Boots in the Oven

Goodbye, Santorini; Yo, Naxos!

I KNOW it's been like a week (more, now) since our last post, but you're going to have to cut us a little slack - we are packing to move out of the country, after all!  Husbear's parents are coming into town this weekend, and they're bringing a large vehicle equipped with an even larger trailer, so most of our house is currently missing under a giant pile of boxes and garbage bags.  We did have some excitement last weekend, when someone (ahem) accidentally carried a wasp nest into the house, but since these were the wussiest wasps I've ever seen, the outcome was not nearly as horror-movie as it could have been.  (Care to take a guess how many individual wasp nests were stuck to different areas of our porch?  At last count, SEVEN.  Anyway.)

Though we did have a rather late night prior to leaving Santorini, we were still up and out for an early morning ferry to Naxos.  We strapped on our backpacks and caught a bus to Santorini's port, Athinios.

After a short wait, our ferry arrived.  We boarded and waved goodbye to Santorini, one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.

(If you look closely, you can see the path people and donkeys take from the old port up to Fira.)

The ferry was actually pretty pimp, and very comfortable.  We grabbed a table and an order of fries - well, we were hungry.  The fries came with a tiny plastic fork.  How civilized!  This way, we didn't get grease and mayo and ketchup (American sauce) all over our grubby sausage-fingers.

The ferry ride was short.  We stopped briefly (at Paros, maybe?) before arriving in Naxos.

We pulled into the port, right near the island's main town of Hora (Many Greek islands call their main town Hora, in fact).  The approach to Naxos was not nearly as dramatic as the one to Santorini - but really, I'm not sure anything is, so you can't hold that against it. 

We hopped off of the ferry and headed towards town.

Some sort of construction project, I believe - looks really similar to the signs you see by the side of the road around here, "$250 billion of your tax dollars are going to build this toll road, which we will then charge you to use."

Our hotel, Chateau Zevgoli, was really easy to find in the tangle of narrow roads making up the old town of Hora.  Signs tacked to the corners of buildings pointed the way to various sights, hotels, and restaurants. 

The inside of the hotel was an oasis, all cool marble and plants and sunlight.  We came to find out that Naxos is positively stuffed with beautiful marble.  (wait until I get to talking about Apiranthos!)

Our room was lovely and relaxing, with marble floors and a little courtyard.

After freshening up a bit, we went up to the hotel's rooftop garden to check out the view - which was spectacular.  Dangit.

We could see out over the rooftops, past the portara (the only chunk remaining of a once - impressive temple to Apollo, plundered by the Venetians to build their castle atop Hora) to the sea.  It was one of those moments when you think to yourself, "it is not possible for me to be standing here, seeing this."

After we shook the cognitive dissonance, we realized we were getting pretty hungry.  Looking through our guidebook, we found a restaurant called Lucullus which had been open since 1908.  Figuring they had to be pretty good, we wandered through the tiny streets towards the restuarant.

First, we had to run the gauntlet of touts trying to get us into their restaurants - no biggie, except this time the restaurant across from Lucullus was a little pushier than normal.  While Lucullus' sign boasts that they are the oldest restaurant in the area, this restaurant had a sign emphasizing that they were the oldest family-run restaurant in town.  We smelled a rivalry!

The rivalry smelled like really wonderful tasty food.

At Lucullus, the sons run the front of the house, Mom cooks in the back, and Grandma fills in.  That's Grandma's home-made sheep's-milk cheese on the salad!

Lucullus had great food.  We ordered a good sampling of the vegetarian choices on the menu, including the aforementioned fresh and wonderful salad, an eggplant salad (melitzanosalata) with pomegranate seeds, a lovely and comforting milk soup, skordalia (a nut/potato/garlic dip, the ingredients of which vary across the country), beet salad, bread, and wine.

As we sat, eating and oohing and aahing, suddenly we began to hear a series of worrisome noises.  First, barking; then yelling and crashing.  The waiters in our restaurant all ran out into the street, one of them grabbing a pizzle (a whip made from the dessicated penis of a bull, of course!) off the wall as he tore out of the building.  Husbear also ran out into the street, to see what was going on - I could see him through the window, but was unable to see what was happening outside.

The yelling and clatter continued from outside - then I heard a particularly loud and resounding crash (complete with tinkling sound at the end), and Husbear turned and ran back into the restaurant.  A few seconds later, one of Lucullus' waiters came back into the restaurant, holding his hand to his face - right behind him, another waiter with his hand over his nose.  The restaurant's front-house manager (the son, mentioned above) walked back in and apologized to all of us, saying "But, you have to understand, they were speaking about my mother.  In Greece, you do not do this!" Of course, we all nodded in quick agreement.

While outside, Husbear saw one man get thrown into the restaurant across the street, landing on a table between two very surprised diners (who were apparently not very quick on the uptake).  A trio of Australians converged on the fight from three different directions, rolling up their sleeves and demanding to know if anyone needed their help.  Dogs and men were tangling everywhere.  I'm glad I stayed in the restaurant!

For our "trouble", everyone eating at Lucullus that night got a free glass of a dessert wine made on Naxos. 

All in all - a great meal, though I can't say I recommend the floor show.  (Ha.  Ha.  Ha.)  Really, the people at Lucullus were wonderful, and anyone who talked smack about the woman making that wonderful, wonderful food definitively deserved a beatdown.

Next time: we tour the center of Hora, see lots of kitties, and check out the Portara in the fading light.

girlie

Houston, you have our visa applications

After months of worry and obsessive perusal of websites, some more helpful than others, our hopefully complete applications for a student visa and an elective residence visa are now in the hands of the Italian consulate in Houston.

We were up until just after midnight last night, going over our packets again and again, cross-checking our documentation against various (contradictory) checklists received from both the Italian consulates in the United States and our own research.  At 6:30 this morning, off to Houston we went.

Luckily, finding the Italian consulate in Houston was no problem.

Husbear and I had to check out our paperwork one more time...

It was kind of strange to see a consulate in an office tower.  My mental image of consulates is the stately free-standing ones you find in Washington, so finding this door in an office building was a little unsettling, but kind of comforting - a reminder that these consular officials I've been so intimidated by are just people going to work.  (Even if these people do have the power to make our trip a lot smoother.)

Walking through the door, we saw a pretty standard waiting room; panoramic shots of different Italian landmarks covered the walls, with a table of magazines (mostly newsmagazines about the recent Torino olympics) in the middle of the room.  We signed in and sat along the side of the room.

The office deviated from the standard waiting room in that there were two glass-paneled doors, behind which were tiny rooms used for meetings with the consular officials.  Though we signed in, we were apparently also supposed to keep track of when our turn came up, since no names were ever called.

When our turn came, we approached the window with our documentation.  The official asked Husbear - "So, you are applying for a student visa?" - which we confirmed; then, turning to me, he said "And you want to follow him?"  I nodded.

"Well, you can't."

>!!@!#&@($&#(&!#%^$%^%&%&(*%)($)@*$)!$&((&#*(&#??????????

I showed him the requirements the Italian Consulate in Houston sent me for an Elective Residence visa, along with our marriage certificate (I hoped this would show why I want to move to Florence with husbear?).  He perused the paperwork and said, "Oh.  Yes, this is usually for old people.  But yes."

Phew.  I passed each piece of paperwork through the slot as he asked for it; the whole time, he was telling us about his favorite Italian chefs.  It was actually a very interesting conversation.  $59.60 and I was done.  Hopefully.

But then - we came along to Husbear's application.  Husbear passed all of his information through the slot, and our friend went through the pile, clucking.  First, he pointed out that Apicius apparently thinks that Husbear's a woman, as all of the documentation refers to him as a studentessa.  Ooopsie!  He told us he'd have to go check on some information with his colleague, and left.

We stood there.

And stood there.

When he came back, he told us that Husbear's documentation did not make clear whether he was applying for a student visa or a work visa.  Uh-oh.  The official told us we'd have to have the school clarify which visa he needed.  We tried to show him the course schedule included with the information, along with a certificate showing Husbear to be enrolled in the school from August 2006 - May 2007; but apparently a letter included addressed to the work ministry threw this all off.

So, out into the hallway and on to the phone.

A little late in the day to be calling Florence - but the right time to be calling California, where Study Abroad is located.

The visa contact Husbear reached laughed out loud when told our story - she said the letter in question was only included because of the insistence of the Italian consulate on documents showing that the student did not plan to work and was only applying for a student visa.

So, right back into the consulate office and back to the window, where we relayed this information to the official... who said "Wonderful!  Thank you!  All cleared up!"

Well, o.k. then.  We could have stood outside yodeling and practicing a patriotic tap routine for all he knew, but that's beside the point.

We should know if our visa was granted by the beginning of July; please keep your fingers crossed for us!

After we were done with all of this, we met up with Husbear's cousin and his lady for a Mexican lunch, where we indulged in a 99 cent margarita or two (you'd be surprised how weak a 99 cent margarita is!) then back to Austin.

We had an odd encounter on the way home, one which I'm hoping doesn't have any implications for our visa quest.

It's like Jaws, but more mammalian.  Or fiberglassy.  Still pretty scary, though!

Dum dum dum dum dumdumdumdum

(If you're curious, it's an ad for Oak Farms.) (I'm pretty sure I saw a flap in its belly.  My money's on Trojan Cow.   What evils has it wrought? - L. Pants)

girlie

Sno-Beach Sno-Cones (Sno Sno Sno!)

(R: Tamarind and Tangerine; L: Hill Country Berry and Sour Cherry)

Ah, Texas.

Did you know - it gets hot here?  I know, I know - hard to believe, but there it is.  I guess Texas is even kinda famous for that.  This is the time of year when we pay our karmic retribution for making fun of Yankees all winter.

Well, at least we have escapes like Sno-Beach to keep us from melting into tiny puddles on the sidewalk.

This is the thought we had on a recent sweltering Saturday deep in the heart of Texas.

Seems like we weren't the only ones to turn to Sno-Beach for cool relief...

Oh, well - when it's almost 100 degrees (about 38, for those of you using the eminently sensible metric system), it's actually worth it to stand in the middle of a baking parking lot to get a giant cup of ice with flavorings.

You're definitely spoiled for choice at this particular stand.

Not only can you get these flavors in any combination you might wish, you can also top your cup off with chocolate or cream.  The array of flavor choices (and colors!) is dizzying.

The ice is shaved to order for each sno-cone.  This way, you don't have the problem of the ice melting and refreezing into rock-hard ice cubes on which you can easily crack a tooth, a medical calamity often suffered by patrons at lesser sno-cone stands.

Our choices for that particular day are at the top of this post.  Husbear chose the oddly monochromatic tamarind and tangerine, while I went for the inadvertently patriotic hill country berry paired with sour cherry.  While both were good, I found mine to be overly sweet, which kept me sneaking tiny spoonfuls from Husbear's all the way to Central Market.

Husbear already knew his way around this particular sno-cone stand, though; since he spends a good chunk of his day driving around Austin, he's come to be quite a sno-cone connoisseur.  He had already discovered the wonderfully tasty tamarind flavor on a previous visit, where he tried it with sangria (oddly white, in my mind - seems like it should be red?  And yes, I know there is such a thing as sangria made with white wine, but isn't red more common?  But I digress.)

They need a motto, there at Sno-Beach... perhaps "Sno-Beach.  We make August in Austin almost liveable."  Hrm... needs work.

Off-topic, wish us luck - on Tuesday, we're both taking the day off of work to drive to the Italian consulate in Houston to apply for our visas!  Did you know the FBI doesn't have a file on either of us?  Yay!

-girlie pants

In which the newlyweds' restaurant luck runs out, and they learn about Greeks

Husbear called me last night from work and asked me a difficult question.

"Do you realize that your first honeymoon post was published on August 4th of 2005?"

I can't say I'm entirely sure where he was going with that line of questioning.  He was probably just drawing attention to how pleased he is with the quality of the honeymoon posts... right?

So, ten months later, let me present you with post #15, about our last day before leaving Santorini for Naxos.

Since our visit to the archaeological site of Akrotiri was less than successful, it was really important to both of us to visit Santorini's archaeological museum.  The small museum was packed to the rafters with the usual suspects: Japanese tourists videotaping each display case, inch by inch; sunburned groups of Americans loudly asking each other, "Whatzat?  Why would I want to look at a giant pot?"; harried museum guides clucking, tutting, and begging people not to use the flash on their camera.

All this aside, the museum did have some lovely artifacts on display. 

There's apparently a theory that the inhabitants of Santorini had some level of warning that the volcano in the center of the island was going to erupt; the fact that this small gold antelope (?) is the most valuable item found so far by the archaeologists is one of the pieces of evidence used to support this theory.

I insisted we go back to Taverna Nikolas for one last Santorini lunch.

One whole grilled fish, a liter of house white wine, and a very happy girlie later, we headed back in the direction of our hotel.

The Hotel Loucas has a truly stunning pool; we spent a few hours there relaxing, using the water to avoid the heat of the day.

We worked on negating the farmer's-tan effect of the long walk to Ia two days prior, read books, swam... lovely.

For our last night on the island, we planned to go check out the resort town of Kamari and then catch a showing of the movie Troy (The Greek posters call Brad Pitt MPrant, due to the apparent Greek lack of the letter B) at an outdoor theater.  Sounds fun, right?

First, our last Santorini sunset.

Kamari is on the side of the island opposite the caldera - see this map for reference.  (Kamari is near the airport.)  It attracts a completely different crowd than Fira, or Ia, or Firostephani - it's a bit more geared towards families and package tourists.

Kamari did have a nice beachfront, with many restaurants of the menu-in-six-languages variety; we read in Frommer's that a place called Camille Stephani had these places all beat, and was worth a trip to the town inand of itself.

After being served a wide variety of choices from their menu by a waiter who was 1. the only waiter working the entire restaurant and 2. obviously embarassed to be serving food with this complete lack of quality, I can't say I agreed with our trusty guidebook.

I'd say we sampled a pretty good tour of their menu; dolmas, tomato keftedes, many dips and veggies.  Yeah, we were pretty fair... and Camille Stephani just wasn't very good.

Of course, the next table over was occupied by four very large, very drunk Germans who smoked and yelled at their enormous Labrador retreiver for the entire duration of our meal - so maybe our experience was influenced a little by that?

Anyway, a little disappointed - but full, at least, we headed back down the beach to walk to Cine Kamari, the outdoor theater we had heard about.

We passed a lovely church on the way.

I think our experience at Cine Kamari was probably the best introduction to the Greek culture that we could have had.  The movie was scheduled to begin sometime around midnight, as I recall; this was a bit of a stretch for us, as we had an early morning ferry to Naxos to catch.  However, you're only young once, right?

Anyway, we arrived at the theater proably a half-hour before the scheduled start of the movie.  The ticket booth was empty, as was the area around the theater; we could see bits of the previous showing through the trees, so we knew we were in the right place.  We set up camp near the ticket booth and waited.

The scheduled time for the movie came and went.  Still nobody in the ticket booth.  More and more people started showing up; nobody, however, got in line with us.  Every few minutes, each clot of people would send a representative up to near where we were standing; he (always he) would stand in front of us, look at the ticket booth, look at us, read all the posters around the ticket booth, lean against the wall for a minute, and go back to his friends.

After another fifteen minutes of this, we decided to retreat a bit, figuring we could always get back in line if anyone ever showed up at the ticket booth.  We moved back a little and watched the prospective patrons watching the front of the theater.  Slowly, the group representatives started ambling over in the direction of the ticket window; again, they'd look at the ticket window (some would knock on it) read the posters, lean on the wall; they just projected this image of "Line? Who, me?  Why would I be in line?"  Soon, however, a proto-line began to form; people were getting in line in the middle, not the end, however.  There were many clucks of disapproval from the unfortunate men who were maneuvered further back; after each cluck, they'd step out of the back of the line and get in the middle.

Fascinating as this was (and it really was - I'd never seen a line like it!) we eventually left, a full hour after the movie was scheduled to begin.  We grabbed a taxi and headed back to our hotel.

I'm a little sad we didn't stay... but we did get entertainment, at least.  And we rented Troy several months after we got home, and I can't really say we missed that much not seeing it in Greece.

Next: Naxos!  Plus, Husbear is almost involved in a streetfight, through no fault of his own.

You Say Tomato, I Say Butter.

Even though summer is still officially a few weeks away, tomato season is upon us. I freaking love fresh tomatoes. While they can be put to use in almost limitless ways, one of my favorite methods of consumption for these juicy little sun fruits is in sandwich form.

Tomato sandwiches are just plain good. All the fresh tasty flavor, bright acids and sweet softness packed between two slices of bread. Oh yeah.

They don’t really need much help, but a few years ago I came across a sandwich that I’ve been addicted to ever since.

I have a strong affinity for other yummy vegetables as well as for that churned miracle called butter, so anything that combines the lot is bound to be good.

Enter the Tomato and Cucumber Sandwich with Garlic-Anchovy Butter. The name practically tells the whole story, but I’ll give you a few more details.

If you’re not familiar with them, compound butters can be a very versatile and interesting ingredient to keep around your kitchen. Basically, it’s just stuff mashed into butter. It can be sweet or savory, spicy or cooling, baked with or smeared on later, served hot or cold; practically anything you can think of.

However, the one for this sandwich is one of my favorites. Take a half stick of butter and let it warm up to just under room temperature. Mash a clove of garlic and one or two anchovy filets. Chop up a tablespoon of flat leaf parsley.

Toss all of that business in with the butter. Squeeze in a dollop of sriracha (or whatever your favorite hot sauce is) and a hearty pinch of salt. Mix it up with a fork and spread it on something. Or roll it up into a nice log shape and pop it in the fridge for later.

For this particular summer treat, I slather a healthy amount on each slice of bread and then layer on slices of the freshest tomatoes, cucumbers, and red onions I can find.

It’s tastetacular. And don’t mispronounce that on purpose.

It’s not funny.

-L. Pants