Sang Armenian songs and recited Armenian poetry for me (141Cong.Rec.S518)

Generally, I convey the story of my travels chronologically. But by the end of my stay in Yerevan, I recognized some reverberations had slowly woven together over the days. So it seems best to unravel the fabric of my visit by following not time, but these threads if you will. 

My very last stop before my flight home was the Sergei Parajanov Museum, conveniently located a couple of blocks from my hotel. The tourist attraction, recommended to me by a friend, is oft listed as one of the most popular in the city, but on this day I was the only visitor to the former home of the film maker (left). The staff literally had to turn on the lights for me to see the displays, which contain artifacts from his movies but also his own artistic creations, including numerous collages made from everyday objects, such as dolls and magazines (right). 

 

I went directly to the museum from my previous stop, the Ararat brandy factory, where I got a preview of Parajanov. A visual reference to perhaps his most well-known film, The Color of Pomegranates, is featured on a collector's edition label (top left). The factory displays a number of highly historic, and valuable, bottles, but its true purpose is as a climate-controlled aging facility (top right). Some of the precious nectar is contained in a "peace barrel," sitting in a special cupola, the only place where Azerbaijani and Armenian flags fly side by side, and waiting to be tapped when the two countries' conflict is resolved (middle). The factory tour included a tasting of two or three vintages (bottom left). I chose the trio with the reserve option, but it did not include any sips of the collector's editions, including one with a label by painter Martiros Sarian (bottom right). 

One of my first stops in the city was the Sarian House-Museum, where I was immediately struck by the vivid colors he obtained with various media: oil, tempura, and watercolor. Many of his paintings are of real places, including Mount Ararat (top left), but I was drawn to his more fanciful "fairy tale" depictions, especially one simply called "Love" (top right). The gallery has been created within the family home, where you can walk into his skylit studio (bottom left) and peruse keepsakes, such as a letter of appreciation from John Updike, whose portrait he painted (bottom right). 

Artistic blood ran through the family tree's veins. The painter's son, Ghazaros Sarian, composed works that have been performed by the national orchestra. However, he wasn't quite as heralded as Arno Babajanyan, whose expressive piano-playing style is illustrated in a sculpture by Swan Lake (top). Indeed, respect for art of all kinds is a never-ending well in Armenia. One of the main wares being sold at Vernissage market was the national instrument duduk, a cross between an oboe and a recorder (bottom left). In another park, French Square, a painting market pops up around a statue of -- you guessed it -- Martiros Sarian (bottom right).

 

Holding court before the architectural centerpiece of the city, the Cascade, is a monument to Alexander Tamanyan, the city's chief architect who built the Opera House (top left). He did not help construct the incline, which contains an arts center. Many people use the center's escalators to climb the hill, but it was closed for the holiday, so I braved the steps to survey Tamanyan's achievement (top right). Footsteps down and away is the Matenadaran, like the Library of Congress but much older. The archive, which was nominated as a UNESCO Memory of the World entry, is named after and features a monument to Mesrop Mashtots, inventor of the Armenian alphabet (bottom left). From atop the hillside, Mother Armenia keeps close watch on the country's gospels, manuscripts, and other ancient documents (bottom right). 

The statue that previously loomed over the city was of Stalin. In 1962, that statue was toppled, and about thirty years later, Lenin's statue came tumbling after. It its place in Republic Square was a towering tree still in place for Apostolic Christmas (top left) and a variety of Saint Nicks extolling good cheer from in front of the National Gallery (top right). Many travel guidebooks say tourists come to Yerevan to see the Soviet architecture, but there was hardly a Soviet vibe amid the ongoing holiday celebrations. A main pedestrian shopping street had been converted to a Christmas market (bottom left), where parents snapped photos of their children in front of the nativity (bottom right). 

 

The scene is casually carefree, a stark contrast to the country's relatively recent past. During the Armenian Genocide, many of the nationalistic Ottoman government's targets were Apostolic Christians. That atrocity was far from the first or only time Turkic groups invaded the territory; Yerevan was under the thumb of various Islamic rulers from the 11th through 14th centuries, as evidenced by the Blue Mosque (left), which was originally constructed in the 12th century and was rebuilt in the 18th (right).

Historically, the Kond district was home to the city's Muslim population (top left). Many Kond residents who helped survivors of the 1915 genocide became victims of the Soviet purges. Today, the religiously- and ethnically-mixed community considers itself somewhat outcast from the city (top right), a sad situation that is emphasized geographically: The neighborhood lies just over the valley from the Armenian Genocide Museum (bottom).

 

Nestled in the beautiful hills of Tuscany in Italy (143Cong.Rec.E929)

Is there any point of going to Tuscany if you're not going to indulge? Probably not, which why it made a perfect destination after running a race. I knew I would have few regrets about relaxing, eating, and drinking as much as I wanted, from the moment we arrived at our AirBnB in Panzano, which featured a mural of the region's delights (top left). Of course, why would I spend time in the bedroom when I could get the same view from the balcony (top right)? Right in our backyard were olives, which were in season to be harvested (middle left), and grapes, which unfortunately could not be turned into wine during our time of our stay (middle right). Across the way -- and my uplifted feet -- I could see Vignole winery, which was on a better schedule to produce vino (bottom).

We arrived in the Chianti town right around lunch. Obviously, the area is known for its wine. But the city itself is renown as home to famous butcher Dario Cecchini, who was immortalized in mosaic at his casual eatery Dario Doc (left). Although his other outlets offer more expensive tasting menus, the family-style cafe features set menus revolving around many types of meat. Knowing of our dinner plans, I selected the smallest option: hamburger, potatoes, and vegetables (right).

Only few hours later, and still half-full, we set off for our Cook Tuscan class in a villa near Sambuca (top). The villa has been divided into apartments, the top one of which belongs to Manuela and Silvio. Their home is a mix of collectibles (bottom left) and comfort (bottom right) that reflects their partnership. Manuela is a self-taught cook who instructs, and Silvio is an ex-salesman of Murano glass who translates.

We selected our menu in advance, so we knew we would be able to burn off what was lingering in our bellies as we prepared the many recipes. For an appetizer, we selected mushroom crostini (top left). There were so many fungi left over that Manuela helped us whip up some risotto as well (top right). Our first course was gnocchi with butter and sage cream sauce (bottom left). Although I had made both risotto and gnocchi before, I picked up some excellent tips to improve the dishes. And they even sent us home with special wooden paddles traditionally used to shape the pasta (bottom right).

 

The main course was polpettone, a rustic meatloaf that is stuffed with vegetables (top left). It wasn't as time-consuming to prepare but it was more fraught with potential pitfalls. Despite our best efforts, the loaf split while it was in the oven (top right) -- but that didn't make it any less delicious. We had more luck with the torta della nonna, which also requires technical precision in creating the crust and custard (bottom). With a lot of elbow grease, we succeeded in presenting a set and sumptuous dessert.

 

The next day, we decided someone else could do the work while we drank. Our wine tour started at Castello del Trebbio, which was once the stronghold of the Pazzi family, whose crest can be seen in the courtyard (top left). Many family members were killed in the fortress as retribution for the failed plot to bring down Medici rulers, which is said to have been planned there (top right). Besides the mafia-like legacy, the castle has a oenologic heritage as well. The cellars are littered with decades-old and unfortunately undrinkable bottles (bottom left). The winery now based there attempts to use historically accurate methods, including an air-release valve invented by Da Vinci (bottom right).

 

Our tasting was held in a room perfect for sipping fine vintages and scheming political homicide (top left). The only conspiring we did, though, was by the fire with some chocolate and dessert wine (top right). When we emerged from the dim hall, the fog had lifted, so we had a brighter and better view of the surrounding vineyards (bottom left). The lovely landscapes continued as we proceeded to lunch at a sleepy roadside restaurant, where we sampled the local special variety of ravioli next to some more warming flames (bottom right).

As if having wine in a castle wasn't luxurious enough, we then proceeded to the villa of Marchesi Gondi (top left). The family's matriarch outlined her ancestors' rise prominence in Florentine life after helping financially prop up King Alfonso. As a result, the Gondis ran in royal circles, including with the Medici family; they became so cavalier that they tore down a house where Da Vinci supposedly painted the Mona Lisa in order to build Gondi Palace, which ironically now displays artistic masterpieces (top right). The winery is somewhat of a side project, so our tasting was held literally in the family's den (bottom left) after a tour of the cellars, which housed centuries-old vats used to store olive oil (bottom right). 

 

 

The morning before my flight home, we took a jaunt to San Gimignano, so we could do something other than just eat and drink (top left). The city, whose central square is on the UNESCO World Heritage List (top right), was once a halfway pit stop between Rome and Florence. Its towers were easily spied from the surrounding hills, helping pilgrims keep on the straight and narrow path (bottom).

But don't get me wrong, we still did eat and drink. At La Rocca wine museum, we sampled a series of white wines, unique within environs otherwise known for red Super Tuscans (top left). Then we swiped some free samples of cheese at one of the many shops along the cobblestone streets (top right). For our last meal, we descended into Peruca, where we capped off our few days of decadence with one final dish of pasta and glass of wine (bottom).