New York Supports Italian Earthquake Victims

Tonight I'll be joining what I expect to be a huge crowd at the impromptu fundraiser for L'Aquila relief efforts in Italy. It's happening TONIGHT at 7pm at Cipriani Club 55(55 Wall St.). Tickets are $25 and Cipriani will serve cocktails and hors d'oeuvres throughout the evening.

Other ways to support the victims and their families:
www.thesundaynyc.com
Clicking the DONATE button will direct you to PayPal

Italian American Museum
Walk-in donations are being accepted at the museum in Little Italy at 155 Mulberry St. Or you can donate online.

Travel Site Does It Right: Trazzler

New travel sites spring up weekly on the web. Many just re-invent the wheel with regurgitated travel tales and basic technology. Not Trazzler. With an all-star development team including online travel media guru, Adam Rugel, and the founders of Twitter, the eight-month-old site is picking up major steam and a huge travel-obsessed fan base.

It's Trazzler's "snapshot of a moment" stories and funky personalization technology that make the site so fresh and user-friendly. You can customize your Trazzler experience, create a travel wishlist and receive "dream trip" suggestions on the regular. Join Trazzler on Facebook, follow the gang on Twitter or add the application to your iPhone. Once you sign-up you'll be hooked.

As a new Trazzler freelancer, you can keep up with my stories here (about New York City and Italy, of course).

Keep on Trazzlin'!

Truffle-Mania

The elusive white truffle. Hunted by wild pigs and sought-after by international chefs. And the best place to find this rare delicacy is in Alba, the picturesque Northern Italian hill town about three hours from Turin.

Tartufo biano, or white truffle, is a veritable celebrity in Alba and this week kicks off a month-long autumn festival devoted to the famous fungus, the Fiera Internazionle del Tartufo Bianco. It’s a must see if you’re travelling to Piedmont.

Events kick off on Saturday, October 4th with the opening of the Alba White Truffle World Market where, for a €3 entrance fee, you can shop for the perfect truffle to your heart’s content (and until your wallet’s empty). But make sure you hit the market on a weekend; it’s closed from Monday to Friday.

The fanfare continues at the opening ceremonies on October 10th where Prince Albert of Monaco is scheduled to make a royal appearance. For a full schedule of events, truffle history and information about Alba visit the festival’s official website at http://www.blogger.com/www.fieradeltartufo.org.

[Photo: winecountry.it]

Big Girls Don't Cry

You can take the girl out of the city, but can you take the city out of the girl?

I thought this to myself as I anxiously suited up Sunday morning (at 5:30am) for a snowboading trip in the Dolomite Mountains! I've had one previous snowboarding experience...it was circa 2001 with my ex-boyfriend who insisted that I not take a lesson and promised that he would teach me instead. After about 20 minutes he lost his patience (what little he had) and disappeared into the zero visibility, leaving me to fend for myself.

But I wasn't going to let tramautic memories ruin a perfectly awesome Sunday of skiing in Italy with some new friends! So I put on my game face (and a rather cute boaring outfit, compliments of my old job), downed two espressos and began the ascent up to Pecol, about an hour and a half away from Treviso.

We arrived before the crowds, easily rented boots and a board and went straight up in the gondola. Showtime.

After a few passes on the practice hill the guys decided we should throw caution to the wind and go down the real mountain. Oh Dio. My first run was disasterous; a series of flailing mishaps, face plants and falls. I even managed to take down my 6 foot 4 inch, 190 pound friend who ever-so-patiently guided me down. My most fantastic face plant nearly knocked the wind out of me, at which point as I fought back tears I thought, maybe I should have stayed on the bunny slope. Needless to say, my confidence wasn't at it's peak by the time I reached the bottom, but after fueling up with a mid-morning wurstel sandwhich (think sliced hot dogs on a hamburger bun) we went back up for round two.

I don't know how it happened, but on my 2nd run this city girl was actually snowboarding! Ok, I definitely fell a couple of times and by no means looked cool, but I finally became one with my snowboard and found my balance! Such a rush.

Run number three wasn't as successful, probably due to my trembling muscles and worn out knees but I felt satisfied with my modest success. I spent the rest of the day chatting with some locals and met an adorable Italian girl at the log cabin-ish panini shop who I'm going to meet for coffee and do a language exchange with (half hour of English, half hour of Italian). Oh, and I can't forget the Vin Brule. No cold winter day in Italy would be complete without it.

Upgrade?

If you haven't already heard about my change in accommodations, I took some before and after photos of my bedroom! This is the old one, with the striped bed cover and turquoise walls.

UPGRADE? You be the judge. In my new bedroom, the door next to my bed leads into a private bathroom with a toilet, bidet, shower that actually has a curtain, and a large vanity chest with two mirrors! Above my bed hangs a large cast iron chandelier that creates a romantic glow in the room.

I love it!

Pasta and Politics?

I know. You're thinking, "What does pasta have to do with politics?" Well nothing unless, of course, you are one of the many who suspect that our president has linguini for brains.

However, it was last night's delicious baked cannelloni dinner, prepared by my roommate Gianni, that brought my roommates and I together around the table for what turned into a very insightful (and heated) discussion about American vs. Italian politics/society.

I am the first to admit that I am in no way "top of the class" when it comes to political debate, especially debate in a foreign language! But last night was a rare chance for two completely different cultures to unanimously agree on one thing:

The grass isn't green on either side of the fence.

For example, America has Bush, Treviso has Gentilini. He is no longer the official mayor of Treviso because has has already served the maximum of two consecutive terms, but he still maintains shared control of the city with the new mayor, Gobbo. Gentilini is part of the Lega Nord political party, whose major platform is to create greater autonomy in this area of Italy. I have been told that Gentilini has made huge strides to preserve the beauty of the city and keep it safe, but here is a taste of his stance on homosexuality:

In August of 2007, as a result of meetings between homosexuals that was particularly widespread near the Treviso hospital, Gentilini made a number of statements, including wanting to give "...city policemen the right to carry out ethnic cleansing against the faggots...here in Treviso, faggots and things like that don't have a chance." After strong criticism, he then stated: "I've got nothing against gays, lesbians and prostitutes. Everyone is the master of his or her own body. But I'm not going to put up with these amorous exhibitions in the province of Treviso. Ethnic cleansing means tabula rasa." (from Wikipedia)

To even the playing field, here is one of our President's ingenious Bushisms:

"The question is, who ought to make that decision? The Congress or the commanders? And as you know, my position is clear -- I'm a commander guy." --George W. Bush

Last night's topics changed course at about the same tempo as the uncorking of wine bottles...frequently. When we reached the subject of the Italian labor market, my roommates became visibly disturbed. They are disillusioned, mainly because the few jobs available here are given on the basis of who you know. Apparently merit gets you nowhere, which is why there are many young college-educated professionals working as waiters and baristas. To explain the way in which young Italians get (or more frequently don't get) jobs, we did a little role playing at the dinner table. I was the prospective employee, Gianni a prospective employer. His first three interview questions were:

How old are you?
Are you married?
Do you have the intention to have children soon?

I was flabbergasted. None of these questions are even close to being legal in the American system. Of course not all Italian employers are this way, but there seem to be no clear parameters for hiring and firing. Also, negotiating salary prior to accepting the job is considered rude.

The War and oil (not extra virgin), Bush and Osama...we agreed, disagreed and drank until the late hours. It was exactly the kind of eye opening experience I hoped I'd experience in Italy.

Pa-Pa-Pa-Pa Parmigiano

I'm doing everything I can to absorb this language. I listen to songs on the radio, read the local METRO newspaper on the bus (in which I found a hilarious Dear Abby-type letter about "What to do if you are dating a mamma's boy") and have the TV on while I'm getting ready for work in the morning.

While I may not yet be exercizing the subtleties of this beautiful language, I can recite Italian commercial jingles like it's my job! I get the biggest kick out of this one, to the tune of the Beach Boy's Babara Ann.



Pa-Pa-Pa Parmigiano
Re-Re-Re-Re-Re-Reggiano


Yes, that's right. It's a commercial dedicated to everyone's favorite cheese, Parmigiano Reggiano. Not only is the jingle annoyingly catchy, but the commercial is a spin-off of the dancing Fruit of the Loom guys...think middle aged men wearing tights and assorted fruit costumes. Of course, the featured star of the commercial is a man dressed as a block of Parmesean cheese.


Only in Italy!


I think this is a YouTube video of the spot...I can't watch it on this computer but I hope you can!

An Italian Dinner Party

I have never experienced a dinner quite like Saturday's. It was an intimate gathering of 55 close friends at an agriturismo (a working farm that doubles as a hotel and restaurant) just outside the center of Roncade. I was graciously invited to the bi-annual festa by my friend Patrick who was also a tutor this summer. His host parents, Riccardo and Maria were the masterminds of what was one of the most hilarious and festive evenings I've ever had in Italy, and certainly one of the most memorable.









It began like any other Italian dinner - baskets of freshly baked bread placed on long rustic tables, and jugs of red wine poured into decievingly small glasses. Then came the antipasti - plates of polenta smothered in cheese, sopressa and warm marinated mushrooms. But it was not the food that took center stage this night. Before I could even finish my second bite of polenta, Riccardo had switched on the microphone and began the show. It began with jokes and greetings, all in Italian and all sending the audience into roaring laughter.

Then came the guitar and singing, followed by a request for all guest to swing our napkins round and round in the air, followed by an impromptu strip tease (down to boxer briefs) by the two males hosts of the affair. By this point I was in tears.


After a frenzied sing-a-long of YNCA (as the Italians say), and Macho Man, I thought I had seen it all...but then came Riccardo and Carlos freestyle rap. I will not do this video any justice by describing it with words. You just need to watch.

Now the party is out of control...a perfect time for a conga line. Mind you, there are other diners in the restaurant (or "victims" as Maria called them) who were not part of our party but had no other choice but to jump on the line. Riccardo was the leader of my particular conga line and guided us into and out of the restaurant's kitchen several times until about the 4th time when the owner of the restaurant stood there shaking his head, "NO".

More sing-a-longs and then it was time for the gift presentation. One by one, each woman at the party including the waitress, was handed a bag with sexy lace panties. Some of the more overserved gals even tried their new lingerie on over their clothes!


By 1am the espressos had been served, and everyone happily stumbled out of the restaurant thanking their hosts and anxiously awaiting the spring when they will do it all over again.

Monday Madness

There's nothing like oversleeping on you first day of a new job in a foreign country.

My cell phone alarm just didn't ring this morning, or maybe it did and I pulled one of my infamous semi-comatose moves where I turn the alarm off without realizing it, which is probably more the case. I can't really be blamed though. I tossed and turned for almost 3 hours last night as a two-year-old ran around the apartment above me and screamed "Mamma" like a broken record. And I had Thanksgiving lesson plans dancing around my head. I couldn't stop humming the tune of:

The turkey ran away, before Thanksgiving day...said she, "You'll make a roast of me if I should stay..."

So I woke up an hour late, which meant I had to skip my caffè and race down Via Vittorio Veneto on my bicycle (which lacks breaks). I got to the historical center at 7:15 and rattled through the just awakening cobblestone village, barely remembering the way to the stazione. Thankfully I made no wrong turns and locked my bici on a rack across from the bus stop.

I thought I was in the clear...I purchased my bus ticket at the Tabachi yesterday and knew I needed the #6 line at 7:45 to Quinto. But of course, the 6 line was the only one not listed on the bus stop signs. I found every other line, from 1-11, but not the 6. I asked a few students but received no clear answer. They seemed much more interested in smoking their cigarettes and gossiping about the boys on the corner.

Then I saw it, the #6 bus. I made a mad dash and was the last person on, but I made it. I franked my ticket and stuck my hands in my pockets only to realize that one leather glove was missing. It must have fallen out as I darted across the street.

The bottom line --no matter where you go in the world, Monday mornings will always have you asking, "Is it Friday yet?"

Everything's Better In Bici

Bloggers meet Bici. Bici, bloggers. Can you believe this beaut was collecting dust in my garage for 40 years? The first day I returned from Italy I treated it to some new tires and a lovely oversized wicker basket and have since taken it to the streets of my hometown, Northport.

Each time my foot hits the pedal I'm reminded of my last day in Piemonte. My host mother had let me borrow her bicycle so I could say some farewells in the historical center of Ciriè. Her bike, circa 1960, was perfectly rusted, with failing breaks and a squishy banana seat. I adored this bike for its quirky charm. It screamed, "Ride me along a cobblestoned street in a little Italian village!!" And so I did.

I had the route memorized by now - left at the roundabout, right at the ospedale, past the little stream and you're there! The sun's low light cast gorgeous shadows along the rose-colored stucco and beneath Cirie's many porticos. "It's a perfect evening," I noted.

I slalomed leisurely through the cobblestoned streets of this little Italian village, enjoying the feeling of my bohemian skirt fluttering in the breeze. I was early to meet my friend so I pedaled over to the main park - it was magnificent. Two rows of grand birch trees leaned into each other creating a blanket of soft leaves above, and twinkling specks of light on the ground. A group of old men played cards on one bench, two teenagers were eating gelato on another, and I parked my bici next to a third bench where I sat and sighed aloud. It all felt surreal, like the director was going to yell, "CUT" at any moment. My bici and I waited for the lights and cameras to appear, but they never did. There wasn't anything to do but savor the moment.



iPOD Bici Playlist:

1. "Take me to Aruanda" - Astrud Gilberto
2. "Penny Lane" - The Beatles
3. "Diana" - Paul Anka (try to find Italian version ;)
4. "Andrea" - Fabrizio De Andrè
5. "Crash" - Dave Matthews Band
6. "Sweetest Thing" - U2
7. "Sous Le Soleil (Cuba Acoustic Mix)" - Major Boys Feat. Amelia
8. "Cinema Paradiso: Nostalgia" - Yo-Yo Ma Play Ennio Morricone

Planes, Trains and Tuk-Tuks

There was a time in my life, not too long ago, when the A train from W. 4th Street to Times Square was my idea of a thrill ride. But since June I've racked up some serious frequent flyer miles, hit the open seas, and taken many a road less traveled.

In fact, some of my biggest adventures this summer were in transit. from crashing on the banks of the Mekong River in a rickety Cambodian motor boat, to zipping around Bangkok in a 2-person Tuk-Tuk with five robust Italian men, to treacherous scooter rides along the jagged coastline of Sorrento, getting from point A to point B was never dull. Here are some of my most memorable moments:

Yellow Pages Delivery Van
Cost: Free (hitchhiking)
Perks: The driver graciously offered us the latest edition of the Milano yellow pages, hot off the presses!


Cambodia Speed Boat on Mekong River
Cost: 20 USD per person
Perks: We sailed beneath stiled houses and through thick groves, waving at curious children as they splashed about in the water. Sit on the bow for the most unobstructed view, but beware: our boat crashed into the brush, breaking the wire attached to the motor and stranding us for a good 20 minutes. I nearly went overboard.

Horse and Carriage
Cost: Free activity - part of Cirie' English Camp
Perks: La Mandria park in Torino is even more beautiful when toured atop a vintage carrozza from the beautiful Cascina Vittoria. www.parcomandria.it/index.shtml





Capri Self-Driven Motor Boat
Cost: USD 25 per person for 2 hours
Perks: Check out my previous blog entry "You Drive It" for all the details. It was just too go to be true!








Than's Tuk-Tuk
Cost: How well can you negotiate?
Perks: Aside from being a cool dude, Than knows Siam Reap like the back of his hand and has the cleanest tuk-tuk in the city. Here's Than photographed on the bow of our boat trip. Not only was he a star Tuk-Tuk driver, but look at his moves. Email him next time you're in Cambodia and tell him tell him Courtney says "Sues'day"! (thanbontuktuk@yahoo.com)









Thai Sea Planes
Cost: USD 100 (THB 3,285)
Perks: Great views of Ko Samui and Ko Phangan. Not sure why, but something about the experience reminded me of a scene from Weekend at Bernie's.


Dirt Bikes
Cost: Free - an extension of our Tuk Tuk ride with Than
Perks: When monsoon season hits, the roads become too narrow and muddy for tuk-tuks to pass. Than called some of his buddies who took us deep into a remote village on their dirt bikes. I should probably have been holding on with two hands, but I coudln't pass up the chance to snap this photo of Alby and Marco.

Other interesting ways to get around:
Romanian family's luxury sedan, overpriced Milano taxis, Cirie' bicycle without breaks, Guiseppe's race car (never again), Italian buses...ticket? What ticket?

Lazy Days in Liguria

Liguria's pristine coastline and lively scene attract droves of Italian families and tourists every weekend. Some might say the highlights of the Ligurian lifestyle are its endless beaches, luxurious hotels, and mouthwatering pesto. While that may be true, I've got a few lesser-known perks for you:

1. "Jimbo" Baiardo, Italy - My gracious host for a one night's stay in Baiardo, a tiny medieval mountain village due north of Sanremo. Originally from England, Jim is now a part of the restoration project in Baiardo. When he's not rebuilding the village's ancient homes, he's gleefully entertaining the revolving door of ACLE tutors who spend their down time here. Jim's got a lot to tell; stories galore. He appreciates the smaller things in life, like a cold beer and the ringtones on his newly acquired cell phone. As I drifted off to sleep he tested the 10 ringtones, giggling with delight after each. Ribit, ribit, mooooooooo, driinnn driiinnnn... you get the idea. He finally settled on the cow, a fine choice indeed.

2. Vince's Veggie Patties: They are legendary...a refined blend of chickpeas, onion, and a bit a tuna, if you're lucky. Thanks for all of your hospitality, Vince!

3. Eldery Beach-goers: nothing says "Italian Riveria" like a sea full of senior citizens. But it just so happens that my local sunning spot was also a favorite for Liguria's over 65 crowd. Bronze and robust, the women flaunted their curvacious figures, while the leaner men paraded in skimpy Speedos. No photo for this entry folks, but if you're ever in Sanremo, pay a visit to the beach just across the pirate-themed restaurant. It's magic.

Just call me Couptrey

Goodbye camp, hello holiday! On friday I completed my fifth and final ACLE camp until September. Almost all Italians take a holiday during the month of August so I figured I should follow suit...When in Rome!

So far my holiday has consisted of a series of completely random and hilarious adventures. I spent last weekend back in the San Donato (Milan) flat with two tutors from my orientation group, Patrick and Alex, and another tutor who hailed from Kentucky. It was unbearably hot as Milan seems to consistently be, but that didn't deter us from trying to make the most of our weekend.

On Sunday we noticed a sign in San Donato about a nearby bowling alley. The sign read, "only .2 kilometers" so we thought it would be a cinch to reach by foot. Somehow .2 kilometer turned into 3 kilometers and we were still walking. After an hour on foot without water or sunscreen we reached the bowling alley - closed for lunch.

Dirty, parched and sunburnt, we shifted focus from bowling to water. Luckily we stumbled upon a Romanian family at the nearby gas station who offered to take us on a round trip jaunt to the nearest town for some cold water (random). We arrived back at the bowling alley hydrated and ready for some serious competition. Thanks to the bowling alley manager I sported some neon pink knee highs with my velcro bowling shoes, and every time my name came up on the screen it read "Couptrey". Despite looking seriously geeky and being repeatedly teased about my new alias, I managed to get two strikes and a spare in my first game. Sadly, in the end I was not victorious but I drowned my losses in some above average bowling alley spumante as the other tutors and I discussed our return journey to San Donato.


Walking home was out of the question and the bus schedule on Sunday was practicly non-existent, which left only one option, hitch hiking. With thumbs out, big smiles and a few bats of the eyelashes we managed to hail down a rather dingy white van in less than 10 minutes. Two slightly dingier looking men sat up front and said they wouldn't mind driving us but had little room in the back of the van. They slid open the door all I could see were stacks and stacks of Yellow Pages phone books wrapped in plastic. Kentucky was noticeably hesitant but Patrick dove head first into the van, just clearing the tallest stack of books. I jumped in next and found a rather comfortable thrown-like formation of books to sit on. Kentucky reluctantly followed, the driver shut the door and we were off. With no windows and inferno-like heat it was easy to think the worst. But instead we snapped some sweaty photos and before we knew it, voilà, home sweet home! We even got our very own Yellow Pages as a parting gift.


The night before our bowling escapades on yet another random adventure, we had spent two hours following the haphazard directions of Patrick on a quest for a bar he had visited on his last trip to Milan. Without a map, telephone number or address we did not find the bar (much to Patrick's dismay). In an ironic twist of fate we discovered the address of the mysterious bar in our brand new Yellow Pages book and later that night we happily toasted to the wacky start of our holiday.

Cuckoo in Moncucco

Despite being only 30 minutes from the bustling center of Milan, life in Moncucco is slow and a tad bizarre, but in the most charming way. Take, for example, my sleeping accommodations; a classroom in the town's Scuola Media, outfitted with two twin beds, two chairs, some cafeteria tables and a big chalkboard with "Home Sweet Home" written on it. I share it with sweet-as-can-be tutor, Carly, who I also worked with in Cuneo.

Living in a school is not as bad as it sounds. For example, I walk down the stairs of the Scuola Media and I'm at camp - a far cry from the hour-long commute in Milan! We have full reign of the school after hours and a few days ago we discovered an Audio Visual room with a flat screen TV, so we borrowed Chocolat from one of the Italian camp counselers and had a movie night! There's also a computer lab with internet access and a lovely pool with lounge chairs.

Our daily routine is just that, very routine. We eat our meals at a La Ca' di Ran, one of only three restaurants in Moncucco. The name is short for la Casa delle Rane (house of frogs). It's owners are delightful and prepare typical dishes for us each night ranging from mushroom risotto to stuffed peppers to breaded pork chops remiscent of my mother's!

Unlike other ACLE camps this is an Italian camp where Carly and I are only required to teach for 2-3 hours per day. We've been practicing our Italian frequently with the other 6 local counselors and mothers who come to the pool every evening.

In Moncucco the preferred mode of transport is bicycle. The 88-year-old grandfather of one of the Italian counselors arrived at La Ca' di Ran this morning for a coffee. His bike was parked outside. But, by far, the most active inhabitants of Moncucco are the mosquitoes who nearly mutiliated us during our first night's sleep. But by our fifth and final night here our classroom is smelling like a Citronella factory, we're doused in Deet and all is ok.

http://www.lacadiran.com/

ENTrekking

On Sunday morning I had a brief meeting and coffee with the other new tutors and my camp director, Bruna, to discuss a loose outline for our Cuneo camp. High on Bruna's agenda was to ensure that a Risotto del Pescatore, salad, fruit, and coffee would be a suitable lunch for our first day...I love Italy!

I said quick good-byes to the team and hopped in the Panda with the boys to begin our 6000 foot ascent to il rifugio Genova-Figari, but not before making a pit stop to buy lunch fixings in Entraque; a colorful and spirited village that epitomizes this region of Piemonte. Two of the boys went in search of pane while Alby and Andrea hand-selected a variety of meat and cheese. I explored the adjacent antique shop and took some photos with my temporary digital camera, on loan from my incredibly generous host father, Mario!

Back in the car, my nagging Moscato-induced headache swiftly subsided as I breathed the fresh Alpine air, noshed on prosciutto and listened to a Beatles compilation. After a few wrong turns we finally arrived at the base of the mountain and it was breathtaking. The terrain was rocky but never too steep, and the trail wasn't at all crowded so we climbed at a steady but leisurely pace. We splashed through trickling streams and hopped from stone to stone, avoiding soggy shoes and socks. After about 1.5 hours we arrived at the sparkling turquoise Lago Brocan and found just the right lunch spot between a few large rocks. Suddenly my trekking buddy Marco unveiled the most spectacular fleece I have ever seen. It really speaks for itself, but in case you need proof, here it is.

The sun slipped in and out of the clouds as we all took a delightful nap. When we awoke the clouds had become ominous, and then the raindrops hit us. Waterproofing ourselves and our gear, we began the descent with more caution than before and enjoyed the misty vistas that accompanied the rain. A curious "Camoscio" wandered onto the trail with no trepidation and proudly posed for my camera before wandering back into the dusk.

http://www.entracque.org/
http://www.rifugiogenova.it/

Culture del Cuneo

I was not the only foreigner to arrive in Cuneo this weekend. On Saturday, people from over 30 nations around the world descended upon Cuneo's main thoroughfare, Via Roma, for the city's annual Culture del Mondo festival.

The street was alive with the sound of international music and the tempting aroma of each country's cuisine, from Bangladesh, to Albania, to China and Brazil.

Thanks to Cuneo's close proximity to my boyfriend's hometown, he was able to join me for the festivities, along with his two friends. We strolled Via Roma before dining at a gorgeous restaurant called San Michele. As we relaxed in the elegantly appointed dining room I could hear the blaring Latin rhythms and loud crowds outside. After a delicious meal and superfluous amounts of wine, we joined the revelers who had clearly spent too much time at Mexico's tequila bar.

Bob Sinclair's Sounds of Freedom competed with the adjacent tent's Bhangra beats, but no one seemed to mind...the dance party was in full swing. Despite all of the buzz, we called it an early night in anticipation of our early morning trekking adventure in the Alpine mountains.