At Home In Madrid

Somewhat surprisingly, I felt at home in Madrid immediately. Maybe that’s because I live in a Spanish-dominated area like Miami or maybe it’s because I have a moderate grasp of the language. I’m sure both played a role.

But I largely suspect that it’s because Madrid is just a welcoming place. And this isn’t because it’s a little insecure because it may be less visited than it’s European bretheren like Rome or Paris. Believe me Madrid isn’t trying to kiss your ass because it thinks it’s some second-rate destination dying for you to show up with your dollars. To the contrary, Madrid and it’s 3.5 million people are quite confident in who they are. This confidence results in a genial nature that manifests itself into the easy-going approach Spaniards, and Mardilenos in particular, take to life. It makes you feel at ease at once. It’s greeting in English would be: "Why don't we get a drink and a bite to eat?"

Consequently, Madrid, as trite as this may sound, is more about "Being than Seeing." That is, it’s more about being there and enjoying the people and atmosphere versus seeing famous sights. There are plenty of great things to see, but those things are what you do while you’re enjoying the city.

I spent the majority of my time in the area that is anchored by Puerto del Sol (image in Upper LH corner - click to enlarge). Although it’s not a Plaza, it has a Plaza feel to it with it’s fountain and large statue. It’s really a dual purpose spot serving as the hub for the various and crooked spokes that are the streets and pathways of this modern and Medieval city; while it also acts as the city’s social crossroads where Madrilenos of all stations descend, gather and diseminate in varying levels throughout the day and night. So even though this is the most touristy part of town, the high concentration of locals and their easy going nature assured I never felt like a tourist.

A short walk from Puerto del Sol in any direction and you’ll hit Madrid's most famous sights. Ten minutes to the West and you’ll find Plaza Mayor and Palacio Real (Royal Palace). Twenty minutes to the East and you’ll pass The Prado Museum and end up of the doorstep of El Parque del Retiro. But to live like a Madrileno, on your way to these places be sure to make a short stop at a bar along the way for some sangria and Spanish ham. And on your way back, hit up a bakery for a Cafe con Leche and a pastry too. In Madrid, it's not about the destination, it's about enjoying the treats as you go.

I posted some pictures below of my recent trip to Madrid. The captions are limited or non-existent for now, but they'll give you some sense of the things I saw. This is the first of a couple of blog entries for Madrid. I'm going to try to get everything done by the end of next week.

Day 2 Panama - A Few Of My Favorite Things

As exhibited by mi amigo Jose, Panamanians enjoy the reptuation of being genuinely kind and good-natured people. And they really want you to have a good time when you’re visiting their country. The most frequent question I got from the locals was: "Te gusta Panama?" (Do you like Panama?). They weren’t asking for my opinion, like "How do you like Panama?", but putting it out there like an insecure school girl passing a note. "Do you like me? Check Yes or No."

To make sure I checked Yes, it appeared as though the Panama Travel Gods decided to tab Friday night as: "The Night of My Favorite Things." It started with me watching the Yankees beat the Red Sox 1-0. At Fenway no less. I also won $100 on the game...and ate a whole pizza while I watched. A Yankees win, easy money and 8 delicious slices...all before 9 o’clock. These Gods aim to please!

Full of Yankee Pride and pizza, with a fatter wallet as well, I hopped a cab to the party street Jose had shown me earlier in the day. The bars and restaurants along Calle Uruguay aren’t laid out according to a perfectly proportioned grid thought up by a zoning board. It’s not at all like a strip mall or some small town main drag you’d find in the States. Fuddrucker’s isn’t next to Applebee’s which is opposite TGIFriday’s with big signs and ample parking for all. This is a poorly-lit and narrow neighborhood street. It’s got way too many overgrown hedges and non-existent parking.

So in the dark it’s not always easy to find what you’re looking for. However, within moments of exiting the cab I was able to locate what clearly used to be a house that now served as a British pub called The Londoner. I’m usually pretty comfortable at these places, and since it was still relatively early, I figured this was as good of a starting spot as any.

The Londoner was basically like all the other British Pubs I’ve been in. Dart boards, pool table and a few high-back booths where people talk to the people they came with. Even though I’m in a Spanish speaking country, I find it peculiar when everyone is speaking Spanish in a British pub. It’s even funnier when the owner, who looks a little like the magician from Frosty The Snowmam, is barking orders in perfect Spanish to the two Panamian bartenders and then downshifts into a Crocodile Dundee Aussie accent to talk to a couple English guys sitting next to me.

Of course these places always have a good selection of English & Irish beers. You’ll also usually find a couple of the popular American and German brands too. But these Panamian Travel Gods know how to treat a guy. Much to my amazement, The Londoner had my favorite brew, Pilsner Urquell, the national beer of the Czech Republic, in stock.

With the intent of exploring Calle Uruquay, I decided to leave The Londoner after my second Pilsner. But when I stepped outside, on to what was once somebody’s front porch, the Gods halted the exploration before it set sail. Placed in the corner of the second floor of the building across the street was a relatively small sign which caught my eye immediately. This neon beacon called out to me like the Bat Signal. It’s glow cut through the night and stated proudly: "Starlight’s Karoake Bar." On my Top 10 List of Favorite Things, singing is firmly in around #7. After two beers it probably creeps into the Top 5. So I was easily lured across the street by Commissioner Gordon’s call.

Starlight’s was also in what appeared to be a residence at one time. So when I attempted to go through what once was the front door, I was halted by a sign that said the room was reserved for a private party. There was a guy standing in front and I asked him what time the party was going to be over. He said much later, but if I wanted to go to the Karaoke, it was upstairs. I knew these Gods wouldn’t let me down.

He was the bouncer and walked me over to a side entrance that lead upstairs. I paid him $5 and headed up to enjoy the vocal festivities. But before I entered the club the Gods arranged for a few more of my favorite things to greet me. At the top of the stairs was a very attractive Panamian girl behind a makeshift bar, dolled up in shorty-shorts and a pleasingly tight and strategically cut Bacardi T-Shirt. In Spanish she asked me if I wanted a Bacardi Mojito. I hesitated momentarily as my English brain processed the Spanish. "It’s Free" followed up in Spanish. Of course I gladly accepted. I asked where her Tip Jar was and she said she didn’t have one. She told me not to worry about tipping her, but that I should just enjoy the mojito and have a good time inside. Wait a second, free booze and a hot chick who’s not all about the money....I’m being Punk’d right?

Starlight’s was packed with Panamanians. No tourists here. Since all the songs were in Spanish, I didn’t get up and sing. But I had a great time anyway. Karaoke here isn’t about one person getting up to show off there singing skills. It’s about one person getting up there and singing while the whole crowd sings along with them. With the audience participation and multitude of cute Latinas, all the place needed was a clown riding on a litte bike and a dancing box of Tide to officially qualify as the set of Sabado Gigante. I stayed for about 2 hours not knowing one song they sang, but the energy of the place was infectious and I had a great time.

I hit Calle Uruquay one more time to discover what else it offered. I passed a couple of places with hip names like "Moodz" that were clearly dance clubs with music and clientele not of my demographic. On one of the side streets, a large patio with a dozen moderatley crowded tables, caught my eye. It was getting late and I was looking for a little bit of a chill place after the electricity of Starlight’s. This place was called Sahara. And it too was a former house converted to a bar/restaurant. You entered the old house through what used to be the garage. The building was short of shaped like an L. As you entered through at the back end of the garage you stepped into the former living room which was the bottom portion of the L. This room was dispropotionately fat and had the bar directly in front of you and a decent size dance floor and stage to your immediate left. Extending off of that room was the long, skinny part of the L which played host to a 50/50 mix of men and women seated on a few couches and others flirtatiously shooting pool.

Immediately, I liked the mood of the place. Nobody was there to be seen or act like there where there to be seen. They were there to have a good time. While often times Panama can seem a lot like Miami, one thing is surely different in the clubs. The Attitude isn’t on the menu. I grabbed a Corona and enjoyed the vibe of people mingling, laughing and dancing in place to the American music from the DJ.

The stage was set up with instruments, but in the first hour I was there no one had even approached it. I figured that since it was well after midnight the band was probably done for the night. I was wrong. What I learned was that Panama parties. And it parties hard and it parties late, because a little after 1 in the morning the band came out to start their evening.

On my list of My Top 10 Favorite Things, good live music is firmly entrenched. But bad live music drives me to the door rapidly. One of the hottest things in the Latin American music is called Reggaeton. The best way I can describe it is a mix of reggae and rap with an infusion of salsa. To me it’s a bad mix. But in Panama it’s all the rage. So I figured this band was going to crank the Reggaeton and I was going to rock the exit.

But these Gods couldn’t treat me like that. This band came out and absolutely killed the first 3 songs. Stone Temple Pilots, Pearl Jam and Lynyrd Skynyrd as good as any US bar band could cover them. Plus the guitarist had a ridiculous Sweet Home Alabama solo that would have made you think he was from Jacksonville. I stayed until they finished that night and got home way too late.

For a place that appeared to be so unfamiliar, it was funny how so many of my favorite things were experienced that night. As well as the Tour Gods treated me, there's no doubt I'll go back to Panama sometime soon. But seeing how these guys seem to grant wishes so easily, the next time I'm going to make a List in advance. (I wonder if Heidi Klum to greet me in my room is a little too much to ask?)

Day 2 Panama - My Day With Jose

Rain and overcast skies, unfortunately a common theme for this trip, greeted me for the first time on Friday morning. My plan for the day was to head out early to The Panama Canal, but the rain put things on hold. Instead I grabbed a coffee at Dunkin' Donuts and hustled through the drizzle in order to hit "Rey", the supermarket on Via Espana.

When I travel I like the people I meet and the places I see to be vastly different from what I experience at home; but I like my hotels and anything food related to be right out of Main Street USA. Rey (Photo Below) was a bit suspect with it's windowless walls, dusted with exhaust, and crowd of characters out front which included a dozen ladies hawking lottery tickets and some food vendors selling things that looked neither sanitary nor appealling (Photo Upper Right - Click to Enlarge).

But since I needed only some bottled water, dental floss and a replacement for my "it's only 2 ounces so I'm not a terrorist" tube of toothpaste, I gave the place a shot. Well Rey put my little, snobby Gringo nose right back in place, because it was as nice as any supermarket you'd find in the States. It was white-glove clean and fully-stocked. It also had a pharmacy, bank, beauty department, butcher and a sandwhich shop with tables where a half-dozen people were grabbing a snack. After I paid in $US, in prices comparable to Miami, I grabbed a Cafe Con Leche at the well-appointed Cafe (cherrywood cabinets and marble counter) that was built into the front of the store. "Algunas mas, Gringo?"

Panamanians make their money on tourists. And white guys like me are seen as a sure source of revenue. So when I walked the 2 blocks from the hotel to Rey, I was bombarded with offers for a half-dozen taxi rides, Native Indian jewelry, various kinds of food and an Ecotour. I knew the same sales-pitch minefield awaited me on my walk back; but what I couldn't know was that one of the guys making that pitch was about to make this drab day very colorful.

As soon as I hit the street which lead to the hotel, a guy who was a dead-ringer for Hall-of-Fame baseball player Ozzie Smith, asked me if I wanted to buy some sunglasses. I told him "No thanks. It's raining!" His English was good and we started talking. He asked me how I liked Panama and what I hoped to do. I told him I just got there the night before and the rain was messing with my plans, but I hoped to see the obvious tourist sites but also get a taste of real life in Panama. Without a beat he said: "OK. I gonna chow you!"

Now it's probably not prudent to follow a complete stranger, especially in a foreign country, but I liked Jose's spirit from the start. So off we went. As we walked away from his sunglass stand, the first thing he told me was: "Don't buy no-ding here. This is for tourists. If you gonna buy something, go to Chinatown. "Where's Chinatown?" I asked. "I gonna chow you," he said for the second time of many.

Jose told me he was 57, but he looked like he was 35. "I don't eat meat," was his answer to my surprise at how young he looked. I later found out that he did like his beer. So apparently the Vegetarian-Beer diet is quite effective in staying young. Our first stop was Calle Uruquay, the street where the Panamaians go to have a nice dinner and party it up. On our way there, Jose told me of the building boom, the problems with traffic and his love for America and Panama. All along the way he greeted doormen, parking attendants, cashiers, et al with a laugh, a smile and a comical comment. They obviously knew him and liked him. After about 15 minutes we made it to Calle Uruguay and Jose started pointing out the right places to eat and have a drink. "Go there," he told me of Madam Changs Chinese Restaurant. "Goo' foo'. Cheap."

It started to rain again and Jose flagged down a cab. He good-naturedly, negotiated with the driver and settled on renting the cab for an hour for $12. We were off to see the rest of Panama. We saw the Seafood Market and The Old City (Casco Viejo) from inside the cab. Then we hopped out to check out the President's palace up close while the cabbie swung around and met us on the other side.

From there he directed the cabbie to another area of town about a five-minute ride away. This was obviously outside the tourist area. We drove by beat-down tenements where the people were seated outside their doors on crates and worn-out chairs. And the people who were walking, were doing so slowly and seemed like they had no particular place to go. It was most definitely the wrong side of town. This was the "Real Panama" I was hoping to see so I asked Jose if it were safe for me to come back here and walk around. Before answering he repeated my question in Spanish to the cab driver. They both laughed. Jose turned to me in the back seat and said: "This is like Harlem, man." I took that as a "No".

Our hour was about up as the cab pulled away from Panama's version of Harlem. The cabbie dropped us off at an archway which signified the beginning of Avenida Central, the shopping district of the local Panmanians (Photo Below). It was the equivalent of a bad US flea market in need of an overhaul. I thanked Jose for showing me these off-the-beaten path sites. His response: "I toll' you, I no foe-king around. I gonna chow you." Avenida Central dead-ended into Plaza de Cinco de Mayo. It's name sounded festive. It wasn't.

We were about 2 hours into this jaunt and Jose told me he had one more thing he had to show me. We hopped a 10 minute cab ride to the Allbrook Mall. It was maybe 2 or 3 years old and right out of the American heartland. Clean, shiny and full of hundreds of stores with glittering signs. He told me it was financed by Columbian drug money. We stopped in the Food Court which was enormous. The seating area, with easily 100 tables, was about 80 yards long and 40 yards wide. The entire space was ringed by about 30 eateries which included every US fast-food chain plus a couple of local places. We sat down and had a Cafe Con Leche. On the back of a receipt tape, with a pen borrowed from a cashier, Jose wrote down all the places we'd been and his little notes on each. Plus he gave me his phone number and told me to call him if I needed anything.

Before we left he took the time to show me the new bus station adjacent to the mall. "You wanna have a goo' time on Sunday? Go away from the city. I gonna chow you the goo' buses. With air conditioning. Not the pee-a-schit buses that that the other people take." And he showed me where to buy the tickets if I wanted to go to the Mountains or the Beach to "see beautiful girls in bikinis."

The mall was on the outskirts of town and my hotel was in the middle of the business district. This presented a real dilemna in getting back. Because traffic is so bad in the business district no cabbies wanted to drive there at this time of day and spend all there time stuck in traffic. There was a girl waiting for a taxi a few feet from where we were standing. She was also heading to the same part of town and nobody wanted to give her a ride either. After about 10 denials, Jose finally convinced 1 guy to take us and the girl at the same time. Basically a double fare. He agreed and we were on our way.

Now I knew I was going to pay Jose some money for his time. We hadn't negotiated anything up front, so I really didn't know how much to give him. But a man who can sell sunglasses on a rainy day, has got to be smooth. So he didn't ask me for any money, but asked if I could "help him" buy some Cuban cigars on the black market. Now this box of Cubans, he explained, cost $40, but if he sold them individually to the tourists at the casino he could make 10 times that. He really hoped I could "help him out." Needless to say I gave him the $40. I liked him and we had a good time. Plus $40 was well worth the insight and revelation I received on a morning that would have been otherwise spent in a hotel room staring at the rain.

But wait this story isn't yet over. The Black Market, were Jose was going to buy the cigars, was on the way to the hotel. So Jose was getting out first. The taxi driver took a couple of side roads and wound up in a place that was much, much worse than "the Harlem of Panama." I've been in my share of bad neighborhoods, so I don't get rattled easily with this type of thing. But I was, to say the least, a bit concerned. The car barely came to a stop and Jose jumped out. The girl, dressed like she was going to a job interview, and I were in the backseat and I heard her say "peligroso" (dangerous). This isn't what she signed up for when she agreed to split the cab. The driver, a littled shaken himself, quickly buzzed to the end of the street, made a right turn without stopping at the stop sign and boogeyed his way out of there.

I have to laugh at the memory. But what else should I have expected but an exciting little adventure like that? After all, Jose told me: "I no foe-king around!"

This was only the first part of my Friday in Panama. Tomorrow I'll finish my adventurous day with stories of a little partying and gambling in Panama. A couple of photos are below.

Day 1 Panama - Are We There Yet?

Panama City is sometimes called the Miami of The South. But the Panamanians joke: "Except we speak more English." That description is dead-on. It's alarming how similar these two places are. I'm really not sure if I've left. The architecture in the area of the city where I'm staying, the cusp of "El Cangrejo" and "Area Bancaria", is vintage Hialeah. It's dated and haphazardly placed - like Mike Brady was the City Architect and Oscar Madison the Head of the Zoning. It's mostly 1960s era strip malls, fast-food chains and the occasional misplaced high-rise. (Click on photo to the left for a detailed look.)

As with it's Florida cousin, Panama City has too many cars for too few lanes and this prompts people to write their own traffic rules. Crossing the main drag, Via Espana, falls somewhere between Russian Roullette and Sky Diving. (Photo Below).

But in spite of it's appearance and automotive chaos, I like being here and walking the streets. I relish exploration for its own sake and thoroughly enjoy the anonymity found in the formula of distance plus population. But making everything more enjoyable is that I have a great hotel. It's also a casino, so it's got a buzz to it and is on par with what you'd find in smaller place in Las Vegas. It's clean and well decorated and will give me a great place to crash and clean-up.

Finally, a personal anectdote highlighting this feeling that Panama City is all too much like Miami. I didn't get to the hotel, because of weather delays, until about 5 o'clock. I was hungry and wanted to grab something quick so I went to the Subway restaurant off the lobby of the hotel. The Panamian girl taking the order didn't speak English, so when I told her how to make my sandwich, I had to do it in Spanish. Well a couple of times per month I go to the Subway 2 blocks from work. Everytime I go there and tell the girl behind the counter how to make my sandwich...I have to do it in Spanish.

So one of the best things about being in Panama is that I don't feel like I'm in a foreign country...and one of the worst things about being in Panama is that I don't feel like I'm in a foreign country.

Tomorrow I'll reveal the details of my off-the-beaten-path tour of Panama with my new Panamanian friend Jose, my introduction to Panama Night Life and Joba Rules!!! Below, there are a few more pictures of the area around the hotel. See if you can tell a difference between Panama and Miami.

The Smackdown: Rome vs. Paris - The People: People In General & The Women

Rome vs. Paris The People - Part 1 & Part 2

(Editor’s Note: As usual I’m running long so this is going to be in installments. Part 1 & Part 2 are below. Part 3 - The People I Met will be next week, I'm off for Easter.)

People In General

The demeanor of Parisians and Romans is representative of their cultures. The Romans are more demonstrative in both body movements and voice, while the Parisians are more formal and reserved. Even if you don’t speak the language, a small example of their style is displayed in ordinary conversation. When two Italians are speaking you think something EXCITING is about to happen. When two Frenchman speak you think something IMPORTANT is going to happen. For the most part neither comes to pass...but they are equally pleasant people.

In Rome, my mom and I enjoyed the pizza (& vino) so much at the restaurant where we had dinner on Thursday, we returned on Saturday night. When we walked in the door, our waiter from Thursday remembered us, told us it would be a short wait, but not to worry he would make sure we were seated as soon as a table became available. He checked back every few minutes giving us a updates with a smile. We stood in the small lobby and the owner, stationed at the front door, was sure to exchange pleasantries with us as we waited...even though he didn’t speak English. We could see into the area where they were making the pizza and even the cooks flashed welcoming grins. After we were seated and finished off our pizza and more wine, I asked the waiter for the check. He laughed and joked with me: "The check? But you haven’t seen the dessert menu yet!" What added to the festive mood, something I think is representational of a real family place like this one, was the singing of Italian classics by a group of 20 or so in the back of the place. Young, old and in-between, were singing badly and loudly. They really enjoyed themselves and didn’t give a damn what anybody thought.

While I was treated like a long lost brother in Rome; conversely in Paris I was the very familiar stranger. My room key was metal like your house key. I thought it was for a jail cell it was so big. It had a placard about the size of a deck of cards attached to it with the room number written on it. Because I didn’t want to lug it around, I turned it into the desk for safekeeping whenever I left the hotel. In the course of my travels, I must’ve turned the key in 2 dozen times. About half those times, the girl behind the desk was the same one who checked me into the hotel. We always said "Bon Jour" and both said "Merci". But even though I’d been through this key exchange routine with her 10 times, it always seemed like it was the first time I ever walked into that hotel. Not once did she ever smile or say "Are you having a nice time?", "How’s you’re day?", "Do you need extra towels?". Nothing. If I asked her directions, she always answered succintctly in English. Offered nothing more, nothing less. Let’s just say I don’t think she was going to the back of French restaurants belting out old French songs with her buddies after a glass of wine or two too many.

Now in our "TGIFriday’s/Happy, Happy Birthday" existence, many Americans, would interpret her as rude. I never got that feeling. She was very pleasant, but just to the point and very French (aloof) in her interaction with customers.

Winner: TIE Both Groups are very nice. They each have their ways.

When visiting Europe I have always tried to learn a few basic phrases (Hello, good bye, please, thank you, excuse me, where is and most importantly Do you speak English...) I really think the attempt at using the host language put you in better standing with the locals. Therefore, I have had nothing but positive experiences with everyone I met in Paris and Rome. This was true in Prague as well, but the Czechs enjoy the reputation of being the friendliest people in Europe, so they might’ve just been nice all the same.

The Women

The Parisian women are very skinny, not always in a good way either, and have features that tend to be longer and sharper like Sarah Jessica Parker. The Roman women are definitely cuter in a Sandra Bullock sort of way. Softer features with dark hair and dark eyes over fair to olive skin.
Attention to fashion seems to be a priority with the French women. It was cold when I was there and they all wore overcoats cinched at the waist that accented their figures. More importantly, most all of the Parisian women wore these sexy, knee-high leather boots. Black or brown over their jeans or with a skirt, it didn’t matter the rest of the outfit, the boots were there giving even the least attractive girl a little something. Meanwhile the women in Rome tended to be a little more Euro-trashy. They had cute faces and figures, but the 1983 Madonna get-ups needed an overhaul.

Winner: Split decision. The best outcome would be one of the cute Italian girls putting on one of those overcoats and a pair of those knee-high leather boots.

The Smackdown: Paris vs. Rome - The Food

Paris vs. Rome - The Food

(Editor’s Note: I think one of the most laughable groups around today are people who call themselves "Foodies". People who claim to have "sophisticated palates" and prefer only "fine dining". These are the same goofballs who were once "wine connessiuers". The vast majority no longer claim that title because they know that in a blind taste test, 99% couldn’t tell a French Vintage from $3 Buck Chuck if their life depended on it...and they don’t want to risk the embarrasment of being outed as having an "unsophisticated palate." So they’ve moved on to criticizing food to satisfy their elitist needs. So this food review is coming from a guy who falls into his own group: "Eater." And all the food I will talk will fall into 2 categories: "It tastes good" or "It tastes bad". For emphasis, the words "really", "very" & "fuckin’" can be inserted in various combinations before "good" and "bad", but "Good" & "Bad" are the continuum on which all of the food will be based. So if you are interested in the "layering of flavors" "inctricacy of the technique", or "molecular gastronomy", you may not want to read further.)

Category 1

Breakfast
In Rome and Paris you can get pastries and coffee in the morning in of host of little stores scattered around the city. What vaults Paris way ahead of Rome in this category is that in Paris you can easliy get the pastries right in the shop where they are made. These little bakeries are everywhere in Paris. In Rome I could only find places where it was obvious they had thier pastries dropped off and coud’ve been there for a couple of days. There are few things better at 8 in the morning than your choice of piping hot croissants or pastries filled with fresh cheeses and jellies. But my favorite was the one where they baked chunks of chocolate into the bottom of the pastry. Coffee and chocolate in a great combination. I had at least 2 of those things every morning I was in Paris.
Winner: Easily Paris
Rating: Very Good

Category 2
Lunch
I didn’t really sit down for Lunch, but the menus in both Paris and Rome looked very similar to there Dinner menus, so I’ll review them there.

Category 3
Walking Around Food
In both Paris and Rome you could pop into an eatery on the street and get pizza or a baggette that were pretty good. It was enough to keep you going during sightseeing. What was great about both places is that they wrap it up for you so you can walk and eat. What gives Paris the big edge in this category is that on every corner they have creperiees or other food shops that set up stands where they make crepes for you. You can get ham and cheese in a fresh crepe in Paris. It was cold when I was there, so getting a hot ham and cheese on a crepe was fantastic. In Paris they also had these little Greek restaurants that did one of the oddedst things I ever seen...but it wound up being really good. The have a slab of meat that’s about 2 feet long (I’m guessing it was lamb), rotating on a skewer in the window. The Greek guy then takes some sort of electric tool and shaves the meat off the slab into little pieces. They then pile of bunch of it into baggettes and cram a bunch of French Fries into the sandwhich and that’s how you eat it.
Winner: Paris
Rating for Baggettes/Pizzas: Good
Rating for Ham & Cheese Crepe: Really Good
Rating for Shaved Lamb & Fries Baggette: Really Good

Category 4

Dinner
Okay, this is where the fisticuffs can start. This reactions are visceral when it comes to people defining their love for French or Italian cuisine. I must admit that I love Italian food. I even had Lasagna at a place called "Mama’s" one night while I was in Paris. But to be fair I sat down and had Beef Burgundy at a little bistro behind the hotel. It was good. I examined a bunch of other menu’s at the other bistros around the area, but none really got me excited to eat. I’m sure they were fine, but not necessarily worth the effort. In Rome, I had pizza, fetucinne bolognese, lasagna and veal scalopione. Every dish, no matter the reaturant, was fantastic!!! If I had one meal to eat before I die, it would be the pasta with bolognese sauce followed by pizza funghi in Rome.
Winner: Rome in a Trouncing!
Rating for Beef Burgundy: Good
Rating for All Italian Dinners: Really, Fucking, Good!!!

Category 5 -

Sweets
The Romans just throw down the gauntlet in this category with the Gelatto. They had gelatto in Paris also, but it couldn’t compare to the gelatto in Rome. Let’s face it there is nothing better than ice cream...except gelatto. But the Parisians have all of the bakeries and you can get fresh eclairs, brownies and cookies any time of the day. I would give a slight edge to the gelatto at this point. But to settle this we have to go to the Nutella. Nutella is a creamy chocolate/hazelnut spread. It’s made in Italy, but available in Paris too. While Italians spread it on a number of things, what gives Paris the edge in this category is that those creperies have as one of their options: Crepe with Nutella. You get a hot, fresh crepe and that melts the Nutella and creates almost a little Nutella pop tart. Melted chocolate on anything is ridiculously good. I was addicted. I had at least 2 of these per day and had to tell myself no a couple of times in order to walk by the creperie without buying one.
Winner: Paris but both are Really, Fucking Good.
Rating for Gelatto: Really, Fucking Good
Rating for Eclairs, Brownies & Cookies: Really, Fucking Good
Rating for Nutella on Crepes: Really, Fucking Good

Overall Winner:

Rome
Even though Paris won more categories, I have to give the edge in The Food category to Rome because the dinners were just way too good. But if you have a real sweet-tooth, Paris is your place.

The Smackdown: Rome vs. Paris - The Sights

I have recently visited two of the greatest cities in the world; so it begs the question: Which is better Paris or Rome? Lovers of each city can hardly fathom that I would even consider the other city over their beloved. And they are both right. Neither is better, because both are fantastic. However, each has their advantages and strengths. So here I present to you: "The City Smackdown: Paris Vs. Rome!" This is my categorical breakdown of The Sights, The Food, The Nightlife, The Women, The Intangibles, Etc..

(Editor’s Note: I thought I could do this in 1 entry, but it got too long. I’m going to do it over the course of a couple of entries over the next few days. Then, for those interested in a little historical perspective, I’m going to end this whole thing with an entry I call "Your Money & Your Morals - The Roman Influence". Plus I will post some more pictures as well, so please check back druing the course of the week.)

Paris vs. Rome: The Sights

Category I - The "Big 3" for Each City

1) The Icons -

The Eiffel Tower vs. The Colosseum
Rome trounces Paris in this one. The Eiffel Tower just seems contrived. It is great to see from afar and I guess it offers a great view of Paris (I didn’t want to wait in line to find out), but is overwhelmed with tourists, has NO chararcter or historic significance and offers no real architectural appeal. (The bridges in Paris are better sight and you get a great view from the Arc de Triomphe.) While The Colosseum is also overwhelmed by tourists, all it has to offer is worth any of the annoyances. It is an absolute architectural wonder, especially since it’s construction wasn’t matched for about 2000 years, it oozes history and really seems like it’s alive. You almost expect a gladiator to walk by you at any moment - and I’m not talking about one of those fat, old Italians who pose for pictures outside either! Finally, The Colosseum is one of the most beautiful sights in Europe when seen at night with its perfect lighting.

2) The Most Famous Museums -

The Louvre vs. The Vatican Museum/Sistine Chapel
Paris strikes back on this match-up and handily defeats Rome. This is not a knock The Vatican Museum/Sistine Chapel, which has wonderful statues, tapestries, atniquites and of course the famed paintings of Michelangelo on the ceiling The Sistine Chapel. Our tour took about 2.5 hours from the front door until we exited thru the rear of the Chapel, and I think we basically did and saw most of what we could. However, The Louvre is enourmous. I believe you could go 8 hours per day for a week straight and not feel like you’ve seen everything. The Louvre has 5 wings (I think it’s 5) that are all larger than The Vatican Museum. You can really get a running history of the world from the pieces that range from the artifacts of the Ancient Egyptians through the beautiful paintings of the Renaissance. Ironically, The Louvre has a better display of Italian Masterpieces than Rome. In addition, The Louvre is an architectural masterpiece that is impressive on the inside and out. Now I wish they would just get rid of that damn Mona Lisa!

3) The Most Famous Religous Buildings -

Notre Dame Cathedral vs. St. Peter’s Basilica
This one is closer, but Rome takes it when comparing these two buildings. From the outside, Notre Dame is extremely impressive. It’s scale is intimidating and if you told me a hunchbacked guy lived in one of the bell towers I would believe you. It’s gothic features, flying buttresses and soaring position above The Seine make it an attraction worth visiting. However, instead of inspiring you upon entry, as you would hope a religous building would, it’s cold, hard, stony interior and lack of light make the place more scary than inspiring. Meanwhile, St. Peter’s is absolutley beautiful inside and out. Once you are in the vicinity of the Vatican, St. Peter’s wonderful dome peeks above and around other buildings in the area and beckons you. The colorful murals, sculptures, most notably Michelangelo’s La Pieta, marble floors and soaring columns on the inside are true marvels. In addition, the historical significance of it being the resting place of St. Peter and other popes make it a place of pilgrimage for all Christians. Some find it spiritually uplifiting to be there, but I was more in awe than inspired, but that in no way detracts from its appeal.

So Rome gets the edge in 2 of the categories of the Big 3 Challenge. But to be fair, each city is more than those 3 things, now let’s take a look at a couple of other catgories:

Category II - Most Spiritual

Sacre Couer vs. San Pietro in Vincoli
San Pietro in Vincoli (St. Peter In Chains) is a basillica in Rome that houses the chains which imprisoned St. Peter in Jerusalem and the chains that shackled him later when he was arrested in Rome. Legend states that when both sets of chains were presented to Pope Leo they miraculously became joined to form 1 chain. There is also a famous Michelangelo sculpture of Moses here. To me this was the most moving religous building I visited in Rome. However, the clear winner is Sacre Coure (Sacred Heart) which is the most spiritually uplifiting and peaceful place I have ever visited on earth. On the ceiling there is a mural of Christ with his arms wide open welcoming you. Your eyes go to it immediately upon entering the basilica. It is set on a beautiful ocean blue background and I sat in a pew and stared at it for a half-hour straight. It was completely mesmerizing. I went late on a Sunday night and the tranquility you feel inside Sacre Couer is remarkable. Even more remarkable in that it is on the outskirts of Paris in a neighborhood that can be quite seedy at night. One of my goals in life is to attend Midnight Mass there.

Category III - Common Attractions

The Pantheon in Paris vs. The Pantheon in Rome and The Arc de Triomphe vs. The Arch of Constantine/The Arch of Titus
All of thes sights are fantastic, however when comparing you have to give the edge to the originals in Rome. Those sights in Paris were modeled after the ones in Rome.

At this point, Rome has a slight lead with a marginal win in "The Big 3" and a solid victory in the "Common Attractions" comparisons, but Paris stays close with a narrow defeat in "The Big 3" and a big win in "Most Spiritual".

Category IV - The Other Places

However, what gives the overall edge to Rome in The Sights category is the fact that Rome has so many treasures stationed around the city. Other cities around the world would consider these their greatest attractions, but they are secondary tourist options in Rome. Piazza Novona, The Spanish Steps, Circus Maximus, The Roman Forum and Trevi Fountain are just a few, but there are also dozens of other piazzas, museums, churches, sculptures and historically signifcant ruins that are scattered about Rome. Paris, or any place else in the world, can’t match the sheer volume.

Winner: Rome

So if you are a traveller most interested in seeing the sights, Rome is the clear winner.

The Sights and The Secrets

This writing is of early Sunday evening. I have covered all of the major sights in Rome. The Vatican Museum, Sistine Chapel, Colosseum, Roman Forum, Pallatine Hill, Pantheon and Trevi Fountain. The common element for all is each is grander than the pictures. Just like I can tell how great the pizza is, you won't really know until you taste it. The same is true with the hallowed Roman attractions - I could try to describe them, but no words can relate how impressed you are when you see them. But I'll try to give some highlights:

* St. Peter's Basillica is more Egyptian monument than church. The vastness of the space, height of the interior columns, boldness of the colors, (highlighted with rich gold accents) and the fact that a bunch of dead popes are lying around make it the most impressive structure I've ever visited.

* The Colosseum lives. You feel as if the crowd is going to roar at any moment.

* Trevi Fountain is enormous. It can not truly be captured in pictures. The sound of the running water makes it even more compelling.

* The Pantheon is a great contradiction. The outside with it's Roman writing, large weather-beaten columns and nicked-up exterior make it look like Fred Flintstone built it. But the inside is timeless. As opposed to other religous buildings, the inside is not overwhelmed by tribute. The marble floor and a few sculptures and murals tastefully decorate the ground level while the famed concrete ceiling with the graduated rectangles is a style that transcends any era.

But while all of the aformentioned attractions are a must-see, what makes Rome so fantastic are The Secrets it hides. One of my favorite things to do is walk in cities at night. The best time is as the city tucks itself in. A few people, fewer cars. There's just enough noise to let you know it's still breathing and just enough quiet to let you collect your thoughts. During these walks is usually when I compose my thought for these blogs. Moreover, during these walks is when Rome reveals it's secrets. Secrets you weren't asking about but were given when you dared to get close after everyone else went home for the night. Rome's secrets are the lesser known churches, piazzas, fountains and ruins that unexpectedly appear as you explore. Turn a corner and you're stopped in your tracks as a spectaclular structure stares back at you lit in a way only Europe knows. These are small treasures, like finding a $5 bill in your jeans after you pull them from the dryer, that just make the city more impressive . If you ever go to Rome, take time to search for the secrets and it'll show them to you when you least expect.

Day 1 - The Coolest Guy In The Room

My Take On Rome

If the great cities of Europe got together for a party, Rome would be the coolest guy in the room. Cool, calm and confident in the fact that he's, well....Rome. The other cities would sense it and try to impress him. Paris would say "We have a magnificent Catherdral that's over 1000 years old called Notre Dame."

"That's cool," Rome would respond in a self-assured, mildly cocky way. "We have St. Peter's Basillica, which is about 1500 years old, and the Vatican too - which is where the boss of the guy at Notre Dame lives. If you're ever in Rome look me up and we'll check it out."

"We have Wembley Stadium which is considered one of the great sports and entertainment venues of the modern-day world," London would offer to the conversation in hopes of impressing. "We have hosted The Spice Girls in concert and David Beckam playing football."

"Hey I've heard of that," Rome would counter. "We have a pretty cool place like that too. It's called the Colloseum. It about 2000 years old. I mean we've never had Posh and Becks, but guys used to fight lions and tigers in there. A couple of million people a year still visit...and nobody even plays there anymore. So if you're ever in Rome look me up and we'll check it out."

Here's the problem for Paris & London if they ever visited Rome. The Brit would wind up passed-out drunk on the couch and the Frenchman would storm off, pissed off about something...and Rome would wind up with both of their girlfriends. Why? Well because he's Rome...and women can't resist the coolest guy in the room! (Io capisco! hahaha)

The weather has not cooperated on Day 1. It's overcast and cold with itermitent rain. I planned to go to the Colloseum today, but nixed the plans because of the weather. Intent on not letting the day go to waste, I set about surveying the area around the Colloseum and Forum, which are not too far from our hotel. Unfortunately, the rain came down near the Circus Maximus, and we still had a hike back to the hotel. Through the cold wind-driven rain, I mushed my mom like I was Yukon Cornellius and she made it back only slightly weathered. She's a tough bird.

One of the true treasure of Europe is the out-of-the-way alleyways that have great little places to eat and have a drink. To make up for sludging her through the rain, I bought my Mom dinner at a little Ristorante in one of those alleyways behind our hotel. We both had pizza with a paper thin crust that was delicious. They gave us liter of house wine that drank like grape juice. It was just the tonic we needed to warm up from the mini-Iditarod and fuel ourselves for tomorrow's adventure at The Vatican and St. Peter's Basillica.