Cuban cigars: Don't believe the hype

My trip to Italy allowed me to sample the forbidden fruit of the American cigar smoker: The Cuban.

Freed from the U.S. embargo against the Communist island, I bought a handful of Cohibas and smuggled them back in my luggage. Not before I removed the labels and threw out the receipt, of course.

The thrill of doing something illicit aside, I'm afraid the Cuban left me quoting Freud: Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. The Cohiba (Siglo I) was a little harsh for my taste -- as indelicate and unyielding as U.S. policy toward Cuba, as bold as Castro's beard.

Keep your Cubans, I'll stick with my sweet Dominican Griffin 300s.

Good thing I was able to enjoy my Cuban with some duty-free Chivas Regal 18-year, which makes most anything enjoyable.

Italy Unanswered

My honeymoon to Italy allowed me to answer many nagging questions -- is the Pope's hair really that white (yes), is Michaelangelo's David everything it's made out to be (moreso), would I be bold enough to try the bidet (no).

But there were many imponderables in Europe. We may never know why Rome's wine bars only play hits from the '80s (Tusut me, Wham never broke up in Italy) or why nuns across the world are all so short.

But more vexing than either of those was why the French are so rude. Mrs. NaturalBlog and I took Air France via Charles de Gaulle airport to Rome, and while we were impressed with the food (and wine -- a nice viognier) we thought the service left something to be desired. Maybe it's because we didn't even try to speak French to the staff, and our assumption they would speak to us in English rubbed them the wrong way.

I changed my game plan after we landed in Italy, asking people in my broken Italian if they spoke English. The answer always came "Yes" or "A little" or sometimes a polite "Not really."

So on the trip back I worked on my "Parlez vous anglais." The answer: "Oui" -- as if I were asking because I was taking a survey, not because I was a helpless tourist in a French airport.

Whatever. Keep you attitude, French people. I'll take Frenchy over you guys any day.

TomKat? More like CopyKat

Some people might be miffed to have major celebrities (like Suri) so blatantly rip off their honeymoon plans, but I feel honored that Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes are in Italy to get married, just a few days after Mrs. NaturalBlog and I got back from Italy on our luna di miele. After all, imitation is a form of flattery.

I even have some tips for the happy couple.

Tom and Katie -- be sure to try and eat at the Ragno D'oro Trattoria (Via Silla 26 in Rome). It's near the Vatican and came on the recommendation of a coworker. I'd call ahead for a prenotazione, though. We were there on a weekday night and it was packed.

You'll probably be spending some time in the countryside. Be sure to seek out Le Vigne de I Selvatici, which is a winery in the hillside Tuscan town of Montevarchi. Have the Vin Santo, which got a 98 in Wine Spectator. If you're lucky you'll even get to try the 1956 vintage. I'm sure you'll get along great with the proprietor who couldn't stop talking about how Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Rothlisberger came by over the summer to taste some wines. Big Ben even bought the '56, a bargain at 500 Euro (~$650) for a 500 ml bottle. Of course, there are only 200 left, so maybe it was worth it.

Finally, you should try to sneak in a visit to the Papal blessing, on Wednesdays in Saint Peter's Square. I know you guys practice a different religion, but it couldn't hurt to snag a blessing for that little baby of yours.

Jet lagged

I go away for three weeks, and all heck breaks loose -- Doogie Howser is gay, A.C. Slater apparently is not, and Britney is single again and hot. Next thing I know, you'll tell me Donald Rumsfeld resigned.

I've got to let this all sink in, but I'll be back next week with some thoughts on Italy. Consider this post your apertif.