Luna de Miel con Amici!

We headed to Florence filled with anticipation for the arrival of our dear friend Quang, whom we’d convinced to take a few weeks of vacation to join us for the last few weeks of our honeymoon.  For those of you who might be thinking that it’s not particularly normal to invite friends on your honeymoon, we have two replies.  First, this is clearly no ordinary honeymoon.  Second, you clearly don’t know our friend Quang.  When you honeymoon for 6 months, there’s always time for some special guest appearances, and a little dash of Q in our lives just always seems to brighten the day.  We also tend to spontaneously break into song a lot more frequently. 

It has created a little bit of confusion among some of the Italians we meet along the way… It’s hard enough to break through the language barrier, without trying to explain how it is our honeymoon, but there are three of us.  There was one particularly confused Italian, for whom I had to clarify that when I said ‘we were married in October’, I meant just Amy and I, not all three of us).  So we’ve taken to calling this portion of the honeymoon our ‘luna de miel con amici’, and that seems to sort things out.  And if that fails, we just tell people that Quang is our adopted child.

We woke up that morning in Spezia knowing that our rendezvous with Q was only a few short hours and a few short train rides away in Firenze (that’s Italian for Florence), until we looked at our phone and saw 6 text messages from Q, each one updating us on the status of his eventually cancelled flight.  (The last was a photo of Q having dinner with the Lufthansa gate agents in their employee dining area… Only Q could end up in that kind of situation.).  So we decided to take our time getting to Florence, and distracted ourselves with all the tourists posing as if they were holding up the Leaning Tower of Pisa. 


Which is more exciting... this tower?...



Or all the tourists posing
 as if they are holding it up?



In Florence, we decided to take the more challenging urban route to our adorable little bed and breakfast.  The house was a working farm back in the day, located just outside all of the hubbub of downtown Florence, connected by a beautiful, serene 4km bikepath along the river Arno.  Of course, we only learned about the bike path after our harrowing and less-than-direct route through the traffic of Firenze.  Our hosts Stefania and Mario were as welcoming as they could possibly be – arranging bus/tram tickets for us, doing our laundry so we could enjoy the city instead of wasting our day at the Laundromat, and even giving us a ride to the airport to meet Q when he eventually arrived.  Almost certainly our favorite inn from the entire full-moon (except for Dougie, of course). 

We were so saddened by Q’s delayed arrival that we had to drown our sorrows in one of the finest meals we’ve had on the full moon.  The Lonely Planet never steers us wrong with its recommendations.  This was a meal the Fong’s would definitely have been proud of.  Of course, we started with our favorite appetizer, prosciutto con melone, which has taken a slight lead in the competition with gelato to see which food we eat the most of during our time in Italy.  Amy chose the raviolis with black truffle for her primi piatti (the pasta dish) – a specialty of the region – which melted in her mouth and caused her eyes to roll back in her head a few times.  My filleto steak was pretty outsanding for the secondi piatti… but not as good as the heavenly panna cotta I had for dessert, which for some reason, required me to close my eyes as a I savored each spoonful.   


Oh Prosciutto!  What kind of cruel religion could make you forbidden???








Potato Ravioli with Black Truffle...
Not sure this one will ever be topped.

The next day, Q’s plane finally arrived…


Yes... we were excited...



Bongiorno, Q!  Italia has no idea what it's in for!

And for some reason, every photo we’ve taken since then has seemed more ‘blog-worthy’ than the last.



Arm thing!  Arm thing!  Arm thing!



As many of you know, it usually takes 2 sips
for Amy to start getting silly...
You should have seen her
after she downed this whole bottle!



Yep... something about being around Q...



We picked up his bici in a little town outside of Firenze called Tavarnuzze, and headed south along the Chianti Classic route, through the heart of Tuscany, towards Greve-in-Chianti and Siena… where more crazy hyjinx await…

Until then, Ciao Bicis… from the Luna de Miel con Amici!














No to the Double-Whammy... but Double Gelato? Siempre Si!

Even though we came out on top in our quest to conquer the Alps, we weren’t quite ready for any more mountains just yet.  Originally we planned on doing what we called the Double Whammy - The Glory of the Alps followed by Mountains of the Riviera… but our achy legs got the best of us and we decided no double whammy this time.

Instead, we thought we would spend some time on the coast visiting Cinque Terra (don’t worry:  still many hills included).  We had heard great  about these five little villages tucked into some rugged Italian coastline (thanks Reaveys!).  

We left our aforementioned campsite early in the morning- feeling no need to stick around to enjoy the sights, and headed to Levanto, the gateway to Cinque Terra.  It wasn’t exactly an Alp, but still a good continuous climb for an hour or so.  And it was definitely nice to be able to go one or two more kilometers/hour faster than the previous days. It felt less likely we would roll back down to Sestre Levante.  We shared the climb with lots of fellow ciclistas, all of whom were (1) looking super-sporty in their matching lycra outfits, (2) were super-friendly with their ‘ciao!’s, ‘forza!’s, and ‘vai!’s, (3) none of whom were lugging all of their earthly possessions with them, and (4) all of whom made us feel like we were standing still as we headed up the mountain. 

We were so excited to arrive in Levanto at a decent hour – around 1pm.  Over lunch we planned a relaxing afternoon- drop our things at a hotel (NO MORE CAMPING!), do some laundry, beach time. . . Unfortunately, we hadn’t plan on all of Italy joining our full-moon at this time. Little did we know school was out, and vacation for Italians had begun… and of course, what better place to welcome the Italian summer than Levanto?  Our relaxing afternoon turned into an afternoon-long search for a place to call home for the night. 




Amy can't get enough of the narrow Italian streets...



We bought some prosciutto i formaggio for lunch
from an adorable couple that runs this shop.

The tourist office had just closed for lunch, and so we cycled around town, checking in on no less than 10 B&B’s, all of whom were ‘completo’ (full for the night)… and ror a minute there, it was looking like we might have no choice but to camp again. (Nooooooo!).   Luckily one last stop at a hotel saved us.  It was a little pricier than we like but we made sure to get our money’s worth- milking it for every drop of hot water and every free minute of Wi-Fi we possibly could. 

Once we were settled we walked the streets of Levanto, grabbed some dinner, and a gelato. 

And then another gelato. 

We recently told you  about some of the lessons we’ve been learning on this full moon that we think will help us in our married life (Lesson #1:  Don’t try to guess what your person is thinking, or you might end up camping in a junkyard).  Well, we’ve also learned that sometimes, you have to be a big enough person to admit when you’ve been wrong.  And there’s no way around it… on this night, we were wrong. 

We settled far too quickly on the first gelato that crossed our path, and although it was certainly enjoyable, it did not look nearly as appetizing as the over-flowing cornucopia of creamy and delicious goodness that appeared in the window of the next gelateria, just as we were finishing our last bites.  Thus was unanimously enacted a new Kovick rule: only buy gelato when it is overflowing out of it's containers and you can see the individual braids from the hand-whipping.

And the second new Kovick rule of the night: there’s nothing wrong with a double-gelato evening! (also unanimous). 

From there, with our full stomachs, we cycled along the coast with sweeping views of the colorful little towns that make up Cinque Terra. Initially, we had big plans to visit all 5 of the towns of Cinque Terra.  But you see, you cycle along a ridge-top road, and then have to descend many kilometers to these charming seaside villages, and then climb back up each and every one of those kilometers to get back to the ridge road.  So we started by saying we'd visit all 5 towns... then 20 minutes into the first climb, we said we'd visit 4 towns... then, as we continued to climb, it was down to 3 towns, then 2, then eventually just the 1.  But they were so much more beautiful from up above at a distance!  Anyway, Cinque Terra was the beautiful.  But I’m sleepy... so we'll let the pictures speak for themselves. The End, by Amy Kovick. 

Ciao bicis!



A view of Cinque Terra



More narrow Italian side streets...


 

One of the five towns of Cinque Terra... Much prettier from above



The one town we ended up visiting in Cinque Terra



Dear Quang: You can leave your tent at home!

After conquering the Alps, we decided to head south and east to cycle the coastal route along Cinque Terra.  We had initially planned to cycle in the Mountains of the Riviera… but after taking 4 days to do a bike ride our book claimed would take 2 days, we needed to take a slightly more direct path towards Florence in order to meet our friend Quang in time… and we also didn’t mind a temporary reprieve from climbing after several days in the Alps. 

We caught the train from Cuneo to Fossano, Fossano to Savona, and Savona on to Sestri Levantri.  It’s a bit of an adventure riding the rails with our bicis.  Bicis are only allowed on the slower regional trains, which means you have to make several connections to get from point A to point B.  Normally, you would look for the tightest possible connections to get there as quickly as possible.  Not so with Mario and Luigi.  They’re great on the open roads, but a bit difficult to maneuver in train stations, on and off of trains, up the stairs and down the stairs, from one platform to another.  Bicis are also only allowed on one compartment in the train… and of course, that compartment is either the first… or the last.  So, you do your best to guess which way the train is headed, flip a coin for first or last, and then race the full length of the platform through distracted pedestrian traffic with your ‘wide-load’ bicis when you guess wrong, hoping to then maneuver both your bici and your husband/wife onto the train before it departs.  Eventually, we found ourselves in Sestri Levanti, a beach town in the Italian Riviera. 

We decided that it would be a perfect night to camp.  We’d been carrying around our tent, our sleeping bags, our sleeping pads – up and down the Alps – but had always found a good excuse to opt for a hotel instead of a camping site.  We came close one night, but the campsite we saw was pretty sketchy, far from town, and generally unappealing.  So we passed on that one.  But now, tonight, time to put that equipment to use! 

Our Lonely Planet suggested that one campsite in particular, though slightly further than the others, was the cleanest of the bunch… and so we set off on our bicis.  We exited town, and seemed to be heading further and further away from the business district, towards Campeggio Formaggio.  (Not its real name… but we could only remember that it began with an ‘f’... and 'camp cheese' seemed appropriate enough).  Of course, it was up in the hills, and after a short but steep climb, we were there. 

Our tent has seen some really stunningly beautiful campsites during this full moon.  Campeggio Formaggio, well… let’s just say it was not one of them. 

Our campsite hostess showed us to a scraggly patch of sideyard, covered with a hard scrabble surface, a bunch of yard junk, and a whole lot of cats.  She ceremoniously removed the rope that was protecting the site and its pristine environs, and… voila… home for the night. 



Our tent has camped in some beautiful places on the Full Moon...
This was not one of them.
(Look closely and you might be able to see 30 or 40 cats hiding in the picture).

Truth be told:  I didn’t really want to camp there… I would have much preferred a hotel, with a welcoming bed, our own hot shower, an array of neighborhood ristorantes to choose from, and a nice cappuccino in the morning… but I thought that Amy really wanted to try out the whole camping thing and save some money.  I later learned that Amy was really secretly hoping that I was going to take one look at that alleged campsite and turn us around and opt for a hotel for the night.  You see, friends… we learn useful things on the full moon to help us to a successful marriage:  don’t try to guess what your person is thinking… or you end up camping in a junkyard… surrounded by cats.



Why this 'Reception Area' wasn't enough of a warning to us?...
We shall never know.

So, we set up the tent, and several of the local cats immediately tried to make it their home… some tried to get in, others went under.  We were definitely under attack.  (I *might* have made a few cat pancakes when I laid out my sleeping bag and stretched my aching limbs).  Amy went off to shower… Let’s just say that Lonely Planet’s description of the campsite as ‘cleaner than most’ was either a bit of a stretch, or a bit out-of-date, or we really don’t want to see what the others look like.  But hey, it's the first time they've steered us wrong in 6 months.  As I set up our little home for the night, already less-than-thrilled... of course, one of our new, super-lightweight sleeping pads had a hole in it.  This isn’t going well.

Okay… nothing a good meal can’t fix.  Dave: ‘Signora, is it possible to eat here?’  Signora:  ‘No, but food is only a 10-minute walk.’  Ten minutes later, and we were at one of the other campsites, which claimed to have a restaurant… This didn’t promise to be our best meal in Italy, but we were so hungry and tired, we were prepared to sacrifice the meal.  Of course, it was closed.  But they gave us directions to another very fine restaurant… another 20 minutes walk away… which was also closed.  We stocked up on some snacks, and walked the rest of the way into town, where we had a lovely meal, and then called ourselves a taxi to take us the 4 or 5 kilometers back to Campeggio Formaggio. 

And so, having experienced camping in Italy, we’ve decided that it’s all hotels from this point forward, with no guilt or regrets about money that will go un-saved.  There are just so many beautiful places to stay in Italy – old castles, quaint villages, agriturismos – that it seems a real shame to spend a night in a junkyard doubling as a campsite.  And there are so many amazing restaurants in which to each the most delicious meals – all of which seem to be several kilometers away from any of the campsites. 


Poor Snorri! (our tent).
Such a tough finale to his Full Moon experience...

So, Quang, as you pack your bags to join us for a few weeks of cycling in Italia… you can please leave your tent and sleeping bag at home.  You’ll find us in a hotel.  And our camping equipment stored in a locker in the Florence train station.

Ciao, Bicis!

The Glory of the Alps

Just another day on the full moon...

The ride is called ‘The Glory of the Alps’.  Duration: 2 days.  Distance Covered: 165km.  Difficulty: Demanding.  Our Lonely Planet describes the ride this way:  “It might make you cry.  How beautiful the enormous jagged mountains and rugged valleys are.  Or the watering eyes might just be from the pain in your leg muscles.”  For some reason, we thought it would be a great way to start our cycling adventures in Italy.

The streets of Sampeyre...

Day 1 (Vigone to Sampeyre): We left directly from Vigone, having packed up our bicis, and set off for Sampeyre.  Our plan was to ride about 70km, south and west from Torino, towards France, into the foothills of the Italian maritime Alps.  We pedaled through some beautiful Italian farmland and some quaint little towns, from Vigone to Saluzzo, and then into the Valle Varaita to the ski town of Sampeyre.  The road was pretty flat, with a slight but noticeable incline for the last 30k or so.  70k may not sound like much to our triathlon friends – we regularly ride about 80k in about 3 to 3.5 hours during a half-iron race.  But our bicis are not racing bikes, and as you start to climb uphill, even slightly, you begin to notice all that luggage strapped to the back of your bike.  And so we arrived in Sampeyre, about 5+ hours later, with tired legs, but hungry for the Alps that would come the next day.

A view of Sampeyre... from early in the climb up Colle de Sampeyre

Day 2 (Sampeyre to Marmora): Today we planned to cover about 80km and climb 2 Alps – one in the morning, then lunch, then another in the afternoon.  I emphasize the word ‘planned’.  We had already started hedging our bets… acknowledging the possibility that we might decide one Alp was enough, rest in the afternoon, and tackle the second Alp the next day… especially when some of the friendly Italian cyclists on their beautiful road bikes raised eyebrows when we described our plan for the day.  But honestly, how long could it possibly take to climb one Alp? 

First ascent of the day: Colle de Sampeyre – 16.5km of climbing, up… and up… and up, 1400 meters of elevation gain.  For our triathlon friends out there, picture climbing Big Blue… on a mountain bike… 10 times in a row… without any downhill breaks in between… with Dony strapped to the back of your bike.  That’s pretty much what it’s like to climb an Alp on a touring bike.  Initially, we’d go about 3km, and then take a break.  Then it was 1.5km between breaks.  Then it was whatever our bodies could handle. Of course, the hardest part about taking breaks on a long and sustained climb is getting back into your pedals and starting up again – we’ve gotten really good at uphill starts. 

At times, the Alp had the better of us...
but pavement never seemed so comfortable!



Amy said she could literally see my face thinning, as the sweat poured off of me as I pedaled up the mountain.  Mario and Luigi were creaking under the strain of the climb.  At times, we were going so slowly that it didn’t seem like our bikes would stay upright.  At other times, the road was so steep that the front end of our bikes -- with all the weight of the luggage in the back -- would literally lift up off the ground -- temporarily turning Mario and Luigi into unicycles!

At around 14km, my legs cramped.  Not individual muscles – just all of them, all at once.  At around 15km, we passed three little old Italian men hiking down the mountain.  They shouted ‘Bravo’ and gave Amy a helpful and sustained push up the mountain.  (Amy thought they were being good Samaritans… but what we really learned is that Italian men of any age will find any excuse to get their hands on a beautiful woman’s bottom). When we thought we could climb no more, we crested the last rise, and we were there… the summit of Colle de Sampeyre… 5 hours after we’d started climbing.  

By the time we rolled into Marmora, the little village where we were initially thinking we might have lunch, 44km from Sampeyre … it was 6pm.  I think we’ll save the second Alp for tomorrow.

We spent the night at one of our favorite places yet on the entire full-moon, Pensione Ceagli, which is a little cycling mecca in a quaint, medieval-looking, stone village.  When we asked if there was room available, our hostess replied, “por cyclistas, siempre”.  We ate very well, we slept very well, and we woke up the next morning ready for our second Alp.

A cyclist mecca:  Pensione Ceagli in Marmora



Day 3 (Marmora to Demonte): Today was the Colle de Esischie, one of the more famous Italian cycling summits, followed by the Colle dei Morti, at 2500m, where there is a monument to the famous Italian cyclist Marco Pantani.  Yesterday, the Alps definitely won… but today, we had our revenge.  We shattered our previous record, climbing the 18km in a mere 3.5 hours.  Yes, that’s pedaling uphill for 3.5 hours straight.  But we conquered the Alps today.  Lunch atop Colle de Esischie easily became one of our top 5 lunch spots during the full moon. 



This is what it looks like...
after you've climbed up a whole long way...

From the top of the Colle dei Morti, it was all downhill… with the occasional obstacles thrown in:  at several points, giant snow-packs blocked the road… and when the road was clear, dodging the marmots that would dart across the road, playing chicken with our bicis.  Distance covered:  47km.


The monument to famed Italian cyclist, Marco Pantani, atop Colle dei Morti




Too bad Mario and Luigi didn't come with skis!



Day 4 (Demonte to Cuneo):  Yes, our Lonely Planet claimed that this ride was a 2-day ride, and we’re now on Day 4.  We completed our “Glory of the Alps” ride with a quick 35km downhill ride to the city of Cuneo, where we will catch a train to Genova, and on to Sestri Levantri, to cycle Cinque Terra.  No more Alps… but still some impressive hills ahead.

Until then, Ciao, bicis!

We totally crushed the Colle de Esischie!

 



But there's no feeling quite like conquering your first Alp...
even if the views were a bit clouded over

 

It’s quite a feeling, to climb an Alp.  It’s also quite a feeling to finally be able to stop pedaling uphill.  Seriously, Amy and I both fall asleep dreaming that we’re still pedaling uphill… and if you stop pedaling, you’re going to topple over.  At the top, we met a wonderful fellow cyclist at the top and had what we think was a lovely conversation in Italian with him.   Unfortunately, the clouds had rolled in and the views were pretty poor.  But the clouds broke on occasion during the long (and well-earned) descent, revealing some really stunning scenery. 



Atop the summit of Colle de Sampeyre... one tough climb!



Meet the Bicis!

After an amazing, food-filled weekend with friends, it was time to start cycling.  First step:  find our bikes.  We rented some hybrid touring bikes through a company based somewhere in southern Tuscany, and they had shipped our bikes up to a bike shop in Torino where we would meet them.  We figured this was perfect, because our friends lived in Torino.  A little mapquest to find the bike shop and… uh oh.  It seems that Torino is both a city and a province.  We were still a train ride and a bus ride away from our bikes, which were in a little town (in Torino province) called Vigone. 

Spending the weekend with our friends had given us a bit of a false sense of security and ease about making our way in Italy.  They picked us up from the train station, whisked us off to the Italian countryside, ordered delicious food, conversed with locals in Italian, knew where they were going… Now, we were on our own, and for the first time on the full-moon, really at a loss with language.  In Patagonia, Amy got to dust off her Spanish (and even Dave’s was passable enough to get by).  And in New Zealand, they might have talked with some lovely accents and the occasional odd turn-of-phrase… but it was still English.  But neither one of us has a clue when it comes to Italian. 

We didn’t get very far before we realized we were in for some crazy hijinks.  No, literally… we didn’t get very far.  We couldn’t even figure out how to open the door to leave Peter and Ritsu’s apartment building, until Peter came to our rescue!   Once we were successfully outside, it was a bus to the train station, a short train ride to the small city of Pinerole (soon to be hosting a stage of this year’s Tour de France, and former host to the curling competition during the 2006 winter Olympics), and then eventually a bus to the small town of Vigone – about as charming as it gets when you picture quaint Italian villages, with your little fruit shop, your little meat and cheese shop, beautiful old, church in the center, and surrounded by open farm land.  It seemed a strange place to be meeting our bikes… but sure enough, just outside of town, there was a really impressive bike shop, where our bicis were waiting for us. 

It seemed an unlikely place for a bike shop...

But sure enough... there it was!

  We could barely contain our excitement when we woke up the next morning and walked over to the bike store.  Our bicis are sleek silver KTM hybrid touring bikes… yes, they’re a bit heavier and slower than our road bikes back home… but they do have a granny-gear for serious mountain-climbing, and they come outfitted with two rear pannier bags for our luggage, and one has a top bag as well.  We were immediately relieved by the size of the pannier bags… we had no idea if what we’d brought would fit (and still didn’t), but at least we were hopeful.  We’d packed very light, but even still, with all the camping gear, running shoes, camera, laptop, and even just the minimal clothing… it added up quickly.



It may not seem like much for 3 weeks...
but it is when you have to fit it all onto a bike!



We took them for a quick spin in the parking lot, and they handled pretty well.  Pretty comfortable, too.  Of course, after we loaded them up with everything we owned, they handled a bit differently, with a whole lot of weight in the back.  As it was when we first learned to ride our road bikes, stopping (and staying upright) was initially the hardest part.  Our bicis tend to have a mind of their own when it comes to parking, as all that weight settles precariously on the little kick-stand. 

Packing up the Bicis!

Of course, our bicis needed names.  Initially, we were going to go with “Mario” and “Luigi” (and then, when Quang arrives, we’ll name his “Princess Peach”, for you Super-Mario Brothers fans out there).  But we decided they needed more extensive names, so we spiced them up with a few of our favorite Italian phrases. 

So, meet the bicis!:  “Mario Non Posso Manjare Glutine Kovick”, and “Luigi Panacotta Gelato Arrivederci Mama Mia Prego  Kovick”.

Lots of adventures to come over the next three weeks on our bicis Mario and Luigi… Until then, Ciao, bicis!

And here's what Mario and Luigi look like, ready for action!

Seventeen Courses in Twenty-Four Hours

There is no doubt, Italians can eat. 

Growing up with an Italian grandmother, I have great memories of hours and hours around the dinner table, with plates and plates of endless food being passed, each plate-full somehow even better than the last. 



The vineyards of Langhe and Roero, just outside of Torino



Within just an hour of arriving in Italy, we were whisked away to the Italian countryside where food that seemed so familiar awaited.  Lots, and lots of it.  So much that even a Fong or a Tuttle would be intimidated.

Don't let the cute face fool you...
When I confronted Julius about
his flirtations with Amy, he replied:
"I don't want to marry her.  I just want to kiss her."

Dave’s friend, Ritzu, her husband Peter, and the cutest kid in Italy: their son Julius have been living in Italy over the past 6 years.  They graciously invited us to the Italian countryside for the weekend- showing us some of their favorite places and feeding us some of their favorite Italian dishes.  Many, many dishes.



The church in Guanere



Our first stop was Mira Langhe, a quaint agriturismo (a sort of rustic bed and breakfast with farmland), in the small village of Guanere.  While we enjoyed the sweeping view of the surrounding vineyards our meal started, as in my mind all meals should, with a platter of prosciutto, salami, and cheeses.  (my prosciutto and cheese intake since arriving in Italy is quite impressive, I must say) Then the meal continued with 6 more courses.  Each one somehow better than the last, just like Gram’s.  The next day we travelled down the road, just a bit, to Agriturismo Cascita Veron just outside of Canale with 6 more courses.

And just when I was sure I was done eating for a few days, we stopped by another friend of Dave’s, Malcolm and his partner Patritzia, swimming with Julius and of course being offered 4 more courses of irresistible appetizers followed. Malcolm is not only a gourmet officinado but also a gourmet chef in his own right.

That's no poster behind Amy and Julius...
that's the surreal view from Malcolm and Patriitzia's pool.

I was so excited by our first and second Italian meals that I felt the need to take pictures of each and every plate.  Peter says it perfectly when he calls it “Food Porn”  Bon Apetit! 

Murphy’s Law

Our trips to Patagonia and New Zealand didn’t start out very smoothly, and they both turned out amazing… so if that trend continues, we’re in great shape for part 3 of the full moon… because pretty much everything that could go wrong, went wrong at the start of this trip.

It started before we even left.  We were up in NH for a few quiet days in the mountains before heading off to Europe, and it seems Amy left all of her ATM and credit cards up there… which we discovered as we were packing to leave.  Oops… that might complicate things a bit, but we plan to spend most of our time together, so it shouldn’t be too big of a problem.  For those of you keeping score at home, we’re now down 1 ATM card and 1 credit card. 

Switzerland was pretty...
though not the smoothest of trips for us!

We flew over to Switzerland on Air France.  Because I was headed over for work, I was fortunate enough to fly business class.  But that can sometimes be a curse as well as a blessing… I think it might have been the lobster claw appetizer, which I couldn’t pass up, even though I wasn’t particularly hungry… it hit me halfway through the flight, and I was feeling absolutely terrible.  I assumed it was my food allergy… which meant I was definitely going to be sick sometime soon.  By the time we landed in Paris, it was clear we were going to need to delay our connecting flight to Switzerland.  We headed to the airport emergency medical center… the only place in the airport where they proudly display photos of the best plane crashes in recent years at the airport.  My timing was impeccable, as I proceeded to get sick in their bathroom immediately upon arrival… (and then again little while later in a restroom in the terminal… and then one more time for good luck).  Score:  -1 ATM card, -1 credit card, and -1 lobster claw appetizer.

We figured that was the end of it… that’s how my allergy usually works.  So we boarded the flight to Switzerland… but I was feeling worse and worse and worse.  It suddenly dawned on me that this was a lot more like my mystery Patagonia illness than my allergy.  By the time we landed in Zurich, I was a mess.  I’d been sweating profusely, writhing in pain on the plane… I’m sure the flight attendants must have thought I was a drug mule gone bad.  I was so disoriented when we landed – and so desperately in need of a medical clinic – that I left my passport on the plane.  Oops.  We realized it right away, in the baggage area.  Amy asked them to check the plane… the only place it could possibly be.  Yet they reported that it could not be found.   Score:  -1 ATM card, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, and -1 passport.

So, to the medical clinic… where they hooked me up to an IV, took an ultrasound, did some other tests, and gave me some pain medicine.  (Yes, ladies, my spleen was -- yet again -- impressively large).  Score:  -1 ATM card, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, -1 passport, and -$600 in medical fees, which we’re not really sure will be covered by our less-than-robust health insurance plan.

Fortunately – though still very weak – I recovered enough to rally and lead the training workshop that brought us to Zurich in the first place (and was going to be financing the third leg of our honeymoon).  Amy set about trying to put our life back together.  First stop: get some Euros from the bank machine.  She took my ATM card and PIN number… not realizing I have 2 ATM cards with different PIN numbers.  When she entered the wrong PIN code, the machine swallowed the card, and could only return it by mail to our bank in the US.  Score:  -2 ATM cards, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, -1 passport, and -$600 in medical fees. 

Next stop: purchase a phone calling card, to call the bank, to release the ATM card from the clutches of the Banc Suisse machine.  But when she went to pay for the $25 card, the clerk actually read the name on the card (blast those Swiss and their attention to detail) – Amy clearly wasn’t David Kovick– and so they refused to release the phone card… even though it had already been charged to our credit card.  We had to return together so I could sign the slip and get the phone card… which turned out to be a replaceable SIM card, which aren’t compatible with US phones, and which they claimed they could no longer refund for some reason.  Score:  -2 ATM cards, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, -$600 in medical fees, +1 unusable phone card.

The next morning, it was on to the US consulate in Bern, for an emergency passport.  Aside from the $250 in train tickets and the $130 to replace the passport, that part of the operation went surprisingly well.  I had a new passport within 2 hours. And, when the nice lady at Air France phoned several days later to tell me they’d had my original passport all along, and couldn’t understand why I hadn’t come to claim it… well, that brings us to our final score:   -2 ATM cards, -1 credit card, -1 lobster appetizer, -$600 in medical fees, -$380 for an emergency passport, +1 unusable Swiss phone card, and +1 cancelled US passport. 

It’s not always smooth sailing on the Full Moon… But there’s always a bright side.  The freelance work in Switzerland will provide us with our first paycheck in about 6 months, which definitely isn’t a bad thing, and we’re off to Italia to spend it already on some more carefree honeymoon adventures. 



The Full-Moon Interlude

Upon returning from our adventures in beloved New Zealand, we took a somewhat planned 2 month stint away from our full-moon.  The original plan was to be back in the US for April and to continue our travels in May.  As it turns out, though, it’s very expensive to quit your jobs and travel the world. . . Who knew?  So, we thought we would take advantage of some work Dave was offered in Europe in June, before part III of the Full-Moon.  We’re calling our time in April and May the Full-Moon Interlude. 

April was filled with happy things.  We had birthdays, a marathon, and a wedding. The days in between were filled with lots of time with friends, family, and our favorite puppies.

Then May came.  Hmmm.  All those big events we came home for had passed.  Hmmmm. Everyone went off to work.  We slept in.  We caught up on some of our favorite TV shows.  Honestly, we weren’t feeling like real winners. As Dave likes to put it and joke with my parents, after marrying me, he quit his job, convinced me to quit my job, spent our life savings travelling the world, and moved into his in-laws basement.  Maybe not exactly the partner every parent dreams of for their daughter. ; )

Over the next 2 weeks we poured our time and energy into a very thorough search for the perfect place to eventually call home. It felt kind of good to be so systematic and deliberate, while having a good time with it.  The candidates: Brattleboro, VT ; Portland, ME; Hanover, NH; Portsmouth, NH;  Amherst, MA; Northampton, MA. We spent a day in each town and had an extensive interview protocol for our site visits.  Our favorite question: If your town were to have a statue greeting visitors what would it be of and why?  Included in the visits was a trip to the local bike shop, a search for gluten-free pizza, a sip of the best coffee in town, a stop at the best off-leash dog-walking locale. . .  Very scientific, indeed.  Only two towns survived this crucible. The finalists: Portsmouth, NH and Northampton, MA.  Stay tuned!

After finding our potential perfect places to call home and still several weeks away from Full-Moon Part III, we started feeling a little purposeless down in the basement of 6 Oakwood Rd. 

Amy: “I’m feeling a bit purposeless.  We should either have a baby or train for an Ironman.” 

While the Fongs and Janet were pulling for the baby, our currently unemployed status (and accompanying lack of robust health insurance) along with a little push from our ambitious triathlon friends (TUTTS and ALI ) led us to sign up for our first Iron distance triathlon: Beach 2 Battleship (Wilmington, NC on Oct. 29, 2011).  That kept us busy for a while and will continue to over the next 5 months.  Thanks for helping us find a purpose, friends!

And then, it was time… Off to Europe for a little freelance work in Switzerland, and then on to Italy for the Full Moon Part III. 

Wait, Italy?  You were probably expecting us to be in Croatia.  That was the plan initially.  But somewhere along the way, in Iceland and New Zealand, we got inspired by some cycle-campers.  And that sounded like fun. So we thought we’d cycle-camp through Croatia.  However, it didn’t take much research to learn that neither the roads in Croatia nor its drivers are particularly friendly for cyclists.  So we thought we’d pick a more cycle-friendly country, like Italy, and save Croatia for next time. 

Bongiorno, Italia!  It’s time for the Full Moon, Part III.  Ciao bicis!