Rome. And Reunions.

After another great weekend in Sweden (more on that later), I met up with my buddy Gina in Rome to travel around Italy a bit. She works for a damn progressive company that gives a one-month sabbatical after five years on the job, which every company in the history of ever should do, and we quickly started doing the kind of things you do when Gina's involved. Stuff like crashing a birthday party, visiting a "gourmet food store" that her friend recommended only to have the owner of a swank restaurant drop everything and hang with us for a bit, and meeting up with some Italian friends of her dad's for a Gina-reception at a bar teeming with Italian TV stars. She deftly dodged two smitten Italians who were stoked to learn we were buddies, not datings or marrieds. One bloke pulled the trifecta the next day hoping to score a date with her: call/voicemail, email, Facebook message. I respected his persistence; she still resisted. Boo, Gina. Boo! Give the guy a chance! One night, we found a karaoke bar that was open until 4 AM. She sang with some new friends. I watched baseball. As you do in Rome.

Stefano, Gina, and their mutual American friend who hangs on the wall

I don't understand why Italians aren't fat

Like everybody else, I've read all about the benefits of the Mediterranean diet, so I was pretty excited to get down here last week and indulge in all the health. Bread. Pasta. Cheese. More bread. More pasta. More cheese. Cannoli. Gelato. Wine by the gallon. Pizza. I could feel the kilos shedding after every meal. 

Just to confirm, the magic Mediterranean diet is just about being in the Mediterranean and eating food, right? Thought so.

Something called "pizza"

A whole lot of delicious

Home made Pici, native to Siena. Spaghetti on HGH.

Vino Whitey

Just in case I'm doing the Med diet wrong, I'm lucky that Rome is the kind of place you want to walk around in. After engaging in my new favorite tour - the six-mile guided jog through town to see the sights - I spent the rest of the week walking the city. Several hours and kilometers a day (when in Rome, we use the metric system), up the Spanish Steps and by the Trevi Fountain, the Colosseum, the Pantheon, Vatican City, across the River Tiber to the lively Trastevere neighborhood. In fact, like Magellan before us, we circumnavigated an entire country one day last week when we got lost looking for the Mouth of Truth. No small feat, even if it's the smallest country in the world.

From left: Russell Crowe, me, annoying tree branches, Colosseum

Trevi Fountain, a big stop on the running tour

Straw-hat photobomb

The Bridge of Angels leading to Vatican City

"And I have seen the David, seen the Mona Lisa, too"*

*bonus points if you can identify the song without Googling it. Or binging it, if anybody actually bings.

Then it was off to Firenze, the birthplace of the Renaissance and the prototype for countless suburban developments in Central California trying in vain to recreate the authentic charm of Tuscany. As trite as it sounds, the Statue of David is incredible. Whereas the Mona Lisa, Starry Night, and Persistence of Memory don't look much different in person than in pictures, David comes alive before your eyes. I don't think I realized how big he is - I blame Goonies - and 10 minutes staring at the once-discarded chunk of marble was well worth the hourlong wait in line.

Also rented a car and drove to Siena - a maze of a city that's home to the world-famous Il Palio horserace - then stopped at one of the most accommodating and gorgeous wineries I've ever been to, DieVole in Chianti. Show up without a reservation and want lunch, too? No problem, but only if you'll have four courses and coffee for about 30 bucks. Want a wine tasting for only 12 Euros ($15-16)? Sure, but only if you're okay with getting a private winery tour - drinking the best reds in the wine cellar - and complimentary grappa afterward. Twist my arm.

They've been making red wine there for over 900 years, when two intrepid winemakers rented the 1,000-hectare (~2,200 acres) plot from the Catholic Church for quite a haul: two chickens, six silver coins, and three loaves of bread. Most of the grapes are Sangiovese, exposing a fundamental difference in wine culture between the US and Europe. We Yanks identify our wine by the grape; Euros name it after the region. Chianti Classico is mostly Sangiovese and pairs well with fava beans, at least according to Hannibal Lecter. If we made the same wine in Sonoma, we'd call it a Sangiovese, not a Sonoma. Which is good, considering that the climate is changing and "a Sonoma" may be completely different in 50 years.

Now we're in Positano, down on the Amalfi Coast, and, well, I can't lie. It's stupid how beautiful this place is. Hit up a ridiculous restaurant last night with the people from the hotel, arranged by Blake Costanzo's very gregarious papa. We devoted significant time to discussing how the Niners would have won the Super Bowl if they hadn't let Blake go, pouring huge crystals of sea salt into my still-gaping wound. 

But, oh, the Amalfi Coast - I won't muck it up with words; check out some pictures. 

La Mer

Papa's own invention. No idea what he calls it.

When the moon hits your eye...

Bench

"Footpath of the Gods"

Reunion

There's nothing quite as life affirming as the reunion; meeting up with a friend you haven't seen in years and realizing nothing has changed. The jokes are the same, the old stories feel like they just happened, your memory spits out minute details of things you did 10 years ago that you'd forgotten you could still remember. I've been extremely fortunate the last seven weeks, meandering around Europe from one reunion to the next, repeatedly entering that time warp that somehow wipes away all that's elapsed in the interim. Even so, last week's reunion was a first: the longest gap I've ever gone between visits with a friend.

There was a year in the early 90s where you'd have mistaken Niclas Lindberg for the third August brother. From the first day he moved in with my grandmother - an exchange student from the south of Sweden - he and my brother Jeff were inseparable high school seniors in Lemoore, CA. I was fortunate enough to land a second older brother - one with a funny accent and very different perspective on the world - and I still very clearly remember the day he left in 1993, shoulders slumped as he walked toward his flight away from Fresno Air Terminal.

Last Sunday night, Niclas picked me up at the train station in Kristianstad, Sweden, 12 miles north of his hometown, Ahous, home to 10,000 people and one very famous vodka distillery (Absolut). It was the first time I'd seen him since that day at the airport 20 years ago. 

Ahous - tallest building on the right is the Absolut distillery

The lines in his brow are etched a little deeper, his stubble is thick enough to be called a beard and specked with bits of grey, but nothing else about Nille has changed. He still says "yeah, but" when making a point he really wants to emphasize, and he still carries a "no worries" approach to every little obstacle that comes up. He's grown up, for sure, and he has the family to prove it: his lovely Brazilian wife, Tatiana, and three beautiful kids, Valentina, 12, Oliver, 11, and baby Gabriela, five months old. I'm pretty sure I won over the two older kids when Oliver realized we had the same pair of kicks (sweet Vans, albeit in three different colors). I also got to confirm for Tatiana that Niclas did, in fact, bring the house down at the LHS Felix Awards when he and Jeff performed their original song, Phoenix. I believe her exact words were "so it really is true?" in a tone that revealed a long-held skepticism.

Niclas and Valentina

Niclas, Tatiana, and I sat up late drinking Spanish wine and talking like old friends do. The story of how they ended up together is real but sounds like fiction; Niclas asked me about people that he remembered but I haven't seen in 15 years; we planned future meetups before 2033, and even a potential relocation for the Lindberg family to San Francisco. Niclas is a software developer with a social-marketing internet startup. Sounds about right. 

At some point in the night, I realized how big an impact Niclas had on my life. It's not too dramatic to say he inspired me to see the world outside Lemoore, California, the US and A. I told him so, and I'm really glad I was able to. It felt like I was spending the evening with family. 

Hey, here's a picture. Rumor has it worth a thousand words.

Egads! Always remember to take pictures. 

Rounding the bend on Europe

It's hard to believe, but my European tour is nearly complete. I'm headed to Zurich this weekend, then it's Budapest and Istanbul next week before I head to Cambodia. For giggles, here's the roster of countries I've visited so far.

UK (England)

Sweden

Denmark

Norway

The Netherlands

Germany

Switzerland

France

Poland

Italy

NEXT UP: Switzerland (again), Hungary, and Austria or Serbia (TBD), then Turkey. I was very tempted to book a ticket to Tel Aviv the other day, but then Israel started bombing sites within Syria. No bueno.

What a ride.

One bit of news from the real world: I have a job! Starting Sept 1 in San Francisco. Pretty awesome to have that waiting for me. Now I'll forget about it and live it up for four months.

Cin Cin!