He came, he saw, he, um, hmmmm.  Well, whatever the case, it's hard to believe that it's been just a little over a week since Renaissance Man, the Daily Traveler's first travel stunt, came to a close.  Below, a quick summary of one man's quest to remake himself over a month-long trip through Europe.

Our Renaissance Man has mastered his world of tasks and is back at home with his Renaissance Family. Just what did he accomplish in these few whirlwind weeks abroad?

It began with blood sausage. Then he took a few whiffs on the fairway, learned to dress the part and played his fourth-ever game of golf. Next, it was on to another kind of green--with a bunch of taxonomists in tow--the Chelsea Physic Garden. (Somewhere in the midst of all that, he met Darwin.)

Then Renaissance Man learned how to eat and how to shop for fish--to eat. There was an episode involving French toast.  His first day in Vienna, he was rocked by Verdi and, later, by his piano teacher. After that, the Philharmonic got ugly, so he turned his attention to the digital (but not without a new tune in his fingers).

Finally, it was time to clean his system. Renaissance Man made scialatielli with an old friend in Cilento, Italy (where he also carried his all his tech gear with him). His next task: painting--with a little more eating thrown in, of course. His masterpiece came soon after.

And to top it all off? Our Renaissance Man had a date with the count.

Count Gherardo Scapinelli,
my benefactor for the evening.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far, Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, "ruled" the kitchens of Paris, tinkled the ivories in Vienna, and painted beside Lake Como.

The funny thing about Renaissance Men is that there is no recognized international standards body. A Renaissance Man doesn't have to pass any kind of exam or pay for some kind of license, and he doesn't have a plaque hanging on his wall inscribed with the words "I hereby certify that..." followed by his name in laser-printed calligraphy. Any mono-talented fool can rent a storefront in some suburban strip mall and go into business as a Renaissance Man. It's just not right.

So let me be the first to lay down the preconditions for what it takes to be a Renaissance Man: You have to work in at least two different fields for a member of authentic European nobility.

Not too shabby.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, "ruled" the kitchens of Paris, and tinkled the ivories in Vienna.  His last task: Painting beside Lake Como.

You see before you "La Villa Clooney." I for one and shocked. I'm not saying this painting is going to be hanging in the Louvre anytme soon--the Musée d'Orsay would be more appropriate--but those of you with some familiarity of my artistic history will be able to appreciate this feat of applying paint to canvas.

The fish of Lake Como.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, "ruled" the kitchens of Paris, and tinkled the ivories in Vienna.  His next task: Painting beside Lake Como.

Before I unveil my painterly masterpiece, let me take a moment to discuss the pressing issue of the culinary status of freshwater fish. Most people tend to think fishes that come out of oceans taste better. That explains why you can buy canned tuna and salmon, but not canned crappie or goldfish. Only the Chinese, so far as I know--or knew--have a preference for river and lake fish.

And.....done!

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, "ruled" the kitchens of Paris, and tinkled the ivories in Vienna.  His next task:  Paint.

There comes a time in the life of every Renaissance Man when he faces great challenge. Famously, Leonardo Da Vinci sat down one day and contemplated how it might be possible for a powder skiing enthusiast to ski twenty five thousand feet of vertical in a single day. Da Vinci spent most of the morning peering into the existential chasm, but by lunch he'd invented the solution: the helicopter.

What a view! The iPhone, I mean.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, "ruled" the kitchens of Paris, and tinkled the ivories in Vienna. He's taking a break to rummage through his gear bag and review the iPhone, the MacBook Air, a Canon HD camcorder, and the photo software program Aperture.

Florence, where I happen to find myself as of this morning, is a funny place. It was the scene of possibly the world's greatest blossoming of culture and technology, a stretch of history we call the Renaissance. As a result, thousands, though it feels like billions, of tourists come here every year to witness the place where it all went down. The funny thing, though, is that all that progress kind of stopped dead in its tracks. You can travel to Florence to see Galileo's telescope, but don't go looking for the workshop where artisans crafted the Hubble telescope, because someone will try to sell you a leather handbag.

With that in mind, let me propel Florence forward a century or five by reviewing some of the more recent technological innovations that accompanied me on this trip.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, "ruled" the kitchens of Paris, and tinkled the ivories in Vienna. His next task: visit an old friend in Cilento, Italy.

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<< Time to Clean the System | The Tech Gear I Carry >>

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, "ruled" the kitchens of Paris, and tinkled the ivories in Vienna. His next task: visit an old friend in Cilento, Italy.

If I learned one thing in Vienna, it was this: Piano does not qualify as cardio. At least, not if you're barely competent. Similarly, if you didn't know how to ride a bike, then going for a bike ride wouldn't be very good exercise at all. Add to that my daily habit of demolishing the complementary sweets tray at the Hotel Sacher, and a dietary regimen that included sausages, Wiener Schnitzel, and boiled beef (don't knock it till you try it), and it doesn't take a genius to see that I my heart could use a bit of a break. Especially when you consider that my next stop is Florence.

The Olympus LS-10.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, and "ruled" the kitchens of Paris. His next task: playing the piano in Vienna.

Contest: Can You Hear Mark?
Listen to the clip below of Schubert's Moments Musicaux. Part of the piece was performed by Albert Frantz, famed piano teacher. And part was performed by our very own "Renaissance Man," Mark Schatzker. The first five individuals to identify the portion (in seconds) played by Mark win a copy of the anthology The Conde Nast Traveler Book of Unforgettable Journeys.

CLICK PLAY

To enter, just Post a Comment.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far, Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, and "ruled" the kitchens of Paris. His next task: a camera review?

Gear Review: Canon 40D
If anyone out there has mistakenly concluded that I am a halfway decent photographer, allow me to clarify the matter. As a writer, I occasionally have the opportunity to work with professional photographers. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's this: equipment matters. I am merely the beneficiary of good equipment. And it shows.

Magic ticket.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, and "ruled" the kitchens of Paris. His next task: playing the piano in Vienna.

I bought the most expensive ticket to what may be the finest philharmonic in the world, which just happens to play in what may be the finest concert hall in the world, and the whole event was marred by ugly controversy.

Let me explain.

These past few days, I have been studying piano--if "study" is indeed the correct verb--at Vienna's Bosendorfer Studio. The studio is basically a showroom for some of the world's very best pianos, but if you're well connected, you can take lessons there. It's the musical equivalent of learning how to drive at the Ferrari tent in Monaco during the Grand Prix, only there tends to be a lot less cologne worn in Vienna than in Monaco. The Bosendorfer Studio is situated in Vienna's Musikverein, which is bound by Bosendorferstrasse--basically Bosendorfer Street. I'm guessing that at some point locals thought about changing the name of Vienna to Bosendorfer Town, but it would translate as Bosendorferdorf, and that sounds silly even to a German ear.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far, Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, and "ruled" the kitchens of Paris. His next task: playing the piano in Vienna.

Everybody, meet Albert Frantz.

When Albert was in kindergarten, his mother went to pick him up one day and the teacher asked, "Where did Albert learn to play piano?" It was a strange question, considering that Albert was five and the only thing in his life that he had truly mastered was using the potty. And yet, when the principal would play something on the school's battered yellow upright piano, Albert would head on over, sit down at the bench, and play back what she played.

His parents, naturally, arranged for lessons. After Albert's first-ever lesson, his brother slammed Albert's fingers in a car door. (It was claimed to have been an accident.) That ended that. There was another round of lessons, and on his way to his second one the car was rear-ended by a tractor-trailer. (No serious injuries.) Despite the obvious Gypsy curse that had been placed on their son's piano prospects, Albert's parents found a third teacher. Among her many unexpected qualities, this teacher possessed the gift of frankness. She told Albert's parents that they should take the money they were paying for piano lessons each week and just throw it in the garbage because Albert Frantz was never going to play the piano.

Rock me, Amadeus!

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland, "excelled" at gardening in England, and "ruled" the kitchens of Paris. His next task: playing the piano in Vienna.

The truth about miracles is that they do happen, and they happen to those who are undeserving. As proof, take the example of me. Or, to be more precise, my physical mass. You would think that spending five days in Paris would lead to an increase in said mass. After all, I ate something like one full lobe of foie gras, several fish, three to four steaks, a baker's dozen sausages, a pallet of eggs, three udders' worth of full-fat cream, 20 pounds of butter, 50 crayfish, a whole lot of veal tripe, and two servings of head cheese.

I capped off my visit to Paris with a trip to the fabled Alain Ducasse au Plaza Athenee for my first-ever experience of a three-Michelin-star meal. So add to the above list the following: langoustines topped with Ossetra caviar, a Brittany lobster, roast squab, a chocolate raspberry souffle, a chocolate raspberry bar, and a serving of baba au rhum topped with several dollops of whipped cream.

And yet, when I stepped back on the scale in my hotel bathroom, something magical happened: The room filled with an impossibly bright yet soothing light, an angelic choir burst out in celestial harmony, and the needle of the scale went no further than it had days earlier. I was, in other words, the same weight.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland and "excelled" at gardening in England. His next task: cooking in Paris.

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<< A Dessert to Kill For | Piano Tops the Tapeworm >>

Shuckin' delicious!

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland and "excelled" at gardening in England His next task: cooking in Paris.

My intensive course in fancy Parisian food learning has yielded stellar results in a mere two days. I now know, for example, that when you order a plate of raw oysters, you should eat them in ascending order of, as the French put it, "puissance." Start with the mild ones, end with the less mild ones, and sip plenty of white wine in between. And for goodness' sake, don't obscure that sea-fresh taste by piling on a mountain of grated horseradish, lemon zest, and Jamaican hot pepper sauce.

At Rech, a Parisian seafood restaurant, they serve champagne in retro-style glasses, and the bubbles swirl around in the stem like a mini tornado. We ordered oysters, and they were accompanied by a single garnish--shallot vinegar. It's mild, all right. But Christophe suggested that instead of spooning shallot vinegar over all that delicate oyster flesh I merely grind some white pepper over it. Christophe is an oyster purist. He eats them plain.

Having my macaroons and cooking, too.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. So far Mark has "mastered" golf in Scotland and "excelled" at gardening in England. His next task: cooking in Paris.

I don't quite know how to put this, so let me just describe what happened. I got on the train at St. Pancras in London. It was light, then it was dark for a bit, then it was light again, and when I looked outside, the cars were being driven on the correct side of the road. Two and half hours later, the train stopped at the Paris Nord station. I got in a Mercedes taxi and was taken to the Hotel St. James. When I got to my room, I found a bottle of champagne and a tray of cute little sweets waiting for me. The French call the sweets macarons, but they're not what you or I would think of as a macaroon. Regardless, I polished them off in less than 12 minutes. France, I thought to myself. I could get used to this place.

About an hour later, Christophe Raoux arrived. Christophe is a chef with L'ecole de Cuisine d'Alain Ducasse, and he has been charged with teaching me how to cook. Christophe handed me a sheaf of papers. In typical French style, it opened by laying out some principles. The second one read, "To learn how to cook is to learn how to eat." Over the next three hours, Christophe was going to teach me how to eat.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. Last week, Mark "mastered" golf in Scotland.  This week, Mark tended a very special English garden.  To go along with this most recent feat, we've posted a photo tour of Mark's  jour au jardin.

Click on the thumbnail photos below for full size images.

Tending to my cannabis.

This morning, at the not so ripe hour of 10:12 a.m., I found myself taking just-germinated cannabis seedlings and tucking each one into its very own pot of fresh soil...That's how it works with a botanical physic garden these days. They grow cannabis because it has a rich history of medical usage, but they grow it only for the sake of growing it... [READ MORE]

The glorious English garden.

Don't for a second think that the Chelsea Physic Garden is not pretty--or fragrant, life affirming, serene, rejuvenating, and so forth. In spring, a heady combination of British rain and waxing sunlight gives it an undeniable visual and olfactory pop... [READ MORE]

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. Last week, Mark "mastered" golf in Scotland.  His next task: gardening in England.

The second greatest irony of running a 300-plus-year-old botanical garden with more than 5,000 individual plants is that you tend to lose track of a few of them. In a garden dedicated to the ordering and preservation of the plant kingdom, gardeners occasionally happen upon a shrub, a flower, or a blade of grass that causes them to ask the very same question you or I might: "What on earth is this?"

Luckily, there are people who spend their entire lives coming up with answers for what on earth things are. They're called taxonomists, and they have nothing to do with the egregious sums we're all forced to fork over to the government. The most famous taxonomist ever was a Swede named Carl Linnaeus. He came up with the system of naming plants and animals whereby we use two Latin names, and he was the first to divide organisms into kingdoms, orders, genera, and species. Linnaeus visted the Chelsea Physic Garden. There stands a small patch of garden dedicated to the towering influence he had on the field. To this day serious gardeners--even serious hobby gardeners--refer to plants in Latin.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. Last week, Mark "mastered" golf in Scotland.  His next task: gardening in England.

A curious thing happened while I was transplanting my cannabis yesterday. I was standing in the potting shed, packing a clay pot full of soil when a woman entered the room looking for someone. We got to talking. The woman was a scientist with the Natural History Museum and University College London, and she had undertaken a research project in conjunction with the Chelsea Physic Garden on Galapagos tomatoes.

As it turns out, there are two species of tomato endemic to the Galapagos. That means they don't natively grow anywhere but the Galapagos Islands, and that has a lot to do with the fact that the seeds germinate after being passed through the digestive tract of a Galapagos giant tortoise. Despite their somewhat unappetizing beginnings in life, chances are that you have eaten both of these tomatoes at some point in your life. You just haven't eaten a tomato that was 100 percent Galapagos.

Better for making rope than Reggae Sunsplash.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. Last week, Mark "mastered" golf in Scotland.  His next task: gardening in England.

You may or may not remember the scene in Romeo and Juliet, it's a pretty important one, as I recall, when Romeo (or is it Juliet?) takes a potion and kills himself because he's heart broken over the (false) news that Juliet is dead, and then Juliet (or is it Romeo?) discovers him and then . . . okay don't worry, I won't spoil the ending for the tween audience who are waiting for the Hannah Montana version.

Romeo got that potion from an apothecary. Back in the days before WebMD, if you had an ailment, you went to see the apothecary. (Unless you were rich, in which case you went to see a physician.) An apothecary might prescribe any number of rare herbs or plants to make you right again, and to get said plants, he had to visit a physic garden. That's why, in 1673, a patch of land outside the bustling town of London was set aside for the cultivation of medicinal plants.

Fooorrrreeee!....Arrrggghhhh!
 
Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern-day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. His first task: Learn golf in Scotland.

Everyone keeps asking. You know why? Because they can't wait to hear me say that I shot a lousy game, because secretly the whole world wants me to be bad at golf.

And when I say the whole world, I include myself. That's the only way I can explain the deluge of mental errors that is conspiring to sabotage my game and keep me off the PGA circuit.

Bobby Jones would be proud.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. His first task: learn golf in Scotland.

Having been a victim of color blindness since the day of my birth, I know better than to dress myself. Normally, all wardrobe decisions are vetted through my wife. But since my wife couldn't come with me (a Renaissance man is 32 percent hobo, after all), I sought guidance from a higher authority: a real-life New York fashion editor.

The fashion editor in question is named Hyla Bauer, and for someone who works in the fashion department of a glossy Manhattan-based magazine, you could not ask for a more friendly and down-to-earth kind of person. I routinely try to goad the magazine into outfitting me no matter what the story. For example, if they ask me to check out a new restaurant to see if it's worthy of this year's Hot List, I'll say, "Listen, if I'm going to get to the heart of that story--if I'm going to fit in and not look like a tatty journalist--don't you think I need a new Armani suit, Chanel watch, and a pair of Pantherella silk socks?" The answer almost always is no. But when it came to playing golf, I was able to borrow a well-worn line beloved by my wife: I don't have a thing to wear. I tried it on my editor, Ted, at which he said, "You'd better give Hyla a call."

Jackpot.

Be the ball.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. His first task: Learn golf in Scotland.

Are you having trouble sleeping? Do you find yourself daydreaming at work, unable to concentrate on the task at hand. Do your children miss you ever since you mentally checked out 24 hours ago? I know what's going on. You're wondering about my golf game. How is Mark doing at golf? You keep asking yourself, over and over, as you pour orange juice in your coffee and don't even notice.

So here's the answer: I don't know. I haven't taken a single shot that Jim Farmer has been unable to critique. Routinely, he singles out a flaw, unpacks it, and then prescribes a solution. I follow his orders and concentrate on the flaw, and in the process forget about some other crucial piece of the technique puzzle, and the consequence pronounces itself in the next shot.

Breakfast of champions.

Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker is on a mad quest to make himself into a modern day Da Vinci during a month's stay in Europe. His first task: Learn golf in Scotland. 

First, the good news. I have eaten all of two meals in Scotland, and both have included black pudding, which is the local term for blood sausage. Blood sausage, in case you've never heard of it, is a sausage whose filling is made by cooking a filler (say, barley) in blood until it thickens. The resulting product is notable for two qualities. It strikes fear and disgust into the hearts of vegetarians, and it is delicious. My first taste came at dinner here at the St. Andrews Golf Hotel. Six perfectly cooked scallops, each set on its own little island of blood sausage.

Actual photo

Starting May 1, the Daily Traveler will be featuring Renaissance Man, a noble attempt by resident Conde Nast Traveler stuntman Mark Schatzker at Da Vinci-like mastery of the arts (and golf, for some reason), all in the space of a month's stay in Europe. If you know anything about Mark, you know how difficult this task will be (see here, here, and here). Below, Mark lays out the plan.

by Mark Schatzker

Once again, it is time. For reasons incomprehensible to me, my friends, and even my enemies (you know who you are), the beneficent powers at Conde Nast Traveler magazine have decided to send me on another trip. The timing couldn't be better, considering I've only just recovered from my last excursion.

The theme of this new adventure is self-improvement. But before you get too excited, there won't be much in the way of assertiveness therapy, optimal thinking or auto-hypnosis. No, the idea here is decidedly retrograde, but in a good way. I'm going to become a Renaissance Man.