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11.08

The train ride from Munich to Chiavari was ten and a half hours. Food for thought -- with three German speakers and three Italians in the same cabin, which group do you think talked the whole time? Which do you think kept to themselves and said hardly a word?

The other day I went to the Landeshauptcentralbank, which is now the only bank where they change Deutschmarks to Euros, to change my coin collection. I was amazed at how many people there were. I mean, at least a hundred or so. The process was very efficient, but not very clear, so I ended up waiting in the wrong lines twice before finally ending up at the right place.

That night after dropping off the UPS packages -- and I must say, "dropping off" sounds far too casual for three hours of two trips lugging 50 pounds per person of awkwardly-sized packages through the subway -- Fra and I made ravioli. Her first one was more of a calzone, like a foot long. Then I did one that was about an inch; a "raviolini" she called it. After some debate we finally settled on a correct medium size, and the results were very tasty, I thought. Of course, two days later, it occurred to both of us that making square ravioli -- that is, ravioli just like we've both had a million times -- would have been much easier than making scallopped quarter-moon-shapes, like Chinese dumplings. Oh well, next time.

Seeing Portofino, both Camilla and I agreed that it was really nice, but still nothing especially unique, except for all the rich people. There's probably a dozen bays that are equally pretty, even Camogli, just a few kilometers away. My theory is that there's a snowball clique effect, as the rich people hear that's the place where the rich people go, and go there.