hint of smog. I’ve had to walk past McDonalds, TGI Friday’s and Tony Roma’s to get here. I even had to walk past the same two goddamn PF Chang’s lions that we have in our mall in Columbia, MD. The speakers are playing “I want Candy” and “Hungry like the Wolf.”

I’m here in a mall because I’m a man on a mission. I’m tired from my red eye, I’ve walked all over old Santiago, I don’t want to talk to anyone, I just want an early dinner and early bed. I had all the seafood I could ask for at lunch. What else is there in Santiago? It’s not Peru, or Brazil, or Mexico. Plus I’m in a hotel with a few expensive foreign restaurants, near a mall, and not much else. It turns out Chileans can now get great food from around the world, just like we can in the states. Only I just want Chilean. Three things: pisco sours (I can get those anywhere), a pork sandwich, and a famous “completo” hotdog. They’re supposed to be everywhere.

But mostly at lunch. I’m about to give up in the maze of the mall (mall Peruvian perhaps?) when I see the sign for the Tip y Tap (since 1970 something?). Success! I can get my completo, my lomito con paltas (roast pork and avocado ). Along with my pisco sours, it’s more than enough food. (A completo is a hot dog, sauerkraut, tomatoes, and mayo. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.)

I’m ruminating on the odds of getting well prepared food at any mall in the states. I’m chuckling at the fact that I’m getting classic bar food for dinner, after getting classic hangover food for lunch. But mostly I’m enjoying the surprising pleasure of eating good food surrounded by happy Chileans also enjoying a lovely fall evening—in a mall. It’s not somewhere that will ever be on tv, or in a guidebook, or that I’d ever seek out to go back to. But right here, right now, in this moment, soy muy contento.

The Mercado central is about half seafood restaurants, ranging...

Sun, 21 Apr 2013 19:39:51 -0400

A full house

The famous locos

Paila marina tastes much better than in looks

Everyone else had ceviche so I had a half portion.

The Mercado central is about half seafood restaurants, ranging from white table cloth, black tie waiters trolling for tourists in the center, to more modest operations around the perimeter, to overgrown counters like this one. I followed the generally good advice to find a crowd of locals and join them. This place was too small for a crowd, but I snagged the last seat. I also used the essential phrase “what’s good today” to settle on locos (Chilean abalone, famous to fish geeks all around the world and the most expensive item on the menu) and paila marina, a seafood soup with things like barnacles and sea squirts, along with the more usual mussels, clams, and fish (reineta). I was almost ready to go, when I decided I had to have the ceviche, since everyone else had ordered it, including one couple who got it to go. I got a half portion. The loco was meaty and shellfishy and delicious. The soup was basically just cooked in its own juice with a little vegetable flavoring. The first bite was fishy and salty. By the end I was using the bread to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind. The ceviche was also sublime. All together with a couple small tumblers of house white (served from that red container you can see in the photo) it was 11,000 pesos, about $23.

Mercado central, Santiago de Chile No trip to Santiago is...

Sun, 21 Apr 2013 17:33:52 -0400

A typical stand

Perfect scallops

Sea urchin roes

Sea squirts aka piure in Chilean

Giant barnacles aka picoroco in Chilean

Easy to tell what the fish is when it's all sold whole

Once a staple, no hugely overfished

Kind of a giant limpet.

What piure looks like removed from its rocky shells

Giant mussels, or choro zapatos. They guy said they get 8 inches long easy

Mercado central, Santiago de Chile No trip to Santiago is complete for me without a visit to the fish market. The Lonely Planet guidebook says it’s a thrill for foodies, fishers, and photographers alike, which pretty much explains why. Unlike most markets in the states, I didn’t see anything that wasn’t from Chile. Even the farmed salmon (a minor commodity here) is local.

A little too early for peak cherry blossoms. Always timely to...

Sat, 06 Apr 2013 17:23:15 -0400

A little too early for peak cherry blossoms. Always timely to visit the FDR Memorial.

Searching for sign of spring, near Washington DC When...

Sun, 10 Mar 2013 21:10:00 -0400

Searching for sign of spring, near Washington DC

When confronted unexpectedly with a Sunday afternoon all to myself, I invariably let the weather drive the decision. With a forecast of sunshine and 60s, I’m hiking. Since I’m in DC, I’m heading for the Billygoat trail.

I can’t remember when I first hiked the Billygoat trail, a remarkably rugged piece of terrain so close to DC, but it must be at least 30 years ago. Since then, I’ve hiked it in all seasons, often alone. Other family members mostly find the C&O Canal Towpath just a bit too overrun, especially in the vicinity of Great Falls, the location of the Billygoat trailhead. I’ve always considered the area akin to Seurat’s “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.” And so I’m willing to put up with the crowds.

But I always have followed a key rule—get there really early on Sunday morning. Even then, you can expect to wait for others at important trail locations (like the cliff-climb), and you can’t get there early enough for solitude. Unfortunately, I haven’t hiked it for a while, so I’m pooh-poohing the rule. That means I’m getting there at 2:30 on the first beautiful Sunday of the year. How bad can it be? Pretty bad, as it turns out. The parking near Old Angler’s Inn, both legal and illegal, is overflowing. I’m heading for the Park, smug with my Geezer Pass that lets me skip the line for the $5 entrance fee. For a moment I’m hopeful. Then I hit the brakes. The single line of cars is backed up to the houses that never should have been allowed next to the park, farther than I ever remember. I’m a long way from my pre-paid lane. Cars in front of me are turning around. So are cars behind me. Pretty soon I am too.

If you’re a planner like me, after a while you realize that back up plans are important. Fortunately I actually have one. I’ve been vaguely aware that there were other hikes downstream of the Billygoat trail. Recently, my boss told me he’d hiked the other sections, and they were definitely worth it. Just on the off chance I might need to know, I’ve looked at the map, and noted that the alternative trailheads were at Carderock. The section I know and love is section A, the others are B and C. That’s where I head.

The (free) parking lot at Carderock is half full. The guy I ask tells me that yes, I’m in the right spot, the Billygoat trail is 75 feet away. I set off, looking for signs of spring. Almost immediately, I see spring beauty, shining in the sun. Now I’m looking for the other early spring flowers often found with spring beauty—bloodroot, hepatica, even trout lily. Alas, I guess it’s still too early for them. Although I’m mildly disappointed, I’m now free to look up at the scenery.

Which is making me very happy. It’s too early for leaves, so the views of the Potomac—water, cliffs, trees—are uninterrupted. The section I’ve started, C, is supposedly the easiest; B is rated medium, while A is difficult. Although not so rough, the views in these sections are almost as spectacular. Most remarkably, the trail is almost empty. Plus I’m feeling the pleasure that comes from first-time discovery.

I fall to musing on a rule I developed years ago. It’s based on a simple equation: my enjoyment of a destination is equal to the attractiveness of the place when empty, divided by the impact of people. This rule has, over the years, led me to avoid so-called honeypots, top destinations overrun with people, in favor of second tier sights with far fewer visitors. National Forests, not National Parks. Catoctin, not Shenandoah. I’m even reminiscing about the old Disneyland system, which rated rides as A, B, or C (you got a certain number of tickets for the day, so deciding what ride you went on was a big deal). A ticket rides had long lines. C tickets never did. I’ve been spending thirty years waiting in line for the A ticket Billygoat trail. I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to visit these other trails. It’s not that I’ll never go back to the A section. But today, in the warm sun, the empty sections are deeply satisfying.

And it is warm, too warm for bluejeans warm, without the clouds the recently discredited weather forecasters promised. I notice other signs of spring—like fishermen. The mating call of an optimistic male chickadee cuts through the air. Somewhere off in the woods, a loud chorus of spring peepers grabs my attention, although none of the ponds I check have any eggs. A small surprisingly fast-moving snake slithers out of camera range (maybe a deKay’s snake?), and back in the Canal, the turtles have clambered onto available perches. Apparently, it doesn’t take much to convince the cold-blooded to come out and bask in the sun on the first real spring day. I’m happy I joined them. Sometimes you really should follow Plan B, or even Plan C.

A light lunch at Insalata Ricca near the Vatican of a pizza...

Fri, 25 Jan 2013 11:01:00 -0500

Pizza margherita, Roman style. Competitive with Neapolitan

Lentil soup, perfect on a cold day.

Impossible to understand how simple vegetables can taste so good.

Polenta with pork sauce.

Pasta alla gricia (with cheese, pepper, and guanciale).

Pasta e fagioli, the real deal.

And polpettine

and artichokes alla Romana

Braised oxtail, tiny bits of tasty beef and wonderful sauce

Always get anything "della nonna." In this case, grandma's torta.

A light lunch at Insalata Ricca near the Vatican of a pizza margherita and lentil soup following the roast pork sandwich and fresh ricotta purchased at the Trionfale market. Our last dinner in Italy was at da Mario’s near the Parthenon, an old favorite with traditional Roman dishes and a happy neighborhood vibe. January 18, 2013

The Trionfale Market, Rome’s largest, is an endless...

Fri, 25 Jan 2013 10:01:20 -0500

No wonder the roasted pepper antipasto always tastes so good

Typical vegetable stand

You can't believe how fast the vendors can process an artichoke

Pomodorini

Trigliette (red mullet)

A busy fish stand in the market

A gurnard. Maybe I should have tried all those sea robins I threw back as a kid.

Castel Sant'angelo and the Tiber River

A pope's tomb, one of the more grandiose even among baroque competition

Hard to believe how few people were at the Trevi Fountain.

The Trionfale Market, Rome’s largest, is an endless invitation for gorgeous food photos. On a sunny winter’s day in Rome, wandering through the medieval section of the city and enjoying the people and sights is definitely the way to go. January 18, 2013

Paestum is in the center of mozzarella di bufala production, so...

Thu, 24 Jan 2013 17:57:00 -0500

Assorted cheeses fresh from the farm

The best mozzarella ever.

Puntarelle (a kind of chicory) in anchovy sauce, a Roman winter staple.

Assorted antipasti

Mmmmm. Peppers.

Thursday is gnocchi day.

Bucatini al amatriciana (with cheese, tomato, and guanciale)

Pasta of the day, with chees and eggplant

Artichoke alla Romana

Polpettine

Paestum is in the center of mozzarella di bufala production, so after our visit to the site and museum we walked in search of a venta diritta direct sale opportunity. Success meant a delicious indoor picnic of cheeses back at our Salerno hotel. The sales girl couldn’t believe that we only bought one medium sized ball of mozzarella for three people. After we tasted it, we wished we had bought more too, even though we couldn’t begin to eat it all. We took the high speed train back to Rome, and arrived in time to have dinner at a great traditional trattoria, da Gino’s in the Campo Marzio. January 17, 2013

Paestum was a Greek colony called Poseidonia when the three...

Wed, 23 Jan 2013 10:01:08 -0500

Oranges and lemons are all through this area

A view of two Greek temples from the main Roman stree in Paestum.

This temple is 30 years older than the Parthenon. Maybe a model for it.

The Romans found this Greek tomb and buried it so they could keep building.

One of the eight bronze vases found in the buried Greek tomb. found filled with honey.

One of the reliefs from the temple of Hera.

From the tomb of the diver (480BC).

Greek afterlife: basically a drinking party with the guys.

Barbarian tombs celebrated a more warlike life.

"Hera of Paestum" statuettes. Souvenirs to bring home from your visit.

Paestum was a Greek colony called Poseidonia when the three surviving temples were built, roughly 500BC. It was conquered by the barbarian Lucanians, then the Romans. The Romans respected other people’s religious buildings, so left them intact. Following the collapse of the Roman empire, Paestum was destroyed by Saracen invaders, then left to molder in swampy malarial isolation for hundreds of years, all but forgotten. The area has clearly been holy for a very long time; the museum has materials from stone age tombs, Greek, Lucanian, and Roman tombs, as well as objects of daily life. Very cool to see amazing objects such as these in the place they were found.

Lunch on the SITA bus from Amalfi to Sorrento, a superfresh...

Tue, 22 Jan 2013 11:01:00 -0500

Mozzarella appetizer at Serenella

Fresh ricotta for lunch on the Amalfi bus, mozzarella gobbled unphotographed

Simply the best simply marinated zucchini

Assorted biscotti

Great marinated vegetariano antipasto at Serenella. Bright orange is squash, green in the central is escarole

We ordered arancini (rice balls) but we think these were croquetas. Still yummy.

Fresh cavatelli with sausage and zucchini. outstanding.

Paccheri with ricotta picante et pomodorini.

We HAD to try Salerno pizza again after Napolitana. It held up well in comparison.

Cassata, a Sicilian dessert.

Lunch on the SITA bus from Amalfi to Sorrento, a superfresh mozzarella and ricotta picnic with a side of marinated zucchini along with fresh bread. Did I mention that Salerno is in the heart of mozzarella bufala country? Choosing our last Salernitan dinner site was difficult. We had more allegedly good restaurants untried, plus four excellent ones already sampled. Never repeating is a strongly held value for some of us. (As the tour guide, I put my thumb on the scale by not selling the new one). In the end, we returned to Serenella, with a compromise of all new dishes. Except for repeating the great pizza we had for lunch the first day. We needed to compare it to Neapolitan. For science. January 16, 2013.

The bus ride along the Amalfi Coast is not for the fainthearted...

Tue, 22 Jan 2013 10:02:02 -0500

The bus ride along the Amalfi Coast is not for the fainthearted or easily carsick. The bus drivers know every inch of the road and exactly where the edges of the buses are; watching two buses pass is like watching an elephantine ballet. The beautiful small towns are mostly closed in the winter, and full of shops for tourists in the summer. While I’m sure it’s even prettier in the spring, it must feel like one continuous scenic traffic jam in the summer. Jan 16, 2013.

Lunch at Pompeii was at the cafeteria, reasonably priced and...

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 11:01:00 -0500

Limoncello on the house, from the center of limoncello land.

Surprisingly light fried cheese. not sure how they did it.

more antipasto, tempura like veggies and mini pizzas. hidden arancini

simply poached vongole veraci clams, tender and tasty.

A trigliette (small red mullet). We each got one of these, tiny bites of fish

Ricotta filled agnelotti (giant ravioli). also one each, pasta perfection

Tubbetoni with scorpionfish sauce, a hair too strong tasting.

A tasty pastira di grano with a cannoli- or sfogliatelle-style ricotta filling.

Warm zeppole (mini donuts) vanished in seconds.

Lunch at Pompeii was at the cafeteria, reasonably priced and quite tasty panini, but not photo-worthy. Dinner was in Salerno, at Il Pacchero, a slightly classier place than we usually go to, but still reasonably priced, with a chalk-board menu. January 15, 2013.