Romey secured a grant from the town to beautify her building as part of the main street COVID funding. The grant covered a new door, stonework pointing, flashing update, and fixing A/C drainage. While the work was being completed, the Winchester Star snapped this picture and put it in the paper.
The Viking gave out after 17 years. Ridiculously, it took a year to replace. Something about supply chain this. Yadda yadda. So, no more Vikings for me. Instead, a Wolf.
The difference is night and day. So much better!
The shiny oven gets broken in with a roast beast. For recipe details see this entry.
The little one is ready.
Romey does the Julienne.
The beast!
Yorkshire resting.
Yorkshire under the beef.
In the drippings.
Pan gravy with the remaining drippings.
Beef resting
Perfection.
The crowd is restless and the kitchen smells great.
The locals didn’t like it much at first, probably because they were jealous. They still call it “the quarry” (or la pedrera) because it was so dusty and noisy when it was being constructed. But Gaudi had a vision. And now all of Barcelona shares it.
This is not it!
Casa Milà is just up the street from Casa Batlló, which just so happens to be where our perfume shop is located.
We were told to do the night tour at Casa Milà, so we did. Good advice. The light and sound show on the roof is cheesy, but moving in a Disney small world kind of way. But the views of night time Barcelona are worth the walk up with no shenanigans required.
We’re getting ahead of ourselves, though. Lets go back to the beginning.
We walked one block from our hotel (the Alma) and arrived too early to be let in by ten minutes. Though the cafe in the building was officially closed, we convinced them into selling us an Aperol spritz or two.
After gulping down our drinks, we wandered into the courtyard to await the guide.
This view reminded Romey of the new building in NY (still closed due to suicide risk).
Color and light for the first floor and the primary residents.
The public clamored to get in.
The servants’ quarters reminded me of the servants’ facilities at Falling Water.
Eventually we climbed the six floors to the attic.
Where we encountered the model of the building we were in (with tiny little us’es taking videos or an even smaller model, and so on).
All squares were run to the right.
Then the roof just after sunset.
With breathtaking views of Barcelona like this, we’re not sure why the light and sound show seemed necessary. People.
And soon we were back on the ground enjoying a glass of cava.
The thing about Italians is that they love live music. And they love Americans too (in spite of our recent proclivities for absolute dumb shit behavior). Rhine and I took advantage of this by dragging around our instruments and playing for our supper where we ate.
The first great restaurant run happened after our worldwide debut as Into the Unknown in Campiglio Cervo. The crowd converged and decided we needed a reservation subito subito.
In the end, I was spirited off with Santa Mariela so I could see the restaurant and meet the owners with my own eyes. That’s because Ruers above Piedicavallo exists past where the road ends. So you have to walk there once you ditch your car. Incredible views await. And the kindest people.
On the same fact finding mission, we also had to make a quick trip to visit Dick (a local Scott of great flare) and his cat, and catch up with pretty much everyone we encountered. This was fun, but it made us late late late.
My scouting expedition revealed this view (that is Biella down there somewhere).
We returned (very late) in the Fiat 500, parked at the edge of the world, and proceeded to have an excellent dinner replete with local wine house made cheeses, polenta, roast beef, and even gluten free stuff for Matt.
After dinner we got out our instruments and played a little music. Here is part of the “first song” (a song by Bob that we always play first so we never have to figure out what to play first).
Then we entered the kitchen to play for the cooks. This was a blast, and the staff was most appreciative. Lets just say we are welcome back any time, forever.
Check out the face on this guy.
This kind of experience is what makes a trip to Italy an amazing, humanizing experience. And to top it all off, the Signora would not let me pay all that I owed.
Of course, once we did it once, we had to do it again. That’s just how it goes.
Rhine and I scouted out a restaurant run by the slightly pazzo Roberta in Sanctuario San Giovanni. The moon was almost full, and the werewolves were awakening.
The local Barbera was outstanding. This was one of the best simple meals we had on the trip.
Top of the world to you.
If you look closely, you will see Rhine.
Roberta recognized us as part of the concert crowd from Campigliano Cervo and asked if we had brought our instruments. Since we rushed to arrive by 8:30 the answer was no. Roberta asked us to return the next evening after our big opera, and a plan was born. We promised to arrive a punto by 8:29pm.
She sent up home with a 100 year old plate for April and some goodies for breakfast. We shared some grappa.
It took some doing after the big opera performance, but we did make it. The moon was full. Everyone else arrived shortly thereafter. I played my violin at the edge and made Mariela cry.
And, once again after dinner, we played in the kitchen for the cooks even as the vegan meal was blitzkrieged on the massive stove. The floor was sticky, but the love was palpable.
The stadium in Campiglia Cervo is scaled to match the interstate highway system that blazes through the center of town. We packed the stadium to the gills with what I am told was 65 people, including the vice mayor who introduced us, but not including the mayor himself who had more important things to do like look at himself in the mirror. Just so you know, this was a much bigger show than the show Metallica put on at the same stadium!
The show was actually very good. Intimate. Interesting. Tight. During the rest of our time in Rialmosso we ran into lots of people who either attended or heard through the grapevine about our performance. That was both really cool and very gratifying.
The road crew set the stage after arriving the day before to check electricity levels and make sure all of the seating was available. We have nothing but admiration for our intrepid road crew. They work so hard so we can do what we do.
The show consisted of three parts as shown on the billboard above.
Here is a stage floor view of the set list for those of you collecting bootlegs.
And a view of the nosebleed seating in the back before anyone was in the house. You can see the dancing props professionally built by our dedicated construction crew.
Publicity was run by our crack PR team who were able to put up a poster with the last of the tape.
Fortunately that poster was all it took to fill the space to the gills. When we started (only 5 minutes late), people were standing because the seating was gone. Even the reserved section for mastiffs and toddlers was full.
We sincerely appreciate the willingness of the locals in the area to support our art with enthusiasm and love!
The stage is set. The weather is perfect.
And we’re off. Sogol and Matt play Bach together.
Dancing to Vivaldi Concerto in G major for Two Mandolins, Strings and Continuo, RV 532 (re-re-arranged for violin, guitar and piano).
You might die, but if anything is noted as the cause of death, it will be loneliness.
There are no people doing art or even visiting Terzo Paradiso unless you count our unruly bunch. Here’s what we saw (and what we did).
First we explored random spaces.
And then we found some art to see (but only after getting lucky).
After a short nap in the hammocks near the circles, we found the projector and those glowy rocks from Land of the Lost.
There were no Sleestaks. So here are two for good measure. They covet the glowy rocks.
There was dirt.
There was also very silly science. But it was arty.
Not surprisingly, the room was better than the dirt.
Watch this video. Really.
Rhine took pics too. It was hard not to.
We got lucky and found another human who told us how to cross the highway, go down the stairs and find even more art. Or rather more art places with not much art. Something like that.
Rhine woke up from his long nap, dreaming of Sleestaks and late 1970s TV.
The space rang a long cool echo of lost civilizations and the empty planet to come.
So there was dance.
And reflection
We climbed back down to reality using a ladder that was too short to reach the sky.
Just up the road (the windy windy road) about 12 or 15 km from the Villa Emma is Rosazza, a beautiful little Italian town in the mountains, exuding a simple rustic life.
The Fiat 500 (nero of course)
We went for fun. Here is what we saw.
Dead people by a river in small dead people compartments.
Then one of the very old Austrian towers (with eagles even).
The town is magical and midieval. Photographic evidence is sparse.
You have to walk the narrow maze of streets without a plan or a map.
Roofs are slate (or maybe that is granite).
Chimney engineering is, um, interesting.
As you can see from the clock, it is time for a Negroni. So cross the foot bridge.