tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20158281431960903512024-03-02T07:17:43.490-05:00Paolo & Maria Elena's Italian Adventures<center>These are the Experiences of an American Couple, Who in a 2006 Leap of Faith Purchased "Casa della Feritoia", Now Their Retreat in Southern Italy.<br> Enjoy their Personal Collection of Travel Memories and Italian Adventures including long Tales, Photo Albums and Video Clips. Welcome to Their Impressions of Bella Italia and all Things Italian, Wherever They May be Found.</center>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.comBlogger185125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-45397678332048087742024-02-29T07:15:00.003-05:002024-03-02T07:16:42.655-05:00Ancient Traditions<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Ancient Traditions</span></b><o:p style="font-size: 14pt;"></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhTYbMLXlwAFOP1DxRxT2OZw7By37MApH7KuZuHWw76apAwYO9jNJsanfFW1TgYxyfLB5FlEh4VGEImqq1jmtQBUr0yHzwG-8RqjluuXhWn3ySbADvrudeXQscdsAjYb-7Du-AV7-kVCpeR9_MmXpm0Py0BP5sJpHw0b7zrzo4FB0fHepx5w63KAVY5k8/s275/1%20Phil.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhTYbMLXlwAFOP1DxRxT2OZw7By37MApH7KuZuHWw76apAwYO9jNJsanfFW1TgYxyfLB5FlEh4VGEImqq1jmtQBUr0yHzwG-8RqjluuXhWn3ySbADvrudeXQscdsAjYb-7Du-AV7-kVCpeR9_MmXpm0Py0BP5sJpHw0b7zrzo4FB0fHepx5w63KAVY5k8/w381-h253/1%20Phil.jpg" width="381" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Meet Punxsutawney Phil</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><b> A snowy wintery season is upon us</b>. The below-freezing temperatures outside
confirm this for at least some of us. When
it rains in the forest where we <br />live, we call it “the woods in the wet.” We’ve nothing comparable when it snows other
than vanishing to some warm clime or taking vitamin D. Fortunately, days have already grown longer,
so there is hope the white stuff will be short-lived, and we can retire our
snowblower for another season. Exactly
when I should prepare to do this or otherwise ensure I have enough gas to
continue blowing snow for additional weeks does not depend on the <i>Old
Farmer’s Almanac</i> or the US National Weather Service. Instead, I rely on the
USA’s one and only living and breathing groundhog weather barometer,
Punxsutawney Phil. According to a
tradition extending back to 1887, if Phil sees his shadow and returns to his underground
burrow, he has predicted six more weeks of winter-like weather. However, if Phil does not see his shadow, he
is telegraphing an early spring.<sup>1</sup>
On a recent gloomy February day, Maria Elena and I heaved a sigh of
relief when Phil confirmed winter just about in the rearview mirror. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Prophecies like
this</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> extend beyond a Pennsylvania rodent's prognostications</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. </span>The many that have been promulgated
around the globe and have existed since ancient times have not been binary in
their predictive convictions. Less
conclusive, they offer more leeway to interpretation than simple “yes or no,” “long
or short (as in winters),” or “rain or shine” decrees. <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>In the earlier world of ancient Rome</b>, a method of
divination heavily reliant on interpretation called haruspicy was
practiced. Haruspicy was a form of communication
with the gods that relied on inspecting the entrails of sacrificed
animals. For example, examining a liver
could assess the god’s approval or disapproval.<sup>4</sup> <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Rather than predicting future events, this form of
divination allowed humans to discern the will of the gods before engaging in a specific
activity or making important decisions. Through
divination, Roman behavior maintained harmony between men and Mount Olympus deities. Punxsutawney Phil has no idea how lucky he is
that his shadow has replaced a fatal examination of his viscera. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Modern Italians</b> have seen these practices
abolished but still retain a quasi-relationship with the whimsical nature of
fate and chance, if not destiny. Each
year, for example, beginning at the stroke of midnight, cultural quirks renew
themselves on New Year's Day. Because
the shape of lentils resembles ancient gold coins, symbolic of prosperity,
eating them at midnight is deemed to promote good luck throughout the coming
year.<sup>2</sup> Although I love
lentils, this hasn’t worked for me. But
then, I’ve never been in Italy on New Year's Eve, which may be key to their magic.
<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><a name="_Hlk159068739"><b>Along with these legumes</b>,
eating twelve grapes (one for each month of the new year) or their equivalent
dried version, raisins, will ensure Lady Luck is with you.<sup>2</sup> When these antics conclude, in keeping with another
Roman custom, you’re expected to don something red (usually underwear) to fend
off negativity and invite </a><a name="_Hlk159068357">happiness and love into your life.<sup>2</sup> </a>The
color red is essential because it is associated with passion, energy, and, here
again, prosperity. It may all be for
commercial reasons, but for it to work, you can’t cheat by wearing old red
pajamas or lingerie. Au contraire, your red
underwear must be new and a gift from someone. Buying them for yourself is cheating and just
might be behind the enigma of <i>Victoria’s Secret</i>. No wonder I get so many red jammies, with or
without penguins, each Christmas! <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><a name="_Hlk159069224"><b>In parts of Italy</b>, throwing
old crockery out the window symbolizes purging yourself of what is useless.<sup>2</sup>
By ridding yourself of unnecessary items
accumulated during the year, it is believed that you free yourself of burdens
and avail yourself of a fresh start, in a way mindful of a New Year’s
resolution. But, look out below! <o:p></o:p></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><a name="_Hlk159069308"><b>If you are fortunate</b> to make
it outside safely (without head injury) that first day of the new year, ancient
customs require that you closely observe the first person you meet on the
street. If it is an elderly person or,
better yet, a hunchback, the new year will be full of great surprises. If you meet a baby, a priest, or a doctor, according
to this tradition, there might be some bad luck around the corner. <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Moving on from New Year's,</b>
the search for happiness and love continues.
Geoffrey Chaucer, in a 1375 poem in reference to Saint Valentine’s Day,
wrote:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.35pt; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 0in 9.35pt;">“For this was on seynt Valentynes day, /
Whan every foul cometh there to chese his make.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 6pt;">(For this was on Saint Valentine’s Day, /
When every fowl comes to choose his mate.) <sup>3<o:p></o:p></sup></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">Chaucer appears to have been referring to an earlier origin of the holiday,
once again thought to have ancient Roman roots well before Saint Valentine or
red pajamas. Every year on February 15,
Roman priests gathered at the sacred Lupercal cave on the Palatine Hill, where
Romulus and Remus were allegedly born (circa 771 BC) to sacrifice a goat and
dog. This ritual was performed to bless
mothers with fertility in the coming year.
Not to take away from modern reality TV series like <i>The Bachelor</i>
and <i>Love is Blind</i>, the legend also describes how single women placed
their names in an urn. Unmarried men
would then draw to be paired with these women for the year, which often resulted
in marriage.<sup>3</sup></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"></span></b></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkSBUHerAWmuu12i1gpor01nwHcYBbLyZcdlK03U-J-lpWDvOYci9EMdqtXPBBrc1QJNz7OZsd5gEU9WwhlJZVEU8UTChudJIF56qVDDv1Ld2GIa1TDPnvrTSvhxko0Pg-6H1kZOoZlA8llRDDANktrZLNHhyphenhyphenkkROgEw-chATAJYl2yGaJcEWieetqcQM/s3000/2%20inhand.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="3000" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkSBUHerAWmuu12i1gpor01nwHcYBbLyZcdlK03U-J-lpWDvOYci9EMdqtXPBBrc1QJNz7OZsd5gEU9WwhlJZVEU8UTChudJIF56qVDDv1Ld2GIa1TDPnvrTSvhxko0Pg-6H1kZOoZlA8llRDDANktrZLNHhyphenhyphenkkROgEw-chATAJYl2yGaJcEWieetqcQM/w248-h248/2%20inhand.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>A Cornicello Neckless</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>There is also a very popular</b></span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b> </b>and
plentiful horn-shaped Italian trinket known as a <i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">cornicello</span></i>,
which for millennia was considered the best, most powerful of good luck charms. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 107%; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;">On
the spectrum of fortune and protection, the common American practice of
carrying a rabbit’s foot doesn’t approach the persistent worldwide mania for wearing
a </span><i style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;">cornicello</i><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;">. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Made of red
coral, a </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">cornicello</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> offers protection from the ill intentions of the evil
eye, a malevolent gaze that some cast to cause bad things to happen. This concept is deeply rooted in ancient
beliefs and continues to hold significance to this day. Across cultures around the world, the evil eye
plays a formidable role. For example,
it’s known as </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">el Ojo Maledicto</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> (‘the cursed eye’) in Latin America. While I’ll not attempt to write it in Hanzi
characters, it’s called the ‘jinxed eye’ in China. Protective evil eye pendants are thought to
have originated with the Greeks and Ancient Romans some 3,000 years ago as a
defense against a shared threat: the evil eye curse.</span><sup style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">11</sup><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> Casting the evil eye bestows a curse intended
to bring harm, misfortune, accidents, or negative influences on someone. In addition to the </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">cornicello</span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">,
there are other amulets designed to ward off evil spirits, and variations of
evil intentions. I have an eye-shaped amulet myself</span></div></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7KLtNkNlZ2QyokL9ynKKfETSH5-87jrDVXHHNaebJZjZs3-ikJFSojhAhreRDnkU2RGtWqFGMdGMGEEqhDpx00op9sFZLNoTOaE_95GEs5WBQSKRWVY62Qm2FE7F_xz2UK2K5IbW189jFnGNXTD2NN6uT7EPsEIT5z8r0oehZVl-x48OZ72gGB6wCAk/s2016/3%20IMG_6093.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx7KLtNkNlZ2QyokL9ynKKfETSH5-87jrDVXHHNaebJZjZs3-ikJFSojhAhreRDnkU2RGtWqFGMdGMGEEqhDpx00op9sFZLNoTOaE_95GEs5WBQSKRWVY62Qm2FE7F_xz2UK2K5IbW189jFnGNXTD2NN6uT7EPsEIT5z8r0oehZVl-x48OZ72gGB6wCAk/s320/3%20IMG_6093.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>My Metaphysical Eye Bead<br /></b><b>Desktop Security System</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">purchased in what better place than Olympia, Greece. Referred to as a </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">nazar </i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">(‘to be coveted’),
this large eye-shaped bead is made of glass. Its circular shape featuring four colored concentric
circles dangles above my desk in case of some metaphysical, counter-curse emergency.
It has the advantage of zero power
consumption, and lacking the need for renewal, it offers 24/7 protection. </span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHJ5NEXKlAPW7V4TjzjSIcGsVpN-zCuCHU-VT9cPmBdSFhz-EpV8tPOqf1d35HTvzdUBtUWpg8kyxtxGCRDJ6f52qqy2lQ7NXzGewT2crMqzwPU7XWNOpY0vPQPc8Pdct0q663u_MP3fr9b9TcbgICT5TEqVJL-DmJNwnxn7mRPL-eYVBdGkOXCjL4FE/s204/4%20Gr%20&%20It.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="204" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaHJ5NEXKlAPW7V4TjzjSIcGsVpN-zCuCHU-VT9cPmBdSFhz-EpV8tPOqf1d35HTvzdUBtUWpg8kyxtxGCRDJ6f52qqy2lQ7NXzGewT2crMqzwPU7XWNOpY0vPQPc8Pdct0q663u_MP3fr9b9TcbgICT5TEqVJL-DmJNwnxn7mRPL-eYVBdGkOXCjL4FE/w190-h179/4%20Gr%20&%20It.jpg" width="190" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>For Added Protection<br /> </b><b>Some Use Both</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><b> The benefits of a <i>cornicello</i></b> include
blessings, fortune, positive outcomes in various aspects of life, and, as
always, prosperity. It is often worn by
individuals of Italian descent to reflect their Italian heritage. While it may look like a pepper, don’t be
fooled. It doesn’t symbolize a hot pepperoncino
pepper, it clearly resembles. It is
something entirely different. For
ancient Romans, the male organ was <br />regarded as a talisman of fertility and
prosperity. Thus, this Italian protective
pendant usually takes the form of a phallus.
A <i>cornicello</i> is also believed to enhance one's emotional
connections, strengthen relationships, and ignite passion in romantic
partnerships. It extends to promoting
good health, emotional protection, vitality, and <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-iJkdjnQxaHSRVoSlswfiwCXSFUBbvSONhBzurSJrR1ltGVt5hEqtCrlKeqG01E7Z4gHjyvmmvjmo3hhG9fv59AdZaN2E7zI0h7UhvWbizA_KlFd_ZKDQTuyqwfOY85xV_qaZBt271-lYVOh4dY1soiZoD-x4LzGREeFjjYxnM5q-p9QpoC66RHjW08M/s303/5%20imagesw.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="303" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-iJkdjnQxaHSRVoSlswfiwCXSFUBbvSONhBzurSJrR1ltGVt5hEqtCrlKeqG01E7Z4gHjyvmmvjmo3hhG9fv59AdZaN2E7zI0h7UhvWbizA_KlFd_ZKDQTuyqwfOY85xV_qaZBt271-lYVOh4dY1soiZoD-x4LzGREeFjjYxnM5q-p9QpoC66RHjW08M/s1600/5%20imagesw.jpg" width="303" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>A Cornicello Resembles a Hot<br /></b><b>Pepperoncino Pepper</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table>courage, as well as providing protection
from negative energies. Not stopping
there, its properties are believed to enhance energy levels, boost the immune
system, improve overall well-being, and bolster determination. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>In 77 AD,</b> Pliny the Elder wrote in depth about
red coral in his early version of an encyclopedia, <i>Naturalis Historia</i>. Thought to possess powers capable of warding
off danger, Pliny went so far as to have recommended coral to protect against
lightning strikes and, for those with this problem, a means to counter temptresses.<sup>6</sup> He describes the most valued coral as the
reddest and branchiest. It was also
viewed as a thing of beauty and powerfully religious. While he expressed his belief in its
protective powers, he’d likely agree that it would be useless against what, at
the time, was believed to be the foremost practitioner of the evil eye, mythological
Medusa. A self-initiated gaze at Medusa saw
the ‘voyeur’ turn to stone. Absent
Medusa, in the Middle East and the Mediterranean, where blue eyes are
relatively rare, the ancients believed that people, especially those with blue
eyes, could cast the evil eye with just a glance, unfortunately marking me as a
potential transmitter.<sup>10</sup> <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Coral amulets</b> are also given to children for
protection. In many paintings of the 1300
- 1500s, you will find children with a small coral horn or branch. One in particular by Piero della Francesca
hung in <i>The Metropolitan Museum of Art</i>, portrays the infant Jesus
wearing a red coral stem. Another
example, </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho2JRLVBFCzcOiH5xQIBkVqvrccGBqAd251YsPLs2Bv7j2H2jvKxTrW5ueFYDA7Mo0FVQYERWYVDjGP4mG8lgr9XOTXLSQQI91LcdM3CKQ3ipdUSHSvn0_c18SPUZmbXmT1GVRtqa4pWTTju59tm9dMFthg0qI8UGVvJe7sQHMr6tJQ7UyyWM4-Shb2Cw/s600/6%20Jesus.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="513" height="290" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho2JRLVBFCzcOiH5xQIBkVqvrccGBqAd251YsPLs2Bv7j2H2jvKxTrW5ueFYDA7Mo0FVQYERWYVDjGP4mG8lgr9XOTXLSQQI91LcdM3CKQ3ipdUSHSvn0_c18SPUZmbXmT1GVRtqa4pWTTju59tm9dMFthg0qI8UGVvJe7sQHMr6tJQ7UyyWM4-Shb2Cw/w249-h290/6%20Jesus.jpg" width="249" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Red Coral Necklace on Infant Jesus</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table>the “<i>Virgin and Child with Angles</i>,” by Allegretto Nuzi, hung in
the <i>Musee du Petit Palais</i> in Avignon, France, portrays a similar scene
with red coral prominently visible on the child. If the child is too small to wear an amulet safely,
there are alternative approaches to ensure protection. <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">For instance, my Florentine friend, Christina, recounts
how her mother-in-law sewed a piece of coral to Christina’s infant son’s bassinet
to ward off <i>malocchio</i> (‘evil eye’) misfortune. Other parents tie a red thread around a baby’s
hands. </span>Our former neighbor, JoAnn,
related how, as a child, when she complained of a headache, a <i>zia </i>(aunt)
or <i>nonna</i> (grandmother) would take her aside and make a sign of the cross
three <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">times
with her right thumb in the center of her forehead to the accompaniment of a
prayerful incantation over her (the words vary from region to region) followed
by spitting three times. She would then move
to one side </span>of JoAnn’s forehead, make the signs once more there three
times, spit again, only to cycle through this sequence one last time on the
other side of the forehead’s center. The
spitting mimics a superstition where a Greek <i>yaiyai </i>(grandmother) <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg06XRxOv2WsJHP-8d0kcTNfxCbisRO3xs0HJZTQg6unoQBL8qSsY5WDC0XlB_biS8n_9zzr_QVt2y5ZCwAUn8-OX203lhuK5OQCCuDTBwUm_A0se0pTqNr9MtzUXzrUd0mBaqI1AVG9JrEhTqJAXj-BSjJ6r8gNakBxmSwnPSRNNrWbxQvr6efHjdffHk/s425/7%20Child.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="240" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg06XRxOv2WsJHP-8d0kcTNfxCbisRO3xs0HJZTQg6unoQBL8qSsY5WDC0XlB_biS8n_9zzr_QVt2y5ZCwAUn8-OX203lhuK5OQCCuDTBwUm_A0se0pTqNr9MtzUXzrUd0mBaqI1AVG9JrEhTqJAXj-BSjJ6r8gNakBxmSwnPSRNNrWbxQvr6efHjdffHk/s320/7%20Child.jpg" width="181" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Virgin & Child by Nuzi</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table>will
quickly spit at a newborn three times, ‘tou, tou, tou,’ to ward off the evil eye. This follows another Greek custom whereby if
someone makes a ‘tou’ spitting sound at you three times, accompanied by the
flick of their hand, that person is not expressing disapproval at all. Instead, they are paying you a
compliment. It means you are worthy of
envy, so giving you what appears to be a negative gesture (spitting) wards off
the potential for the evil eye due to jealousy.<span style="background: white; color: #222222;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Next, JoAnne’s
relative would add a drop of oil to each of three small white bowls filled with
water. In keeping with their version of
the tradition, if the oil burst out quickly into the water as if it had
exploded (some claim the drop must sink), it meant you were the victim of an evil
eye perpetrator. If, however, the droplet
didn’t separate and remained in a circle, not to worry, you only had a
headache. Today, contemporary events call
a similar procedure to detect an analogous form </span>of evil a take-home
COVID Test! <p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Beyond protection against the evil eye</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, a
blue-colored amulet projects positive energies such as creativity, motivation,
and commitment, which symbolize good karma.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">11</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">What I particularly like, although when I
purchased my blue bead, I hadn’t a clue, is that it fosters calmness, a smooth
flow of communication, serenity, and relaxation in its owner—a veritable
tranquilizing, non-prescription form of Valium if ever there was one.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">In addition to blue, evil eye beads are
available in various colors.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">While each
color offers protection against evil curses that might lead to misfortune,
depending on their color, they are also said to promote such things as freedom,
happiness, imagination, success, relief from exhaustion, wealth, secure
friendships, and more.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">11 </sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">There
are evidently colors available for every concern.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The classic color scheme is deep blue with
white circles to symbolize the human eye.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">An eye bead talisman like mine is believed to possess a supernatural
force that reflects a </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzDyZtAw253RWuIGpZ7E3NWwf4Irr5opIKiAxor2dCBpgQ9x5LZ1VpOv6K_-UufNko9I6qdKjDecxU3SGaysm2Kko9gx1pFw5_Fr5uz2cWyXSBf3ZMngJVupK1gljJLpOG0E4SLEIuxNCsq9ohd5TpFYDOjNGFP4NzfU5LOGysWogUT06BredPO9653Y/s314/8%20Tail.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="314" data-original-width="220" height="314" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIzDyZtAw253RWuIGpZ7E3NWwf4Irr5opIKiAxor2dCBpgQ9x5LZ1VpOv6K_-UufNko9I6qdKjDecxU3SGaysm2Kko9gx1pFw5_Fr5uz2cWyXSBf3ZMngJVupK1gljJLpOG0E4SLEIuxNCsq9ohd5TpFYDOjNGFP4NzfU5LOGysWogUT06BredPO9653Y/s1600/8%20Tail.jpg" width="220" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>.<b>.. Just About Everywhere Indeed</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">malevolent gaze back upon its source—those who wish harm
upon others. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">To muddle things further</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, it’s believed that a
curse can be triggered involuntarily by someone unaware they can cast an evil
eye.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">A folktale tells of a man whose
gaze was such a potent transmitter that, knowing this, he resorted to cutting
out his own eyes rather than continuing to spread misfortune, especially to his
loved ones.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">12</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Under
circumstances like these, it could be just about everywhere.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The twin tyrannies, jealousy, and envy</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> are thought
to be the dominant motives that trigger evil eye curses.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The recipient must believe that receiving the
evil eye will cause misfortune or injury for it to be effective.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">A potent glare, a simple glance, or even a
negative comment that one person might give another, founded on intense
jealousy or envy, are reportedly all it takes.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">To shield against such acts, an urge to suppress envy and snuff out
jealousy grew to become ... Just Abiut Everywherso widespread that people went to great lengths to not show
pride in their status, flaunt excess, and eliminate any form of behavior that
might foster envy, loathing, or resentment in others.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">They dressed down, lived simply, wore old
shoes, watched what they said in public so as not to boast or appear overly
intelligent, and did anything to avoid highlighting themselves.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">It is mindful of the public response to that
famous purge of luxuries (</span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Bonfire of the Vanities</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">) by Savonarola in 1497
Florence.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">When it comes to the evil eye and curses</span></b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">, I’m also
reminded of that magical 1987 movie “</span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">Moonstruck</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">.” When Dean Martin would sing, “</span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">When the
moon hits your eye, like a big pizza pie - that’s Amore</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">,” he foreshadowed
this movie, where the moon may as well have been a character. It is a portrayal of the workings of a
dynamic Italian American family, where when referencing Italians, the word
dynamic is steeped in passion. Cher
earned the Best Actress Academy Award for her performance in this must-see,
fairytale story of love and life that approaches reality. In the riot of ethnicity that ensues, one </span><a href="https://youtu.be/Ydrdm4Un2WE?si=gAE3otpVJuLXKseH" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: red;"><span style="mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Scene at JFK Airport</span> </span></b></a><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">(click/open to watch) reveals a vendetta based on a
lifetime accumulation of envy. In it, as
an airliner takes off for Sicily with Cher’s fiancée aboard, an old woman
explains why she has placed a curse on the plane for it to crash. Come to find out, neither of them believes in
curses, though Cher cringes and, while no evidence of a </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">cornicello</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"> is
presented, has her fingers crossed. </span></span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9BP4fmHSVO8K7pdeErMHs93ifcLsmXJ_zRI95LybgAjf_NQ34bf8iix-HUJov62_BeCm7vBD0Jhva_m_V6RdS0iPU76wv63-3giUhwz2mkbuq_YIHNj_9Dimpdq0TkYuVHXzeXQZMQS1G3BntEeYT8Ljpc1e_8ThmNA7n70XM2I8VSlWQ6KJJfVsRX38/s289/9%20Toto.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="174" data-original-width="289" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9BP4fmHSVO8K7pdeErMHs93ifcLsmXJ_zRI95LybgAjf_NQ34bf8iix-HUJov62_BeCm7vBD0Jhva_m_V6RdS0iPU76wv63-3giUhwz2mkbuq_YIHNj_9Dimpdq0TkYuVHXzeXQZMQS1G3BntEeYT8Ljpc1e_8ThmNA7n70XM2I8VSlWQ6KJJfVsRX38/w350-h211/9%20Toto.jpg" width="350" /></a></div><b> Another form
of expressive protection</b>, a widespread part of everyday life in <i>Il
Mezzogiorno</i> (southern Italy), where history runs long, is a gesture called <i>le
corna</i> (‘the horn’). Generally,
Italians, expressive as they are, make the sign of the horns when confronted
with unfortunate events or simply when harmful events are mentioned. It is formed by extending the index and
pinkie fingers downward while holding the inner remaining fingers closed with
the thumb (making this sign with the hand raised takes on a different meaning).<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> <o:p></o:p><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">To this
day</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">, the faithful perform certain hand gestures like the sign
of the cross and wear religious medals such as a Miraculous Medal or a St.
Benedict Medal for divine protection from curses, evil, and diseases. Others pray to icons for protection, maintain
repositories of protective symbols, and wear sacred texts, and charms. The <i>hamsa</i>, also called the Hand of
Fatima and the Hand of Mary is an equally powerful palm-shaped amulet popular
from North Africa to the Middle East.
Along with other </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6gRzRlGVX8sqZ4vH-i0RxgBoIoDm7caBC9K1AE2iNlf3iCqwXYsdnlwRhcc-K46nOvn0Sy2JRONlNsXlnTsEuGi0TwmxQAhH3MP9FuBvkvlLaGDXkROQZlIec6sMvCfhpSeFeAPZTgQCU_gJxbsclmLrOOr7WEi_oO2gaQ1UVb8cjm2fKZvw638TaDsI/s224/11%20images.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="224" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6gRzRlGVX8sqZ4vH-i0RxgBoIoDm7caBC9K1AE2iNlf3iCqwXYsdnlwRhcc-K46nOvn0Sy2JRONlNsXlnTsEuGi0TwmxQAhH3MP9FuBvkvlLaGDXkROQZlIec6sMvCfhpSeFeAPZTgQCU_gJxbsclmLrOOr7WEi_oO2gaQ1UVb8cjm2fKZvw638TaDsI/s1600/11%20images.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Hamsa With an All-Seeing Nazar</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">symbology, the <i>hamsa</i> features an eye in the
middle of an open hand. As with other evil
eye amulets, like the <i>cornicello</i> and <i>nazar</i>, the <i>hamsa</i> is
traditionally believed to have talismanic power to provide divine protection.<sup>9</sup></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Like
religion</b>, the power of the evil eye is based on belief and faith, making it
difficult, if impossible, to verify its validity. Although scientific evidence does not support
the protective powers of amulets, if you believe in the evil eye and the need
for protection, it seems best to wear one. If correct, you have everything to gain. If you are cynical about these apocryphal
beliefs, ask yourself: do I, like grandma, throw a pinch of salt over my
shoulder for good luck (thought to blind the devil to stop him from performing
evil deeds), pass along chain letters, feel a bit anxious about the number 13
especially Friday the 13th, fear you’ve tempted the Fates by walking under a
ladder, break a mirror and anticipate seven years of bad luck, never open an
umbrella inside, or knock on wood for luck (gods were thought to inhabit trees)? If that is the case, acquiring an amulet as
an insurance policy on life and limb may be wise just in case these ancient
social mores are credible. You have
nothing to lose. Whichever way you go—nothing
to lose, everything to gain—this may explain why so many people worldwide,
myself included, possess these protective icons.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"><b>From That Rogue
Tourist, </b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"><b>Paolo</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: justify;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">1. <i>Groundhog Day 2020 Guide</i>: Punxsutawney Phil facts,
tips for going to Gobbler's Knob and More. Pennlive, 2020-01-28.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">2. <i>Studia in Italia</i>, https://www.studiainitalia.com/en/blog/new-year-traditions-italy/#:~:text=Eat%20lentils%20and%20grapes&text=For%20others%2C%20lentils%20are%20a,)%2C%20to%20bring%20you%20luck<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">3. <i>Valentine’s Day’s Connection with Love was Probably
Invented by Chaucer and Other 14th-Century Poets</i>, https://theconversation.com/valentines-days-connection-with-love-was-probably-invented-by-chaucer-and-other-14th-century-poets-199544<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">4. <i>Haruspex</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haruspex<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">6. <i>Coral and the Grand Tour</i>, https://www.ericaweiner.com/history-lessons/coral-and-the-grand-tour#:~:text=Coral%20in%20jewelry%20in%20Europe,Angels%20by%20Allegretto%20Nuzi%2C%201360.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">9. <i>Hamsa</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hamsa<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">10. <i>Nazar</i>,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nazar_(amulet)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">11. <i>Evil eye Bracelet Meaning and Origins</i>, https://www.iconicjewelry.com/evil-eye-bracelet-meaning-and-origins/<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">12. <i>The-Strange-Power-of-the-Evil-Eye</i>, https://www.bbc.com/culture/article/20180216-the-strange-power-of-the-evil-eye<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">
<o:p></o:p></span></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-76042201900928031712024-01-31T20:52:00.000-05:002024-01-31T20:52:05.969-05:00The Patriot Thief<p> <b><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">The Patriot
Thief</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>The Louvre is a
massive complex </b>of art treasures that requires weeks to explore and years to
appreciate. It was initially a fortress before
being transformed into a palace. Following
the French Revolution, it became a museum. For years, Maria Elena and I have talked of
visiting Paris for the sole </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPDDmCJQlHuc5HozMLE6nX6bkvObpagY9pTS7d7kdepEeBsOkqp-G3NxRZppNKo6I12NU-n8bPuW0xiLw1RjMwkGPMDKUWQ_D_LTgJahDEUI_dPzRr-1C_kG_jeB2D9xmDCcK5bvTo7xu_dvtQLu-gS4UiOONEPqL2rCycpokQ5NPGOZ67WyF-zG_3j48/s445/1%20room%20view.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="445" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPDDmCJQlHuc5HozMLE6nX6bkvObpagY9pTS7d7kdepEeBsOkqp-G3NxRZppNKo6I12NU-n8bPuW0xiLw1RjMwkGPMDKUWQ_D_LTgJahDEUI_dPzRr-1C_kG_jeB2D9xmDCcK5bvTo7xu_dvtQLu-gS4UiOONEPqL2rCycpokQ5NPGOZ67WyF-zG_3j48/s320/1%20room%20view.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The View from Our Paris Room</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">reason of exploring this sprawling institution and
taking in its artistic gems. We dreamt
of going during off-season when the tourist count would be low. We were naive to think that Paris ever experienced
even a slight pause. The <i>Ville-Lumière</i>
(City of Light) was still crowded in late October when we finally visited. Neither rain nor the fact that by this time of
year students would be back in school seemed to dent the number of people in
the city and the fraction of those who visit the museum every day. But I’m getting a little ahead here. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We’d been in
Calitri</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> for some time before our “vacation within a vacation” began. It could have happened much earlier as part of
our arrival in Europe or waited until our return flight to the USA. We’d done this before. Back then, we would lay over at a stop. For instance, on a stopover in London to
switch aircraft, we spent a few days there before continuing </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Edx049eXJ5SGrWNMpmqUylEdbKbY1y-ZAgDrGdUIi0DYNkYRLRuMwGfyrei9jcge-sJEJU06cEIlRlIuVNU3-sFi0RZ9MHedE-yuum9Ot2ZKiKJ6tH3Qv3Q9uJ8smts6wZrmVwozHBzqowrLC2TneJ6troh3hrgRggjgOYg7KYr3QFOh6LdglXSCveA/s118/2%20bangers.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="118" data-original-width="118" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0Edx049eXJ5SGrWNMpmqUylEdbKbY1y-ZAgDrGdUIi0DYNkYRLRuMwGfyrei9jcge-sJEJU06cEIlRlIuVNU3-sFi0RZ9MHedE-yuum9Ot2ZKiKJ6tH3Qv3Q9uJ8smts6wZrmVwozHBzqowrLC2TneJ6troh3hrgRggjgOYg7KYr3QFOh6LdglXSCveA/w183-h183/2%20bangers.jpg" width="183" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Bangers & Mash</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">to the
States. After “bangers & mash,” a visit
to the luxurious Harrods department store, and watching the guards change over
at Buckingham Palace, we continued our return flight. Apparently, times have changed. On our latest trip, we sought a similar
layover in Paris, either during our arrival or departure. We explored that possibility with two
airlines. Neither was successful. In the case of Air France, a layover in Paris
terminated our flight. For instance, our
reservation, Naples to Paris and then on to the US, would end if we hesitated
in Paris. To continue the flight home
would require two one-way tickets at approximately $1,000 each. Double ouch and out of the question. Clearly, I’d retired from the wrong ‘flight
provider’, the US Air Force, not a commercial airline.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">One of the reasons we had a ‘pied-à-terre’
in Italy was to use it, primarily in retirement. In my travel essay, “<a href="https://www.amazon.com/Italian-Chronicles-Rogue-Tourist-Discovering/dp/0979623391/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1V6F0HFKN7AH6&keywords=the+italian+chronicles+of+a+Rogue+Tourist&qid=1704657535&s=books&sprefix=the+italian+chronicles+of+a+rogue+tourist%2Cstripbooks%2C79&sr=1-1">The
Italian Chronicles of a Rogue Tourist</a>”, I put it this way: <sup><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1]</span></sup><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.5in 8pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">“Should
we buy our own tiny piece of Italy and immerse ourselves in the culture, the
language, and its people or should we continue to wander the country continually
visiting new places - there would always be new venues to explore. One road
read ‘come this way’ the other, equally appealing, like a hawker in front of a
restaurant, beckoned that we proceed down that avenue. … Instead, our idea of
an Italian home was a small, affordable place we could use in retirement for a
few months at a time, and before that, as often as we could get there. … even
more sobering, why tie ourselves down and have to always restrict our Italian
adventures to medieval Calitri? “<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Falling back on a military expression,
it had the advantages of a “forward operating base.” Being already in Europe, Calitri serves as a
springboard not only to other parts of Italy but also to the entire </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDfMSz6TW1Zmme4AvTgJIKiURaFyWef0-FLEAPm4_6AvvViolMaeEpU7tiPGm1Q9G3DBk99CKDipifeFNOWtSWhpmo50fn3H1NmRWxw37DjVNNkR5cjppBIYuFECiMYoYyqfucEjJvM99SYHwJfeC0MKJ7fF4GTblD5ZaRL7V7Dd1c_vnaJW-yXCCH0k/s640/3%20IMG_5233.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="272" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCDfMSz6TW1Zmme4AvTgJIKiURaFyWef0-FLEAPm4_6AvvViolMaeEpU7tiPGm1Q9G3DBk99CKDipifeFNOWtSWhpmo50fn3H1NmRWxw37DjVNNkR5cjppBIYuFECiMYoYyqfucEjJvM99SYHwJfeC0MKJ7fF4GTblD5ZaRL7V7Dd1c_vnaJW-yXCCH0k/w218-h272/3%20IMG_5233.jpg" width="218" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>French Onion Soup</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br />continent. Short hops between countries on low-cost
airlines were affordable. In a eureka
moment, it was Maria Elena's quick thinking, recalling our reasoning from
twenty years earlier, that resolved our stop-over dilemma. Instead of a costly stop-over while enroute
to or from the US, “Let’s lock the door after we are there a while and visit
somewhere new.” <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Our Parisian jaunt</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> began when I
drove our Fiat, Bianca, to Naples, parked her at the Navy Base adjacent to the
Capodichino Airport, and boarded an EasyJet flight to Charles de Gaulle Airport.
A short two and a half hours later, we
arrived. The number of tourists thronging
the terminal confirmed it was definitely not off-season. Over the days that followed, before we located
the Louvre’s glass pyramid, we enjoyed bowls of French onion soup and visited
interesting restaurants like the legendary literary <i>Les Deux Magots</i> café for
pastry and their renowned hot chocolate.
A visit to the iconic Shakespeare and Company bookstore served as a </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67T6baUCElrghVXM6RcPKCUbRLs-BIHemkzvsmNJNIvc2NQH6E00Mw98T9xkoIU06J6NqxQOD_LBLYTBbX9tMQlA1RKAAvv-2a7TVPBCjEtdWhDo-n0QhoHeBzO_Rdbvj8Eqablzd4rl94JyLlI-9BePzg6UVjbljXquuL_WMnUFc8K2oooo5dkkeHZ0/s275/4%20chocolate.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg67T6baUCElrghVXM6RcPKCUbRLs-BIHemkzvsmNJNIvc2NQH6E00Mw98T9xkoIU06J6NqxQOD_LBLYTBbX9tMQlA1RKAAvv-2a7TVPBCjEtdWhDo-n0QhoHeBzO_Rdbvj8Eqablzd4rl94JyLlI-9BePzg6UVjbljXquuL_WMnUFc8K2oooo5dkkeHZ0/s1600/4%20chocolate.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Our Magot Petit Dejeuner</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">whipped cream<br /> topping to our Paris fling. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">But there was more</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. Yes, I love those testosterone-fueled
classics like <i>Top Gun</i> (either one), <i>The Gladiator</i>, et al., but
the right side of the brain, thought to be the home of the non-conscious mind
also holds sway. That’s the part that is
associated with creativity, emotion, and intuition. It may help explain why I enjoy books and creative
writing. The influence of my brain’s right
hemisphere is why we sought out the nearby church of <i>Saint-Etienne-du-Mont</i>. It is not a major tourist attraction by a long
shot, but more on the spectrum of a social media phenomenon. In the Woody Allen film <i>Midnight in Paris</i>,
the main character Gil (Owen Wilson) sits on the side steps of this church </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKxYlVKTkFeYCL_kE4lTH6x66AMlMsFEejcipg-wKMYgZ2jE8WK6Bpc9eddoKPbAuNuL6GuAo8c39Gp_QDNlpY8Z_HaLLNfd6oPd2R9SVizZYA6cLykZnA6ueOPEP49SZQJPVCQN2OL5_aGkEkCPgj3PhxJRD-2U2ISy-oXh4utGCixxWNnRvp7B9iSU/s1746/5%20IMG_5322.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1379" data-original-width="1746" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKxYlVKTkFeYCL_kE4lTH6x66AMlMsFEejcipg-wKMYgZ2jE8WK6Bpc9eddoKPbAuNuL6GuAo8c39Gp_QDNlpY8Z_HaLLNfd6oPd2R9SVizZYA6cLykZnA6ueOPEP49SZQJPVCQN2OL5_aGkEkCPgj3PhxJRD-2U2ISy-oXh4utGCixxWNnRvp7B9iSU/w288-h228/5%20IMG_5322.jpg" width="288" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">nightly
in hopes of a magic car ride into the past among literary and artistic giants. In addition to historical magnets like the
Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, and the Louvre, the steps have become an unofficial
‘in-place” to visit while in Paris. It
was our turn to sit on the steps in tribute to the movie. We sat there, but it being well before
midnight, no one picked us up. Later,
just across the narrow, cobbled street separating the church from a corner
tavern, we sat by a window and watched as another couple scratched it from their
bucket list.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">By this point</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, some of you may
wonder if I have gone rogue like Tom Cruise in one of his <i>Mission Impossible</i>
franchise movies. Have I become a
Francophile? Not really. In the British Museum, we sought </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiqyOsCDu-BMF8yb_P3W8WXBDXmpWHgdCMtSpX_dg98QiW4WEQ91wRs1nm3_ZfeCnqiok4fuIomXgL3D_VoBcWR9pQ76YtwB-Zyv_W8Nolt9EoYG5VFyeRMZFlxkey8UDOPCzkJ-4yEJV0u5lrB2I70IcBv19mBK9icm8UUeN3ETp6ZVEI8ILO7L-hbts/s1653/6%20IMG_5243.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1653" data-original-width="1512" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiqyOsCDu-BMF8yb_P3W8WXBDXmpWHgdCMtSpX_dg98QiW4WEQ91wRs1nm3_ZfeCnqiok4fuIomXgL3D_VoBcWR9pQ76YtwB-Zyv_W8Nolt9EoYG5VFyeRMZFlxkey8UDOPCzkJ-4yEJV0u5lrB2I70IcBv19mBK9icm8UUeN3ETp6ZVEI8ILO7L-hbts/w224-h245/6%20IMG_5243.jpg" width="224" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">out Roman Britain
and the Rosetta Stone. In Bruges’ Church
of Our Lady, it was the allure of Michelangelo’s Madonna of Bruges that
attracted us. At the Louvre the object
of our obsession was the famed portrait of the Mona Lisa. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Our strategy
to avoid the crowds</b> was a private evening tour. Evening hours are called “nocturnes.” Our rendezvous point was in front of the
fashionable brasserie <i>Le Nemours Café</i>, where, while waiting, we were
amused by the wait staff over who alleged to have worked there the longest. By 6:30 pm six of us, all Americans, had
rendezvoused for the tour. We crossed
the street and entered through the <i>Porte de Richelieu</i>. It was immediately evident, as one of the
largest, most popular museums in the world, the Louvre is also one of the busiest, even by night.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcpqZHytwyvBiC2FIzpiabQFWlR3IQntGP5jYAJGJlUz3buTtbQC_d1hqsU0FROE_DH2kNHeXZZTUPUkj3bDmA_1NpztsQqpYguaFNyxQY83xmnhMgszYQQtHoBlD0tfxO8yuEuOCEj9EemZQq8tnna9XtUO2IsZj6GDP6L1JFFU9FJAIzyucrlPw_2k/s2016/7%20IMG_5246.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHcpqZHytwyvBiC2FIzpiabQFWlR3IQntGP5jYAJGJlUz3buTtbQC_d1hqsU0FROE_DH2kNHeXZZTUPUkj3bDmA_1NpztsQqpYguaFNyxQY83xmnhMgszYQQtHoBlD0tfxO8yuEuOCEj9EemZQq8tnna9XtUO2IsZj6GDP6L1JFFU9FJAIzyucrlPw_2k/w199-h265/7%20IMG_5246.jpg" width="199" /></a></div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Shortly
after entering</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, we found ourselves in the Louvre's Carrousel du
Louvre shopping mall, dominated by an inverted pyramid that serves as a
skylight pointing to the floor made famous by <i>The Da Vinci Code</i>
bestseller movie. In the lower level of
the Sully Wing, on our way to the museum’s best-known works of art, we walked
by the original medieval foundations of the Louvre, rising like castle
battlements. In the hours that followed,
we made our way through a labyrinth of various subjects listening to the wealth
of knowledge our guide had to share. <a name="_Hlk155629631">All along, our information chaperone, Maria, elaborated on
Greek statues ranging from the goddess Aphrodite, known as Venus de Milo, to
the Hellenistic era goddess Nike of Samothrace, we know as Winged Victory. In this maze </a></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCSZUOg8TLP_3l5-Cs8jDeb6gfHRDQqosQykxPi-HRsdX29wm2b50T_pYJ6j-rP0i1gS6FBkBl4B02peH4ze2Uzfdeqw1m5o0FF_3T0vq2rkRxnM1v6U54sA4PK1CAODvIxInjbtU1_3YM_QCjX_zvtPGoHo0ldh3QXgkpRMg-Mj_XP7WcIOcn0MjIoE/s800/8%20Foundation.webp" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQCSZUOg8TLP_3l5-Cs8jDeb6gfHRDQqosQykxPi-HRsdX29wm2b50T_pYJ6j-rP0i1gS6FBkBl4B02peH4ze2Uzfdeqw1m5o0FF_3T0vq2rkRxnM1v6U54sA4PK1CAODvIxInjbtU1_3YM_QCjX_zvtPGoHo0ldh3QXgkpRMg-Mj_XP7WcIOcn0MjIoE/w294-h221/8%20Foundation.webp" width="294" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Original Louvre Castle Foundation</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a name="_Hlk155629631"><br />of halls and stairs, we also saw
Egyptian artifacts and were dazzled by bling collections that rivaled the
British Crown Jewels</a>. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Our tour
culminated in the Grande Galerie</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> devoted to
Italian paintings, for us, the anticipated highlight of our tour. The walls were hung with a horde of stunning
paintings, including Italian Renaissance masterpieces by Caravaggio, Raphael,
and Botticelli, along with works by Leonardo da Vinci, including The Virgin of
the Rocks, and Saint John the Baptist. It
was in a side room, the <i>Salle des États</i>, the Louvre’s largest room,
about the size of a basketball court, that we were introduced to 24-year-old Lisa
Gherardini, wife of Francesco del Giocondo.
We know her as Madam Lisa, </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8EcDYrF0ON1YH8SZnLBEMwNVRaYOazg0Yck2Oj6haUPP36zfRrbTi_bqMsSFEvZHd-cNN8mVQffgUXWbo8zbkEzI6EbnZ77MrRFw4AZLasGIxHJ2u0iGOftYTjvVVehNUR1jBYomS0HAKu6ehQ37e28nkEl2Op7tpE86w0WXCiMrphWNXtAWqKvgB8g/s2016/9%20IMG_5269.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO8EcDYrF0ON1YH8SZnLBEMwNVRaYOazg0Yck2Oj6haUPP36zfRrbTi_bqMsSFEvZHd-cNN8mVQffgUXWbo8zbkEzI6EbnZ77MrRFw4AZLasGIxHJ2u0iGOftYTjvVVehNUR1jBYomS0HAKu6ehQ37e28nkEl2Op7tpE86w0WXCiMrphWNXtAWqKvgB8g/w224-h298/9%20IMG_5269.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Winged Victory</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">truncated further to Mona Lisa, one of the
most emblematic portraits in the history of art. This is hard to believe since it was never completed
by its creator, Leonardo da Vinci. Begun
in 1503 on a board of poplar, Da Vinci was still working on her in 1517. Never completed to his satisfaction, he
carried it with him, continuing to work on it, a stroke here or there, only
parting with her on his death in 1519. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Fortunately,
the room was not crowded</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. We could only
imagine the press of the daytime crowd when, as we learned, lines extended outside
the hall along the side of the Grande Galerie.
From what Maria related, you could pass outstanding and not fall to the
floor. Being the only portrait on the
wall positioned at the far end of the room creates the impression that the Mona
Lisa is tiny. This is not an illusion
but a fact. Positioned behind physical
barriers and protected inside a temperature and humidity-controlled glass case,
Mona’s portrait, a scant 30 by 21 inches, is petite. We were close enough to see the gossamer-</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKyQ64-3cIrqfpGAh7jUWIzXRB8dMTeov3AeQM2nFmMkd17TbPtlV4uzWKpLfFJjT7NdQZYXQiTj-nVxv9e2X8tuM-TBuOa9ebMmwlw2b_pbgEXeN2xiXAPKOc-y0MjjGsveYaDVbwJU-0-R9gcllfgs9Px2ayFMqHlAAxvleqAgbWMz25hBEDH9G1rE/s506/11%20IMG_5288.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="506" data-original-width="468" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeKyQ64-3cIrqfpGAh7jUWIzXRB8dMTeov3AeQM2nFmMkd17TbPtlV4uzWKpLfFJjT7NdQZYXQiTj-nVxv9e2X8tuM-TBuOa9ebMmwlw2b_pbgEXeN2xiXAPKOc-y0MjjGsveYaDVbwJU-0-R9gcllfgs9Px2ayFMqHlAAxvleqAgbWMz25hBEDH9G1rE/s320/11%20IMG_5288.jpg" width="296" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>A Real Smiler</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">like veil-like</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: left;"> veil shrouding her head, confirm her mysterious lack of eyebrows, but not so close
as to confirm that one pupil is larger than the other. Related to her eyes, there is the perception
associated with da Vinci called the ‘Mona Lisa Effect’. This optical illusion refers to the sensation
that the eyes of a portrait follow you around the room. Go where you may, and the feeling
persists. The fact is, Mona does not
look at you when standing directly in front of her. Ironically, the Mona Lisa, for which the
sensation is named, is absent the Mona Lisa Effect.</span><sup style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: left;">[2]</sup><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: left;"> Instead, she consistently stares over a
viewer's right shoulder, beginning to generate a smile. </span><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The
painting’s appeal</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> lies in its technical excellence, that wisp of a
smile, the background landscape’s mix of science and fantasy, and the sfumato blurring
technique that envelops the figure in a hazy mist. Her smile suggests that she has caught sight
of something and hints that she is turning toward it. Was Leonardo so prescient in his strokes that
he anticipated her popularity? Might her
head be turning toward the millions of gaping visitors who call on her
annually? Is its fame due exclusively to </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpomxvTJ4NN5SElX4snLIHLvOFysez5K1b3EZHwyQ68ZbUUDoG_X-L0rCGRwhuRbFPqRxj5Flz16vqDnJt6kLt_2Mgw4jJzBiWDqpokVSdBnXU-f-dwck807uNC_6-5urKUyXHQjCbEdYKOMAcURAaHIBuXyUdMmOxEYOA7wDl1nmOXojIzhR-09Lb7oY/s2016/12%20IMG_5247.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpomxvTJ4NN5SElX4snLIHLvOFysez5K1b3EZHwyQ68ZbUUDoG_X-L0rCGRwhuRbFPqRxj5Flz16vqDnJt6kLt_2Mgw4jJzBiWDqpokVSdBnXU-f-dwck807uNC_6-5urKUyXHQjCbEdYKOMAcURAaHIBuXyUdMmOxEYOA7wDl1nmOXojIzhR-09Lb7oY/w219-h292/12%20IMG_5247.jpg" width="219" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>We Learn A Startling Story</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">its
masterful technique or to some underlying fact beyond artistry or its famed
creator? <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">For many
years</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, this diminutive portrait occupied a spot within a
cluster of other Italian paintings. What
could account for its current explosion in popularity, enough to dominate an
entire room in the Louvre? Our guide asked
and answered this question with the startling revelation that while much of the
Louvre is filled with stolen art acquired as a result of Napoleon’s global
plunder, the Mona Lisa is the most famous of those few paintings ever stolen
from the Louvre. Maria and history relate
that for a time, Mona was actually the victim of, let’s call it, a kidnapping.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Paris
held its breath</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> when the “kidnapping” occurred in Aug 1911. Crowds gathered at the gates of the Louvre —
some left flowers, some were angry, and others were simply shocked. When it reopened, thousands gathered to view an
empty space on the wall occupied by four iron pegs. Her fame spread internationally. A worldwide alert was issued, searches were
performed, suspects interrogated, and rewards offered but nothing materialized. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydcFYVeL65yqkxh3EsEEvXHJe3T66tTrTzLUQuxKteQo6L29HtJj3wQTpiLRRPYEMCZIOCynMrP9WP8l_raYDD2WK0_i6Hr9NvAC3PciBQ166JSIMOJu6Ro6WWC0387VTYzMjQGGHoRMR5cMENYh-TIo7X5pQ_2LkEyHT_uB_N4wCJSR4ncaVxgOxfpc/s254/13%20missing.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="254" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgydcFYVeL65yqkxh3EsEEvXHJe3T66tTrTzLUQuxKteQo6L29HtJj3wQTpiLRRPYEMCZIOCynMrP9WP8l_raYDD2WK0_i6Hr9NvAC3PciBQ166JSIMOJu6Ro6WWC0387VTYzMjQGGHoRMR5cMENYh-TIo7X5pQ_2LkEyHT_uB_N4wCJSR4ncaVxgOxfpc/s1600/13%20missing.jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Mona Discovered Missing</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The ensuing fiasco of an investigation
continued for over two years as other world events, like the sinking of the
Titanic, captured center stage. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">All this
time</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, Mona Lisa lay resting in a firewood storage closet in
the apartment of the perpetrator, Vincenzo Peruggia. That Vincenzo (Enzo) did the deed is a
certainty but why he did it, his motive, remains elusive to this day. What drove him to steal the Mona Lisa, though
hinted at, was unclear although a subculture of theories soon arose. Beyond an obvious monetary motive, other
potential explanations range from revenge, jealousy, fame, psychological
issues, and acts of passion. Some can
merge with others and shift with time and circumstances. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7vZTyLVoLF_DAwasLKy-4mFsTvB9Wniq1O5_N3IgJAK1xgQff5Tp2ax4dgI7rKS7ScLLz1yoZhRKDXWgz3zVdlNiCWvlLMQO8NDOIR7fO-v8TwjXh6so41yKoae-HFWKjDJ0Hu2ID7T4udlrg-ne7AnIazDsQ851VINheKhnUOHaqzG0PGFlWB6ZbW0/s200/14%20Enzo.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH7vZTyLVoLF_DAwasLKy-4mFsTvB9Wniq1O5_N3IgJAK1xgQff5Tp2ax4dgI7rKS7ScLLz1yoZhRKDXWgz3zVdlNiCWvlLMQO8NDOIR7fO-v8TwjXh6so41yKoae-HFWKjDJ0Hu2ID7T4udlrg-ne7AnIazDsQ851VINheKhnUOHaqzG0PGFlWB6ZbW0/w220-h220/14%20Enzo.jpg" width="220" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Patriot Thief</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">Only Enzo knew for sure what drove him to act.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Vincenzo
was born</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> in the northern Italian town of Dumenza, positioned
between Lakes Como and Maggiore, coincidently only nine miles from the origin
of my Italian roots. As was common at
the time, he left Italy seeking work in Paris. There, he labored as a handyman, house painter,
and later as a Louvre Museum worker for a glass company under contract to the
Louvre. Employment with this firm afforded
him easy access to the museum.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It was
on a Monday</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> when the under-secured Louvre was closed for cleaning
and repairs with few workers or guards around, that the theft occurred. <sup>[4]</sup> Wearing his workmen’s white smock, he entered
the Louvre, proceeded to the Italian gallery, and took the painting. He chose the Mona Lisa because of its convenient
size, especially with its frame removed.
He had no idea of its value (today estimated at 860 million dollars) which
impugns the theory that his actions were motivated by money.<sup>[5]</sup> After all, he was a glass cutter and could
have easily accessed jewels far simpler to conceal and later ‘fence,’ as those
in that trade put it. Instead, he went
to the Italian gallery. He walked out
carrying the Mona Lisa under his arm wrapped in his smock. While the clueless police investigated and searched,
Enzo and the painting remained quiet until his arrest in December 1913. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">His arrest
and the Mona Lisa’s recovery</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> occurred in Florence, Italy. He’d traveled there to see a dealer in
antiquities with connections to the Uffizi Museum. To this point, Enzo only spoke of repatriating
Mona. When the dealer asked him how much
he was asking, he said 500, at which point the dealer finished his sentence,
saying, “500,000 Lira?” Enzo replied in the affirmative. Is this where </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2HTNnPjs9b4qpvdhBT-bPiJLNjP0nuduXHAwM6q1FFraX58pFD__V_AH0ovhWQUNCPz4typXxlKKxe6fk2K0UfCgCmRfxmm0MCmKTrNr9hOGDywcoK1WdyjQ3C88_vcSh3MnDHVHr1mGw4kTfsA7330wQOw6GsmixA-E3SAYzcKUQrtskrpNyu_N2EA/s256/15%20Monalisa_uffizi_1913.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="200" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB2HTNnPjs9b4qpvdhBT-bPiJLNjP0nuduXHAwM6q1FFraX58pFD__V_AH0ovhWQUNCPz4typXxlKKxe6fk2K0UfCgCmRfxmm0MCmKTrNr9hOGDywcoK1WdyjQ3C88_vcSh3MnDHVHr1mGw4kTfsA7330wQOw6GsmixA-E3SAYzcKUQrtskrpNyu_N2EA/w217-h292/15%20Monalisa_uffizi_1913.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Recovered Mona Lisa in the Uffizi</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">the money motive originated? Had Enzo even imagined such a monumental figure
then equivalent to $100,000? In any
case, the dealer took the painting to the Uffizi, where it was examined. When the painting was determined to be
authentic, Enzo was shocked when, as opposed to being rewarded, he was
immediately arrested. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span> </span>A legal tug-of-war
trial ensued</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. While the
prosecution saw it as a clear-cut case, based on a demand for 500,000 Lira, his
defense crafted a patriotic motive cloaked in sympathy. In Paris, Italians were looked down
upon. Along with this anti-Italian
sentiment, Enzo had experienced continued verbal abuse. Acceptance and respect were fleeting, if not
impossible to obtain. Taunted, called a
‘dirty Italian,’ and addressed as ‘macaroni’ rather than by his given name, he
was offended by the insults and grew to hate France. This demeaning treatment was further fueled
by the prevalent belief that Italy would join with Germany if war erupted
between France and Germany. Because of
these slights, revenge over his treatment in the form of a patriotic act kicked
in. He’d show his oppressors who
‘macaroni’ was. His troubled mind
believed that his act against the French, by taking the painting and returning
it to its homeland and rightful owners, would see him honored with fame, glory,
and reward. Revenge and hate had merged
with patriotism and the appeal of recognition.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Unfortunately
for Vincenzo</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, his repatriation argument was specious. Unaware of the Mona Lisa’s history, he
instead relied on gossip from his Parisian-Italian neighborhood where the
popular belief was that the Louvre’s Italian collection originated from
Napoleon’s looting of Italy. Truth be
told, the Mona Lisa, while Italian in origin, was not part of the Napoleonic
plunder. Following Leonardo’s death in
1519, his assistant and heir, Gian Giacomo Caprotti da Oreno, inherited the
painting and subsequently sold it to Francois I, the King of France.<sup>[6]</sup> Mona Lisa was, therefore, rightfully French
property. Evidently, he’d chosen the
wrong painting to make his point. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Enzo’s
defense</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> bolstered his patriotic decision to liberate the Mona
Lisa on weak judgment based on “intellectual deficiency.” Enzo had been diagnosed as suffering from lead
poisoning following years of work as a painter. Whether outright theater or in evidence of
this flaw, his behavior in court was eccentric with emotional outbursts, rage, court
interruptions, and arguments with the judge, his lawyer, and prosecutors. Nevertheless, Vincenzo was found guilty and
sentenced to one year and fifteen days.<sup>[4]</sup> This rather lenient sentence may have been due
to his arrest in Italy, not France, and a reflection of the amount of sympathy
he’d garnered among Italians who loved him, in this, his moment of fame. Such sentiment was reinforced by his release
in seven months and eight days. To many
Italians, he was a hero. Italians rushed
to the Uffizi to see Mona; Thirty thousand who couldn’t get in, rioted. Many Italians sent him love letters, cakes, and
bottles of wine while he was in jail. In
a way, some degree of notoriety had arrived.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Days
after his release</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, World War I erupted.
Vincenzo served in the Italian army, which had allied itself with France,
not Germany. Unlucky at crime and now at
war, he was captured by the Austrians.<sup>[4]</sup> This time, as a POW, his ‘indefinite sentence’
lasted two years until the end of the war. With his release, he returned to
Paris seeking work, accompanied by his wife.
He’d been banned from France, and his wife feared for his safety,
especially when he brought her to the Louvre to see the Mona Lisa. Their daughter would later recount his inflated
words seeking to reassure his wife, “<i>The shingles on this roof will rot, but
my name will remain famous.</i>” <sup>[7]</sup> But fame and its trappings
eluded him. Nothing happened that day and
throughout the rest of his life in Paris, which ended on his 44th birthday in
1925. Today, not a street is named for him.
Besides living on the Internet, Enzo’s only lasting fame may amount to a
plaque outside Room 20 at Hotel La Gioconda that he and Mona occupied those last
few nights before their separation.<sup>[7]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The theft
of the Mona Lisa</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> made her world-famous, transforming her into a global
celebrity, but not Vincenzo. Might this
account for the beginning of that smile, never quite broadening, because she
knows the truth concerning her fame? Her
celebrated history was fascinating before her abduction but was eclipsed by her
kidnapping. Conforming to herd
mentality, people like Maria Elena and me today flock to see her without an
inkling about the true source of her fame, all thanks to Vincenzo Peruggia. He may have believed he was famous, but no one
flocked to his grave, for the period of time he had one. You see, after 30 years, his remains were removed
from his burial plot and deposited in the communal ‘bone locker’ mixing with
those of others.<sup>[4]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">As a young
man</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, alone in a foreign country, looked down upon, and
harassed, Vincenzo Peruggia decided to ‘liberate’ the Mona Lisa. Precisely why, to what end, and how to
accomplish this end, he hadn’t fully thought through. Like Enzo, many of us have been impetuous and
taken brash actions. In our world, we respect
those who take decisive action, praise the ambitious, pin medals on heroes, and
give trophies to champions. So long as the
majority approve of the act and they succeed, someone who might otherwise be
classified a ‘terrorist’ is exalted as a ‘freedom fighter.’ However you measure it, Vincenzo’s actions were
a crime regardless of a fantasy for fame, misguided zeal, the longing of a
patriot, or some heroic delusion couched in a sfumato-like blurred
understanding of the consequences. Even
with the heft of a mitigating thumb on the scale of justice, when heroic patriot
or thief was measured, for Enzo, it still tipped to thief. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">From That Rogue
Tourist,</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><b>Paolo</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1] <i>The Italian-Chronicles of A Rogue-Tourist</i>,
Paul Monico, 2015, <a name="_Hlk155532810"></a><a href="https://www.amazon.com/Italian-Chronicles-Rogue-Tourist-Discovering/dp/0979623391/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1V6F0HFKN7AH6&keywords=the+italian+chronicles+of+a+Rogue+Tourist&qid=1704657535&s=books&sprefix=the+italian+chronicles+of+a+rogue+tourist%2Cstripbooks%2C79&sr=1-1"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">https://www.amazon.com/Italian-Chronicles-Rogue-Tourist-Discovering/dp/0979623391/ref=sr_1_1?crid=1V6F0HFKN7AH6&keywords=the+italian+chronicles+of+a+Rogue+Tourist&qid=1704657535&s=books&sprefix=the+italian+chronicles+of+a+rogue+tourist%2Cstripbooks%2C79&sr=1-1</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[2] <i>Mona Lisa Effect Not True for Mona Lisa, Scientific
American</i>, 2019, https://www.scientificamerican.com/podcast/episode/mona-lisa-effect-not-true-for-mona-lisa/#:~:text=The%20Mona%20Lisa%20effect%20is,Christopher%20Intagliata%20reports.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[3] <i>Napoleon’s Stolen Masterpieces: The Plunder that
Formed the Louvre</i>, https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/art-and-design/napoleon-s-stolen-masterpieces-the-plunder-that-formed-the-louvre-1.4589616<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[4] <i>Vincenzo Peruggia</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vincenzo_Peruggia<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[5] <i>What are the Most Expensive Paintings in the World
(2023)</i>, https://www.free-power-point-templates.com/articles/most-expensive-paintings-in-the-world/#:~:text=So%2C%20how%20much%20is%20the,price%20is%20approximately%20%24860%20Million.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[6] <i>How Did the ‘Mona Lisa’ End up in France?</i>, </span><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">https://becomingitalianwordbyword.typepad.com/monalisabook/2016/03/how-did-the-mona-lisa-end-up-in-france.html</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[7] Additional Information from the 2013 Documentary by
Joe Medeiros, <i>Mona Lisa is Missing – The Man Who Stole the Masterpiece<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span></p></div>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-71101237357272708272023-12-31T13:15:00.007-05:002024-01-02T17:24:41.621-05:00Carpe Vinum (Part II) <p><b><span style="font-family: Arial Black;"> <span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Carpe Vinum (Part II)</span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLlq8rMQniZrBfbxLrBFk0Et7zqU8JAmBbEUC-LgCOS4OJsh_8_yFyUJN8lNXsY5vE9WOroDBGg4gYWUPCIWu9WvSraomX_MuD-Z7edMMMjsI7vR8D0o_iCQIV9cIoQMkXvlyWAVA92vnrKu0fqtmY1tH17zgBZu4-rOh5mBKrAFJVjw0DZRZslaJLPI/s1964/0%20Giuseppe.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1783" data-original-width="1964" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPLlq8rMQniZrBfbxLrBFk0Et7zqU8JAmBbEUC-LgCOS4OJsh_8_yFyUJN8lNXsY5vE9WOroDBGg4gYWUPCIWu9WvSraomX_MuD-Z7edMMMjsI7vR8D0o_iCQIV9cIoQMkXvlyWAVA92vnrKu0fqtmY1tH17zgBZu4-rOh5mBKrAFJVjw0DZRZslaJLPI/w259-h244/0%20Giuseppe.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h1><b>Our Vintner Host, <br /></b><b>Giuseppe</b></h1></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><i>Helios’ hair riffled in the breeze of the early
morning air. </i><i>Even before he’d arrived in</i><i> Cumae </i>(today’s Naples)<i> from Athens
aboard a trireme galley years earlier, he’d carefully looked after his vines. He’d taken special care to watch over the
sprigs he’d taken with him on the voyage.
Thankfully, the grapes that now stretched out before him, plump with
juice, had flourished in this new land. Clearly,
the gods favored him, especially the sun god Helios, for whom he’d been
named. It was Helios, who, each day, in
his horse-drawn chariot, pulled the sun across the sky to flood their leaves
with light and heat the skins of their fruit.
He had arrived early, for the temple priests had designated the day
auspicious for harvesting this bounty. He’d
sampled the grapes himself over the past few days and did not doubt its
favorability. It was time. Today, he would carry his first full basket
of ripe grapes to the temple as an offering of thanks. Later, along with family and friends who
would soon join him in the harvest, they would celebrate. May the gods be praised and pleased.<span style="font-size: 10pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Previously, in Part I of Carpe Vinum</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> (Seize
the Wine), I described the exquisite quality of our local wines in a tour of
the D’Angelo Winery. Here in Part II, it
is time to get our hands dirty in the fields; this</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yUVxK6_1ERFowEs2ix3PLBNBc-ZHlY4KxoUZK2qOcnbb-rFXWrRJZygjMMBqpnAQaGJ4lDNR6SDnItBZpvhTXLVKUH9MzmyW_XwHZtqLX071jv_trpeLXnnkdMNYD78uUhz0VXVEurx95W7NvbtX-N-E2GyJqHoxuhFY5MC9XbhXvdqloDrM-hAq4EA/s1417/1%20hands.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="1417" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6yUVxK6_1ERFowEs2ix3PLBNBc-ZHlY4KxoUZK2qOcnbb-rFXWrRJZygjMMBqpnAQaGJ4lDNR6SDnItBZpvhTXLVKUH9MzmyW_XwHZtqLX071jv_trpeLXnnkdMNYD78uUhz0VXVEurx95W7NvbtX-N-E2GyJqHoxuhFY5MC9XbhXvdqloDrM-hAq4EA/s320/1%20hands.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>time, seizing grapes instead
of bottles. As my fictional Greek
character, Helios did centuries earlier, we again had an opportunity to
participate in the collective <i>Vendemmia</i> harvest ritual. Along with relatives and friends of Giuseppe
and <a name="_Hlk152915269">Vincenzina</a>, we arrived early at their vineyard on
an October morning to join in the harvest.
<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">There is winemaking in Giuseppe’s blood</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. The wines that define Italy define him as
well for his is a busy lifestyle in the fields.
While the vineyard remains dormant for months, well before sunshine and
heat do their magic, he is busy pruning, mending the trellises, and tying back young
shoots. The fickleness of the weather,
like moisture and too much rain in the spring that can result in mildew, are
but some of the threats he faces to a successful season. Beyond their aesthetic value, he will take
time to plant rose bushes at the end of each row to serve as an early warning
system to protect the vines. Like a
canary in a mine provides a warning of the presence of poisonous gases, roses, being
easy targets of fungus as well as insect magnets, stand guard. A parameter of electric fences to guard
against foraging animals like wild boar is also a necessity. Even with a pause in physical activity, there
remains the continuous annoyance of worry and uneasiness. Taken together, along with other concerns, there
is much unseen that goes into each bottle of wine.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I’m not exactly sure</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> how Giuseppe
decides on the exact date to harvest.
What I do know is that for as long as we have participated, it has
always been in October, with November reserved for gathering olives. Certainly, the weather forecast plays an
important role. That might narrow it
somewhat, at least down to the best week, which, due to logistics, will be on a
weekend when volunteers are more plentiful.
While it is likely ancient </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_YED_Om12QtQrwJNaUxEMcbMB4i_stFZaFELSnIies1fh-3joBkvJUoi9in7h7huVIA3HR6jEY2qIY3c_t5FiqKTCSkZmmMv8n_c0Ge0DptLaau-qH-SEqkZrBk0oY_mTCwezHzzZ_E5hmFJeIuQjlk49R3BKJ8ZVQCR6fFURGKnmrD0sQFYD-WOOZo/s640/2%20IMG_4510.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ_YED_Om12QtQrwJNaUxEMcbMB4i_stFZaFELSnIies1fh-3joBkvJUoi9in7h7huVIA3HR6jEY2qIY3c_t5FiqKTCSkZmmMv8n_c0Ge0DptLaau-qH-SEqkZrBk0oY_mTCwezHzzZ_E5hmFJeIuQjlk49R3BKJ8ZVQCR6fFURGKnmrD0sQFYD-WOOZo/s320/2%20IMG_4510.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>Romans sought an auger to determine if the
gods saw it as a propitious time to harvest; nowadays, there is a science to it,
although I’m confident there is also a prayer or two involved in seeking divine
guidance. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Months of sunshine and adequate rain</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, since
the vines were pruned in the spring, are critical. The results are evident in the vineyard's appearance
and when sampling the mature grapes. A
ripe grape is plump, juicy, and pulls easily from a cluster. The onset of ripening is captured in the
French word <i>veraison </i>(verr-ray-zohn).
Up to this point, the grapes are small, hard, highly acidic, and very green
in color. The onset of <i>veraison </i>is
evident when the grapes begin to change from green to red (white grapes become
almost translucent). This is the first sign
that they're on their way to ripeness.<sup>.[1]</sup> This is the point when the vine begins to use
its energy to dramatically increase the size of its grapes as they sweeten from
their accumulated sugars. This ripening
process takes anywhere from 30–70 days for the grapes to become fully mature,
ready to harvest. That is a wide window
of uncertainty and is when close monitoring and sampling take over. I grew up far removed from Italian grape
fields, but as a kid, I could easily sample the Concord grapes growing a few
doors away in our Italian neighbor, Mr. Calamarine’s, backyard. I didn’t know the French word for it then but
from frequent sampling as I’d rode by on my bike, I knew when bitter had turned
sweet. When I would accidentally chew a
grape seed and discovered it was soft, it was another signal that the grapes were
ripe and unknown to Mr. Calamarine, I’d be sure to return for more.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Today, primitive techniques like mine</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> are
bolstered by the utilization of scientific tools to determine if grapes have
reached their perfect ripeness. Vintners
like Giuseppe can test to make sure </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaW8ThppuA8QxDeJSzmHSxDvqKcVyneO3eWQD0W8AIUsxDFincp5XOTHbG-fG5dFpygl36ni1uOVufqb2StzNeIE4J-TNHLrzkdoXjEfJfv94n1PdjpvQls3x6N7UGZ3rTbDFrkIHRasj67yJm1e8Z1BUUHEh2x1Zn8pqjzj-OEQU2Vzn6MOXxVlHAdI/s550/3%20refractometer.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="456" data-original-width="550" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvaW8ThppuA8QxDeJSzmHSxDvqKcVyneO3eWQD0W8AIUsxDFincp5XOTHbG-fG5dFpygl36ni1uOVufqb2StzNeIE4J-TNHLrzkdoXjEfJfv94n1PdjpvQls3x6N7UGZ3rTbDFrkIHRasj67yJm1e8Z1BUUHEh2x1Zn8pqjzj-OEQU2Vzn6MOXxVlHAdI/w257-h212/3%20refractometer.jpeg" width="257" /></a></div>the sugar-acid balance is optimum by measuring
the pH level which increases with ripeness.
Too much acid (a low pH level) can cause the resulting wine to be tart
and astringent, but if the acid level is too low the wine can be flat and
unstructured. Grapes can also be
assessed for pH and acidity in labs. The
red wine pH target is around 3.5. A good
acid target is generally around 7 grams per liter. Measuring pH levels may be less enjoyable
than tasting the grapes, but it is definitely much more accurate. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">With the aid of a prism</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, a portable
refractometer can visually measure sugar levels. Grape sugar is measured in Brix degrees, which
is the measure of sugar in solution.
Every winemaker has a Brix number they look for, somewhere between 20
and 26. Together, both levels give the
winemaker an idea of the wine’s acidity.
It’s time to harvest when the acid comes closest to its optimum and
sugar approaches the sought-after Brix level. All this goes on behind the scenes. When the chemistry looks right, the tractor,
trailer, and barrels are prepared, the weather is acceptable, intuition and
experience mark the time as right, and the birds and wild boar suddenly show
interest in your grapes, the call for volunteers goes out. In the meantime, on alert, we wait.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Our call came</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> from
Giuseppe’s daughter, Concetta, a few </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgturlbxQAQPdvJv3zhJKxu3LUi3wESNxhg3CUhDcXeRpp9OydBDZrcarOuEqJ633HTpMztbMYXmaLdNkZ-9JL1mTznuxsc-GYYQVkjxI-alKfPIBW3gGq4P6FQb77V-G12f_WYEWZ4vk0YIgGXCecP4m9bLuoIxs8lIyN7v4KVeWE8y5s-hQb4semYB9g/s2016/4%20IMG_4494.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgturlbxQAQPdvJv3zhJKxu3LUi3wESNxhg3CUhDcXeRpp9OydBDZrcarOuEqJ633HTpMztbMYXmaLdNkZ-9JL1mTznuxsc-GYYQVkjxI-alKfPIBW3gGq4P6FQb77V-G12f_WYEWZ4vk0YIgGXCecP4m9bLuoIxs8lIyN7v4KVeWE8y5s-hQb4semYB9g/s320/4%20IMG_4494.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h1>Maria Elena Dons Her<br />Harvester Wardrobe</h1></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">days prior to the harvest. She’d arrived from the Spumante sparkling
wine city of Asti in northern Italy to help her mother and father. Giuseppe had determined it was time. This time-honored tradition was underway elsewhere
as well, in the fields, hillside grottos, garages, and basements throughout the
area. The appointed day dawned clear and
bright along with Maria Elena and me at sunrise that October morning. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We arrived in the fields at 7 AM</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. Accompanying us was a new arrival to Calitri,
Samantha. We’d met her in the street
market in town weeks earlier. Hailing
from Argentina, she was hoping to make a new home in Italy. Young, motivated, and eager to meet new
people and make new friends, Samantha was excited to participate. We welcomed her help. Over the years, our basketfuls of output have gradually
decreased and while we wouldn’t miss the experience, any helping hand is
appreciated. No one is paid outright for
their labor. It is on more of a
friendship basis with any payment taking the form of a celebration after the
grapes have been harvested. As in
California, tourists would pay and flock to Italy to experience this facet of
Italian culture. I’m sure there are
instances where they do. To a small wine
producer like Giuseppe, however, my guess is that to satisfy this romantic
idea, would only add taxes, paperwork, and the complications of insurance to
his workload. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">After years
of harvesting experience</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">, we’ve accumulated an interesting wardrobe that accommodates</span><span style="text-align: left;"> clear sunny days to muddy rubber boot days.
We dress in layers of old clothes refined </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxAr8eE4D1g4CzbF6vvpQ1O-Bmndx0g54DP-Ep79D6QOeJVJqas2aoYzpob_sNhur7pEHpSiWn_pK-DbZM9wMTm6QLmIPLNdbE1BOMoLoqqtBSWJ4wXstmSAjJeJsnW_2_PZ1dSkTOeIL2bzzCLE5erEtxNLbMBe9e1YSIoCcDe5D6fTCOn7R5OPl3ow/s2016/5%20IMG_4528.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivxAr8eE4D1g4CzbF6vvpQ1O-Bmndx0g54DP-Ep79D6QOeJVJqas2aoYzpob_sNhur7pEHpSiWn_pK-DbZM9wMTm6QLmIPLNdbE1BOMoLoqqtBSWJ4wXstmSAjJeJsnW_2_PZ1dSkTOeIL2bzzCLE5erEtxNLbMBe9e1YSIoCcDe5D6fTCOn7R5OPl3ow/s320/5%20IMG_4528.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>and reserved for moments like these;
their thickness adjusted with the heating of the sun. A few T-shirts, old pairs of jeans, sweatshirts,
a ratty pair of sneakers, and worn jackets, make up our assorted wardrobes. Whatever the mix, when topped with wide-brimmed
hats, we are ready for a memorable day in the fields of Calitri. <p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We
thought we’d be early arrivals</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, but the hillside was already alive with activity and few
parking spots remained along the gravel road bordering the fields. The familiar faces of various Angelos, Lucias,
and Lorenzos greeted us. Our first order
of business was to find some grape clippers. I prefer the needle nose variety with a spring-loaded
return action to automatically open the blades following each snip. I find it makes the work easier and speeds up
my production. Luckily for us, there
were still a few available. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Giuseppe’s hectares of vines</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> lie in
the shadow of </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr2mpgZImgFf0YSWPv0984rOeNerNdr7m4_ZaQi_bNvEZNxdx8fDLOg44Bk_8EvB01jMC_0AlhrRK2ZfabrcxioQMkpEeCzJf9WV0ZVP0MDjfhaMdtCxq-c9CMTwMjPOh0_f3mt7oLqSEdBuXZb3hAkMNEAFgem_uCFkw83M_sFWgc_i7qBZbey67MLeU/s2925/7.5%20DSC_11305.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2000" data-original-width="2925" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr2mpgZImgFf0YSWPv0984rOeNerNdr7m4_ZaQi_bNvEZNxdx8fDLOg44Bk_8EvB01jMC_0AlhrRK2ZfabrcxioQMkpEeCzJf9WV0ZVP0MDjfhaMdtCxq-c9CMTwMjPOh0_f3mt7oLqSEdBuXZb3hAkMNEAFgem_uCFkw83M_sFWgc_i7qBZbey67MLeU/s320/7.5%20DSC_11305.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>Mount Vulture, scant miles away to the east. This extinct volcano, the remains of its
seven-humped caldera visible on the skyline, is the basis of the region's <i>terroir</i>,
that combination of climate, soil, and topography that imparts a characteristic
taste and flavor to the region’s wines. His
fields slope toward the west, bathed in shadow until some hours after dawn when
the sun crests the ridgeline, warming his fields. His vines have the time-honored layout of
long, straight, parallel rows with consistent spacing between rows. Some rows run north-south, others east-west, which
breaks the vineyard into units. Each unit
might represent a different variety, an accommodation for sloping terrain,
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvGG2Lyt1wuarU0H93xVWz4McZgk6km6W4CzLjVbBYFEh9MsE6qtkErhtWoktjiOMjEH3K7CVCiMzNWNjSVop5ZqsiS0kc3dKTTQ-l7uqNGVSZgl9z5G8TFrqRxpsfaSSjFuDcbMQW-_ZPbQ49qHKcX8hGhTTTEZqEmB7Dv8BfZj8ZaZRVT_Vxk-lZVk/s640/6%20IMG_4506.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSvGG2Lyt1wuarU0H93xVWz4McZgk6km6W4CzLjVbBYFEh9MsE6qtkErhtWoktjiOMjEH3K7CVCiMzNWNjSVop5ZqsiS0kc3dKTTQ-l7uqNGVSZgl9z5G8TFrqRxpsfaSSjFuDcbMQW-_ZPbQ49qHKcX8hGhTTTEZqEmB7Dv8BfZj8ZaZRVT_Vxk-lZVk/w224-h299/6%20IMG_4506.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h2><b>The "Before" Maria Elena</b></h2></td></tr></tbody></table>irrigation needs, soil type, access, or property lines. Whatever the case, this serves to enhance the
distribution of sunlight on the plants and simplifies the harvest. While these blocks of vines don’t have names
or numbers, they allow different teams to be assigned to collect their fruit,
making the task less formidable and adding a sense of accomplishment as each is
completed. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Collecting the grapes</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is
efficiently performed. We harvest from
either side of a row simultaneously which sees our tubs gradually fill as we
drag them along beside us. If I could
have my wish, my clusters of grapes, when clipped, would defy gravity and flop
into my tub unaided, and the trellis latticework supporting the climbing plants
would be a bit taller. They are likely
optimized for Italians who, in general, are typically shorter than me. The continuous bending, with the need to
kneel at times, accounts for the handful of Advil tablets I bring along. Thankfully, young helpers with strong backs
collect them and supply an empty replacement.
They carry them to the loading area where other workers transfer them to
larger tubs and load them onto the trailer.
For easy access, there is a central avenue for the tractor which
transports </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwRbYoSi9xgZba6ifPhblhPepBism7IPJogwIcB-CBqtgxqCKaHGTpi3InImaGr0sbJnyKsEfJhjIOSk_-b3CltOleZSN4oP_E5DdNxFcCpthoN4IyVfsOhwYmwPOW4vm4gXR0l-1o3IrQq2EeJhUL9_u2XXCEerL-dCh-kR_wTa2ADaODffDA00oEBI/s2016/7%20IMG_4514.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEwRbYoSi9xgZba6ifPhblhPepBism7IPJogwIcB-CBqtgxqCKaHGTpi3InImaGr0sbJnyKsEfJhjIOSk_-b3CltOleZSN4oP_E5DdNxFcCpthoN4IyVfsOhwYmwPOW4vm4gXR0l-1o3IrQq2EeJhUL9_u2XXCEerL-dCh-kR_wTa2ADaODffDA00oEBI/w225-h300/7%20IMG_4514.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h2><b>The "After" Maria Elena</b></h2></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">tubs of grapes to Giuseppe’s cantina near town. This smooth process is interrupted only by an
occasional finger cut. While intended
for a cluster of grapes, clipping a finger can occur when you’re tired or
happen to snip in the blind. The rhythm
of the harvest also shifts at the toll of a bell.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It is mid-morning</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> when the bell
rings. You can’t miss its clear clang in
the crisp, airy fields. It is Vincenzina’s
way of announcing that breakfast is ready.
While we have been in the fields, she’s been home preparing a morning
meal for the team and then transporting it to the vineyard. With no coaxing needed, everyone heads for a
small hut carved into the vineyard. It
serves as the headquarters of the operation.
Inside are some basic stores along with a single bed. Outside, in an area shaded on two sides by
sloping roofs, are simple tables arrayed with plastic plates and cups, enough
for everyone. This breakfast is
different, not your just out-of-bed variety, and absent any American notion of
bacon, eggs, and buttered toast. After
all, by this time we have been outside, active for hours. Something to eat about then would be
appreciated, and it is. Italians are not
big on breakfast. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg31KSkoA7qUOkP3nsem3JWz27bXFiQN9cD-TAM4_QzYqgbOGvdHYf9SCWPmQzik3dGbxatgZm0MHvWyLaFj6i2zShgIlmYHjP5kYJlMsVN6LPPOwuDqUCXXvJ-BhueevbTNb8181AxtHY7n8TB_M5AgR_0DgLlFw6MAHSS7lr17-egFvWHe_S8duc9Fw/s4032/8%20IMG_0481.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg31KSkoA7qUOkP3nsem3JWz27bXFiQN9cD-TAM4_QzYqgbOGvdHYf9SCWPmQzik3dGbxatgZm0MHvWyLaFj6i2zShgIlmYHjP5kYJlMsVN6LPPOwuDqUCXXvJ-BhueevbTNb8181AxtHY7n8TB_M5AgR_0DgLlFw6MAHSS7lr17-egFvWHe_S8duc9Fw/s320/8%20IMG_0481.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h1><b>Call It The Breakfast Hut</b></h1></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The “fast” part of the
word “breakfast” is fitting for theirs is typically a hurried experience, usually
a cornetto and fleeting shot of espresso.
However, this break in the fields is a smorgasbord of egg frittatas,
loaves of bread, baccala, fortifying bottles of last year’s vintage, potatoes, fried
peppers, and, of course, espresso.
Watching Giuseppe cut a slice of bread borders on artistry. Standing there with a round loaf held on edge
vertically against his chest, he nonchalantly manages to somehow carve slices
as he pulls the knife blade toward his chest. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">After breakfast</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, this time absent
the clang of the bell to begin round two, we return to the fields. Although there were still grapes to gather, Giuseppe
called a stop early in the afternoon. The cantina was filled with tubs of grapes by then.
Besides, Maria Elena </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjZKUyLbVPGuf_-BaDNfKwkPFVgzzOjpBRfCrfZsJR1uX-LgWVYUx1LNaSyabnjl1kCWnPIfqG3sLA4LC5cvXumJHB-YtYlxe_di_GN8xZmLacdFpc849tgTSzqw1sxO6FIwJad-ki9MYJ-0Hm2VUEbBhpnQqywP4tckd_QrFA632iQM4fSUfM_MshMA/s4032/IMG_58702.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidjZKUyLbVPGuf_-BaDNfKwkPFVgzzOjpBRfCrfZsJR1uX-LgWVYUx1LNaSyabnjl1kCWnPIfqG3sLA4LC5cvXumJHB-YtYlxe_di_GN8xZmLacdFpc849tgTSzqw1sxO6FIwJad-ki9MYJ-0Hm2VUEbBhpnQqywP4tckd_QrFA632iQM4fSUfM_MshMA/s320/IMG_58702.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>and I, along with
others I’m sure, were tired and harboring dreams of retirement for at least
another year. It was time for the ‘crush’
when the berries were mashed and turned into grape juice. First off, we go home to change our clothes
and freshen up before heading to Giuseppe’s cantina, where the team has
gathered. One of Italy’s oldest traditions.,
this is the more pleasurable part of the operation, where we get to put our
beaks to the enjoyable task of partaking in another hearty meal. The crushing could wait.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We gather in the basement area</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> of Giuseppe’s
and Vicenzina’s home, behind the doors that conceal the presses, banks of vats,
and bottles of the cantina. We were in Vincenzina’s
domain. A table, the length of the room,
had been prepared on one side. On the
opposite wall rested a long built-in stove (<i>forna</i>), in this region known
as a <i>fornacella</i>. This historic
device, traditionally </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZJLvgzWNXXBF1F8x0JyOEfeKein1-51TR4Rlo3QeFpl09aL4bz9L41cwjFv5jYnrw8nUZu_CmxlvP-xKYvuRCKkkCBhfIQkjNpTQLupaRWh4NATkOO1hexpouN-i6OO8AmToY-mL6f6qQo4db8yktVMFLSCyEjMDOyau571c32a5OoQ7B5N-VnRsG6A/s4032/10%20IMG_59025.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="303" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUZJLvgzWNXXBF1F8x0JyOEfeKein1-51TR4Rlo3QeFpl09aL4bz9L41cwjFv5jYnrw8nUZu_CmxlvP-xKYvuRCKkkCBhfIQkjNpTQLupaRWh4NATkOO1hexpouN-i6OO8AmToY-mL6f6qQo4db8yktVMFLSCyEjMDOyau571c32a5OoQ7B5N-VnRsG6A/w227-h303/10%20IMG_59025.JPG" width="227" /></a></div>covered with tiles, serves both as a furnace and a stove.
Its function as a stove is exemplified
by three holes along its top into which progressively larger copper pots are partially
inserted. Along the face of the stove beneath
each pot, a small metal door provides access to the fire, fueled by wood. Vincenzina and her helpers have been busy
here since returning from serving breakfast in the vineyard. As the team took their seats, Vincenzina was
putting the finishing touches on her menu.
<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The featured dish</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is likewise historical
and a fitting accompaniment to a historic event like the <i>vendemmia</i>. The local pasta, called <i>cannazza</i>, a
dish typical of rural Irpinia, dates to the 700s, when the fresh pasta was dried
on canes, hence its name. This pasta,
centered on the table, is a daily mainstay in homes throughout the area. It has the familiar shape of ziti, but
instead of being pointed or cut perfectly straight, its ends are jagged. You will not find <i>cannazza</i> boxed on a
market shelf either. They are made from insanely
long hollow tubes of <i>candele</i> pasta snapped into five pieces. It is served coated in a rich, </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDmAEiwUejC1pyW_5gsGGaMXfr2RXMimhSe86xJjAUd54MTUTx6RP1iiuC9tGAn22XbXu2USwltNjDeG2tgzaXKQsUUXTZBc24338LqVZN9kvzTewVg3O_3sBIIs6iC_aEZky24qJjAHCjOL_dqPe895uELwXl82naPQRn3YZhqNidkbwDV-ubDHlWdY/s1125/12%20IMG_7445.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="987" data-original-width="1125" height="281" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYDmAEiwUejC1pyW_5gsGGaMXfr2RXMimhSe86xJjAUd54MTUTx6RP1iiuC9tGAn22XbXu2USwltNjDeG2tgzaXKQsUUXTZBc24338LqVZN9kvzTewVg3O_3sBIIs6iC_aEZky24qJjAHCjOL_dqPe895uELwXl82naPQRn3YZhqNidkbwDV-ubDHlWdY/s320/12%20IMG_7445.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>flavorful ragu
and then sprinkled with a layer of pecorino cheese. The more adventurous among us add a condiment
of garlic-fried oil or ground red chili peppers called <a name="_Hlk153796531"><i>peperoncini</i></a>. This main course is occasionally accompanied
by some protein like chicken along with servings of vegetables. Vincenzina knows she has captivated her guests
from the deafening silence throughout the room when the <i>cannazza</i> is
served. As you might anticipate, the
pasta is accompanied by more wine, followed by bowls of unshelled walnuts or
peanuts and cheese. Every time a bottle
of wine is emptied, it is rested on its side with the announcement <i>soldato
morto</i> (dead soldier) as encouragement for a quick replacement. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Celebrations like this</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> serve
in striking contrast to centuries of hunger that pervaded the lives of the </span><span style="text-align: left;">people of southern Italy. While vines
may grow </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbWwXoFaGUgsLLvl86krDP5rv5KWBdDkCpq4fnjd8B5l6whguds4EPudnLdhrpZ9OKojkrD8-jkjkoCszLvy8Co5h0fFu9_jaj4lxYltNU1GkL3pF3zQdMlqBfAhVPfmYibYBbm6Mt63_yQeHOuurI_1eGX3vBBAmSeadhDg0lYZdVgpkI1YyNbxZjgnU/s3456/11%20DSC_2582.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="2448" height="289" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbWwXoFaGUgsLLvl86krDP5rv5KWBdDkCpq4fnjd8B5l6whguds4EPudnLdhrpZ9OKojkrD8-jkjkoCszLvy8Co5h0fFu9_jaj4lxYltNU1GkL3pF3zQdMlqBfAhVPfmYibYBbm6Mt63_yQeHOuurI_1eGX3vBBAmSeadhDg0lYZdVgpkI1YyNbxZjgnU/w205-h289/11%20DSC_2582.JPG" width="205" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h1><b>Vincenzina Before Her <br /></b><b><i>Fornacella</i></b></h1></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: left;"><br />best when made to suffer, people do not. Never bountiful, food in a stratum of poverty
shaped life here. But on this day, we feasted
and enjoyed. Sitting alongside these
salt-of-the-earth people highlights the difference between a world of elegance
and a humbler way of life and simpler cuisine.
The chatter of their stories, boastful camaraderie, friendly teases, and
laughter filled the cantina. For me, this
is the other, more authentic Italy, a reflection of the true Italian way of
life distant from the familiar tourist haunts.
It remains an earthy world inhabited by wonderful people united in the
fields and, afterward, united around the table. </span><p></p><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Following our repast</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, we moved next
door to the cantina for the crush. Creating
the juice has moved beyond the foot-stomping technique prevalent in Italy for centuries. Some of us may recall </span><span style="text-align: left;">the episode of </span><i style="text-align: left;">I
Love Lucy</i><span style="text-align: left;"> where </span><a href="https://youtu.be/fUxjOS3g6Uc?si=GnQ3OZJwPaxDcxtf" style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Lucy, in
Italy</span></a><span style="text-align: left;"> (click to see her antics), gets into a barrel and shows how it
was done, or in her case how it was not done.
Concern over hygiene and the advent of efficient machinery, </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWq-BhncDooJZ1qDUSbK4U0YmYDPlqDfwRlA6-AG4oNyEYWyNg2_rjPzlUck-sZNw6AI69_lTblNGzfMn_Qh7Es4kgGjCrMsN6sy7ufnt5JkIz4e0HPNuwOW9Abf5Wp5eaxGttSA4h-fcKRL2C7Eu6lZfh29GQDJQ4aHWbcJFNnR1vOEnWwd9_QNRWTw/s640/IMG_4541.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhWq-BhncDooJZ1qDUSbK4U0YmYDPlqDfwRlA6-AG4oNyEYWyNg2_rjPzlUck-sZNw6AI69_lTblNGzfMn_Qh7Es4kgGjCrMsN6sy7ufnt5JkIz4e0HPNuwOW9Abf5Wp5eaxGttSA4h-fcKRL2C7Eu6lZfh29GQDJQ4aHWbcJFNnR1vOEnWwd9_QNRWTw/w154-h205/IMG_4541.jpg" width="154" /></a></div>however, saw
crushing grapes by foot go the way of buggy whips. Although we are useful in the fields, we are
but observers of the crush and don’t get to ‘immerse’ ourselves like Lucy in
this activity. Giuseppe has plenty of
helpers and a total of four can easily handle what <span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;">needs to be done. Most of the labor involves pouring the grapes into an electric grape crusher. To one side, the juice flows through a hose into a fermentation vat. </span><span style="text-align: left;">On the other side, the force of a rotating impeller ejects leaves and stems. That’s about it: two to feed the crusher, someone to hold the hose in the vat, and an operator to run a rather formidable-looking screw-feed crusher.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="text-align: left;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PkaHgF9Z3fpN71Y1s3KUBRqwFT9fA0f5KOGH_NbgVbX4j0H6tjwYGfABWNrkCXValKGCtR0TiFC5JLhIMfaddYpQ4Lu7KBGXXU7ORw3HWy9smC54gZgLfAWVdZzkI3hoQibIl5nwHYPbxOlVrkX2PDwf9w4fUNlJ-Q7eRgIQwy0lmL4Ezx_3sIb7cWI/s640/IMG_4545.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9PkaHgF9Z3fpN71Y1s3KUBRqwFT9fA0f5KOGH_NbgVbX4j0H6tjwYGfABWNrkCXValKGCtR0TiFC5JLhIMfaddYpQ4Lu7KBGXXU7ORw3HWy9smC54gZgLfAWVdZzkI3hoQibIl5nwHYPbxOlVrkX2PDwf9w4fUNlJ-Q7eRgIQwy0lmL4Ezx_3sIb7cWI/w162-h216/IMG_4545.jpg" width="162" /></a></div>Operating the crusher requires a rather alert worker
and demands someone who certainly hadn’t earlier laid down too many “dead
soldiers” like me. <p></p><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The <i>vendemmia</i>
is a labor of love</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">; for some, it borders on passion. To all, it is a reflection of a historic
ritual and way of life that continues in the fields of Calitri. Giuseppe and
Vincenzina serve as tethers to this ancient tradition. For a few weeks in October, through the <i>vendemmia</i>,
they bring people together into a <a name="_Hlk151469210">micro-community to
embrace the simple pleasures of harvesting </a>grapes and brewing a supply of
wine for the coming year. Participating
in the grape harvest is like walking back into the authenticity of past times. We’ve been changed by the experience. With each bottle of wine we open, we are
reminded that there is far more to wine than simply sipping this liquid
sunshine from a goblet. Embedded in each
bottle, beginning with the label, are hints of Italian culture that can’t be
measured with a pH strip, a refractometer, or lab tests. In Book One of the poem “Odes”</span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUT831bBekrhCf5ap9_wCOmSTEICI4NaAIC-aXWHFTDiDU50IcydbMiTtd_6cuh1ibT4ZSoHHJTP80l5MGkrhUlJ4LR_ABOsc4zIQtDF18OD-h9JHTNJ0amIobycNvvqwPYdu3cuMQIdXxRUZhrOmYuchYWBuM8lWah6ez42sOYBQPHRXLXdwXAg89zA4/s3386/DSC_6320.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1972" data-original-width="3386" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUT831bBekrhCf5ap9_wCOmSTEICI4NaAIC-aXWHFTDiDU50IcydbMiTtd_6cuh1ibT4ZSoHHJTP80l5MGkrhUlJ4LR_ABOsc4zIQtDF18OD-h9JHTNJ0amIobycNvvqwPYdu3cuMQIdXxRUZhrOmYuchYWBuM8lWah6ez42sOYBQPHRXLXdwXAg89zA4/s320/DSC_6320.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h1><b>Our Lady of the Vines</b></h1></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">the Roman poet
Horace, who lived near Calitri, advised </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">carpe diem</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> (pluck the day while
we can as it is ripe). Carpe is a Latin viticulture
term evoking the picking and gathering of grapes. As we try to make the most of each day, why
not also take a </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">carpe vinum</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> moment and seize the wine? Whether a result of Dionysus or Bacchus, or
the urging by Horace, wine is a vacation from the ordinary meant to enjoy, bring people together,
celebrate, share, and foster lasting bonds.
</span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Carpe Vinum</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> encourages us to truly enjoy the moment. Why not, after all, it is tradition. </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Salute</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br /></span></div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Arial Black; font-size: 14pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>From That Rogue
Tourist,</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial Black;">Paolo</span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1] <i>How We Know When Our Grapes Are Ripe</i>, https://www.mcellars.com/2021/08/19/how-we-know-when-our-grapes-are-ripe/<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-81151677772816666252023-11-30T14:47:00.003-05:002023-12-17T12:48:14.905-05:00<p> <b style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Carpe
Vinum (Part I)<span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkwFvEj3KIqBdJ8AbwPfHh8dwSCVFwv5C6D4875gMLKvghjgn3HDPPV2NoHNtPHnzIZdT17-u5B20dq0pdo5U8oxF_9AoLp5KYnQ4XYJUhwx4SmGG__PnwgmER74J7I6bBaUoxAAPlEaAq1UuBX_xfE6va_DyMPpnWP9WEweT_IXNVceYxtKlnDAKS8U/s1417/1%20bw.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="945" data-original-width="1417" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlkwFvEj3KIqBdJ8AbwPfHh8dwSCVFwv5C6D4875gMLKvghjgn3HDPPV2NoHNtPHnzIZdT17-u5B20dq0pdo5U8oxF_9AoLp5KYnQ4XYJUhwx4SmGG__PnwgmER74J7I6bBaUoxAAPlEaAq1UuBX_xfE6va_DyMPpnWP9WEweT_IXNVceYxtKlnDAKS8U/w344-h229/1%20bw.jpg" width="344" /></a></span></b></div><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in; vertical-align: baseline;"><a name="_Hlk151206723"></a><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">There is a word </span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Italians use to
describe an important </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-align: left;">aspect of their culture.
It is part ritual, and partly celebratory, in which the fruits of months,
built on years of strenuous work in the vineyards, are gathered. <a name="_Hlk151988899">It is both an end and
a beginning: a harvest that marks the end of summer and the beginning of a
production phase to create what I refer to as sunshine in a bottle. This alpha-omega</a></span><span style="text-align: left;"> word is </span><i style="text-align: left;">vendemmia </i><span style="text-align: left;">(ven</span><i style="text-align: left;">-</i><span style="text-align: left;">dem-e-ah). </span></p><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The vendemmie</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> (grape
harvests) we’ve participated in in the past have included a celebration. Returning from the fields, all the
participants are invited to the cantina to share a meal along with liberating
the contents of many bottles of wine from the previous year’s harvest. This pause occurs before the processing of
the grapes begins. More than simply
purchasing and de-corking a bottle, the true enjoyment of wine involves
multiple parts: the gathering of the grapes, the production of the wine, and
the joyful celebration of its consumption.
This story describes the pleasing enjoyment of wine, beginning with the
description of a visit to a nearby Italian <i>casa vinicola</i> (winery) where
we had an opportunity to taste the extraordinary sunshine in a bottle from an
award-winning winery. Yes, this may be a
little ‘cart before the horse,’ but there is established precedence in this each time we enjoy an aperitivo before a meal.
There are times Maria Elena and I will roguishly go so far as to eat <i>ricotta
pera torta</i> dessert at Tre Rose before the main course. Why not?
Why not eat intuitively instead of in an ordained sequence? Following this line of thinking, I do not
begin with the <i>vendemmia</i>, but its culmination, days, sometimes years
later, as the finished elixir, a season’s bounty confined in a bottle, is
enjoyed.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQx4_rZZAyJyOGUNVgGUSgd5iWUosW2xo8Kc5dKNiBKJf8pKFcKd5ID9FfVeDCV23gFyFY01zc6y9z904vgshCLKPpgAis8RNf2KddsR60wl42Tdu0j_yrhoXBFRPutnqCxDKafXhBS_C7-8lWa4svTy1VyQvAPIS8C0IWjb7G1bHqIdp-JO9NAhf65_k/s2016/2%20IMG_45662.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1043" data-original-width="2016" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQx4_rZZAyJyOGUNVgGUSgd5iWUosW2xo8Kc5dKNiBKJf8pKFcKd5ID9FfVeDCV23gFyFY01zc6y9z904vgshCLKPpgAis8RNf2KddsR60wl42Tdu0j_yrhoXBFRPutnqCxDKafXhBS_C7-8lWa4svTy1VyQvAPIS8C0IWjb7G1bHqIdp-JO9NAhf65_k/w373-h194/2%20IMG_45662.jpg" width="373" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h2><b>Our Dawn View of Mount Vulture</b></h2><b><br /></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">My story </span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">begins on <i>Monte <a name="_Hlk150496675">Vultur</a>e</i> (Vul-tu-ray),
opposite the seven-peaked, hollow crag we see looking outside our windows. This precipice has lived up to its ominous
name. During WWII, in the plain
among the vineyards extending from the foot of this peak, many Allied B-24
Liberator bombers from the 485<sup>th</sup> Bomb Group, based at nearby Venosa,
met their demise on the slopes of Mount Vulture.</span></span></p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>In the
distant past</b>, this rolling and mountainous terrain witnessed the exploits </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIMCRnmT-YGXEEYyXQO_TgEzQXOCcB5P600vJDxpPF4iOOQMXJuNXPENOXY-7VibagR4sTPSn9smlWqgQ068KhZBJpGOKXFrEpIVsCvio0RrTaav4UKlRykTVYzEHnhrkqsrfXK9ogB2pSZU80WidEISx9Fbf8rGCn5LS4SGGbNco5IefA-aGp-P7cH4/s180/2.5%20bandit.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="180" data-original-width="173" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmIMCRnmT-YGXEEYyXQO_TgEzQXOCcB5P600vJDxpPF4iOOQMXJuNXPENOXY-7VibagR4sTPSn9smlWqgQ068KhZBJpGOKXFrEpIVsCvio0RrTaav4UKlRykTVYzEHnhrkqsrfXK9ogB2pSZU80WidEISx9Fbf8rGCn5LS4SGGbNco5IefA-aGp-P7cH4/s1600/2.5%20bandit.jpeg" width="173" /></a></div>of invading armies from feared Carthaginian General Hannibal to Norman, <span style="text-align: left;">Swabian, and Angevin knights. In the
last century, its impenetrable forests served as a refuge for </span><i style="text-align: left;">brigantaggio</i><span style="text-align: left;">
such as brigand and folk hero Carmine Crocco, as well as for enchanting castles
and masterpieces in art-adorned</span><span style="text-align: left;"> rustic churches. All were testimony to an ancient link between
nature and human events which, over the centuries, seemed intense in this now
serene region beyond our windows.</span><p></p><p></p><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Today,
you can drive into the volcano’s caldera</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> and visit two
picturesque lakes, have dinner at one of many lakeside establishments, and,
while floating around the lake on a paddle boat, take in the Benedictine Abbey
of San Michele high up along the crater's ridge amidst </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjF_yKXKZIpEKtri4vKUdxLdw7_UZQ00APjz_Cq92YfGWGfb5VcaY8znE_3ZBV19yCddJVTKf9E6Z0ynniJW8jbS1hKJ25k1CtZAELJufljZMi0qJL8m6T4_bmTs4OVqBCv2DErRF-7sImdEEz_eFXkB08J32Nk1iV6GEXNsapXJHJmtW7NqguEBp3TaA/s600/3%20jcr_content.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="600" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjF_yKXKZIpEKtri4vKUdxLdw7_UZQ00APjz_Cq92YfGWGfb5VcaY8znE_3ZBV19yCddJVTKf9E6Z0ynniJW8jbS1hKJ25k1CtZAELJufljZMi0qJL8m6T4_bmTs4OVqBCv2DErRF-7sImdEEz_eFXkB08J32Nk1iV6GEXNsapXJHJmtW7NqguEBp3TaA/w352-h181/3%20jcr_content.jpg" width="352" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">the incomparable charm of
nature’s greenery. Things have changed considerably
in the 500,000 years since this volcano first emerged. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">This extinct
volcano</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is not only the epicenter of the entire process but is
key to the regal wines in this part of Campania and Basilicata. On the slopes of this ancient precipice,
which rises to 4,350 feet, Aglianico vines thrive in an environment that
includes hilly, windy terrain, mild winters, and summers that are neither too
hot nor dry. When the conditions are not
perfect, high tannin levels in the grapes preserve the fruit. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Along with an auspicious climate</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">, <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">the volcanic soil, the product of ancient lava, ash,
and ejected lapilli rich in minerals and limestone, extends for miles. </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tKoVIcWawtUUpUXTx3-Rv7t50FmOcA6s9ubfKLfJOD99gip9H9EoPI80ewM5Cd5MoXOLDDqKTeATnRtaRVjkB20oKiNb9u0q8wmB1oGIOsYThW54-oj-HWMc-fYKroTaoxa1G-gWUqa7-yv709Fj4p9GpPKiU4d6cw1LS9mzJqeEHGU8f_yaV9s3zRU/s1181/4%20838nw.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1181" data-original-width="787" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4tKoVIcWawtUUpUXTx3-Rv7t50FmOcA6s9ubfKLfJOD99gip9H9EoPI80ewM5Cd5MoXOLDDqKTeATnRtaRVjkB20oKiNb9u0q8wmB1oGIOsYThW54-oj-HWMc-fYKroTaoxa1G-gWUqa7-yv709Fj4p9GpPKiU4d6cw1LS9mzJqeEHGU8f_yaV9s3zRU/s320/4%20838nw.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>The soil is also heat-retentive, and its sponginess
allows water to be absorbed for later release so as not to stress the vines. It is a setting that grapevines love, leading
to a final product marked with complexity and structure. This combination of climate, soil, and
topography, together known as ‘terroir,’ imparts a characteristic taste and
flavor, making this wine one of the greatest red wines in Italy, as attested to
in numerous honors and recognitions including the award of <i>Denominazione di
Origine Controllata</i> (DOC) status for the <i>Aglianico del Vulture</i> wine
of one particular producer, D’Angelo, in <o:p></o:p><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">1971.</span><sup style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">[1] </sup><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>How this
black grape</b> came to thrive in this terroir is lost in the uncertain mists
of time. Even the origin of its name is controversial. For a long time, it was believed that the
name of this grape was derived from the word Ελληνικό, meaning ‘Hellenic’ or ‘Greek.’<span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">However, it wasn’t until the period of
Aragonese domination of the area (1442–1504) that it became “Aglianico.” According to another theory, the term
Aglianico stems from the Greek word </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">agleukinosicos</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> or "wine without </span><o:p style="text-indent: 0.25in;"></o:p><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">sugar". </span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[2]
[3]</sup></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><sup><o:p></o:p></sup></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In any
case</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, this king of the vines is definitely here and seems
to have been introduced by the Greeks through their southern Italy coastal
colonies during the <i>Magna Grecia</i> period around the 7th-6th century
BC. While physical evidence is scarce,
literary testimonies to the wine include the famous praises by the Roman poet
Horace (65 to 8 BC), originally from nearby Venosa within sight of Vulture and
known for its wine production. In Roman
society which did not value teetotalling, Horace’s poetry linked wine with the
god Bacchus (Dionysus to the Greeks). Through
this deity, Horace promoted the concept of wine as a liberator of poetic
inspiration. It was his muse. In his day, Aglianico was a major ingredient
of the historic Falernian wine of the Roman Empire.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We
toured the D’Angelo Winery</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> in nearby <a name="_Hlk150089535">Rionero in Vulture </a>some
weeks ago. As you might guess, the town
is named after the volcano looming on the horizon. Thankfully, Vulture hasn’t erupted in 130,000
years, which was reassuring to us. <a name="_Hlk151989417">We were with friends Annamaria and Joe from neighboring, lofty
Pescopagano. About an hour later, with Joe
at the wheel, we pulled up to the historic <i>Casa Vinicola</i>, the D’Angelo winery,
for a wine tasting.<o:p></o:p></a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6tXM5qJV5C-nYsL3In2Fin4_3VJyg0ZkF3WMyq_zAB7zfQ6gjXs8VSPOra0ZCeks6yQEelzuus4C5Dt9ITQLXLCrzFW93AUz3GcbBwV_ZnneKN9Pg4NQsO3KSqoPP3Ef84M_UNmlKC5aHl9ZM-tcqL117Li52ZfiW4jUcMo1k38FDPYgaGkS3_3y_iyw/s640/5%20IMG_4457.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="640" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6tXM5qJV5C-nYsL3In2Fin4_3VJyg0ZkF3WMyq_zAB7zfQ6gjXs8VSPOra0ZCeks6yQEelzuus4C5Dt9ITQLXLCrzFW93AUz3GcbBwV_ZnneKN9Pg4NQsO3KSqoPP3Ef84M_UNmlKC5aHl9ZM-tcqL117Li52ZfiW4jUcMo1k38FDPYgaGkS3_3y_iyw/w483-h285/5%20IMG_4457.jpg" width="483" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h2><b>The Seven Humps of Mount Vulture Seen from <i>Rionero in Vulture</i></b></h2></td></tr></tbody></table><b style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span> </span>The
D'Angelo family</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> has been an icon of winemaking for almost a
century. Their journey into the world of
wine spans generations of the D'Angelo family.
While we waited for our English tour to</span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXKlT_7yNw6xYn2rP_QBJpDaHWNTq1zJ4z7FOMIY4_L79XxMrL0aVTH4Iq0RDvlhGBDNgG9FxKdTYT3wTE2kVDBqHfwJy8BefKKp8tKJxeo55T8ibNNSED0AarymVSaGZgRc_Zf0q9LgihLKy5nOU2CcngJ6ga6y6SIK97peJCdvqS2g8uq6-AMqVxDXA/s640/6%20IMG_4453.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXKlT_7yNw6xYn2rP_QBJpDaHWNTq1zJ4z7FOMIY4_L79XxMrL0aVTH4Iq0RDvlhGBDNgG9FxKdTYT3wTE2kVDBqHfwJy8BefKKp8tKJxeo55T8ibNNSED0AarymVSaGZgRc_Zf0q9LgihLKy5nOU2CcngJ6ga6y6SIK97peJCdvqS2g8uq6-AMqVxDXA/w210-h280/6%20IMG_4453.jpg" width="210" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">begin, we noticed wine magazine
posters on display. They had clearly
earned the right to brag for <i>Wine Spectator Magazine</i> ranked D’Angelo’s 2019 <i>Aglianico
del Vulture</i> vintage 49th of the top 100 wines for the year 2022. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Currently
at the helm</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> of the business are a fourth-generation brother and
sister duo who navigated this achievement, Rocco and Erminia. Today, Rocco is the winemaker responsible for
overseeing the entire process of winemaking from harvesting to bottling. Erminia runs the commercial side as CFO and
heads the marketing of Vulture wines around the world. Together, they manage two vineyards, 25
hectares (62 acres), and produce 250,000 bottles/year with 85% of their
production exported to US, Canadian, German, Swiss, and Japanese markets. Daily, they see that the vines flourish, the
vats fill, and their </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-cdNPUmw8bt5UIpx6-Z7u9aJINsK0Gz9fSfJEXO8Y_sHCxxdHXtCoyhr4zTwp_pmZjpg_6FZr6-hFIIXnmQ8Oj2OvTIleV-GBpz4brp1z03aFvVGZp0tIKsyWjq-ZWaz2N-vCTShT1PgFprRcUnrv_3YuQYlCaWPHjlbKZcVgvVHXqXFeWELP4AKdnE/s245/7%20images%20(1).jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="205" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu-cdNPUmw8bt5UIpx6-Z7u9aJINsK0Gz9fSfJEXO8Y_sHCxxdHXtCoyhr4zTwp_pmZjpg_6FZr6-hFIIXnmQ8Oj2OvTIleV-GBpz4brp1z03aFvVGZp0tIKsyWjq-ZWaz2N-vCTShT1PgFprRcUnrv_3YuQYlCaWPHjlbKZcVgvVHXqXFeWELP4AKdnE/s1600/7%20images%20(1).jpeg" width="205" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br />wines are enjoyed worldwide. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Their
success</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> led them to the cover of the <i>Wine Enthusiast
Magazine</i>, <o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">also proudly on display.
We were among wine elites, and we, part-time grape wranglers in Calitri,
both with scarred fingers to prove it, were humbly impressed. Covergirl Erminia D’Angelo herself gave us our
tour through aisles flanked by wooden vats that culminated with the tasting of
three varietals along with cheeses and meats at a table prepared for us among
the vats that awaited us in the cellars. </span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">“<i>Wine,
great wine, is the sum of the culture of a place</i>.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">This sentence summarizes
the beliefs of the D'Angelo family. It
</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiAF4sKZoUXSXGGtcipSK_OCafKTGn8VN-_gtKKxTvPaAiqYzEjU-emaDkW68HdSeCbFhA_Ye8VjsT3efNH56PpCIYnPZYIC6uRFHTnFverlJlTfSKhkvQjHfuzxEqZwN6MkhXQtChrAnfZHQ0HVOpShOR9T9GuMsSdnte-0nVbEKcxZdzzu4VyC9b6rM/s3115/7.5%20OLC.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2201" data-original-width="3115" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiAF4sKZoUXSXGGtcipSK_OCafKTGn8VN-_gtKKxTvPaAiqYzEjU-emaDkW68HdSeCbFhA_Ye8VjsT3efNH56PpCIYnPZYIC6uRFHTnFverlJlTfSKhkvQjHfuzxEqZwN6MkhXQtChrAnfZHQ0HVOpShOR9T9GuMsSdnte-0nVbEKcxZdzzu4VyC9b6rM/w317-h224/7.5%20OLC.jpeg" width="317" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;">reflects on their spirit of winemaking passed down, generation to generation,
and speaks to the uniqueness of their vineyards. Wine is emotion, tradition, culture, love,
and definitely a passion.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> Walking through the cellar,</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> we learned that traditional methods of
winemaking are being augmented with the introduction of large innovative concrete tanks
constructed in the 1960s. </span><a name="_Hlk152175861" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Ancient Romans used large amphora jars made of terra-cotta
to ferment and age their wines. Today's modern rectangular concrete tanks not only help keep the wines at a
constant temperature but while allowing for the optimum utilization of
available space</span></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: left;">,</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background: white; border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0in;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">promote slow and natural maturation with good
oxygenation of the wine. This is key to
the evolution of Aglianico in a process that promotes the softening,
fermentation, and aging of the crushed grape slurry. Further aging, for periods up to 24 months, is
performed in </span><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; padding: 0in;">the<b> </b>barrel cellar</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><b> </b>where row upon row of </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN91ZpBrWklLjHCJeSOjNupnqdleVeWc3Z_57GIuZR_o4bizYOz4uPXCL8e0rcRbup0wAKmRmQckS4_O7q3ffWIkvx3dQtHapBoMcdq3RYKOg90HBev3q8PsbRIdvdmydSIPd3oNbQAqpRX3wIy5aETLI2alKhvqKWHNGl_w9tiwnv1aD82tLcH8kdBXs/s2000/8%20bottaia.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="2000" height="164" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN91ZpBrWklLjHCJeSOjNupnqdleVeWc3Z_57GIuZR_o4bizYOz4uPXCL8e0rcRbup0wAKmRmQckS4_O7q3ffWIkvx3dQtHapBoMcdq3RYKOg90HBev3q8PsbRIdvdmydSIPd3oNbQAqpRX3wIy5aETLI2alKhvqKWHNGl_w9tiwnv1aD82tLcH8kdBXs/s320/8%20bottaia.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>French barrique casks,
along with small and large barrels, afford a wide range of refinement. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">Their stained tops attest to vigilant sampling. </span></div></span>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">A highlight
of our tour</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> was sampling D’Angelo varietals from a venue of
fourteen different product lines. In
addition to their full-bodied Aglianico wines, their wine roster includes
grappa, merlot, rose, Moscato, and malvasia varietals. Had we sampled them all, returning to Calitri
would have been problematic. Instead, we
sampled three 100% Aglianico wines ranging in quality from <i>buono</i>, to <i>meglio</i>,
to <i>migliore</i> (good, to better, to best), all of which varied in the
vinification technique employed followed by the number of months aged. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Their <i>Sacravite</i></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, a name
derived from the word ‘sacred,” is an IGT-classified, youthful, and informal
wine ranked a tier above <i>Vino da Tavola</i> (table wine). It has a very short eight-day rest period </span></p><div class="separator" dir="rtl" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ShHunxB0BHV48HzpQ4EaItE7BpRQfudPeyYCUXzVsj9fQ5zQye5c6uOl9FtIK5pXwsIRxXf9MByBKMuKy7N5nXPP089KAkuz1P70zWOql_akoQZ8z3htAxtVUpt5jE_kJlGPdEYhRWOiLpNeV3RIDxxvjNiG11RQ2Ln_FT-IMbamiG3qRBvt1GGqmPk/s274/8.5%20images%20(2).jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="274" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0ShHunxB0BHV48HzpQ4EaItE7BpRQfudPeyYCUXzVsj9fQ5zQye5c6uOl9FtIK5pXwsIRxXf9MByBKMuKy7N5nXPP089KAkuz1P70zWOql_akoQZ8z3htAxtVUpt5jE_kJlGPdEYhRWOiLpNeV3RIDxxvjNiG11RQ2Ln_FT-IMbamiG3qRBvt1GGqmPk/s1600/8.5%20images%20(2).jpeg" width="274" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">in
large barrels to keep the grapes' most fragrant and fruitiest characteristics intact,
with further refinement for a brief period in standard barrels. It presented an intense bouquet with every
sip followed a few swirls later by a robust, soft, consistent flavor. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">This was
followed by</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span>the <i>Wine Spectator Magazine’s</i> top 100
ranked <i>Aglianico del Vulture</i> drawn from 25-year-old vines, but as would
be expected, not from the winning year vintage.
It has a maceration of ten days with the grape skins
retained. Follow-on refinement lasts 18
months in oak barrels to promote a tannin charge with an additional month of
maturity in a bottle. It has earned a
DOC ranking based on strict rules of winemaking and geographical qualifications,
followed by analysis and testing by a government-approved panel. Its color was a fairly </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Qett3YA16_1-wgnaPo95ZqjiUtzBf9sPI9h6298xV48vDTC3vFb6sc92S2yJlxNbg53T8puk1UkVa9oPelcm23iJkoyjXPbhSCYjiNZpCqu7s5LNw-NBMHnCJ51BIAW6O8G0ks5qy5OI6LhJEkKmmWsH1bsbu0OmiBh5XK4DYZUOb7EfrdZGxSbL9Qo/s640/9%20IMG_4467.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3Qett3YA16_1-wgnaPo95ZqjiUtzBf9sPI9h6298xV48vDTC3vFb6sc92S2yJlxNbg53T8puk1UkVa9oPelcm23iJkoyjXPbhSCYjiNZpCqu7s5LNw-NBMHnCJ51BIAW6O8G0ks5qy5OI6LhJEkKmmWsH1bsbu0OmiBh5XK4DYZUOb7EfrdZGxSbL9Qo/w203-h270/9%20IMG_4467.jpg" width="203" /></a></div>intense ruby red that
we learned, with further aging turns garnet.
Its fragrance was that of berries, and as expected, this offspring of an
award winner presented dry due to the tannins.
In its youth, this wine is at times impetuous, more rustic, and harsher. With time, it has the potential to improve in
the bottle for 6 to 20 <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">years.<sup>[1]</sup></span> Those patient
enough to have waited, claim it to be soothingly mellow with its components in harmony
with soft tannins and a silkier texture.
This chemistry is what makes it an award winner. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Our
final and top-of-the-line migliore wine</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> was <i>Canneto</i>,
a name derived from the numerous reeds found in the vineyards, used to guide
the direction of a vine’s growth. This
wine features a medium-to-long vinification process of 15 days in large 8000-liter
vats followed by refinement of 18 months in French barriques (it was one of the
first wines to be aged in barriques in Southern Italy) with a further six
months in a bottle. An intense ruby red color
with hints of crimson, along with a subtle fragrance, urged me to take more
than a sip. Magically robust, soft, and </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-Kixbg4Ei1ChfoKpINWH9xVdSLYbO-1WDQfiF8xzDo1aefbDghi7j7cePpiRDRCV2uwTWw-H8Jb4eq8FyZmSntiIboTuIRStXzxiXXfc83TMUPmSlaQcqOqYKf6dwHYGGwP7qKy1oitTwuwR9MX0oue0GoiCTLjDhnPQjuig81iMajaozS5T6zmBrrY/s275/9.5images%20cave.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr-Kixbg4Ei1ChfoKpINWH9xVdSLYbO-1WDQfiF8xzDo1aefbDghi7j7cePpiRDRCV2uwTWw-H8Jb4eq8FyZmSntiIboTuIRStXzxiXXfc83TMUPmSlaQcqOqYKf6dwHYGGwP7qKy1oitTwuwR9MX0oue0GoiCTLjDhnPQjuig81iMajaozS5T6zmBrrY/w293-h195/9.5images%20cave.jpg" width="293" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">velvety,
I could only imagine how letting it breathe for 30 minutes beforehand would have
added to the complexity of its aroma.
Wanting to know, we purchased a bottle.
By all the requirements, it qualifies for DOC status but still retains
its IGT ranking. When I asked Erminia
about this apparent anomaly, hers was an interesting reply. The fact that it retains an IGT ranking is by
choice. Its label dates back 35 years,
making it not only historic but a well-known D'Angelo product, readily identifiable
to its consumers. More than simply
adding a DOC label to the neck of each bottle, a change to DOC would result in
a change to the label and possibly impact sales. The change might also result in a rise in
unit cost, which could result in a loss of consumers. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><b><span> </span>We savored many a season's bounty</b> that day. Our visit to the D’Angelo winery, followed by
an opportunity to participate in the simple pleasures of the <i>vendemmia</i> (my
topic next month), gave us pause to appreciate the labor, history, and culture
represented in every bottle of wine we consume. When uncorked, each bottle releases a
stimulating tonic </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7haZKwIBwbf2XzXsWeG7bEwQMVRO4zOp5ygHlx1HDRxqDhCj4lXMJRvLfHOs_hzX5jPBg911iK9Gk8L0_F1YufTloJAyxdynWCh3CDdZPDIMahA0jsTbTkSzZhXamtQW3ptRi4eGS8K7TEzBDmjnVTKlLi7W3SX3CqZymp0ZUy77t85T1-8ZWYaXY7qA/s2016/IMG_5818.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7haZKwIBwbf2XzXsWeG7bEwQMVRO4zOp5ygHlx1HDRxqDhCj4lXMJRvLfHOs_hzX5jPBg911iK9Gk8L0_F1YufTloJAyxdynWCh3CDdZPDIMahA0jsTbTkSzZhXamtQW3ptRi4eGS8K7TEzBDmjnVTKlLi7W3SX3CqZymp0ZUy77t85T1-8ZWYaXY7qA/w304-h253/IMG_5818.jpg" width="304" /></a></div>representative of the labor of many hands and the wisdom of
lifetimes. For some, like Rocco and
Erminia, it lies deep and is more than a vocation. It is more a labor of love and part of the
heritage and upbringing they unknowingly acquired each day as children. Many years have passed since those carefree
days when Rocco and Erminia played hide and seek among the casks in the
family-owned vines and in the wine cellar. Now as then, in childlike wonder, they see the
grapes ripen and the vats being filled year after year. Things never seem to change, only the genies
behind the magic. They, along with the
alchemy of the terroir, thanks to the presence of Mount Vulture, make its
presence felt to this day. The result is
a wine with an award-winning rich and balanced flavor, whose strong and
decisive character is enough to give our taste buds a long and deep stimulation
and is yet another reason why this brother and sister strive to bring Italy to
the world and the world to Italy. As
Horace would insist, “<i>Carpe Vinum</i>”… Seize the Wine!<p></p>
<h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: left;"><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif">From That Rogue Tourist,<br /></span></b><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif">Paolo</span></b></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span> </span>[1] <i>Aglianico del Vulture</i>,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aglianico_del_Vulture<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span> </span>[2] <i>Aglianico-del-Vulture</i>, https://www.dangelowine.com/en/aglianico-del-vulture/<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span> </span>[3] <i>Oxford Bibliographies</i>, https://www.oxfordbibliographies.com/display/document/obo-<span> </span><span> </span>9780195399301/obo-9780195399301-0483.xml<o:p></o:p></span></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-4311908307267770992023-10-31T04:14:00.001-04:002023-10-31T04:15:59.682-04:00‘Trulli’ Relaxed in Locorotondo<p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial Black;"> </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="694" data-original-width="1217" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTrVaiqEFxlAGDyW7wIt0mgA59pXSRj1b2oB9Jy0FG3i7isvNQNzakSNtLp5qlxovI2yJTTMjNHMq2XpZ2tHXPESI5KIEE5gGnqepc0nz5UPlG6sF6-8lgeZ7Bu_YNar_FVkb4ImEzIT2TZMv9Iqrjh_Dlv7DH8B4US4EkVOtLGK8Kw6xh4pKVyW-hUoo/w416-h237/locorotondo.jpg" width="416" /></div><p></p><p><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-family: Arial Black; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">‘Trulli’ Relaxed in Locorotondo</span></b></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It was late
September</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By then, we’d been in Calitri a
few weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We decided to run off to someplace
new for a few days on a ‘vacation from a vacation’, but where?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we asked friends for suggestions,
Locorotondo was mentioned repeatedly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmVLJc8sowQ8FOV1M4IAablIaPu5eCdATDmmz-jRvDpc325bw54KatOHeMl2iHVqws_yfY52DR87GB-A5H8UA_8iK9oDxiwg5beGbF_xwpLOIwGoa3fO-OkvWArHOxEYxmvjQh41b-2cYSwVaGgKtmwZQ8lNBBVNgw6UkuVyp8yjZuX0pOPHMxGpIYx0/s302/1%20Map.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="224" data-original-width="302" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZmVLJc8sowQ8FOV1M4IAablIaPu5eCdATDmmz-jRvDpc325bw54KatOHeMl2iHVqws_yfY52DR87GB-A5H8UA_8iK9oDxiwg5beGbF_xwpLOIwGoa3fO-OkvWArHOxEYxmvjQh41b-2cYSwVaGgKtmwZQ8lNBBVNgw6UkuVyp8yjZuX0pOPHMxGpIYx0/w326-h242/1%20Map.jpg" width="326" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Location of Locorotondo in Italy</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span>As
simple as that, a short time later, we embarked on a road trip to Locorotondo. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Locorotondo is lost</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> among olive
groves and vineyards in the interior of southern Italy’s high heel, the Italian
state of Apulia or, in Italian, Puglia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
have been to this area before, though mainly along the coast of the
Aegean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In this region of olive trees,
cacti, and cone-topped Trulli huts scattered in a landscape of manicured dry
stone walls, Locorotondo lies close to more familiar towns like touristy
Alberobello and farther south Lecce, referred to as the “Florence of Puglia.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Locorotondo appears
to be an odd name</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> for a town although the quaintness of the name, at least
for me, makes it easy to recall. ‘loco’ would seem to </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1iEtToUvrlalFrI9T6ONFfUbrNT0y7Gc2i1FdNydKbuB4ztabudCq0pFRVDG8f2N-8lEbAjz2-1Wm7g2bamybzIEsuZ59wtowQ7A5nmqR6MQoUXmOiInPJyFZ5fJBxg0btqhp4mncFCy51HPR1zNyCDpVnHH17QdFmUu4uyvK7Cstelyo9nsHGFcbhI/s225/2%20loco.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="249" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt1iEtToUvrlalFrI9T6ONFfUbrNT0y7Gc2i1FdNydKbuB4ztabudCq0pFRVDG8f2N-8lEbAjz2-1Wm7g2bamybzIEsuZ59wtowQ7A5nmqR6MQoUXmOiInPJyFZ5fJBxg0btqhp4mncFCy51HPR1zNyCDpVnHH17QdFmUu4uyvK7Cstelyo9nsHGFcbhI/w266-h249/2%20loco.jpeg" width="266" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Locorotondo Old Town is <br />Definitely Round</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">connote craziness, while
‘rotondo’ conveys a sense of roundness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At
the local tourist information office, we learned that the site has been settled
since ancient times. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Archaeological evidence
dates the first settlement, thought to have been a Greek colony, back to the
period between the 9th and 7th centuries BC.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The present town dates back to the last decades of the year 1000 AD with
the development of an unfortified hamlet under the jurisdiction of a Benedictine
monastery in nearby coastal Monopoli. <sup>[1]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has had many names before its current
one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Initially, the community was called
Casale San Giorgio in honor of its patron saint. The first mention of rotondo
or ‘round place’ dates back to 1195 when it became ‘Casale Rotondo’, and
subsequently, from Latin, ‘Luogorotondo’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Only in 1834, with no craziness about it, did it become ‘Locorotondo,’
from the Latin ‘Locus Rotundus’ in reference to the characteristic shape of the
historic center, a group of small white houses, laid out in concentric rings situated
high on a hilltop.<sup> [3] [2]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It was a gorgeous morning</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> as we departed
Calitri and followed the Ofranto River as it meandered beside SS401. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once we passed Candella alongside the A16
Autostrada, it would be another two hours before we arrived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we drove due east into the sun, the
terrain gradually changed from the rolling terrain of Campania into the
flatlands along the coast of Puglia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This was especially evident when we passed Cerignola and joined A14 South
into the heart of Puglia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Palm trees,
and olive trees so broad you couldn’t get your hands around them, along with cacti
heavy with fruit, joined fields sprinkled with Trulli dwellings, new and old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These traditional dry stone huts are renowned
for their cone shaped roofs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many are
now constructed with multiple cones </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLXuBoXBAm9jW-NjzIKHD25ZB9ghnSIAcUyMzJQ97efaAtmJdluR27r4W0vtfjIqrjjcNUfiSabZka1tY9HbKf1Bl98qyhf0_qNg0WIVZphYoj1NiMk3b_AjxWBjguM8OdsHNELxZ8MgO2x_fYqIHAViI9DyDSviHMbB-ww3J8b7uRTVnR8zM4d514-TM/s1512/3%20IMG_4233.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1441" data-original-width="1512" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLXuBoXBAm9jW-NjzIKHD25ZB9ghnSIAcUyMzJQ97efaAtmJdluR27r4W0vtfjIqrjjcNUfiSabZka1tY9HbKf1Bl98qyhf0_qNg0WIVZphYoj1NiMk3b_AjxWBjguM8OdsHNELxZ8MgO2x_fYqIHAViI9DyDSviHMbB-ww3J8b7uRTVnR8zM4d514-TM/w283-h270/3%20IMG_4233.jpg" width="283" /></a></div><br />to form unique estates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The name, Trulli, originates
</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">from
a Greek word meaning cupola.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Centuries
old, Trulli, made from readily available slabs of tile-like limestone, were
generally constructed as temporary field shelters, storehouses, or rustic
dwellings by small landowners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One of
the popular theories is that due to high property taxes, the people of
Apulia built these structures, absent any form of mortar, to insure they could
be dismantled quickly when tax collectors made their rounds of the area.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We were acquainted
with the area</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> from past visits to friends and from forays to places like Trani,
Bari, lovely Polignano a Mare, and deeper yet to </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcvN5RWNITIfgrRY4pQ-FyoBij5wOGWyL-wdTEJSilntY2O4qhXsAIbbX9jSUhb_V8B7UaDgwcF-REH8iGhSC9tS3pIbgdvW5l7RGuqSbfXBVytJqBl_pvoooVbpT4iSqJYkauX81CAJD6gR_MwJRAsXslvcsndaekAwLuL8ze8I2__5How0wgeCLuuA/s400/4%20Villa.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="400" height="292" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkcvN5RWNITIfgrRY4pQ-FyoBij5wOGWyL-wdTEJSilntY2O4qhXsAIbbX9jSUhb_V8B7UaDgwcF-REH8iGhSC9tS3pIbgdvW5l7RGuqSbfXBVytJqBl_pvoooVbpT4iSqJYkauX81CAJD6gR_MwJRAsXslvcsndaekAwLuL8ze8I2__5How0wgeCLuuA/w292-h292/4%20Villa.jpg" width="292" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Villa Aurilia</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Lecce, Otranto, and Gallipoli.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Skirting coastal Bari, we turned inland to
arrive at Locorotondo by midday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were
in the heart of Locorotondo when some confusion developed, finding Villa
Aurilia along Via Madonna della Catena.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A small sign successfully conspired with a high fence to see us drive
right by.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A phone call with directions
to a side street and gated parking quickly remedied our predicament.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The villa featured four suites that meet in a
common area where breakfast was served daily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>At table, we joined other guests from around the world, one couple from as
far away as Brazil. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While the villa
dates to 1939, recent renovations make it an oasis of modern comforts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was an easy walk to the historic center
just streets away. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we would quickly
discover about the village, it too offered a peaceful stay that began with
lunch.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It was while
exploring the Old Town</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that we were fortunate to came upon the elegant <i>Bina
Ristorante</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At Bina, the past mixes
with the present, beginning with a structure dating back to the 1700s. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were seated </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwp9lPOrwTnnzD_CzmgDgLDk1nQhYsZMEE9HG1Jf3zk9cepcC3d9_b7yJ5aGHn626DnUi_M4mh9NxkDVarBendac3lM3fRiNJnPn-zVHYRBZay9ngVFdQzbFs7XTTpbXtrIK_SMVfBZQ6jfM7Kly48UEkOBFiEMSj9bWI1qVMChHX3GeQ5FPr3E6PeUKA/s640/5%20IMG_4197.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwp9lPOrwTnnzD_CzmgDgLDk1nQhYsZMEE9HG1Jf3zk9cepcC3d9_b7yJ5aGHn626DnUi_M4mh9NxkDVarBendac3lM3fRiNJnPn-zVHYRBZay9ngVFdQzbFs7XTTpbXtrIK_SMVfBZQ6jfM7Kly48UEkOBFiEMSj9bWI1qVMChHX3GeQ5FPr3E6PeUKA/s320/5%20IMG_4197.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span style="text-align: left;">at a table beneath cross-vaulted
ceilings made of a yellow stone characteristic of the region. </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">The wall colors and white tablecloths helped
create a warm, relaxed atmosphere.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">The
past added to the mood further with a menu based on ancient recipes offering
flavors grounded on genuine local products.</span><span style="text-align: left;">
</span><span style="text-align: left;">Maria Elena had her heart set on fish and chose a savory-flavored sea bream,
likely from nearby Aegean waters.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">In
Greek mythology, this fish was dedicated to Aphrodite, the goddess of love
(Venus to the Romans), which, in addition to its velvety texture, was considered
the most attractive and flavorful fish. </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">A golden mark above its eyes, in the shape of
a bow, inspired the name </span><i style="text-align: left;">Orata</i><span style="text-align: left;">, which is how Italians refer to them.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">I went with something I’d not eaten before, a
menu surprise: donkey.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">We’ve eaten
rattlesnakes in Oklahoma, bear in Maine, horse in Tuscany, and only days
earlier, octopus in our Calitri kitchen. </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><i style="text-align: left;">Asino</i><span style="text-align: left;"> (donkey) is very much like chuck
roast for those curious about the taste. </span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">It was accompanied by the region’s favorite
pasta, orecchiette, in a red sauce.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">From
their cellar, our mid-afternoon lunch was accompanied by a straw colored bottle
of cooled <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEXM6d55UIBo4xVokKe2E2grfWC-aLxyuWKKmtJIqpUd8GUkf4KTD_XaiukQ3TsVBL7k0aW6KbzkhKasJYSZZfY86eIm6OFDx9UyUk37Jdi6TZjDNCNo0uC2dtGzzu8QmUhNToA4UdqcQ9obrmrkLdT6VOmaqVJHEsnCBrO0rGMwsC_uBLOanHc-nYLE/s640/6%20IMG_4199.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="207" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqEXM6d55UIBo4xVokKe2E2grfWC-aLxyuWKKmtJIqpUd8GUkf4KTD_XaiukQ3TsVBL7k0aW6KbzkhKasJYSZZfY86eIm6OFDx9UyUk37Jdi6TZjDNCNo0uC2dtGzzu8QmUhNToA4UdqcQ9obrmrkLdT6VOmaqVJHEsnCBrO0rGMwsC_uBLOanHc-nYLE/w276-h207/6%20IMG_4199.jpg" width="276" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Maria Elena Looks Over The Menu</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>wine.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">It was produced from 100%
Minutolo grapes, a variety new to us, harvested from nearby </span><i style="text-align: left;">Valle d’Itria</i><span style="text-align: left;">
vineyards.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Like our accommodations, this
Cardone family wine from one of Puglia's oldest and most prestigious family-run
wineries was of undisputed quality.</span><p></p><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The old town of
Locorotondo</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is a member of "The Most Beautiful Villages of Italy
Association.</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locorotondo#cite_note-3"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[4]</span></a><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This association aims to safeguard, conserve,
and revitalize small villages that lie outside of the main Italian tourist
circuit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Criteria for participation
include the “integrity of the urban fabric, architectural harmony, livability
of the village, and its artistic-historical quality of the public/private
buildings.” <sup>[4]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
recognition of its excellence in tourism, hospitality, accessibility of the old
town, and the environment quality, it also received the ‘Orange Flag’ </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPBkffd_FXruz2Xi_5DC3NhtOvDSzSNqOOpl2qWOX9R7yLzp6e6YvWrSbGfJuPmBZ-h1_aurewGer-kN7AK8xiVWkG6WBJJmAc7YFS83v92iVbcDQwsYsmkthY9XDuSwe5A1bH_7rzIjIb03eByphk7rfbRyM42RZBMA-7vs3bSx7jUALOdu03AixbRw/s640/7%20IMG_4245.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLPBkffd_FXruz2Xi_5DC3NhtOvDSzSNqOOpl2qWOX9R7yLzp6e6YvWrSbGfJuPmBZ-h1_aurewGer-kN7AK8xiVWkG6WBJJmAc7YFS83v92iVbcDQwsYsmkthY9XDuSwe5A1bH_7rzIjIb03eByphk7rfbRyM42RZBMA-7vs3bSx7jUALOdu03AixbRw/s320/7%20IMG_4245.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Hospitality Fills Every Alleyway</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br />of the
Touring Club of Italy. </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locorotondo#cite_note-4"><sup><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">[5]</span></sup></a><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We began exploring
Locorotondo</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> with a walk around its perimeter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Striking, from its high position and terraced
overlooks were the unforgettable views across the bucolic Itria Valley below,
dotted with conical Trulli, farms, vineyards, and olive trees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like many neighboring villages, this <i>centro
storico</i> (historic center) is bathed in uniform whiteness and constructed of
a yellowish stone native to the area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
showcases how pride in a village can meld history with stylish modernity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With little in the way of tourist attractions,
its quaint nature promotes a mood of harmony and serenity, unfit for hurry.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We were soon
caught up</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> strolling through the magical atmosphere of its narrow streets, paved
</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtZPD_96d2CJqpb2y3RKWiiTs8gPjCsq8dVg-776PkP1LmNOMSI94w7f4LzO4uM61mB3tIOjeypfihlbSvY3mmLULglLxvssJDV3muIEXtx1cnI7-NnicBomHheUjDSukwg82BHlolOuFpy_5tbaqkTFiOxW-T5FhXcUAQh9zbxDSFfnnCBJoupcNzlg/s468/8%20IMG_4202.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="468" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtZPD_96d2CJqpb2y3RKWiiTs8gPjCsq8dVg-776PkP1LmNOMSI94w7f4LzO4uM61mB3tIOjeypfihlbSvY3mmLULglLxvssJDV3muIEXtx1cnI7-NnicBomHheUjDSukwg82BHlolOuFpy_5tbaqkTFiOxW-T5FhXcUAQh9zbxDSFfnnCBJoupcNzlg/w293-h224/8%20IMG_4202.jpg" width="293" /></span></b></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Example of a <i>Commerse</i> Limestone Roof</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">alleyways, flowered balconies and atriums, precious monuments, and
churches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This intricate network of
little streets is lined with old buildings, many with typical white houses
called "<i>Le Cummerse.</i>" made of two different layers of
limestone, which have a regular geometric shape and a pitched roof designed to
collect precious water.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many of these
buildings today house residences, businesses, cafes, shops, restaurants, and boutique
hotels. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">What struck us
most was its orderliness.</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The town was
reminiscent of Dubrovnik, Croatia, just across the Aegean Sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As in Debrovnik, everything in this pristine
world was cared for and immaculate — no graffiti, litter, decrepit buildings, wild
vegetation along the streets — all were absent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was evident that the inhabitants were clearly stakeholders in their
historic village and took pride in its appearance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were taken by the abundance of flowering
</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5wpV3zq0SrH3rmn4ggLOYlcLXKQ9dd968xfQkXlPk0-kKrlNpNhTPApaoDhOm3iOERwulMDTfhemsXpA0KNNWIefCANiMMA5tqoG5O850HlEwospQNrmJGfhuA_2wN_U2hpHYT13ydS_U8b8f48xBOzuF8FDmGlou5D2yLcMgc63mFjQW6gJwQVvV-M/s650/9%20locorotondo%20flowers.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="650" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN5wpV3zq0SrH3rmn4ggLOYlcLXKQ9dd968xfQkXlPk0-kKrlNpNhTPApaoDhOm3iOERwulMDTfhemsXpA0KNNWIefCANiMMA5tqoG5O850HlEwospQNrmJGfhuA_2wN_U2hpHYT13ydS_U8b8f48xBOzuF8FDmGlou5D2yLcMgc63mFjQW6gJwQVvV-M/w351-h227/9%20locorotondo%20flowers.jpg" width="351" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">plants and vegetation in every nook and cranny, clearly, that we felt, were
emblematic of this pridefulness. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We especially enjoyed
the town park</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, <i>Villa Comunale</i>, an oasis of shade just outside the <i>Porta
Napoli</i> entrance to the Old Town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>While not large by any stretch of the imagination, its winding paths,
frequent benches, shrubbery, monuments, and sculptures offer a relaxing break.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It overlooks the <i>Valle d’Itria</i> and
terraced vineyards on the slopes below, which at times give the impression of a
seafront, although there is no sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According
to the <i>Pro Loco</i> visitor center (there’s that ‘loco’ again), the
phenomenon is attributed to the morning haze that promotes the illusion of a
sea of green stretching to the foothills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is much like our perch in Calitri, when the morning’s mist in the
valley below creates the illusion Calitri is a seafront Positano. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some believe it is simply a play on words
where the Italian word “<i>lungomura</i>” (along the walls), as the street
adjacent to the overlook village walls is called, morphed to “<i>lungomare</i>”
(seafront).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Take your pick, an imagined
sea or the slip </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ei5DVtlPpUpNZzpJ45qd1s2MOd6i8ma5X3XnrvTwZ8XwxnbGMNl_Gl1KX6fkLWLkAwQroX4gvblfU1gZO4kU2vftEYaAPxLABlBpDth7q6X6nbTDbkjuO7wgr4kTf6QmbsPqnqB9BgYP9o8XtDLgT-9wpUcmfO5in0U7JOK3c_4345PVWnF-t1Z5-P8/s640/10%20IMG_4207.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ei5DVtlPpUpNZzpJ45qd1s2MOd6i8ma5X3XnrvTwZ8XwxnbGMNl_Gl1KX6fkLWLkAwQroX4gvblfU1gZO4kU2vftEYaAPxLABlBpDth7q6X6nbTDbkjuO7wgr4kTf6QmbsPqnqB9BgYP9o8XtDLgT-9wpUcmfO5in0U7JOK3c_4345PVWnF-t1Z5-P8/s320/10%20IMG_4207.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Locorotondo Park Outside the Old Town</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">of the tongue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From this
belvedere, while we lingered to take in the striking view of this mythical
seafront, we had the added enjoyment of impromptu entertainment thanks to two
troubadours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One played an amplified violin,
his colleague a guitar. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Together they strummed
melodies from Bach to lovely pieces by Ennio Morricone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We could have sat there for hours.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It was while wandering
the park</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that we came upon a war memorial inscribed with the names of the town’s
fallen from both World Wars. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was
struck by the repeated appearance of the name “Palmisano.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In WW I alone, the name repeats 20 times over
from Angelo Palmisano to Vitantonio Palmisano.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On the WW II death list, Vitantonio appears again, likely the son of the
WWI casualty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The international,
</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yrw7Lz-U2S1ikcs-4BNJac_G-ke9ogWrt5LBGymWY2sQHLBrUYTwFceHQRkY6Asq-LIJbM8KeGi6bMeIX_Q972f5gCHNwNIKgfgehc-awvqOaLMhfk1_MaAnTsqWhuRDMuCVEvmwGT9ugUssN5-q0d8LLSBXkolG_GnyXca_mkjVv9uyez2UX2DlUZg/s1558/11%20IMG_4250.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1558" data-original-width="1364" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0yrw7Lz-U2S1ikcs-4BNJac_G-ke9ogWrt5LBGymWY2sQHLBrUYTwFceHQRkY6Asq-LIJbM8KeGi6bMeIX_Q972f5gCHNwNIKgfgehc-awvqOaLMhfk1_MaAnTsqWhuRDMuCVEvmwGT9ugUssN5-q0d8LLSBXkolG_GnyXca_mkjVv9uyez2UX2DlUZg/s320/11%20IMG_4250.jpg" width="280" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Prominence of the Palmisano <br />Family Among WWI Casualties</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">bestselling Spanish author Rafel Nadal noticed this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In his book, <i>The Curse of the Palmisano</i>,
he presents the stunning and heartbreaking story of the family’s efforts to
preserve their progeny in the face of two world wars.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">What attractions there
may be in the Old Town</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, lie in its churches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The oldest Church, <i>Madonna della Greca</i>, dates to the 7-8th
centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its present incarnation, dating
from the time of Columbus, was erected in 1480 and rests atop a pre-existing
structure as do many of the town’s churches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Cathedral sized <i>Chiesa San Giorgio Martire</i> is Locorotondo’s main
church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This present renaissance-style church
was started in 1790 on the same site as two earlier churches, one from 1100 and
the second dating to 1578. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We observed
the remains of its 16th-century predecessor, on display through the glass flooring
I carefully crossed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Construction was
interrupted in 1798 over a very modern-sounding real estate issue — difficulty
in purchasing some houses that needed to be removed to make room for the
church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Construction was further delayed
due to an anti-Bourbon insurrection, only to resume in 1810.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The church we visited, topped by an elegant
pediment carved with </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYuSRWlToIoulzipdbmFHxXEgccmGjku5FHHr5wi1XtFboTdnsnA9PxzW7cnY6rLj7VkcVXBlO0UY66-L7pOuKwftl2vT21uUu3qpsSjHlPArsk-obzx4cAjJT3Siwneqc-3F70nWsguWbHVCxjmUbRYnkoEdhlitIz5BPu3DKONCGL7TOjcV5MNhSQ0/s640/12%20IMG_4226.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcYuSRWlToIoulzipdbmFHxXEgccmGjku5FHHr5wi1XtFboTdnsnA9PxzW7cnY6rLj7VkcVXBlO0UY66-L7pOuKwftl2vT21uUu3qpsSjHlPArsk-obzx4cAjJT3Siwneqc-3F70nWsguWbHVCxjmUbRYnkoEdhlitIz5BPu3DKONCGL7TOjcV5MNhSQ0/w248-h330/12%20IMG_4226.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Church of St George the Dragon<br />Slayer and Martyr</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">the legendary scene of Saint George killing a dragon to
save a terrified princess, was completed in 1825.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">One of the highlights
of our stay</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, totally impromptu, was just outside this parish church. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we happened to pass by again a day later,
a wedding was underway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The square was
empty, but for a gleaming Maserati sedan, its Neptune pitchfork symbol on
prominent display, waiting at the base of the church stairs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How it got there was a miracle in
itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How it would escape the narrow confines
of the square was worth waiting for.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
found the best and apparently only seats in the piazza by a café and waited. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As our glasses of Peroni beer gradually
emptied,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the square steadily filled with
onlookers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bride and groom
eventually appeared to the roar of a confetti mortar, the applause of
onlookers, a shower of rose petals, and the buzz of a photo drone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought they would need to move our table,
but the driver, assisted by pedestrian guides on each corner of the Maserati,
skillfully maneuvered by us as the couple departed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, the history of a whitewashed, circular
town atop </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehuZdFhiA-vk5vE87pNJedJ7xQMtZZOmr1qg84xwp_XP7mGMEaYSfdCeoJnywFAHp09dkJUasEqstn-5XrDkohUZ-qVRFeVQcbI9zfoPcCm8zW3F_Qx0vRBP25Sx5p4Ap7Y0mcohN5ND1y4afvl-rNZ1to8AAK6VtMKP_vckNUplMSKE78KYAZI_6EgA/s640/13%20IMG_4290.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgehuZdFhiA-vk5vE87pNJedJ7xQMtZZOmr1qg84xwp_XP7mGMEaYSfdCeoJnywFAHp09dkJUasEqstn-5XrDkohUZ-qVRFeVQcbI9zfoPcCm8zW3F_Qx0vRBP25Sx5p4Ap7Y0mcohN5ND1y4afvl-rNZ1to8AAK6VtMKP_vckNUplMSKE78KYAZI_6EgA/s320/13%20IMG_4290.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Bride & Groom Make Their <br />First Public Appearance</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">a hill added a new chapter. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We found this
gleaming white town</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> filled with its labyrinth of quaint streets wandered on for
centuries, both enchanting and magical.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
out of the way place in yet undiscovered and underappreciated Puglia
awaits.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As beautiful as it was with its
floral appointments, we can only imagine the all-out effort the townsfolk embark
on during the Christmas holidays when wreaths and ornaments take over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our friend’s suggestions were correct; Now I
pass it on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For relaxation among the Trulli,
Locorotondo is definitely worth a visit.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p>
<h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial Black;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>From
That Rogue Tourist,<br /></b></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt;"><b>Paolo</b></span></span></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #4d5156; font-size: 8pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-top: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">[1] Locorotondo, </span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0d0d0d;">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locorotondo</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[2]</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> Locorotondo, </span>https://www.apuliaslowtravel.com/project/locorotondo/<span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 6.0pt; margin: 6pt 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[3] Locorotondo, </span><span style="background: white;">https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locorotondo<span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[4] <i>I Borghi piu
belli d’Italia</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/I_Borghi_pi%C3%B9_belli_d%27Italia<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">[5] </span></span><i><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Locorotondo</span></i><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Locorotondo<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-39802921145445890082023-09-30T01:22:00.002-04:002023-10-15T13:08:27.306-04:00Visas and Skullduggery<p> <b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Visas and Skullduggery</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt;"><b><span style="font-family: arial; line-height: 115%;"></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Just moments ago</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: left;">, in defiance of gravity, we soared higher as the
gear and flaps retracted on departure from the USA. </span> After a few weeks in
Italy, our stops in EU member states </span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvibqSawVSsuKSp7Agutfs83x29dD_mgn__omRj1tBxnXoxtI2ozn5VOhp3zMsTxftPODI1XToPLf8fiHBk9tobhiO8oGa4NXdjMqO6L-s-KL1qLHuXXM0K1PYj7l8QvnAU9zkl8OTiSEM9KWsPghk7Sh2g8Ng0F1GNRiwMxdBgma7MUH3uUMvLxWoWg/s259/1%20Bruges.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsvibqSawVSsuKSp7Agutfs83x29dD_mgn__omRj1tBxnXoxtI2ozn5VOhp3zMsTxftPODI1XToPLf8fiHBk9tobhiO8oGa4NXdjMqO6L-s-KL1qLHuXXM0K1PYj7l8QvnAU9zkl8OTiSEM9KWsPghk7Sh2g8Ng0F1GNRiwMxdBgma7MUH3uUMvLxWoWg/w310-h233/1%20Bruges.jpg" width="310" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Destination Belgium</span></h4></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><br />will swell with the addition of a pause in
France at Charles de Gaulle airport before continuing by train to Belgium. Freewheeling jaunts like these, up to now,
have been the norm, but with the burgeoning of globalization and growing
security concerns, times are changing which is why I’d like to take a moment to
go over some new and old travel rules that will soon impact American tourists. <o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">A new kind of travel visa</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> will soon debut among the ‘must haves’
of travel documents before last-minute travelers, and pleasure-seeking jet
setters can grab their passports and hop a flight “across the pond”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">Those
unrestricted days will soon be gone because the rules for travel to Europe have
changed.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Currently,</span></b><span style="line-height: 107%; text-align: left;"> only non-EU citizens
(ex; American citizens) who intend to stay in Italy for more than 90 days must
apply for a long-stay visa.</span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like
many Americans, we never had to obtain one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Because we both worked during our early travel years, staying that long
was inconceivable. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By the time it became
possible, we had acquired Italian/EU passports, which made a long-stay visa
unnecessary. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The new kid on the block</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is the <i><span style="background: white;">European Travel Information and Authorization System</span></i> travel
visa, ETIAS for short. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was scheduled
to debut in 2024, but thankfully, its implementation has been rescheduled to
May 2025, with further delays possible. <sup>[1]</sup> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ETIAS is an electronic travel authorization,
also known as a visa waiver that goes along with any other form of visa (already
in place as mentioned above) that also may apply</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">This n</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">ew entry requirement affects former visa-exempt nationals
traveling to any of </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">thirty European countries.<sup>[2]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The current list of countries (just about all
of Europe) requiring this new visa to enter is as follows:<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0.25in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-family: times;">•
AUSTRIA • BELGIUM • BULGARIA • CROATIA • CYPRUS • CZECH REPUBLIC • DENMARK •
ESTONIA • FINLAND • FRANCE • GERMANY • GREECE • HUNGARY • ICELAND • ITALY •
LATVIA • LIECHTENSTEIN • LITHUANIA • LUXEMBOURG • MALTA • NETHERLANDS • NORWAY
• POLAND • PORTUGAL • ROMANIA • SLOVAKIA • SLOVENIA • SPAIN • SWEDEN •
SWITZERLAND <o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-family: times; text-indent: 24px;">[2]</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><strong><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In the past</span></strong><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, travelers from 59 countries were
exempt from needing a visa to enter the EU, but with this change this is no
longer the case.<sup> [2]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you
plan to visit any of the countries listed for a short-term stay<b> </b>and
wonder if the USA is on the list now requiring this visa, be assured it is. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One form of immunity to ETIAS requirements is
if you are a national of a European country requiring an ETIAS visa.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For example, the holder of dual passports, US
and Italy, would be immune to the requirement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">If there is a nice part</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> to the new rule, it is that this visa
is valid for three years or </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">until the travel document you used in your application
expires</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, whichever occurs first (i.e.: if you get a new passport,
you need to get a new ETIAS travel authorization as well).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Another convenience is that </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">it will be computer-based and allow applicants to apply for an ETIAS travel
authorization before their departure, online.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>It would be
wise to apply</b> well in advance. Although
it is hoped that most applications will be processed within minutes, so fingers
crossed, it seems likely that most last-minute applications just might make
it. Applying for an ETIAS requires a
payment of €7.<sup>[3]</sup> Those
under the age of 18 or over 70 will have their fees waived.<sup>[4]</sup> But since things will likely change before
the new requirement goes into effect and following that, from the growing pains
of lessons learned, it’s best to check for the latest information.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>To recap</b>, a valid
ETIAS travel authorization allows entry into participating European countries
as often as you want for short-term stays.
However, short-term visits for frequent travelers can be impacted by
what is known as the Schengen Convention.
The Schengen Convention also takes the form of a visa, the most common
in Europe, that allows a person to travel to any Schengen member state for up
to 90 days in every six month period starting from the date of entry. Within this zone, checks at EU internal
borders have been abolished. Currently,
twenty seven nations comprise the Schengen area.<sup>[3]</sup> </span> <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>Keep in mind</b> that the EU is a political and
economic union. In contrast, the
Schengen area allows for the free movement of people between the participating countries. It also helps to remember that an ETIAS
permit is like a Schengen visa, but for visa-exempt travelers. At first glance, it appears to be a straightforward
rule, but is often misunderstood even by savvy travelers. It is essential to know how the rule works to
avoid overstaying and facing subsequent penalties. A <a href="https://www.schengenvisainfo.com/visa-calculator/">Schengen Calculator</a>
is available to determine when your 90-day allowance in a 180-day window ends.<sup>[6]</sup> When you arrive in a Schengen area, don’t be
surprised if a border guard asks to see your passport and other documents and
verify that you meet the entry conditions.
I wonder how, with all the imprints in our passports, none of which are in
any sequence, they know the earlier entry/exit dates, but the newer biometric
passports may do the counting for them. Unprepared,
it can be an unexpected shock for any traveler.
I recall a gentleman ahead of us at German entry control once being told
he had only a few days remaining. He was
stunned into the realization he quickly needed an early go-home plan.</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><strong><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">With</span></strong><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <b>our European
entry paperwork</b> sorted by this </span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzrL0Wt_ldpJX2WmMsdis12Vj3lYwrE4eIWD7Y3DUtGrWRMhqPQuETbZJys0ruGhDaR9y8o_5jJmxkUWe3Uo1Yysdb2XgcLwDVn-BVZtSE77WsSkw4id2kGdAQG5H2Mw3f7btiAkqoxsZl32ooDv0q_F4CeBAQKm-sTMAKnr5sRq_UKzQ1fDCP3guv6Qs/s300/2%20Zot.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="192" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzrL0Wt_ldpJX2WmMsdis12Vj3lYwrE4eIWD7Y3DUtGrWRMhqPQuETbZJys0ruGhDaR9y8o_5jJmxkUWe3Uo1Yysdb2XgcLwDVn-BVZtSE77WsSkw4id2kGdAQG5H2Mw3f7btiAkqoxsZl32ooDv0q_F4CeBAQKm-sTMAKnr5sRq_UKzQ1fDCP3guv6Qs/w170-h265/2%20Zot.jpg" width="170" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Bruges Zot Beer</span></h4></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br />point, we find ourselves well </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">past
Newfoundland, mid-Atlantic, with Greenland ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What attracts us to fairytale Bruges is more
than chocolate, waffles, and blond Zot beer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The food there, which we expect will be excellent, is served in the most
inviting settings, interspersed with canals, replete with storybook
architecture, churches, and museums.<o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><strong><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">One of its charms</span></strong><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is the M<em>adonna
of Bruges</em>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because little is known of
the details and associated drama surrounding its creation, it is relegated to
the branch of lesser-knowns in the annals of art treasures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Yet, there is reason enough to
visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than simply a Madonna, it
also presents the Christ child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">What makes it especially treasured is that it was sculpted by Michelangelo
di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni, whom we know simply as Michelangelo.</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That connection is all the more reason to
explore its remarkable history.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>From 1501</b>
at age 26 until he died in 1564, Michelangelo’s talent did not suffer for
commissions. By then, his fame had spread
internationally to include King Francis I of France, the Signoria of Venice,
even as distant as the Sultan of Turkey.
Although these foreign patrons were rejected or held off, as in the case
of the Sultan for 10 years, one commission was accepted from the Mouscron
brothers, Giovanni and Alessandro, wealthy Dutch cloth merchants from Bruges, which
at the time was one of the leading commercial cities in Europe.<sup>[4] </sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="font-family: times; font-size: large; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="line-height: 107%;">Michelangelo
accepted their request</span></b><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 0.25in;"> for a statue to adorn their hometown Church of </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsEfrdvhKzzhcT9BDDN5nvXNYhyoA33fWuYQdfWCIJbHiZhaWHyFrjCpEdHotF6BME3L0oT4f9YBMwldANT6VHH-kFx0IIF4205DwcQx-SG_Ez_tQQawp5VlF4RiisBDVROYrz20hqMMgKnIpPRYyGTOv0zlmrmCBLooFkPhJw4XvTLGkN07EXew8ymo/s259/3%20Church.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifsEfrdvhKzzhcT9BDDN5nvXNYhyoA33fWuYQdfWCIJbHiZhaWHyFrjCpEdHotF6BME3L0oT4f9YBMwldANT6VHH-kFx0IIF4205DwcQx-SG_Ez_tQQawp5VlF4RiisBDVROYrz20hqMMgKnIpPRYyGTOv0zlmrmCBLooFkPhJw4XvTLGkN07EXew8ymo/s1600/3%20Church.jpeg" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4><span style="font-size: medium;">Church of Our Lady, Bruges</span></h4></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: times; font-size: large; line-height: 107%; text-indent: 0.25in;">Our
Lady. Purchased for 100 <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ducat" title="Ducat"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">ducats</span></a> (each today worth approximately $150),
it was transported to the Flemish city of Bruges in 1506 by the merchant who commissioned
it, hence the name by which it is known. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>This beautiful translucent marble creation</b> is often
compared to Michelangelo's Vatican <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piet%C3%A0_(Michelangelo)" title="Pietà (Michelangelo)"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">Pietà</span></i></a>, completed
five years before his Bruges masterpiece. The Madonna wears the same solemn facial
expression in both sculptures. Other shared
similarities include Mary's flowing robe and the movement of the drapery. Her long, oval face is also reminiscent of the
<i>Pietà</i>.<sup>[4] </sup> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>In this work</b>,
Michelangelo took a different approach </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFLc49TibAIONzp7D6HxkZbgXhZx6kLlC8vo4tHvUjH8BIuZwMuxDkxC_o-EwmfewRYlNOwjaZvrkfbHcNS-ekP4YPG9pCZyrrmNM-_opAdsjnhHzC8rdaCvejoBzodSWCff_lBh_arXGpjZ7U2M2Thcz42ei9IPO0LA2wRGUy12wO_NOysF4UQMFMxk/s733/4%20Madonna%20of%20Bruges%20Michelangelo%20(1).webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="733" data-original-width="400" height="338" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFFLc49TibAIONzp7D6HxkZbgXhZx6kLlC8vo4tHvUjH8BIuZwMuxDkxC_o-EwmfewRYlNOwjaZvrkfbHcNS-ekP4YPG9pCZyrrmNM-_opAdsjnhHzC8rdaCvejoBzodSWCff_lBh_arXGpjZ7U2M2Thcz42ei9IPO0LA2wRGUy12wO_NOysF4UQMFMxk/w185-h338/4%20Madonna%20of%20Bruges%20Michelangelo%20(1).webp" width="185" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">than his predecessors, even from his
earlier representations of this often-depicted scene. His other Mother and Child portrayals feature
a pious Virgin smiling and lovingly looking down on the infant in her
arms. However, in Bruges, we will see Jesus
standing upright, almost unsupported, only loosely restrained by Mary's left
hand. He appears to be about to step
away from his mother. Mary does not
cling to her son or even look at him but gazes down and away with an expressionless
stare. This distancing may be accounted
for when we take into account the belief that this sculpture was intended as an
altarpiece to be positioned above the main altar.<sup>[5]</sup></span> <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Adding
to its notoriety</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, it would be the only sculpture by Michelangelo transported
outside Italy in his lifetime.<sup>[10]</sup>
Following its arrival, history would see it depart Belgium twice,
beginning in 1794. During that year, the
sculpture was removed to protect it from French Revolutionaries. <sup>[7]</sup>
It and other valuable works of art were
moved to Paris for safekeeping, only to return after <span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">Napoleon</span>’s
defeat at <span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">Waterloo</span>
in 1815. Its second departure occurred
during <span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">World War II</span>. With the retreat of Nazi soldiers, the
sculpture was smuggled swathed in mattresses in a <span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">Red Cross</span> truck to Germany
in September 1944 as the Allies advanced on the city. <sup>[2] [8]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">In her
book</span></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">, <i>The Rape of Europa</i>, Lynn Nicholas tells the
story of a French woman, </span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCY3DNBFexEuaKTSEfmga2t93uOdlBsWVG4FAlkdv3bHxWC6U7znga6WQB5ZlrHJXeTog1HiH7EKG3c73_D89lwXte1SUwWyJPhrojjcbzdV2QTsuBsT3AL_zY-2po4z0I11UrjCAp7R4vp12F7nlBHIAH_1I4TRRu6wW81CEjLceb404VWOIPOtUUg98/s300/10%20Rose-Valland-stamp.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="222" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCY3DNBFexEuaKTSEfmga2t93uOdlBsWVG4FAlkdv3bHxWC6U7znga6WQB5ZlrHJXeTog1HiH7EKG3c73_D89lwXte1SUwWyJPhrojjcbzdV2QTsuBsT3AL_zY-2po4z0I11UrjCAp7R4vp12F7nlBHIAH_1I4TRRu6wW81CEjLceb404VWOIPOtUUg98/w160-h216/10%20Rose-Valland-stamp.jpg" width="160" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Rose Valland, who spied on the Nazis’ looting
operation and singlehandedly saved many works of art. <sup>[11]</sup> Later, Robert Edsel created a documentary film
based on Lynn’s work and went on to publish a book entitled The Monuments Men
that was made into a 2014 movie by the same name.<sup>[12]</sup> It was the Monuments Men who recovered the
Bruges Madonna as the war came to an end, hidden in the vast salt mine in
Altaussee, high in the Austrian Alps. </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>It was thanks
to a toothache</b> that The Monuments Men learned of the Altaussee mines. Months earlier, Captain Robert Posey was in
the city of Trier in eastern Germany with Pfc. Lincoln Kirstein and needed
treatment. Townspeople led Posey and
Kirstein to a local dentist, who pulled the tooth. Before they left, the dentist </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_h2da7-ryrlQOJ1qGjWYWVW9K798_ft_to6wuaG-7suAxsdGpAMQ57cr4U-4UiqpZ3OilWWThU3_f3njQVEBEfy0pl8lwWReyS7w4xo4b_nGerBISaJL2FuQ7iiI1IAsYOXqmo3hISCdk5Xy0rdo4XZxcMlLZbzPNiGgvjjV5czpJWaIutG6EycL9-GQ/s269/15%20Monuments%20Men.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="187" data-original-width="269" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_h2da7-ryrlQOJ1qGjWYWVW9K798_ft_to6wuaG-7suAxsdGpAMQ57cr4U-4UiqpZ3OilWWThU3_f3njQVEBEfy0pl8lwWReyS7w4xo4b_nGerBISaJL2FuQ7iiI1IAsYOXqmo3hISCdk5Xy0rdo4XZxcMlLZbzPNiGgvjjV5czpJWaIutG6EycL9-GQ/w295-h205/15%20Monuments%20Men.jpg" width="295" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4><span style="font-size: medium;">A Few WWII Monuments Men</span></h4></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">suggested they
visit his son-in-law, who had been an art scholar before the war. In a remote cottage, the son admitted that he
had once worked closely with Reichsmarschall Hermann Göring (Hitler’s
second-in-command) and Alfred Rosenberg, the Einsatzstab Reichsleiter Rosenberg
(ERR) leader. Hitler had tasked the ERR to
steal art for the Führer-museum complex planned to showcase Hitler’s plunder. In the process, the son-in-law told them the
location of Goring's and Hitler's stash in the vast salt mine at Altaussee.<sup>[8]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 6pt 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Thankfully
a plan</span></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> to destroy the mine to prevent the artwork from
falling into enemy hands was thwarted by a combination of local miners and Nazi
officials who considered the plan folly. The mine director convinced the Nazi district
leader to set smaller charges to augment larger bombs already in place. He then ordered the larger ordinance removed
without the district leader’s knowledge. On 5 May 1945, the smaller charges detonated,
closing the mine's entrances and sealing the art safely inside instead of seeing
it destroyed.<sup>[8]</sup></span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> As the
war quickly drew to a close</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, the area, within days, seemed destined for Soviet
</span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jK4gLQ09VUXQmLCtBvY214lz261UoOuKrU_HFP_-jpjeLJu4BOf1-aA4A9q3krCaMYzhs1f-2JjIooH0lPm6kXqCy1R4sanmhnsqDntbCz9sfBQM2XKBizQeN7JIDWEvGoczB4HTjAEmHrhQWLv5v6WSKd4nThMLyPoRMAGZKjSgX-MHu6sdBlKsbmU/s534/20%20william-kelly.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="534" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4jK4gLQ09VUXQmLCtBvY214lz261UoOuKrU_HFP_-jpjeLJu4BOf1-aA4A9q3krCaMYzhs1f-2JjIooH0lPm6kXqCy1R4sanmhnsqDntbCz9sfBQM2XKBizQeN7JIDWEvGoczB4HTjAEmHrhQWLv5v6WSKd4nThMLyPoRMAGZKjSgX-MHu6sdBlKsbmU/s320/20%20william-kelly.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4><span style="font-size: medium;">Examining Their Mattress Protected Find</span></h4></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">control. Time was of the essence if The
Monuments Men were to beat the approaching deadline for partitioning the
territory. It forced the American team
to work around the clock before Soviet forces arrived. While locals predicted it would take weeks to
clear a route through the rubble, Captain Posey used his architectural training
to clear a path.<o:p></o:p></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">With a lantern
in hand</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, Captain Posey was the first to enter the mine through
the small gap in the rubble, followed closely by Pfc. Kirstein. Inside, they discovered Michelangelo’s
Madonna. Hidden inside the mine’s miles
of tunnels, some chambers more than a mile inside the mountain, the ERR had
also hidden other masterpieces, including Vermeer’s The Astronomer, the Ghent
Altarpiece by Jan van Eyck, and thousands of other works of art and culturally
significant items looted from the great French collections by the ERR. <sup>[8]
[9]</sup><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin: 6pt 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">Days
were spent</span></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> packing the Michelangelo Bruges Madonna, described as “looking
very much like a large Smithfield ham.” <sup>[8]</sup> </span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEy8yqxwU9uEHGUjmgAdCRnTC728p9e2FmAZc3m8pC9Xjm34urTSEJcHzLPaIvgsNaKUs-eKsv9UXhC4_aH0aVB_XohERneDD5H3hdpeL-sU38MSd2qfUW5K8kqiXrjTf-mzesXJg-Hr5A-VZvJMTlXv032GkaQIbeR2UFj_64OFJuYyFZDzY4TNHmVIM/s936/25%20transporting-michelangelos-sculpture-madonna-and-child-1945-july-9.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="936" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEy8yqxwU9uEHGUjmgAdCRnTC728p9e2FmAZc3m8pC9Xjm34urTSEJcHzLPaIvgsNaKUs-eKsv9UXhC4_aH0aVB_XohERneDD5H3hdpeL-sU38MSd2qfUW5K8kqiXrjTf-mzesXJg-Hr5A-VZvJMTlXv032GkaQIbeR2UFj_64OFJuYyFZDzY4TNHmVIM/w343-h244/25%20transporting-michelangelos-sculpture-madonna-and-child-1945-july-9.jpg" width="343" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4><span style="font-size: medium;">Getting the Bruges Madonna Ready to Ship</span></h4></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;">On 10 July, it was lifted onto a mine cart, rolled
to the entrance, and loaded into a truck with other recovered pieces destined
for a collection point, a former Nazi Party headquarters in Munich.</span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>As the sun begins
to rise</b><strong style="font-weight: bold;"> </strong>as we wing our way across the Atlantic, </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">closing in on our
own EU and Schengen checks in Munich, it is my desire to see this recovered
masterpiece, once shrouded in a cave, that fuels my interest in Bruges and the
trials and tribulations of this masterwork.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And to think, I needn’t go to Moscow to see this stolen, recovered, and well-traveled
masterpiece.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>Instead, it will
be Bruges, where it sits, </b>believed to portray the Christ child in His head bowed
mother’s hands, reflecting on her son's tragic fate, in contrast to
Michelangelo’s representation in his </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piet%C3%A0_(Michelangelo)" title="Pietà (Michelangelo)"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">Pietà</span></i></a><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> of the crucified
Jesus, again in her arms, but there reflecting on His destiny fulfilled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Until we see </span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">and report on it,
travel far, eat well, and live long.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p style="line-height: 115%; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></span></p>
<div style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">From That Rogue
Tourist,<br /></span><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Paolo</span></div><p style="margin: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1] <i>European-Union-Postpones-Launch of Entry
Requirement Document</i>, https://www.travelagentcentral.com/europe/european-union-postpones-launch-two-authorization-processes?utm_medium=email&utm_source=nl&utm_campaign=TAC-NL-Daily&oly_enc_id=7910E7565989E6B<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[2] <i>Who Should Apply</i>, https://travel-europe.europa.eu/etias/who-should-apply_en<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[3] <i>Schengen Area</i>,
https://home-affairs.ec.europa.eu/policies/schengen-borders-and-visa/schengen-area_en<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[4] <i>ETIAS Frequently Asked Questions</i>, https://etias.com/etias-frequently-asked-questions<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[5 ] <i>New Requirements to Travel to Europe</i>, <a name="_Hlk146724325">https://travel-europe.europa.eu/etias/what-etias_en#validity </a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[6] <i>Schengen Calculator</i>, <a href="https://www.schengenvisainfo.com/visa-calculator/"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">https://www.schengenvisainfo.com/visa-calculator/</span></a> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[7] <i>Madonna of Bruges</i>, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madonna_of_Bruges"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madonna_of_Bruges</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[8] <i>Madonna of Bruges</i>, https://www.michelangelo.net/madonna-of-bruges/<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[9] <i>Michelangelo, The Artist, the Man, and his Times,</i>
William E. Wallace, 2010, Cambridge University Press<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[10] <a name="_Hlk146725696"><i>True Story of The
Monuments Men</i>,
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/history/true-story-monuments-men-180949569/ </a><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[11] <i>Rose Valland</i>, https://www.artonauti.it/rose-valland-spia-rischio-vita-per-salvare-arte-francese/<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoListParagraph" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 6pt;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[12] <i>Robert M. Edsel</i>,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_M._Edsel<o:p></o:p></span></p><br /><p></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-6600685079072751602023-08-31T06:32:00.003-04:002023-09-02T20:07:15.416-04:00Footsteps in Time (Part II)<p style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: right;"></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrga7SgXVP_eAtoitU_U1oqJrJ-00RtmlbfflCP5qc-SWKi_UBPIeNVRmYwgfF3Z-DwkgZPWbueQpvhZqHJSaU9hKFj7BszefmtcFqZQIY1QvR3k8kadT4dfTks1IaDtTKheqSztQbxxFPkhmbBI3p2S1a6GYas5TdsRQlrs-TxAhR77PrsID9dGB2w8Y/s4032/1.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrga7SgXVP_eAtoitU_U1oqJrJ-00RtmlbfflCP5qc-SWKi_UBPIeNVRmYwgfF3Z-DwkgZPWbueQpvhZqHJSaU9hKFj7BszefmtcFqZQIY1QvR3k8kadT4dfTks1IaDtTKheqSztQbxxFPkhmbBI3p2S1a6GYas5TdsRQlrs-TxAhR77PrsID9dGB2w8Y/w271-h361/1.JPG" width="271" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Piazza di Signoria, Florence<br /><i>The Rape of the Sabines</i></b></span></div></td></tr></tbody></table><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: right;"><br /><span> </span><span> </span></span><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;">Footsteps
in Time (Part II)</span><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i>The earlier “Footsteps in Time (Part I)” continues here
with Part II.<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">There comes a time</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> when Florentine
artifacts, architecture, and art must give way to gastronomy. Specifically, to that epitome of Tuscan
cuisine, <i>Bistecca alla Fiorentina</i>. As
its name infers, this steak is linked to Florence, having originated in a green
valley nestled just to its south. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">This delicacy comes from Italian <a name="_Hlk141873871"></a><a name="_Hlk142989357">Chianina</a></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> cattle</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> bred long
before the Romans by the Etruscans in the <i>Valdichiana</i> (Chiana Valley). When fully grown, these massive bulls stand
an astounding six feet tall at the shoulder and weigh more than 3,000 pounds.<sup>[2] </sup>Their utility as draft animals has long
since been outsourced to tractors. Today,
they are renowned for their tasty meat — seasoned with local spices and grilled
over red-hot coals until crusty on the outside while remaining juicy on the
inside. Typically served sliced on a
wooden board, these thick and hefty steaks are neither inexpensive nor, like
the weight of these bulls, nowhere on the skimpy side. One serving would easily feed two hungry
carnivores like us who have never consumed such exotic steak. Here was our chance. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>In a mixture
of fact and legend</b>, the term <i>Bistecca </i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXEj1nl_j3HqBpD8FYeU7gc_kMnS0Y0nX9y0LvjI9-Xp2-BWTEnClniUozyuUCwK_dTpe2-3bomn1LlNezL9o97NPTd5ym9AfgMRGNhloTMzIdpVRUHqZhLXQpHyUBvdCx6McS14oczO4ldgjs0i_a9bofV3E_16NthhFeZ7kbFqA2pUU4pli7mmTATxA/s3591/2.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3591" data-original-width="2714" height="339" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXEj1nl_j3HqBpD8FYeU7gc_kMnS0Y0nX9y0LvjI9-Xp2-BWTEnClniUozyuUCwK_dTpe2-3bomn1LlNezL9o97NPTd5ym9AfgMRGNhloTMzIdpVRUHqZhLXQpHyUBvdCx6McS14oczO4ldgjs0i_a9bofV3E_16NthhFeZ7kbFqA2pUU4pli7mmTATxA/w258-h339/2.JPG" width="258" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>A Side of Chianina Beef Waiting to <br />Be Cut into Steaks</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><i>alla Fiorentina</i> was first
coined by English visitors:<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><i>“The story
goes that sometime in the 16th century a group of English aristocrats were
attending the annual Night of San Lorenzo feast in Florence, where huge
quarters of beef roasted over rows of braziers surrounding the Church of San
Lorenzo.” </i><sup>[1]</sup><i><o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">Note: About this time, Michelangelo,
contracted to finish the San Lorenzo façade, was pulled from the job in 1534
when he departed for Rome to paint <i>The Last Judgement</i> in the Sistine
Chapel for Pope Paul III - its plain brick front remains unfinished to this day. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><i>“They
joined the crowded tables to relish the delicious meat and soon begged for more
by shouting “Beefsteak! Beefsteak!” The Florentines adopted the word as
Bistecca, which is how Tuscany’s most famous dish is still known.” </i><sup>[1]</sup><i>
<o:p></o:p></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Over the course of our wanderings</b> from random
menu postings outside restaurants, we found they ranged in price from
€40-50. Expensive, but this must be
tempered with the realization that this, after all, was </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAL58-IpYRv7-E0phy8qQ8wNjxjXJFDlm4T6CvYEGxtjYPBKD6LOLz1rGeeYvw5dAQUxk6thGGkYI9kLme6vIF6mIESTtA8NAfvAZfjXZ9ziTnWsNNThnYFY5M-q71ZTRDMjMzkFZln968hr9a27exoVMlca1bnnKLJp-pGhLeUiKPd_3nWGuA9nRBsiE/s4032/3.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAL58-IpYRv7-E0phy8qQ8wNjxjXJFDlm4T6CvYEGxtjYPBKD6LOLz1rGeeYvw5dAQUxk6thGGkYI9kLme6vIF6mIESTtA8NAfvAZfjXZ9ziTnWsNNThnYFY5M-q71ZTRDMjMzkFZln968hr9a27exoVMlca1bnnKLJp-pGhLeUiKPd_3nWGuA9nRBsiE/s320/3.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><i>All'Antico Ristoro di'Cambi</i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>Florence. Instead of being measured in inches, Tuscans
measure their steak in “fingers,” with a proper <i>Bistecca alla Fiorentina</i>
all of 3-4 fingers thick. Finger
measurement is a carryover from measuring pours of liquor with ‘one finger’
being about a shot’s worth. Three of my
sausage-thick fingers placed horizontally alongside the bottom of a glass would
fill it to a height of roughly three ounces or two shots. I recall my dad referring to a finger measurement
as a <i>cequette</i> (Italian sp?).
Being denser, three fingers of this steak weighed about a kilo or 2.2
pounds. To this point, the most
remarkable steak I’d ever enjoyed was a slab of beef served in a specialty
steak restaurant onboard a cruise to Alaska.
I had no idea of its finger thickness, but it was advertised as a 2-pound
porterhouse called a ‘Platinum Cut.’
Although I’d share the <i>bistecca </i>with Maria Elena, I felt
prepared. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Without a reservation</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, we
were lucky to get </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFI0xBmNWPmUWHtskl2KA1xsrhrnH_QqokoYz58DRfqUeuJp1P3VB47ZTBSafvILbg0C1SFipYjUY98-qLVWhSA9LKhYHsE7kpq8UK8Q6WmNio2wGTsChZFgDKiNscXAEtIOVVzMPnhZoY1xS-yEu5L8DiMSrVjewptQLrjp1h4OtUGWvrCkWhT2Piaho/s768/4%20inside.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="768" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFI0xBmNWPmUWHtskl2KA1xsrhrnH_QqokoYz58DRfqUeuJp1P3VB47ZTBSafvILbg0C1SFipYjUY98-qLVWhSA9LKhYHsE7kpq8UK8Q6WmNio2wGTsChZFgDKiNscXAEtIOVVzMPnhZoY1xS-yEu5L8DiMSrVjewptQLrjp1h4OtUGWvrCkWhT2Piaho/w366-h244/4%20inside.jpg" width="366" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Inviting Interior of <i>All'Antico Ristoto di'Cambi</i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">into the popular <i>All’Antico Ristoro di’Cambi</i> for
dinner. Situated in the working-class San
Frediano neighborhood, it is considered one of the best establishments for this
specialty. Much of what’s on offer is on
immediate display: massive yet uncut <a name="_Hlk144104899"><i>Bistecche alla Fiorentina</i>
</a>overflowed a kitchen butcherblock (I peeked); dozens of prosciutti dangled
from brick barrel vaulted ceilings handy for the next call for an appetizer; while
lining the bar, flasks of ruby red Chianti wrapped in straw harkened back to the
Cambi’s beginning as a wine bar. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>It had been a hot day</b>, and the evening followed
suit. Thankfully, we were shown to a
shady table outside, bordered by hedges and trees, a seating area created in
the wake of COVID. A <i>bistecca</i> was
in our sights. Regrettably, while </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXZpbiMNR33JObx23j3i3DXopj4zmiBBZk4617yG6gO1n5eOOcIR0QUQ06TCB4YcZ7CiDDNgmBL2BnhDmAqj8fmyrN3Cjj2OL-MkIDwrWZfzXKxGzMDqCXr3fG_n3DbTeJCqA3qL02fKvam76kY6bS35VNIJiMlY6qYkN1DeiKEXJCWVn0novWNHBFSY/s720/5%20giardino_ristorante.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="720" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIXZpbiMNR33JObx23j3i3DXopj4zmiBBZk4617yG6gO1n5eOOcIR0QUQ06TCB4YcZ7CiDDNgmBL2BnhDmAqj8fmyrN3Cjj2OL-MkIDwrWZfzXKxGzMDqCXr3fG_n3DbTeJCqA3qL02fKvam76kY6bS35VNIJiMlY6qYkN1DeiKEXJCWVn0novWNHBFSY/w334-h251/5%20giardino_ristorante.jpg" width="334" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Cooler Ourside Seating at <i>di'Cambi</i></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>there
were plenty on hand, it didn’t happen, and this is why.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Unfortunately, in our deliberations</b> over the
menu, we lost sight of our goal: to enjoy that classic Florentine staple we’d
heard so much about. While I prefer my
steak cooked to medium doneness, Mare enjoys her steak rare (<i>al sangue</i>). In her favor, we learned that bloody rare was
how these steaks are classically served.
This classic marbled steak, think New York strip steak to one side of
the bone and a filet mignon on the other, is <i>vietato</i> (forbidden) to be
altered. Taken together, it meant one huge
steak, very rare. And here, misguided me
thought we could simply order individual one-pound steaks and have them cooked
to our individual liking. It was not a
significant loss because it merely meant the steak we craved would be consumed
by someone else. Yet I quickly felt
guilty for losing the opportunity that was briefly within a fork’s reach. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>I hadn’t thought it through</b>. If I had, there would have been some form of
compromise. Quick thinking may have
resulted in some accommodation and allowed the two meat eaters among us to
enjoy something not quite in an official Florentine cookbook … not too rare and
on the rarer side of medium. It may also
have satisfied the chef, who was likely accustomed to the <i>sangue</i>
routine. If he’d counted to ten and spun
around just once, my guess, it would have been perfect for me and to Mare’s
liking as well. It was certainly worthy of
a try, yet I hadn’t thought of it. And
if that had failed, I should have compromised and gone with the standard
presentation. The rush of the evening,
the crowd, the patience of our waitress, and my attempt at a drawn-out
explanation in English all may have played a role in our decision to pass on
this Tuscan specialty. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>There are refrains about buyer’s remorse</b>
following a purchase. There ought to be
an equivalent for the pangs of guilt we feel when we decline to make a
decision. What sometimes follows is the
fear that we have lost out on something.
Sadly, we find ourselves continuing to monitor what we passed on to
bolster confidence in our earlier, unspoken failure to decide, itself a
decision. All is not lost, however,
because thankfully, as part of my redemption, there is always the opportunity
to return to Florence for another try at getting it right. Next time, I’ll try ‘medium rare’; if that is
out of the </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTAMv8s1lTabV6WAST0UP0NuSA9b-eP42wcX4FgaVoGZLkumZq25nNTJl0v1FX57mO2y9kRMap37MDFTTF5PFG_8ecG660Xn4rpQe13DJf9zgP_AYjV67mRZ39lNsd9ya_BLCehI5A3bwW7tHcvpLI8KX2yG0dfSNhkHrfTlupbAjhYgbJ8VPRHuF7gYw/s4032/13.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTAMv8s1lTabV6WAST0UP0NuSA9b-eP42wcX4FgaVoGZLkumZq25nNTJl0v1FX57mO2y9kRMap37MDFTTF5PFG_8ecG660Xn4rpQe13DJf9zgP_AYjV67mRZ39lNsd9ya_BLCehI5A3bwW7tHcvpLI8KX2yG0dfSNhkHrfTlupbAjhYgbJ8VPRHuF7gYw/w356-h254/13.JPG" width="356" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Approach of Sunset from<br />Piazzale Michelangelo</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>question, I’ll follow tradition and go ‘rare’. I have no recollection of what we ordered that
evening. In its stead remains the
nagging memory of a phantom <i>bistecca</i>.
It was apparent I’d need cultural therapy before I’d appreciate the
therapeutic charm of <i>Bistecche alla Fiorentina</i>. “When in Rome,” the adage goes, “do as the
Romans do.” I’m sure it carries over to
Florence as well.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We did make
time to enjoy</b> the spectacular view of Florence from <i>Piazzale
Michelangelo</i> overlooking the city.
You can get there on foot, but we cheated and opted for an Uber. Skirting wide around the city allowed us an opportunity
to gawk at the beautiful estates along tree-lined Viale Galileo and the
Bobolino Gardens we might otherwise have never seen. We put off walking until our return, much of
which was </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTARF6AW_7aMf8KpzPOLU_Y2sSdqwZPhn37E3snQ2YjsPZMe6muS0KZmCC4mjvH487rRXGkD_ZZMXTZDrnXCq-9hVnWBrXD7qEMC_twv1T0D5txpvt1RROtzPYisZRUevFt2qGCKmMp3b0RmjakNO5aGi9tptX2IKqHFGafD80bOlhkj_E_yjeLccTZY/s776/14%20Bacchus.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="776" data-original-width="415" height="425" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivTARF6AW_7aMf8KpzPOLU_Y2sSdqwZPhn37E3snQ2YjsPZMe6muS0KZmCC4mjvH487rRXGkD_ZZMXTZDrnXCq-9hVnWBrXD7qEMC_twv1T0D5txpvt1RROtzPYisZRUevFt2qGCKmMp3b0RmjakNO5aGi9tptX2IKqHFGafD80bOlhkj_E_yjeLccTZY/w227-h425/14%20Bacchus.jpg" width="227" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Michelangelo's Bacchus</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>appreciatively downhill along the river. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We also
visited</b> the <i>Museo National del Bargello</i>, where among its must-see priceless
works, we saw Michelangelo’s Bacchus and Donatello’s bronze David, nude but for
a hat. Interestingly, Michelangelo’s Bacchus patron, Cardinal Raffaele Riario,
refused to accept the piece, deeming the pagan god, also nude with his tipsy, staggering
body leaning backward with rolling eyes, as sinful and a symbol of sexual
desire.[4] In the politically charged
atmosphere following the death of Pope Alexander VI’s son, the pope in his
grief proposed reforms in the College of Cardinals to prevent cardinals from
going to pagan theater. Cardinal
Riario’s involvement in theater and commissioning of the Bacchus was seen as
inappropriate and the real reason for its rejection.<sup>[5] </sup>Instead, banker Jacopo Galli bought the
statue and placed it in his garden collection along with other real
antiquities. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>It was lunchtime</b> when we passed through the <i>Piazza
di San Firenze</i>. Our appetites swelled
as fellow tourists, some seated on church steps, others walking toward us, busily
devoured massive paninis. This headwind
of sandwiches originated somewhere farther along in front of us. Each sandwich was sheathed in a distinctive
red striped paper clearly imprinted with <i>All' Antico Vinaio</i>. Somewhat akin to a Hansel and Gretel
adventure, we followed the red wrapper trail along Via dei Leoni, drooling over
glimpses of pecorino cheese and prosciutto crudo </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWz0mbX8N1yQiQNOut-ev_QLLoeeqPUehtJt16OCjpo2H29xrdPLbDIwND1DgG8iSAQ4bdbpGJLr9ZRxx_kw1LcxQhUaQeRTypvJMRk91gde-tmKRF_K1o1bog6cWgGFK1hLgmM7jPKC9TH7iXvNO9gpelRcTazhi6i3MIsZ0u8i0XK3gwlS5qTjyrQKM/s512/15%202022.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="510" data-original-width="512" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWz0mbX8N1yQiQNOut-ev_QLLoeeqPUehtJt16OCjpo2H29xrdPLbDIwND1DgG8iSAQ4bdbpGJLr9ZRxx_kw1LcxQhUaQeRTypvJMRk91gde-tmKRF_K1o1bog6cWgGFK1hLgmM7jPKC9TH7iXvNO9gpelRcTazhi6i3MIsZ0u8i0XK3gwlS5qTjyrQKM/w294-h293/15%202022.jpg" width="294" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>It Was Worth the Wait</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />pressed between slabs of local
<i>schiacciata</i> flatbread slathered with homemade creamy spreads of truffles
or artichokes. If following the trail of
wraps doesn’t get you to <i>All' Antico Vinaio</i>, the scent may. You won’t mind the snaking queue because the
payoff will more than compensate for any wait.
With four storefronts on opposite sides of Via dei Neri (left off of Via
dei Leoni), our wait was short. While Florence’s
museums are a banquet for the mind, <i>All' Antico Vinaio</i> is Florence’s
answer for street-side food to nourish the body. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Florence</b> is not all about museums, churches, and
historic <i>piazze</i>. The Florence
Market qualifies as alandmark tour unto itself, free of charge. This two-level iron-and-glass structure is actually two separate markets. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmnZEqsyIm3ch8_R0vDDcf0QYMS0LuStk-spLG1du0L_1FMQlACotFqYyvQ9VDd51mGxtWML-XvI9YeGxlqWL_NGXfwq6IgvYFpJG7IUL3f1RzHfsBwKtSv2i4hzGT6f8hc_AqB0cnJ8Fhlp6yUxe6nfu2dss1QLA34xTa81pNb5sDBgPC48zIpWzsfk/s607/16.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="383" data-original-width="607" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxmnZEqsyIm3ch8_R0vDDcf0QYMS0LuStk-spLG1du0L_1FMQlACotFqYyvQ9VDd51mGxtWML-XvI9YeGxlqWL_NGXfwq6IgvYFpJG7IUL3f1RzHfsBwKtSv2i4hzGT6f8hc_AqB0cnJ8Fhlp6yUxe6nfu2dss1QLA34xTa81pNb5sDBgPC48zIpWzsfk/w320-h180/16.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> The
indoor segment hosts the city's largest food market. Known as the <i>Mercato Centrale</i>, it is
home to unimaginable food.<sup>[3]</sup>
Its outdoor counterpart, which has grown up on the surrounding streets, is
home to vendors specializing in leather items (bags, belts, wallets, and
jackets), pottery, stationery, clothing, and souvenirs. Over our time in Florence, we’ve enjoyed many
hours there, especially during our most recent visit. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>I was tempted</b> to buy a leather briefcase while
there. It would have been “a nice to
have,” but the days of needing one are long past. I seriously considered a leather fanny pack
that slings diagonally across your chest instead of your waist for </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0L0w-1Bh7esU-fDqFQP9lM4IXpGldlg4hrlBNicVQqfNydIzAJbhEYNZoM5u0VtzyiA03stuWTc-55nqqi-g3VG0K8s_PbPn389eMPbFNAFPq5k1SHEMvs6YJGbMUv2gi_Y_Yj4enWLTdj3TwEDKc5SrmOjzPEE-2osWWN_825jCqnaTgVaFM8k4nZc/s1140/18%20sss.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="855" data-original-width="1140" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ0L0w-1Bh7esU-fDqFQP9lM4IXpGldlg4hrlBNicVQqfNydIzAJbhEYNZoM5u0VtzyiA03stuWTc-55nqqi-g3VG0K8s_PbPn389eMPbFNAFPq5k1SHEMvs6YJGbMUv2gi_Y_Yj4enWLTdj3TwEDKc5SrmOjzPEE-2osWWN_825jCqnaTgVaFM8k4nZc/s320/18%20sss.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Outside the Mercato Centrale</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>better
security. My flimsy excuse for not
purchasing one was Maria Elena's dislike of fanny packs. Instead, I bought a cat inside a small, clear
plastic box, which the Japanese call a <i>maneki-neko</i> (beckoning cat). Powered by a solar cell located behind the
cat, it waves a paw back and forth to bring me good luck and fortune. It’s just what I needed without the bother of
a cat litter box or odorous cat food. I
now await my good fortune as my feline friend, with its steady wave, apprises
me daily of just how hard it is trying.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>This old haunt</b> was familiar to us, but with
time, as with everything, it too had changed.
The ground floor of the massive <i>Centrale</i> warehouse remained close
to what we recalled. Looking for that
special </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvDUcUTDqNovflhjO01eA03-CdS1Oh2SPEZUiHmqWgBGm0ZzX-9jtFcNUslmKHeVGHbRAy3I0Yd1L9TuShycGaTPpNwqRPwm5Jp8gN7TeB2y1o4WoymjahQbluvO6KdKDo1eloJur2v1F0DaYLypoMv_BAzMP5Xw3glZ7zKf-xflnqG4HX11zEP33cKak/s1731/19%20Cat.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="1731" height="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvDUcUTDqNovflhjO01eA03-CdS1Oh2SPEZUiHmqWgBGm0ZzX-9jtFcNUslmKHeVGHbRAy3I0Yd1L9TuShycGaTPpNwqRPwm5Jp8gN7TeB2y1o4WoymjahQbluvO6KdKDo1eloJur2v1F0DaYLypoMv_BAzMP5Xw3glZ7zKf-xflnqG4HX11zEP33cKak/s320/19%20Cat.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My Feline Friend 'Neko'</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />ingredient? Although not polite
to point, how about the entire head of a pig for some memorable affair when
simple bacon won’t do? Need some webby <i>trippa
</i>(cow stomach) absent from your local deli or some popular bite-sized
morsels of <i>cervella fritte</i> (fried beef brain)? You’ll find these along with many common,
everyday food items here among butchers, fishmongers, fruit and vegetable
vendors, in addition to small specialty shops selling everything from saffron
to pignoli nuts. While not a copy of the
Roman Forum marketplace in nearby <i>Piazza della Repubblica</i>, it is a
showplace of Italian culinary tradition dating back in time not just from
Florence but from across Italy, <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>There were a couple of surprises inside</b>. One was locating our favorite panini
stall. It took a while to get oriented,
but it was right where we’d left it. All
that had changed were the proprietors, now much younger, but everyone seems to
be nowadays. A far greater </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriV9fbRLcnqs-ws_O9YnHZ5R_bYW17N9Y2mC0QcZMBbCkCFT4SAdOM82FhAiHLhAqglNKBm4_bm6fwSOcQDhvM1Q4Nkyuq-wZLKHxnqkz6JmJLJenSvyViFljuGdDDvqJf1p29k72dcD25ZcbVl-w3k2GRh-v6It_iC3hXJ9V3qq2NkGQjjWdEAUV_OE/s4032/20.JPG" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgriV9fbRLcnqs-ws_O9YnHZ5R_bYW17N9Y2mC0QcZMBbCkCFT4SAdOM82FhAiHLhAqglNKBm4_bm6fwSOcQDhvM1Q4Nkyuq-wZLKHxnqkz6JmJLJenSvyViFljuGdDDvqJf1p29k72dcD25ZcbVl-w3k2GRh-v6It_iC3hXJ9V3qq2NkGQjjWdEAUV_OE/s320/20.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br />surprise was
the second level of the <i>Mercato</i>.
Thankfully, we thought of going upstairs. Its former maze of stalls selling flowers and
spices is gone. Instead, this remodeled 32,000-square-foot
area is its own version of a modern <i>Risanamento</i>. <sup>[3]</sup> <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Each section</b> is dedicated to a different Italian
specialty, such as cheese, wine, pasta, or baked goods. There is even a cooking school to learn how
to make traditional Italian dishes and a store specializing in cookbooks. Whatever you <o:p></o:p><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">find in the </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Mercato</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, your
choices are to make it, immediately enjoy it, or, as they refer to what we call
takeout, ‘takeaway.’</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>As luck would have it</b> (was my cat working?), we
discovered a store, <i>Fiorentina</i>, on the second floor of the San Lorenzo
Market, selling everything needed to show pride in Florence’s soccer team. We also met the team in action via
large-screen TV monitors broadcasting a championship game throughout the
massive room. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjux2X_nwOmiTOEJgVGHIc3kTy06uP8B_bN422BjJYaCDFSC8iQXWQIV8MMK57sXyJeiMhb-ttwEW7e41pgEC9YSipII506Xp-tiAPEFA4DQsCXzbIzN7B_dA9vNSVJ7BGyVXbpdWq9mEGXarRavEBVlTWNQ1ulwfNn8Knf3grX24CSK0KcJqI9tp1Te1M/s4032/21.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="245" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjux2X_nwOmiTOEJgVGHIc3kTy06uP8B_bN422BjJYaCDFSC8iQXWQIV8MMK57sXyJeiMhb-ttwEW7e41pgEC9YSipII506Xp-tiAPEFA4DQsCXzbIzN7B_dA9vNSVJ7BGyVXbpdWq9mEGXarRavEBVlTWNQ1ulwfNn8Knf3grX24CSK0KcJqI9tp1Te1M/w320-h245/21.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Market's Cooking School</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Nothing like 500 seats,
not counting standers, filled with a rowdy group of vocal Italian soccer fans.<sup>[1]</sup>
Sadly, to the dismay of this heady crowd,
Inter Milan won the match 2–1 for their second consecutive Coppa Italia championship
title. Florence could have used the help
of my cat.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><a name="_Hlk139978266"><b>During the game</b>, I
discovered a new drink. Did I mention
there were also bars upstairs in the <i>Mercato</i>? Mine wasn’t a ubiquitous <i>Peroni</i>, a Sardinian
<i>Ichnusa</i>, or a <i>Moretti</i> ‘man in the green hat’ labeled beer, but of
all things, a British Shandy. I watched a
bartender make this refreshing concoction for me: a 50/50 ratio of lemon-lime
soda and beer. As part of any Florentine
experience, include the San Lorenzo Market. While you are there, go ahead and try a Shandy.<br /></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Following a seven-mile trek</b> on our final day in
Florence, it was time to head back to the Santa Maria Novella Train Station,
where, I’m guessing, people </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNOsZsI1ztiAtnnBpyUGIJ8_TKRXy00qm5s974SUlynH3pQul7kZrwLtLJl6eRqGzJ826PB2NBmIWHShtQ8bQ3ZLmlh-DoBCI4NQwcD2Cc9t01UI9KfjiLM6Qqya_RnUxrjuIAicqqUmE_Cz8OAqPWd-ENDjLkCyhK4y8ETf1FvR_hnQ0NetHks5Wi9w/s4032/23.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSNOsZsI1ztiAtnnBpyUGIJ8_TKRXy00qm5s974SUlynH3pQul7kZrwLtLJl6eRqGzJ826PB2NBmIWHShtQ8bQ3ZLmlh-DoBCI4NQwcD2Cc9t01UI9KfjiLM6Qqya_RnUxrjuIAicqqUmE_Cz8OAqPWd-ENDjLkCyhK4y8ETf1FvR_hnQ0NetHks5Wi9w/w306-h408/23.JPG" width="306" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>In Our Memories<br />"We'll Always Have Florence"</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">outnumbered chairs hundreds to one. Intrepid travelers by this point, we patiently
bided our time across the street in, of all places, an air-conditioned McDonalds. We held off looking for somewhere to sit in
the terminal until we plunked down in our assigned seats and quickly dozed off
to the charisma of memories: Christina’s words, countless city squares, a
historic bridge, museums, incredible food, and one rowdy soccer match. We should all be so lucky (go </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">maneki-neko</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">).</span><p></p><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">From That Rogue
Tourist,<br /></span><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Paolo</span></div></h3><div><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></span></div><div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b> </b></span></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[1] <i>America Domani</i>,
https://americadomani.com/where-to-enjoy-authentic-bistecca-alla-fiorentina/ <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <i>Mtuccis</i>,
https://www.mtuccis.com/lagazzetta/2020/8/21/chianina-beef<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <i>Market Day at San Lorenzo</i>, https://www.visitflorence.com/what-to-do-in-florence/shopping/san-lorenzo-central-market.html<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] <i>Michelangelo: Painter, Sculptor, Architect</i>,
Hibbard, Howard (1978), New York: Vendome Press. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] <i>Commissioning of the Bacchus</i>, https://michelangelo.ace.fordham.edu/exhibits/show/bacchus/bacchus4<o:p></o:p></p></div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-65247115724588799902023-07-31T13:05:00.010-04:002023-08-13T10:29:14.153-04:00Footsteps in Time (I)<p> <b style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 15pt; line-height: 115%;">Footsteps in Time (Part I)</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Over the years, </b>we’ve grown to call it Garibaldi
Station because it is located in <i>Piazza Garibaldi,</i> but to be correct, its
official name is <i>Napoli Centrale. </i> Besides marking it as the principal train
station in Naples, its name also hints at its location </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfenxyqki06wJuPxjeN9XLp7S2WOV-1PZlgSshykwdHYYFZQZ83OLRhIFsPDYoBfQ-whf8sT8MNFO8O0QpXFA475Z9s8aZFwP8d9wblSksxxErl6_E1IPyqcw4SBCMl516--5cW94TuwbtAhKmy0l1RCB3_EFYkZ6-kdjbxz-usr2Az58CjCVFi-bjxrY/s300/1%20images3.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfenxyqki06wJuPxjeN9XLp7S2WOV-1PZlgSshykwdHYYFZQZ83OLRhIFsPDYoBfQ-whf8sT8MNFO8O0QpXFA475Z9s8aZFwP8d9wblSksxxErl6_E1IPyqcw4SBCMl516--5cW94TuwbtAhKmy0l1RCB3_EFYkZ6-kdjbxz-usr2Az58CjCVFi-bjxrY/w400-h224/1%20images3.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Big Board Inside Napoli Centrale</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table>in downtown Naples<span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. Over the years, we’ve seen many improvements,
including the addition of an underground metro station, a shopping mall, and
even a parking garage, to mention a few. In the midst of these enhancements, a mystery
that continues to baffle me concerns the lack of seating in the train
station. It is likely intentional and
may reflect contemporary events that compel the homeless to shelter in
terminals of all sorts. Whatever its
motive force, consider yourself lucky to find a seat.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">There are a few seats</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> off in
the wings, but with them, be prepared to find a queue of eager travelers ready
to pounce on the narrowest opening, regardless of waist size. To a traveler, there are a few options: cluster
with hundreds of others before the gigantic arrival and departure boards waiting
for a track (<a name="_Hlk140409869"><i>binario</i>) </a>assignment, find a
bar or restaurant with a seat, or when all else fails, sit on the floor, hoping
not to be stepped on. Given the
likelihood of traffic mayhem getting to the station, it’s wise to plan for it by
departing early. That extra time pad,
however, sometimes means getting there too early with nowhere to sit. It’s either that or a worrisome last-minute
run for it with, unfortunately, few winners.
It may be the subject of creative invention, but if Il Duce got one
thing right, they say he got the trains to run on time.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="break-after: avoid; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; page-break-after: avoid; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">On our last visit to the <i>Centrale</i></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, we not only killed
time in a restaurant but had time to lounge on </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3XLy6mbFTlv-bnnEofLSHlIBm5yH9G06vGHv1NuEoxptXohexswDGxy0ZJxpDQsvjWRncNNChj1zVQ46q645WRR4dhaOyRsnzsZZQZimNvwuGLfBJ6lGgiRofguvWFk-I3h9R_DqVXc1fz7o-FBiarZZJkWUQryd8D_Qh1ey17EYOH-P3V6KyF2I7xc/s1590/2%20bus.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="827" data-original-width="1590" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3XLy6mbFTlv-bnnEofLSHlIBm5yH9G06vGHv1NuEoxptXohexswDGxy0ZJxpDQsvjWRncNNChj1zVQ46q645WRR4dhaOyRsnzsZZQZimNvwuGLfBJ6lGgiRofguvWFk-I3h9R_DqVXc1fz7o-FBiarZZJkWUQryd8D_Qh1ey17EYOH-P3V6KyF2I7xc/w400-h208/2%20bus.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>AliBus at the Naples Airport</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">the floor. Being Italy, it was marble of course. As is our usual practice, we prefer </span>to
park at the airport and take the Alibus to the train station. Riding the Alibus is convenient because it allows
us to avoid <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">the
notorious Naples city traffic bordering on NASCAR hysteria. It also provides a
driver who knows the routes and is willing </span>to express himself to other
frenetic drivers, all for a mere €5 admission to this cultural phenomenon. Although others were less fortunate, we at
least got to sit for the ride. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Our destination was Florence</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. The weather there was forecast to be sunny,
with the skies severely clear. Our granddaughter
and her boyfriend were with us. It was a
great opportunity for them to experience one of the greatest cities in the
world. It was here, in the cultural cradle
of Italy, where the Middle Ages transitioned to modernity thanks to a movement that
would be known as the Renaissance.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>When our <i>binario</i> was posted</b>, we proceeded
to our car and assigned seats that included a table between the four of us. We’d boarded a </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3270yD7ryNPjKzCXhNMAtCeEGpz68UjhdJc5iOFAS6jrgKyjSsy5M_YqkMKXiZ-okPkhfcqrPehgs29-PXlb4Kx86WHKtpWirnx_UwAAt4sNxuoPu5f7AQQTPuxZXw7RfR7LuPPOgyzBqlsAFH9uF5QQM3QAL40XEmKawNWfWUdg4z4LQgsegzWlwvY/s240/3%20download.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="179" data-original-width="240" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ3270yD7ryNPjKzCXhNMAtCeEGpz68UjhdJc5iOFAS6jrgKyjSsy5M_YqkMKXiZ-okPkhfcqrPehgs29-PXlb4Kx86WHKtpWirnx_UwAAt4sNxuoPu5f7AQQTPuxZXw7RfR7LuPPOgyzBqlsAFH9uF5QQM3QAL40XEmKawNWfWUdg4z4LQgsegzWlwvY/w320-h238/3%20download.jpeg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>It Even Looks Fast</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><i>Trenitalia Frecciarossa</i>
(Red Arrow) train and would be heading north at a top speed of 185 miles per
hour. We departed exactly on time, of
course, interrupted only by a brief stop in Rome before continuing to Florence. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Disembarking at Florence’s <a name="_Hlk139980327">Santa
Maria Novella station</a></b>,
we strolled south for all of ten minutes toward the Arno River until we crossed
the Ponte Amerigo Vespucci bridge. We
had entered the less crowded side of the Arno, called the <i>Oltrarno</i>, across
from the historic center around the Duomo quarter. Staying on the southern bank of the Arno
afforded us views of Florence we’d not seen before. Beyond affording a new riverside view of the
city, we found the <i>Oltrarno</i> teaming with expansive gardens, craft shops,
restaurants, and peaceful piazzas ideal for wandering its narrow back streets
and alleyways. From the bridge, it was a
brief walk to our B&B that we’d call home for the next four days. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">A highlight of our visit</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> was a
walking tour of the city designed especially for first-time visitors like our guests. Our guide, Christina Mifsud, is the owner of
“<a href="http://www.christinasflorence.com/"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>Christina's
Florence Tours</b></span></a>” (click to open). She has made her home in Italy for over
twenty-five years, and as an adjunct professor in Art History at Loyola
University of Chicago's John Felice Rome Center, she is well-equipped to add
insight into the history of Italian art and the Renaissance. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Our rendezvous point</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> with Christina was the <a name="_Hlk139882516"><i>Piazza della Repubblica</i></a>. There are many <i>Piazzi </i></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPyp9YTJCkScA-M1IfMfWAUzSnWJIm2QO0lAjelo-l_FvylVyYtVZgGqyLjCO6EUxHAHvvUfNuS0xRnCLi8LDsqaPquYm3GUfqi-ID1fSqLUiiA3uICQ7EW2uSgJFsoyvx2ATkTougoe9xTK89qFD9bbaHAqqPCAQLW5dF5At9J70VVvgKhDu65QnhwBI/s800/4.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="523" data-original-width="800" height="261" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPyp9YTJCkScA-M1IfMfWAUzSnWJIm2QO0lAjelo-l_FvylVyYtVZgGqyLjCO6EUxHAHvvUfNuS0xRnCLi8LDsqaPquYm3GUfqi-ID1fSqLUiiA3uICQ7EW2uSgJFsoyvx2ATkTougoe9xTK89qFD9bbaHAqqPCAQLW5dF5At9J70VVvgKhDu65QnhwBI/w400-h261/4.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>View Across Piazza della Repubblica</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><i>della Repubblica</i>
throughout Italy. Towns and cities,
large and small, have one. In Calitri,
for instance, <i>Corso Matteotti</i> ends at <i>Piazza della Repubblica</i>, the cul-de-sac
home of</span> <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">the<i> municipio</i> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">(town hall) and
entrance to the medieval borgo. Approaching
this Florence piazza, we could make out something that looked like a huge
cake. Getting closer, however, it turned
out to be a carousel. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It was a beautiful day</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> to make
our own ‘rounds’ of the city, beginning from where we sat near the carousel awaiting
Christina’s arrival. Although I’d never
met Christina, somehow I knew it was her as she approached. We soon realized that she had an amazing
breadth of knowledge about Florence, including a lifetime accumulation of
names, dates, events, and interesting anecdotes. How she can remember all the details spanning
centuries of Florentine history is remarkable.
Her evident excitement relating the story of the city is contagious. Her narrative brings ancient Florence alive from
its founding in <i>Piazza Repubblica</i> on through the Middle Ages and the
Renaissance. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">She explained</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that the
nearby <i>Piazza della Signoria</i>, </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6n4dAj-0qHSp9McC5uhfL4y6CPV5AWF8Aw3Np1vPgkTQTPzuqoa3VEJf5x1lNbXxjHWgIpduDds5-llO3PeOzfWAmKPZo_-mKVqkSR4K5mXR443MyCxZPYfSyrroDbuM-fUvZLhEl-fPtHtyNv-JQYet5E_tnPTf3uaeearCzwu7iLA1d1gCLmtKSf0/s800/6%20Particolare_Palazzo,_Piazza_della_Repubblica.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="271" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP6n4dAj-0qHSp9McC5uhfL4y6CPV5AWF8Aw3Np1vPgkTQTPzuqoa3VEJf5x1lNbXxjHWgIpduDds5-llO3PeOzfWAmKPZo_-mKVqkSR4K5mXR443MyCxZPYfSyrroDbuM-fUvZLhEl-fPtHtyNv-JQYet5E_tnPTf3uaeearCzwu7iLA1d1gCLmtKSf0/w361-h271/6%20Particolare_Palazzo,_Piazza_della_Repubblica.jpg" width="361" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Arcone Arch and Plaque</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">with its replica of the David, was the
city's political and civil affairs center.
The magnificent <i>Cattedrale di Santa Maria del Fiore</i>, affectionally
called the <i>Duomo</i>, is its spiritual landmark. Where we stood in the <i>Piazza della
Repubblica</i> benchmarked the historic former seat of the Roman Forum and
represented the city’s cultural birthplace.<sup>[1]</sup> What better place to begin than where the
city began. Listening to Christina those
first few minutes, a cake like the one I thought I'd seen earlier would have
been more fitting in celebrating this area being the city's birthplace.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Across the piazza</b> to the west, she pointed out the Arcone Arch
topped with a plaque, which with a bit of help from Christina, announced:<o:p></o:p></p><h4 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><i>The Ancient Center of the City<br /></i><i>Restored from age-old Squalor<br /></i><i>To New Life</i></span></h4><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt;">We would learn
that these few words provided an inkling into Florence’s formative yet, at
times, chaotic past. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Florence was founded in 59 B.C.</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> as a
retirement colony for veteran Roman soldiers by the imperious Consul at the
time, Julius Caesar. He’d chosen this
site beside a pre-existing village on the bank of the Arno, for here, the river
was narrowest.<sup>[1]</sup> Its center was
where the main Roman avenues, the <i>Cardo</i> and the <i>Decumanus</i>, crossed. Following the fall of Rome, the area retained
its function as a </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXFd8NVufTRYXVkmQrm0HmK-688Iami3LNuoPr6bZMXyCCLswkATCC_xBlxsHGO1PI0iwv4Z9qzE3PJA8f4Tfl6qlQIWQF3qtUG0m2vDMJt2-wagQQVGH7bQI8OV4JTlqNrHpojJTwcv6u_DdLRxQV4uvvIvaOdiUWEM8Hazig0ezEIc599GojENYQWhs/s1067/7%20Column%20of%20Abundance.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="800" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXFd8NVufTRYXVkmQrm0HmK-688Iami3LNuoPr6bZMXyCCLswkATCC_xBlxsHGO1PI0iwv4Z9qzE3PJA8f4Tfl6qlQIWQF3qtUG0m2vDMJt2-wagQQVGH7bQI8OV4JTlqNrHpojJTwcv6u_DdLRxQV4uvvIvaOdiUWEM8Hazig0ezEIc599GojENYQWhs/w252-h336/7%20Column%20of%20Abundance.JPG" width="252" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Ever Watchful<br /></b><b>Column of Abundance</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">meeting place and market.
The stench and filth in the square, however, were reported to have been
overwhelming. The only remaining vestige
of the old square and Mercato Vecchio, once a messy and unhealthy place, is the
<i>Colonna dell'Abbondanza</i> (Column of Abundance), positioned over the intersection
of the two former Roman streets. The Statue
of Abundance, sculpted by Donatello, rose before us atop a column erected in
1431.<sup>[2]</sup> The column once held
a small bell that rang to indicate the opening and closing of the market. A hoop at the bottom served as a
"pillory" where dishonest traders or debtors were chained.<sup>[2]</sup> This neighborhood was densely inhabited
during the early medieval period and complemented by a tightly packed maze of
streets and rising tenement buildings.
In 1570, Cosimo I de’ Medici established a Jewish ghetto in the area. It extended from the north side of the piazza
to house the city's resident Jews. Refugees
from over twenty towns relocated into the Florentine Ghetto not because of some
natural process of economic shifts and changes in demographics but because of
the Jewish people’s dire need to relocate after the fall of other Medici
settlements.<sup>[7]</sup> A sign over
the Florentine Ghetto, which read "<i>Segregate but not Expel,</i>" was
underscored by gates that locked the inhabitants in every night. This discrimination was soon followed by a
Medici decision that required Jews to wear yellow markers that further set them
apart from the people living outside of the Ghetto's gates.<sup>[8]</sup><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><a name="_Hlk140051816"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Piazza della
Repubblica</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span></a><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">was renovated during a redevelopment period known as
the <i>Risanamento</i> (“make healthy again”), triggered when Florence</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xmGKQDQvDtLXmgncfhOrysJuiGD9Z-2KDRU59nkFLjLUWlBIZJ46YVopH8lqYdWVUq5fHs-rJ2H4GE-XqwPWtOOP31kGortI0PFm_mMLW-rATBktmUFyUVS2a4F7ByIOFthtUtGd5N-tT1OKe4D8se0coVixbP2oTbnECvMZ7Fmyx2qry3uw2ZS7gwc/s799/7.5%20Piazza_della_repubblica_in_1893.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="618" data-original-width="799" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xmGKQDQvDtLXmgncfhOrysJuiGD9Z-2KDRU59nkFLjLUWlBIZJ46YVopH8lqYdWVUq5fHs-rJ2H4GE-XqwPWtOOP31kGortI0PFm_mMLW-rATBktmUFyUVS2a4F7ByIOFthtUtGd5N-tT1OKe4D8se0coVixbP2oTbnECvMZ7Fmyx2qry3uw2ZS7gwc/s320/7.5%20Piazza_della_repubblica_in_1893.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Piazza della Repubblica in 1893</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">served
as the capital of Italy (1865-71). It
saw the wretchedness of previous decades eliminated and the filthy hovels of
the old ghetto and related squalor, emphasized in the plaque, swept away. Sanitary conditions improved but at the sacrifice
of many historic buildings, including churches, palaces, and shops. Absent the Roman Forum, visitors like us must
rely on an oral tradition from guides like Christina and a few photos of this historic
section of Florence. Vestiges of its
past, a plaque, a single column, a model of its former layout, and the space it
once occupied are all that remain.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Crossing the Ponte Vecchio later that day</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, we could
see the above-ground private passageway, almost a kilometer in length, named
after its creator, Giorgio Vasari. Florence’s
influential Medici </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFJzg0OLvm2p1XAnC0V-WWFR_unUCdj07ZOWtQK3hV5Kdb9xgeZ2Ss7RL4RY3u-JvCJbii8rj3x2YK2eXR0fXqLpF_nsWt0b8SJXfY9TBv6A_HcPvU8bYhrO8j_DKiKrvhYKaGZCn04VW8HE8tfGkwoSnVrq25gXx0YLuyVo8VlQbUrLj-TnVNzU5u5U/s2525/7.9%20vasari-corridor.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2025" data-original-width="2525" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGFJzg0OLvm2p1XAnC0V-WWFR_unUCdj07ZOWtQK3hV5Kdb9xgeZ2Ss7RL4RY3u-JvCJbii8rj3x2YK2eXR0fXqLpF_nsWt0b8SJXfY9TBv6A_HcPvU8bYhrO8j_DKiKrvhYKaGZCn04VW8HE8tfGkwoSnVrq25gXx0YLuyVo8VlQbUrLj-TnVNzU5u5U/s320/7.9%20vasari-corridor.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>The Vasari Corridor Across the Arno<br />via the Ponti Vecchio</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">family used this passageway to safely commute between their
Pitti Palace residence and the Uffizi (‘offices’) where the Medici Grand Duke
worked. Assassination was always a
possibility, especially when surrounded by crowds. To ward off this possibility, travelers may
note the Vasari Corridor in the attic space to one side of the bridge above
today’s exclusive jewelry stores. It
was built in 1564 on a five-month deadline for a family wedding. So as not to offend a single aristocratic
nose, the meat market, which was located on the bridge at the time, was moved
elsewhere.<sup>[6]</sup> </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <o:p></o:p></span><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">This was the same passage</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">
Mussolini proudly took with Adolph Hitler during a tour of Florence in 1938. In preparation for their tour, three
small windows were transformed into three larger windows </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQY0mJUPxKZRofc8sSYXblW0KbhDdWDV36bPC6YOOpSotctIMlZi0ywJTHI0SwMpDyOqCCQRuhJ-2ZSvrIgZeEzv9wMG-nXH5ywXeuytPyOEk1tDE-i5PY0q47nYkgXOAcBVj1pye42N5Twg8xVgwsoxOnGWRQMtCRCRbNejDGKFcPoFQkQPNNFK9PIRU/s4032/8%20IMG_3200.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQY0mJUPxKZRofc8sSYXblW0KbhDdWDV36bPC6YOOpSotctIMlZi0ywJTHI0SwMpDyOqCCQRuhJ-2ZSvrIgZeEzv9wMG-nXH5ywXeuytPyOEk1tDE-i5PY0q47nYkgXOAcBVj1pye42N5Twg8xVgwsoxOnGWRQMtCRCRbNejDGKFcPoFQkQPNNFK9PIRU/s320/8%20IMG_3200.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Modified Windows of Ponte Vecchio</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br />to create a walking
gallery for an unobstructed view over the Arno from the center of the bridge. Both Mussolini and Hitler made an appearance at
this window, greeting the audience crowded below on the bridge. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Few today</b> will notice a sign on the bridge positioned
high above eye level <span style="background-color: white; color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">over the side entrance to a Rolex store</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">. This often-overlooked
plaque is dedicated to Dr. Gerhard Wolf – a Nazi. When the dust settled following the German
army retreat in 1944, the Ponte Vecchio was the only bridge that remain
standing. Its presence today is thanks
to his “diplomatic” efforts believed to have saved the Ponte Vecchio from
destruction. Amidst the glitz of
present-day jewelry shops along the length of the bridge, this innocuous
limestone plaque in a corner of the bridge dedicated to an unlikely hero reminds
us how one man helped save this bridge.
It reads as follows: </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Gerhard
Wolf<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 6pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">(1886–1962)<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 8pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">German
consul, born at Dresden—subsequently twinned with the city of Florence— played
a decisive role in the salvation of the Ponte Vecchio (1944) from the barbarism
of the Second World War and was instrumental in rescuing political prisoners
and Jews from persecution at the height of the Nazi occupation. The comune
places this plaque on 11 April 2007 in memory of the granting of honorary
citizenship.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiht3qFnSGjzo10v-TQ7ZVt-l2prtQUEwDqzf-ntribM_d-Kb5OtFYKpf24sT_MFEtrGXyMwDdit7NTempSZTvIU2iQOvg8jNIXi_E5ZJ3-pAOPjdutNpGtbyqRchosPoMCcIGlHcWMl8tZDjeOm3CMt8UqGrOxUlqqxbeB_dIl-7lRVyYhWqzYb-nGovs/s4032/11%20IMG_3201.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiht3qFnSGjzo10v-TQ7ZVt-l2prtQUEwDqzf-ntribM_d-Kb5OtFYKpf24sT_MFEtrGXyMwDdit7NTempSZTvIU2iQOvg8jNIXi_E5ZJ3-pAOPjdutNpGtbyqRchosPoMCcIGlHcWMl8tZDjeOm3CMt8UqGrOxUlqqxbeB_dIl-7lRVyYhWqzYb-nGovs/s320/11%20IMG_3201.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I sensed that the location of the plaque, with it being written
only in Italian, added little to its widespread awareness among the millions who pass
it by, oblivious of its significance</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">In
a city prized for its medieval art, I suspect it just may be
too recent an event in the annals of history to take interest in, let alone
notice.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=85000 lumo=15000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Legend, story, or myth</span></b><span style="color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=85000 lumo=15000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> has it
that Hitler’s passion for the arts and his memory of that mesmerizing view of
Florence would, years later, result in the bridge’s preservation. Yet this plaque, presented by a grateful city,
recognizes that the Ponte Vecchio survived due to the efforts of the German
consul to Florence during World War II, Dr. Gerhard Wolf. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=85000 lumo=15000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Gerhard Wolf</span></b><span style="color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=85000 lumo=15000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"> studied
philosophy, art history, and literature, earning a doctorate in philosophy. He joined the foreign ministry in 1927 when
Germany was still a democratic republic. Described as ‘reserved,’ ‘gentile,’ with a
‘lackadaisical’ nature, the consul discretely worked to prevent the plunder of
the city's art and keep Florence from assault by having it declared an open city,
where both sides agreed not to use it militarily.<sup>[5]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In addition to saving Florence</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, Wolf
also worked to save lives. As the
highest Nazi civilian official in the city, he used his diplomatic position to
free political prisoners from the Italian fascist authorities. He was also instrumental in rescuing many
Jews from the Holocaust by standing up to the Gestapo and the local Fascists. Wolf went so far as to falsify travel papers,
appealed to the German ambassador over the heads of the SS and the Gestapo, and
collaborated with the Florentines in hiding paintings and sculptures. Additionally, Wolf worked desperately through
the Church and the German ambassador to keep the city from becoming a military objective.<sup>[5]</sup></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Nothing posed a greater threat</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> to the
Renaissance art of Florence than <i>Operation Magic Fire</i>, the 1944 Nazi plan to
destroy Florence using strategically placed mines. The plan’s very existence raises doubt that
Hitler’s visit to Florence played any part in excluding the Ponte Vecchio from
destruction. The following recorded
report, however, adds weight to Dr. Wolf’s influence in saving the bridge: <o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 27.0pt; margin-right: 27.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 27pt 6pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">“<a name="_Hlk140472671">Wolf appealed to German Ambassador to Italy, Rudolf Rahn,
who brought up the idea to Hitler in a meeting, which reminded him of his visit
to the bridge two years prior. The
dictator’s tour of the city had apparently left a mark on him. </a> Adding weight to the legend that Hitler saved
the bridge, Hitler remarked to Rahn in November of 1943. “Florence is too
beautiful a city to be destroyed. Do
what you can to protect it. You have my permission and assistance.” </span></i><sup><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[4]</span></sup><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Some believe this was an express order, and it was Hitler
who saved the bridge. However, though a valid
detail of the meeting, there are multiple truths to this piece of history,
including the heroic efforts of Dr. Wolf, who triggered the appeal to the
Fuhrer by Germany’s ambassador to Italy in the first place.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>On August 3rd 1944</b>, the Germans retreated behind
the Arno, and <i>Operation Magic Fire</i> was put into action.<o:p></o:p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 13.5pt; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 6pt 13.5pt; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">“That
night, the whole city shook as bridge by bridge — the Ponte San Niccolo, Ponte
Alle Grazie, Ponte Santa Trinita, and Ponte alla Carraia — the Nazis ignited
their charges. Ponte Santa Trinita was the last to go — it took three rounds of
explosions to go.”<sup> [4]</sup><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 13.7pt;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Unlike all the other bridges</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that collapsed
into the Arno, the medieval Ponte Vecchio bridge was the only bridge spared
destruction during the German retreat the next day. However, access to the bridge by the Allies
was obstructed by mining the streets at both ends of the bridge. It may have been a trap set by the Germans in
the belief that the bridge was too narrow for Allied tanks and would collapse from
the weight of the crossing traffic.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiA6K1LAYQuxgl2YV3bH0nxbzWTgzLtP0F5T2Dg7BR8xsns9GDtfahUmaOjNXCCWBlaKIkcFe8LOgzk0rvlL20im3o3RMq-BvpCA1GpsqCWvSeYpRYDG_HlmCEj12mFq1ypuJxzE-QShT4_u4LsuMmE7-qFVp3whbM5TyugfxCGBALurc5IJMGXLkJU0U/s1024/12%20Ponte_Vecchio_in_Florence,_Italy.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="356" data-original-width="1024" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiA6K1LAYQuxgl2YV3bH0nxbzWTgzLtP0F5T2Dg7BR8xsns9GDtfahUmaOjNXCCWBlaKIkcFe8LOgzk0rvlL20im3o3RMq-BvpCA1GpsqCWvSeYpRYDG_HlmCEj12mFq1ypuJxzE-QShT4_u4LsuMmE7-qFVp3whbM5TyugfxCGBALurc5IJMGXLkJU0U/w640-h230/12%20Ponte_Vecchio_in_Florence,_Italy.jpg" width="640" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 13.7pt;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Like the city</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, Wolf survived
the city’s brush with destruction and escaped but at the cost of a nervous
breakdown. After he recovered, he was
promoted and served in Milan as Consul-General for the rest of the war. When the war ended, Wolf was interned by the
Allies. Upon hearing of his situation,
29 Italian citizens sent affidavits to the Allied authorities, which secured
his release.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 13.7pt;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In 1955</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, he was made
an honorary citizen of Florence and cited for "acts of incalculable
courage, humanity, sense of brotherhood and Christian feeling." <sup>[3]</sup> Thanks to the artistic soul of this good Nazi,
the world still has this celebrated bridge.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 13.7pt;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I tried to imagine humanity</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that
once crossed this bridge, occupied its squares and markets, and made greater Florence
their home. The likes of greats like Donatello,
Botticelli, Raphael, Galileo, Michelangelo, Dante, Brunelleschi, Machiavelli,
and da Vinci, each of whom would be indelibly associated with Florence, came to
mind along with countless unknowns who built this city. Together, their footfalls at one time or
another trod the very streets we had, here where the river drew narrowest. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 13.7pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <o:p></o:p></span><span style="text-align: center;">TO BE CONTINUED</span></b></span></p>
<p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0.25in 6pt; text-align: justify;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">From That Rogue
Tourist,</span></div><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">Paolo</span></div></span><p></p><p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0.25in 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">[1] <i>Piazza della Repubblica, Florence</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_della_Repubblica,_Florence<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[2] <i>Colonna dell’Abbondanza o della Dovizia</i>,
https://firenzemia.webnode.it/passeggio/colonna/<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[3] <i>Honorary Citizen</i>,
https://content.time.com/time/subscriber/article/0,33009,712113,00.html, 1968<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[4] <i>Did a Nazi official save Ponte Vecchio from
destruction</i>?, https://www.thelocal.it/20160525/did-a-nazi-official-save-florences-ponte-vecchio-from-destruction-gerhard-wolf-second-world-war-italy<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[5] <i>Gerhard Wolf: The Good Nazi</i>, https://uftravelreporting.wixsite.com/mysite/post/gerhard-wolf-the-good-nazi<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[6] <i>Vasari Corridor</i>, http://www.museumsinflorence.com/musei/corridoio_vasariano.html<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[7] <i>Florentine Ghetto</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Florentine_Ghetto<o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0.25in 6pt; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">[8] <i>Jews and the Magic in Medici Florence: The Secret
World of Benedetto Blanis</i>, Goldberg, Edward (2011), University of
Toronto Press. <o:p></o:p></p><p style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0.25in 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #262626; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=85000 lumo=15000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;"><br /></span></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-138036800837473922023-06-30T07:58:00.024-04:002023-08-03T11:39:21.472-04:00Lucius and Servilia<p> <b style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Lucius and Servilia</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Following a
few years’ absence</b>, we recently returned to Ercolano, known to many as ancient
Herculaneum. From Calitri, we traveled
through picturesque Campania along SS-7 toward Avellino. Joining the A-16 Autostrada, we then headed west
toward distant Naples and soon found ourselves in the shadow of towering Mt Vesuvius. Rounding it, we proceeded along the coast to
Herculaneum, lying just a few miles north of Pompeii. </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Uqc7Y-y_rTP84dT3moUs0BcgMocyGMLSiijgO_982kq-7wv7KAzHcdv0eed-SiVfBg0R_b7iFJU5ZEu0i_ZLA6Uo1FWG2Pfqqa70mN3EsUPNRvqbikrHScvzqyXVGpVH4tAi4a7iIFSQ6OMoOw6_FRPmCXRVG29Y06L3_KrZDDcsq6azCtgNb61HGS8/s3456/1%20park.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="3456" height="344" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0Uqc7Y-y_rTP84dT3moUs0BcgMocyGMLSiijgO_982kq-7wv7KAzHcdv0eed-SiVfBg0R_b7iFJU5ZEu0i_ZLA6Uo1FWG2Pfqqa70mN3EsUPNRvqbikrHScvzqyXVGpVH4tAi4a7iIFSQ6OMoOw6_FRPmCXRVG29Y06L3_KrZDDcsq6azCtgNb61HGS8/w517-h344/1%20park.jpg" width="517" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p align="center" class="MsoCaption"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt;">Herculaneum Today, One Third Revealed</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Centuries earlier, with its fine weather and
charming sea views, Herculaneum became a luxurious retreat for wealthy Roman
landowners. In many respects,
Herculaneum is a smaller version of Pompeii.
While both are buried Roman cities, we find Herculaneum better preserved,
far more compact, and with significantly fewer modern-day visitors. </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>In 79 A.D.,</b>
Herculaneum was buried under layers of volcanic material more than 50 feet deep
at the western base of Mount Vesuvius. Today,
little more than a third of the ancient city has been exhumed, and for good
reason. Much of it lies below the present-day
city of Ercolano, making excavating the entire city unlikely. What has been uncovered is nearly intact. Today, Herculaneum is a ghost town—water
basins, furniture, and racks of amphoras preserved in carbonized multi-story
buildings, complete with wooden doors, window frames, shutters, and second-story
balconies. Only their inhabitants are
missing. However, this wasn’t the case
when we took the cloverleaf exit from the Autostrada toward the remains of Ercolano. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span color="windowtext">Blue and white team streamers</span></b><span color="windowtext">, banners, and flags were everywhere following Naples’
soccer victory in the round-robin Scydetto Cup tournament, crowning them
champions of their Italian Serie-A league.
</span><span color="windowtext">The
added excitement of this being their third tournament victory explained why “3”
appeared </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">on pennants draped throughout the city. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Our <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">arrival</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> was hindered by
it being market day. It made passage
even with the mirrors in our little Fiat pulled in, challenging to say the
least. A sea of pedestrians surrounded
us, suffocating our Fiat as they milled through cars parked in that
every-which-way style Italians so enjoy. I tried my best to avoid contact as cars
jockeyed for advancement, competing to move forward even an inch. Within this press of vehicles, the surprising
whir of scooters on either side added to the fluidity of the chaotic
scene. I hesitated to even chance a
look; the buzz of their engines convinced me they were too close. </span>Everything seemed in motion except us.
With the help of GPS “Margaret” and a
few <i>scavi</i> (excavations) signs, we eventually recognized something familiar,
a pizzeria with a rooftop seating area and just below it, the parking area for
the archeological site. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Over a
series of visits</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, I have come to know the scavi better. Walking its streets from the <i>Decumanus
Maximus</i> (main street) down the various <i>Cardi</i> (streets running
vertically to <i>Decumanus</i>) to its former waterfront, I have poked and
pondered at what life on the seacoast of the Roman Empire, midday on 24 August
79 A.D, was like. The italicized fiction
which follows is my musing of how it may have unfolded that day for two of Herculaneum’s
inhabitants, Lucius and Servilia.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">His name was Lucius.</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> Like his working-class
father before him, Lucius was a muratore (mason). In August 79 AD, Lucius was 25 years old,
which was just about middle age for a Roman at the time. He lived outside the gates of Herculaneum
with his family and his mother since Lucius’ father had died </span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2syRrDGyjdZl24bxTdYgd2Fv6ecaPRTsuM0DkmksEwg86EGZG2RiXxjJqXL4fwyiud6UOPT6-L1VCjROfN7ZswEyeinJKpQjBkCpn2Q_ED3IB9xef172WN2UCOtOHTAEHivkOq9nVyh4Oa7kZtr2pGnemgcqv55hfRFblHMzbei3f_OewjSdD5a0DnvU/s2016/3%20IMG_3047.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="310" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2syRrDGyjdZl24bxTdYgd2Fv6ecaPRTsuM0DkmksEwg86EGZG2RiXxjJqXL4fwyiud6UOPT6-L1VCjROfN7ZswEyeinJKpQjBkCpn2Q_ED3IB9xef172WN2UCOtOHTAEHivkOq9nVyh4Oa7kZtr2pGnemgcqv55hfRFblHMzbei3f_OewjSdD5a0DnvU/w240-h310/3%20IMG_3047.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: times;">Lucius' Wine Shop
with <br />Four Wine Choices Depicted</span></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><i style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">in a building site accident three years earlier. Their family descended from Greeks situated
on the Gulf of Tarentum (today’s Ionian Sea) near the city of Sybaris, which
had a reputation for luxury based on the wealth of its inhabitants. This prosperity fueled the demand for new
construction and sustained their ancestors through the years, allowing them to become
masters at their trade.</span></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Early that fateful morning</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> Lucius made his way through the triumphal arch along the
crowded high street of Decumanus Maximus.
A pillar at the entrance to a shop he frequented in this part of the
city bore a familiar sign depicting four different color jugs of the varieties of
wine sold there and nearby the price of each.
He’d stick with diluted posca. It
was popular with the general populace because of its pleasing taste, reasonable
price, and, most importantly, since it kept his breath fresh, especially on a
day like today when he had a potential job ahead. The figure of Semo Sancus, the divinity often
associated with Hercules by whom people swore in business dealings, and the
inscription ‘ad Sancum’ stood out at the top of the advertisement. This thriving shop also hosted an inn where
drinks and food were served since it was customary to have cibus meridianus (the
midday meal) away from home. </span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1VbRYK3gMnFbPmmwAajer1MEkxav_XmpPcFzYVSJsDKz7NQUZzXA8zjmE7aTqhXpxBqJaHZeSVAK4rsGEdtm5bvOBQyo0AFu4RssHzGvffV6SE7iT5OLEln-WUIC0eULfAaZdpEh7aCFoeRArdd13SzKGzj_ekwI5jEZAiRDEOCdGVm3yKvPf-VtIkA/s1200/5%20grand%20Taverin.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib1VbRYK3gMnFbPmmwAajer1MEkxav_XmpPcFzYVSJsDKz7NQUZzXA8zjmE7aTqhXpxBqJaHZeSVAK4rsGEdtm5bvOBQyo0AFu4RssHzGvffV6SE7iT5OLEln-WUIC0eULfAaZdpEh7aCFoeRArdd13SzKGzj_ekwI5jEZAiRDEOCdGVm3yKvPf-VtIkA/s320/5%20grand%20Taverin.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Restaurant Where Fish With <br /></b><b>Garam Sauce Was Served </b></span></p><div><br /></div></td></tr></tbody></table><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">Lucius had arrived before the midday surge began, yet he
decided to eat since he hoped to be working the remainder of the day. Besides,
the scent of the garum sauce</span></i><span style="color: #0070c0; text-indent: 0.25in;">, a local
delicacy of Ercolano, teased his nose. <i> He opted for some </i>fish topped with garum
sauce, along with plump olives, cheese, and salted bread, <i>along with that
cup of wine.</i></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">He hadn’t far to go</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> along Cardo II to reach his destination. A slave by the door announced his arrival and
Lucius paid the man he’d hired to bring along the rest of his tools and building
materials. The cloud rising above
Vesuvius had grown larger from when Lucius first saw it earlier that day. </span><em><span style="color: #0070c0;">As he
waited in the vestibulum hallway of the main entrance, his gaze drifted into
the atrium. The columns surrounding a
rectangular impluvium basin </span></em></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">were
heavily damaged, exposing their brick interiors. He could only imagine the condition of the
columns surrounding the larger perstylium to the rear of the home. If his suspicions were correct, this job could
take time, days in fact, especially since the surfaces of these columns were
fluted. </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Lucius had worked</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> for Servilia before, repairing downspouts important for
collecting water in the cistern for her garden. She clearly appreciated his earlier work, for
a slave had delivered a message to </span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXaH5VMptD4KH5v-SooHqKLge63c7-m_l6W1M9UBTLQpk5sajJDyk3Bp9lzVKTbCV5wiEadrtIhOh7DI0Nq7c9FiY3t0K0h4bkolzKILXiG1ISTJx1fyq8Jr9vratFjYHOaeC7r70FvGv-ogmz_9-BqIbP77Thc3cTBrFEjelphZ-TbPhX7k97T_81ww/s2016/7%20downspout.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXaH5VMptD4KH5v-SooHqKLge63c7-m_l6W1M9UBTLQpk5sajJDyk3Bp9lzVKTbCV5wiEadrtIhOh7DI0Nq7c9FiY3t0K0h4bkolzKILXiG1ISTJx1fyq8Jr9vratFjYHOaeC7r70FvGv-ogmz_9-BqIbP77Thc3cTBrFEjelphZ-TbPhX7k97T_81ww/s320/7%20downspout.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Water Downspout</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><i><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">the Collegia Fabrorum craftsmen’s guild days earlier demanding
Lucius’ return. </span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">The earth had been shaking</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> for several weeks.
Tremors occurred intermittently, and the townspeople were accustomed to
these frequent vibrations. Priests in
many city temples offered sacrifices to Neptune, God not only of the sea and storms
but earthquakes. Lucius recalled how
Herculaneum had been badly damaged by an earthquake 16 years earlier. Repairs had been going on ever since,
accounting for the abundance of work available and the gold and silver denarii in
his pouch. This new shaking would only
mean more work.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Servilia’s home was relatively large. </span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">A sizeable wooden partition separated the atrium and the tablinum (the office in a Roman </span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">home), where her husband received his </span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">clients. Glancing about, Lucius could see that</span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> someone had updated the domus </span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">since his last </span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">visit adding large-scale</span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> murals with archi-</span></i><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">tectural, floral, and bird motifs in
several rooms. Unique mosaics of stone, marble,
and glass coalesced to create sophisticated scenes that looked lifelike on many
of the floors. </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">When Servilia appeared</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">, she was everything </span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVk3LXI-DsmgNpOtSm-ucaX4lgKMjwOGA9rq3TVX4Dvq9lUz7eWH3J7-SpRHOYE-mFTINXSFIzuxawqsh2d9VjaXqFw4MCrr6z7JvNhrL2_eNWu8n_c9eh1lEhBSvcqh3PKs8cC9XE4h49Nt7sCL8Tqvh96P8o_DuOV02vjC1Y9Et-W32SLMvHt-H_lWs/s2016/9%20IMG_3001.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVk3LXI-DsmgNpOtSm-ucaX4lgKMjwOGA9rq3TVX4Dvq9lUz7eWH3J7-SpRHOYE-mFTINXSFIzuxawqsh2d9VjaXqFw4MCrr6z7JvNhrL2_eNWu8n_c9eh1lEhBSvcqh3PKs8cC9XE4h49Nt7sCL8Tqvh96P8o_DuOV02vjC1Y9Et-W32SLMvHt-H_lWs/s320/9%20IMG_3001.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Servilia's Garden</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">he recalled, down to the gold bracelet hugging her wrist
and matching earrings dangling from her ears.
She was attractive, to say the least, of the patrician aristocratic
class who, like many wealthy Roman citizens, sought a pleasant place to escape
their daily lives in a larger city. It
may have been nearby Neapolis, but where exactly, Lucius was unsure. </span></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">He knew few details</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> about her husband other than what he’d overheard while
waiting from conversations of house staff. He had discovered that her merchant husband was
away in Neapolis arranging his next shipping venture. In the oppressive heat of late August, Servilia
was enjoying their oceanside </span><span style="color: #0070c0;">Herculaneum</span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> villa in anticipation for his return. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Tall, with green eyes</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">, she evoked an appearance bordering on Egyptian, similar
to a few other striking women he’d seen, evident of the diversity of their
community. Her lean, lithesome figure
rivaled that of Venus, and her manner had a precision and orderliness that
started with her hair, immaculately arranged in the latest style where not a curl escaped a pin. No trace of scarring from excessive
scratching of lice. </span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Women like Servilia would never think of
emerging from their cubiculum before their personal slaves had
anointed them with rose petal water, applied their makeup, precisely arranged
each curl on their heads, and the folds on their long stola extending to
their feet. </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Oyk_pFijYsP6JEgZ2lKfoJZR8uIl0EUEukCpQb7Vdwh2mKp24g53AhVg9r1ohC2GD3cw7XvQuxz-sj9Ma01oLayzDOGpk8f55UwMJRyobjLJPKTDxYSGayE4zPJPEyKG3wCKHmPB-qg1ldS8OXFYt17efxPHNUo63WJelWsv28s2H1DePVjgB4yFK74/s2016/12%20IMG_3004.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Oyk_pFijYsP6JEgZ2lKfoJZR8uIl0EUEukCpQb7Vdwh2mKp24g53AhVg9r1ohC2GD3cw7XvQuxz-sj9Ma01oLayzDOGpk8f55UwMJRyobjLJPKTDxYSGayE4zPJPEyKG3wCKHmPB-qg1ldS8OXFYt17efxPHNUo63WJelWsv28s2H1DePVjgB4yFK74/s320/12%20IMG_3004.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Damaged Pillars</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> <span> </span></span></i><b style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">At that moment</span></i></b><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">,
however, Servilia had a pressing matter to address. She explained how the brick interior of some
of the columns in the atrium had been exposed when their plaster outer layers
had cracked and subsequently fallen apart and crumbled to the floor. With a dinner party to follow her husband’s
return, the current situation was unacceptable.
As materfamilias, she managed all household affairs, which she ran like
a small corporation. Decisions as to the
maintenance of the domus were her responsibility, and in its current state, it
would reflect poorly on her husband if not quickly repaired in time for the
party. </span></i><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Lucius had become</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> more than proficient in the various skills of masonry. Of all the types of stonework, he preferred making
brick columns most, those that were round versus square. If he wasn’t building one from scratch, the
next best would be repairing them. Their
symmetry, with their rounded clay brick interiors, intrigued him. </span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgek5JIiyyp1gbOiO5FdsvT9CeFqkEz5LQ1gg4XxAVEDACBECAJISZlJfxbnZyb16lrtFg4_rrevKvoJTU7-4vwRbZ-mvGCK3shRmCW4Dh1_vpXtGOAhnNydpnUq_a-OXhCHWVfKRUjbalNgoz96AFhvX3UuHXfG4ZZfI4pPt-WZjnA8N4vf7Qr1zvGz0A/s400/14%20roman-colleges-artificers.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="300" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgek5JIiyyp1gbOiO5FdsvT9CeFqkEz5LQ1gg4XxAVEDACBECAJISZlJfxbnZyb16lrtFg4_rrevKvoJTU7-4vwRbZ-mvGCK3shRmCW4Dh1_vpXtGOAhnNydpnUq_a-OXhCHWVfKRUjbalNgoz96AFhvX3UuHXfG4ZZfI4pPt-WZjnA8N4vf7Qr1zvGz0A/s320/14%20roman-colleges-artificers.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Lucius at His Trade</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Most of all, he enjoyed shaping the outer surfaces of
these upright pillars. Through years of experience,
he’d developed a finesse for preparing a superior plaster mix for the outer coating—not
too stiff and certainly not runny. He had
also developed <br />special forms to draw through the plaster to shape its final fluted
or etched surface. Therein lay his
secrets which made all the difference in the final product to the delight of
his customers. It was a skill he had
mastered, putting put him in high demand. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Servilia showed </span></i></b><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">him the damage </span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">throughout the public areas of the domus. The inspection confirmed his worst suspicions. </span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">Fourteen of the silent sentinels needed repair. Pressed for time,</span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"> Servilia insisted that he provide her with an estimate of how long repairs would take, including the time for drying, to include painting. </span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">As she feared it would take days, which unfortunately infringed on </span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">her upcoming dinner plans unless he</span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTlQBSPZxALdtCKm1RbYl1PUjhWqB_i5gfrt_4tZtxDW62Mn7a6k6ikJ4zUZ-aBHeVsHAhFM8SuYqtNLo0WKO9IAfLvIOIb8y8zhMYUny1NoqqJdgkZ8uIc9XGIQgGRU3R0o2CsN16Dl-RxOZca0nK929SHx48m9hnUshu5pSu1Ipx8X4ZXRi1SjCK6w/s275/16%20brick.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUTlQBSPZxALdtCKm1RbYl1PUjhWqB_i5gfrt_4tZtxDW62Mn7a6k6ikJ4zUZ-aBHeVsHAhFM8SuYqtNLo0WKO9IAfLvIOIb8y8zhMYUny1NoqqJdgkZ8uIc9XGIQgGRU3R0o2CsN16Dl-RxOZca0nK929SHx48m9hnUshu5pSu1Ipx8X4ZXRi1SjCK6w/w203-h135/16%20brick.jpg" width="203" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Rounded Roman Bricks <br /></span></b><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Used for Columns</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;">dedicated himself to her project and began immediately. Time was of the essence, and for this, she was
willing to pay double for his undivided attention to the job. Lucius didn’t hesitate to accept. Hours later, his tools arrayed at his feet,
found him prepping the surface of his first column.</span></i><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">It was well past noon</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> when a distant explosion sent a thunderclap across the
city. They were unaware of it, but Vesuvius
blasted a massive cloud of debris, super-heated gases, and smoke miles into the
sky. By 5 pm, ash, along with bits of
pumice and blackened stones, charred and cracked by flames, was falling from
the sky. It was accumulating, </span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWh2Vgwxi9K9xt2FQ7fJu_j_nJ6Qh5STimu2RM3S5t9d73a4U4eV_lEO06RVzqOjyR0lUFVJn1VS32RKTzYT8qbohttck6C2yZKQPWqMwd9Z24siGSd09vaasI184xcB4S72AWBxWPwfZXS5wnqWKyN-SafuRnKm0ZiBlSxcJl9gKDAO-aILxajQwDhV8/s2016/18%20IMG_3005.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="337" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWh2Vgwxi9K9xt2FQ7fJu_j_nJ6Qh5STimu2RM3S5t9d73a4U4eV_lEO06RVzqOjyR0lUFVJn1VS32RKTzYT8qbohttck6C2yZKQPWqMwd9Z24siGSd09vaasI184xcB4S72AWBxWPwfZXS5wnqWKyN-SafuRnKm0ZiBlSxcJl9gKDAO-aILxajQwDhV8/w240-h337/18%20IMG_3005.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">A Badly Damaged Column</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"><br /></span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">growing thicker by the minute.</span></i><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">It grew dark outside</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">. Even with
candles, Lucius found it hard to see his work and had to stop. He feared the rain of debris and intensifying
tremors were becoming cataclysmic by the minute. He urged Servilia to evacuate immediately rather
than chance being crushed if the building collapsed. At first, she refused to leave, rejecting the
ever-growing evidence accumulating about them, believing the volcano would
quiet down. </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">By this time</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">,
Lucius was convinced he should have abandoned the job when he first sensed
danger… made up a story, anything to slip away as many of the household slaves
had seemingly already done. He’d never
experienced anything like this before. Now
alone with Servelia in a house on the verge of collapse, he feared it might be
too late. </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">It was only when </span></i></b><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">a particularly violent quake brought a portion of the
ceiling crashing down into the cistern in the floor of the atrium that she
acknowledged the danger and reluctantly agreed to leave. There would be no dinner party. <i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The Fates had turned on them. </span></i> <i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">The shock of it </span></i></span></i><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">had </span></i></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"></span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNLKKTdJXbFMWMAdAJXzQm9GSS1m1-6_K0RNApY0Vp7sZ7vcCXWyT0hVWWyVz7pGlwzrrYLmkV7h25mfhgkawoi8odWXCPJJXRiC8KdUR7TSNOdv1SK79tnkFjphhvLixM8U8c349sPfc5ZXuSA2tLylxNeg_6x2LguzDdmJGVeLNnrFH8fDYNA0N6QE/s2016/20%20IMG_2992.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdNLKKTdJXbFMWMAdAJXzQm9GSS1m1-6_K0RNApY0Vp7sZ7vcCXWyT0hVWWyVz7pGlwzrrYLmkV7h25mfhgkawoi8odWXCPJJXRiC8KdUR7TSNOdv1SK79tnkFjphhvLixM8U8c349sPfc5ZXuSA2tLylxNeg_6x2LguzDdmJGVeLNnrFH8fDYNA0N6QE/w240-h300/20%20IMG_2992.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Unearthed Remains of a <br /></b><b>Herculaneum Boat</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #3d85c6;"><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">shattered her concern for her home, which had been her
life’s work. She realized it was now a
matter of survival. </span></i><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></i></span></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">The decision now made to evacuate</span></i></b><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">, Lucius tried to decide where they could go to escape
the chaos. With danger everywhere, where
was the closest refuge, their best remaining avenue of escape? With the sky falling in this strange darkness,
Porta Marina seemed their safest bet. It
wasn’t far away. His uncle had a boat there.
Besides, the Roman navy, stationed not many miles away in Misenum, might
mount a rescue. They would head for the Porta
Marina Gate, hope to board the boat, or at least seek the protection of the
boat sheds. </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Servilia thought</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> there was enough time to gather some of her valuables. In the precious minutes remaining, she ran to
her room to gather a few personal possessions, including the small deity she
prayed to, in addition to adding emerald and ruby rings to her braceleted
hand. </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">It was dark</span></i></b><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">
beyond description outside, black as though their eyes were shut tight. They moved slowly and from memory, a hesitant
step at a time. Lucius kept his hand on
the outer walls of the homes they passed and held Servilia’s free arm as they
edged forward, downhill toward the sea. Ash, pumice, and at times stones continued to
rain from the sky on the pillows they had thought to bring for protection. The pricks of the fiery projectiles stung
their arms and legs while the growing accumulation of rubble and hot fragments
burned their feet. </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> <o:p></o:p></span></i><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Servilia staggered</span></i></b><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">, went down on a knee, and dropped her </span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSERatkY09pzlPzd0qoaNgI0rsvZESVCB8cJQoU6gDrtfEAkG-0DLNjy2eoWjP8pZ9A7tCHdWfUccvOJmlVveh8TVP1dpLmpge-MN-B0zN7vHmz8iMD8yB4eHKbCetKQ6Y2CACN6fLM7SjD3iVKQ5yuAUD9zeL50O7KLQsmNLkoD9uegV6wJzCEsjkSkE/s2016/22%20IMG_3057.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSERatkY09pzlPzd0qoaNgI0rsvZESVCB8cJQoU6gDrtfEAkG-0DLNjy2eoWjP8pZ9A7tCHdWfUccvOJmlVveh8TVP1dpLmpge-MN-B0zN7vHmz8iMD8yB4eHKbCetKQ6Y2CACN6fLM7SjD3iVKQ5yuAUD9zeL50O7KLQsmNLkoD9uegV6wJzCEsjkSkE/s320/22%20IMG_3057.jpg" width="240" /></span></b></a></p></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">A Streetside Cistern</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;"><i style="color: black; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0070c0;">bag when she was struck by a large stone. Lucius tugged on her arm, preventing her from stopping to try to retrieve the bag somewhere in the thick blanket of debris at their feet. All she had now in evidence of her status were some coins in a bag on her hip, her earrings, a few gold bracelets, and the rings on her left hand.</span></i></span></i><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">Although he couldn’t see much</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> in the swirling ash to confirm it, Lucius sensed that
there weren’t many others in the streets.
Their torment could be heard by an occasional muffled cry or scream competing
with the pinging sound of the storm. As
short as the distance was, it was a nightmare getting there. The wreckage of a toppled wall or abandoned
possessions at times forced them into the center of the street. Returning to the walkway, Lucius bumped into
a cistern. Quickly removing a rag from
his belt, he swiped his hand across its surface to clear it of ash and floating
balls of pumice. He then dipped the rag
into the water and tied it over his mouth.
He pulled Servilia to his side and tore the hem of her stola for some additional
fabric which he knotted around her lower face.
They continued, staggering toward the beach. <o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;">From the bottom of the steps</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"> at the shore, he turned right only when his feet touched
the sea. He couldn’t see much in the
swirling debris whether any boats remained.
Lucius reasoned that if there had </span></i></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIyv7E_u3qUXwRWhgjUuQTWz2wGaYPwvwjgSUSq2P-QBGkgtcmI5UXuhLrgHeOQgoJnxQYd5ENx6eMxXhbiHu9sC8vxZ4DFlMRopaGoEyfA5Qju2YmXX33f1KGEIIox9w5Nu5-cnRuGCNhFcvKWUdWK8N2cH7mHPN9Gq_ZLSQPQzqxBV2P8OJv7i8zTM/s1280/24%20IMG_3079.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="793" data-original-width="1280" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKIyv7E_u3qUXwRWhgjUuQTWz2wGaYPwvwjgSUSq2P-QBGkgtcmI5UXuhLrgHeOQgoJnxQYd5ENx6eMxXhbiHu9sC8vxZ4DFlMRopaGoEyfA5Qju2YmXX33f1KGEIIox9w5Nu5-cnRuGCNhFcvKWUdWK8N2cH7mHPN9Gq_ZLSQPQzqxBV2P8OJv7i8zTM/s320/24%20IMG_3079.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Six of Twelve Boat Sheds Once on the<br /></b></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Tyrrhenian Sea <br /></b></span><b><span style="font-size: medium;">(</span><span style="font-size: x-small;">The sea has subsided considerably over the centuries) </span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0070c0; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><i>been any, by now, they were long gone. It would be better to find shelter in one of
the boat grottos he knew lined the beachfront and wait out this strange storm. He
moved forward until he found the door to a shed slightly ajar, pulled it open against
the accumulated ashfall, and together they slid inside. Visibility inside was better. There were no boats inside, only people. Lucius estimated twenty or more, some of them
children, had taken refuge there. Feeling
somewhat safer, Lucius and Servilia found a space near the wall and sat—wealthy
patrician and common laborer—waiting for the horror to end. </i></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Rescue boats
never came.</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> In the hours
before dawn, their suffering came to a swift end when the towering fiery </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoW3hyTKCNV2IlcxO12vHAk0PIts-8u7MQ4UnEWhD_MJTju7av-R-1glCMNgB51BegytHgW3nKUt1oDR184tytg86EtnNZn1Og4vtYI7CFvNOh4MS3ZP-KMix2qiIHCmiIxWLFiElxeTXkR4ce7l22rLV4vRWXPYwcuUSys0ikHtBPKMI1ixXiwr90PY/s533/26%20bodies.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="400" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVoW3hyTKCNV2IlcxO12vHAk0PIts-8u7MQ4UnEWhD_MJTju7av-R-1glCMNgB51BegytHgW3nKUt1oDR184tytg86EtnNZn1Og4vtYI7CFvNOh4MS3ZP-KMix2qiIHCmiIxWLFiElxeTXkR4ce7l22rLV4vRWXPYwcuUSys0ikHtBPKMI1ixXiwr90PY/s320/26%20bodies.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>A Long Distance Look into<br /></b><b>a Boat Grotto</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;">column
that loomed 20 miles above them collapsed, and two waves of blistering 750-degree
Fahrenheit gases swept down over Herculaneum at a speed up to 450 miles an hour. The future would call it a pyroclastic surge. Everyone in its wake was killed when their flesh,
body tissue, and fluids vaporized in a fraction of a second.<sup>[1]</sup> So quickly did it seize them, there
wasn’t even time to suffocate. As the
city settled into its tomb, those crushed, asphyxiated, or vaporized were
frozen in time. </div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It
wasn’t until 1982</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that excavations along the shoreline, including those in
each boat shed, uncovered 300 skeletons.<sup>[1]</sup> In one of the grottos, the skeleton of a
woman, my Servilia, today known as the “Ring Lady,” lay on her right side among
nameless others who had sought shelter there.
Her emerald and ruby rings were still visible on the skeletal fingers of
her left hand, her bracelets and earrings nearby. Beside her were the bones of an apparently
strong, formerly muscular man. His belt
and pouch, </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8l6CJ8aG6UMaukqh0zRPgQGW9ULPexjTkA-6q0rGIkzw7lxOKgjOz4ryTzpMjLrjMwmWziLj4lI9hZnI4nuEXdnBrxFyjfvZiJ310jvlOeN1_oZDkq1gVwavGIT1t9O1E1Kfrxucri5VX1h1sAFdTKaQAnzLgLNllTQgk4lSV2mYhZ8akjmYr1bfouao/s471/30%20Ring_Lady.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="471" data-original-width="345" height="336" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8l6CJ8aG6UMaukqh0zRPgQGW9ULPexjTkA-6q0rGIkzw7lxOKgjOz4ryTzpMjLrjMwmWziLj4lI9hZnI4nuEXdnBrxFyjfvZiJ310jvlOeN1_oZDkq1gVwavGIT1t9O1E1Kfrxucri5VX1h1sAFdTKaQAnzLgLNllTQgk4lSV2mYhZ8akjmYr1bfouao/w246-h336/30%20Ring_Lady.jpeg" width="246" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Today, These Boat Shed Remains<br />Are Known as 'The Ring Lady'</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">containing three gold coins and some silver, possibly a man like my
Lucius.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <o:p></o:p></span><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Today</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, you
can visit homes much like Servilia’s, which in my imagining, is a composite of
the many preserved there.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Two thousand
years after that fateful day, the homes of Herculaneum have been repaired, not
by Lucius but by teams of archaeologists, including skilled masons. </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Impluvium</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> and </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">perstylium </i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">columns
are much like Lucius had seen them, still needing repair.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">While its former inhabitants, now ghosts, may
walk the streets, Vesuvius remains very much alive and menacingly looms over
the city.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Around three million people
live in its shadow. </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The center of Naples
is just over eight miles from the summit.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Today’s
inhabitants</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> rely on new gods to protect them from further eruptions. These gods take the form of thirty sensors that
monitor Vesuvius’ volcanic activity. They
measure the volcano’s heartbeat by picking up quakes, the temperature of the
emitted gases, and bulging and subsidence near the surface.<sup>[3]</sup> The data is fed to the Italian National
Institute of Geophysics and Volcanology in Naples. However, on the opposite side of Naples lies
a far greater danger than Vesuvius, a conspicuous threat always visible on the
horizon. Few people know of this behemoth
or that it is being closely watched on a bank of 60 screens. It warrants close monitoring because five
miles below the surface of neighboring Pozzuoli, a vast magma reservoir estimated
to be 300 feet deep stretches over 250 square miles.<sup>[2]</sup></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Q6wodlekKfke4I1LhoUURhoYVDUYmmQPnVj_QSOwvmVL8X8NYaEPh2Uj9a8nrK4Pp6b-DXFFecljWu_-tVbeV8uNuVKP7dcJZBqbPD8ZrwpKhesS07MWJn3OP6vfRMH1cbTx-_9-SZ5K2aeRnlYRN65C3LVGSB9hRsxMsJ6zNPMZvjm_mSrZy2Cl_oY/s634/32supervolcano.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="473" data-original-width="634" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2Q6wodlekKfke4I1LhoUURhoYVDUYmmQPnVj_QSOwvmVL8X8NYaEPh2Uj9a8nrK4Pp6b-DXFFecljWu_-tVbeV8uNuVKP7dcJZBqbPD8ZrwpKhesS07MWJn3OP6vfRMH1cbTx-_9-SZ5K2aeRnlYRN65C3LVGSB9hRsxMsJ6zNPMZvjm_mSrZy2Cl_oY/s320/32supervolcano.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;">Naples' Millions Lie Between Two Volcanic<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;">Threats, Familiar Vesuvius, and
the Little <br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;">Known Though Far More Dangerous<br /> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;">Campi Flegrei Supervolcano</span></b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>This is
the energy source</b> of the </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Campi Flegrei</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> (Phlegraean Fields). It is one of the world's largest, most dangerous
volcanoes, largely invisible, without a cone. In comparison, Vesuvius is nothing more than a
pimple on the back of this sunken supervolcano.
A worst-case estimate sees it not only annihilating the millions inhabiting
the Naples area but obliterating much of life in Europe.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[2]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> As Lucius, Servilia, and countless others likely
prayed that day in 79 A.D., may the gods protect us.</span></div></span><p></p><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><br /></h3><div><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: rgb(252, 252, 252); color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">From
That Rogue Tourist </span></b></div><div><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: rgb(252, 252, 252); color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Paolo </span></b></div><div><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">[1] <i>Herculaneum-skeletons</i>,
https://moatmtv.weebly.com/herculaneum-skeletons.html<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] <i>Phlegraean_Fields</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Phlegraean_Fields<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <i>Vesuvius's Big Daddy: The Supervolcano that Threatens
all Life in Europe,</i> https://www.dailymail.co.uk/home/moslive/article-1342820/Vesuviuss-big-daddy-supervolcano-Campi-Flegrei-near-Naples-threatens-Europe.html<o:p></o:p></p></div><div><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: rgb(252, 252, 252); color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: rgb(252, 252, 252); color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: rgb(252, 252, 252); color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="color: #0070c0; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 0pt; mso-ligatures: none;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-26747620579598103072023-05-31T21:59:00.022-04:002023-06-11T06:52:07.279-04:00Nature's Color Pallett<p> </p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-no-proof: yes;">Nature’s Color Pallett</span></b><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">After</span>
eighteen days at sea</b>, we came to a terra firma </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xJDWOAQM21od1srcpCZKLm__O4QH9lF94kZ8kP1e4ChOJEKEHWzpIlUgloGvj1ixfXsahwiXVn71Qm-XShykjMg1BZTVwjcEN5Iq-49xylginAytWP6mfCJcneRrjpg8TTmQOOyxaLI34Q7m-AHh7Xg9_HzxyFCr_x3Tw0kHkB0IrV0KDnfLHDS-/s3879/1%20OZ.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3879" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2xJDWOAQM21od1srcpCZKLm__O4QH9lF94kZ8kP1e4ChOJEKEHWzpIlUgloGvj1ixfXsahwiXVn71Qm-XShykjMg1BZTVwjcEN5Iq-49xylginAytWP6mfCJcneRrjpg8TTmQOOyxaLI34Q7m-AHh7Xg9_HzxyFCr_x3Tw0kHkB0IrV0KDnfLHDS-/s320/1%20OZ.jpg" width="249" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Restroom of 'The Burger Rm' with<br />Wizard of Oz Movie in <br />Continuous Playback</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">full-stop in Amsterdam.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Of all our cruise destinations, we accorded
Amsterdam the highest marks.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Whether it
be The Burger Room with its Wizard of Oz theme, including the actual movie
playing in the unisex restroom, the Van Goth and Rijksmuseum, or the suggestive
Red Light District, it proved enchanting.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">It was Transavia Airlines, a wholly owned subsidiary of KLM, which threw
us a last-minute curve. </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Citing a “lack
of equipment” (whether that meant aircraft or crew, I’m not sure), an email
announced the cancellation of our flight to Naples from Amsterdam.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Plan B turned out to be EasyJet, but </span><span>not
without the added cost of a last-minute reservation.</span><span> </span><span>So go the quirks of travel along with a 5 AM airport
show time.</span><p></p><o:p></o:p><p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It felt
like home</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> as we walked across the tarmac following our arrival
at Capodichino Airport, Naples, later that morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe the feeling was due to familiarity with
our surroundings, hearing the melody of Italian being spoken, seeing roofs clad
with red clay tiles, and Vesuvius on the eastern horizon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever its basis, it was good to be back.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has become clear to me why Italy is
so special.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No secret: it has been in
the making for countless </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgad4DbNRhLwg-jxN2VIryjN4-E_xhnKHWjQFCuPMG5ZlrAIsx4kLhEqY6vfjqvxF7cNwc5ryKsBAuqPP-teR_g3lY2I3rH4cemrMCHFu8HWv264mogmvQK9NzqjCz2tLkGuJVH7h2bOBDsoPNVjsUCa97dxBkBzX4iOlgoW-Ihym-ohR7p-JJBSrx_/s4032/2%20Goth.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgad4DbNRhLwg-jxN2VIryjN4-E_xhnKHWjQFCuPMG5ZlrAIsx4kLhEqY6vfjqvxF7cNwc5ryKsBAuqPP-teR_g3lY2I3rH4cemrMCHFu8HWv264mogmvQK9NzqjCz2tLkGuJVH7h2bOBDsoPNVjsUCa97dxBkBzX4iOlgoW-Ihym-ohR7p-JJBSrx_/w176-h234/2%20Goth.jpg" width="176" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Van Goth Museum</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The
sweep of history</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> has allowed this lengthy peninsula to mature into what
we enjoy today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its many ‘residents’
during this time — Etruscans, Greeks, Romans — on to a myriad of occupiers, has
sculpted something unique in the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Before
each has let go, each has deposited a trace of itself, adding to this rich
mosaic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We call the US a “melting pot.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Italy, it is more characteristic of a
blast furnace where an amalgam of cultures, art, food, and architecture, to
mention only a few, has created something unique in the world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From the northern Dolomite peaks and lakes to
the fertile valleys of Tuscany, southward to the clear waters of Puglia,
through the grape orchards of Campania, across the Strait of Messina to Sicily,
the variety is encyclopedic. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So much so
that practically everyone wants to visit Italy, and many want to stay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its very mention evokes shiny-eyed imaginings
and a craving to be there. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Attribute it
to empire, a crossroad of east and west, its prominent position — a boot
jutting into the sea rewarding it with a beautiful climate and that renowned Mediterranean
diet — the result captures the attention of the world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Undoubtedly,
we are smitten with the place</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> and, as a result, absolutely biased about Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, we live in Italy a portion of the
year and marinate in its bounty, hospitality, and history.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not too bad a sentence for ‘lifers’ like us, is
it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People often ask why, but it comes
mixed with a touch of how.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have seen
it in hundreds of musing faces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet as temporary stewards, ours
is a temporary sentence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The stone
lintel over our entry door has the inscription, “L.S 1875”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wonder who L.S. was and hesitate to ask who
will follow us.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Countless
artists</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, with the stroke of a brush or the tap of a hammer on
chisel, have by their work documented the evolution of Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their physical statements not only capture a
revolution in art but capture life as it evolved through the centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Crooner Tony Bennett in the lyrics to his
standard, “<i>I Left My Heart in San Francisco</i>,” put it this way: "<i>The
glory that was Rome is of another day.</i>"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The audacious grandeur of ancient Rome may be
gone, but there </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg9WRweFa3hI6je5r9Z6LARRwHAm1y6zGwc1ELhX6HHHr8rGA146YOiQ1g1p2jJVgACxley5mk3UjypRuSLtlValqmVhEaD2SdCv-JBWYDJGYtv8YSwXDcMEChyWyy7tYjwIqUOumgj0qKgif2q2IMqcAINU5iFkWJf0m374mbOuaHq04ZWPUyhRhp/s900/3%20roman-woman-statue.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg9WRweFa3hI6je5r9Z6LARRwHAm1y6zGwc1ELhX6HHHr8rGA146YOiQ1g1p2jJVgACxley5mk3UjypRuSLtlValqmVhEaD2SdCv-JBWYDJGYtv8YSwXDcMEChyWyy7tYjwIqUOumgj0qKgif2q2IMqcAINU5iFkWJf0m374mbOuaHq04ZWPUyhRhp/s320/3%20roman-woman-statue.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Welcome to Naples Roman<br />Patrician Woman Status</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">is beauty even in the remains time has afforded us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether in a statue absent an arm or head, the
ruins of something as utilitarian as a bathhouse, the formidable Pantheon and
Colosseum, or a grand mosaic opus absent some of its closely set tesserae
pieces, millions of visitors continue to marvel in awe. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Walking
into the Naples terminal</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that morning, like an artist’s fresh brush strokes on
new canvas, visual projections and graphic depictions along the entry corridor welcomed
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This ‘beauty of another day’ masterfully
hinted at what had been and what lay ahead for the visitor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon afterward, as we left the airport,
driving east across the Apennine mountains ever deeper into the Italian
peninsula, Vesuvius close by at our shoulder, I was struck by another Italian national
treasure, its landscape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While sculpted
by man over time, it remains intact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
this case, we were not in the flowing Tuscan countryside of the Val d’Orcia, or
farther north, that of the Po Valley.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
was the Italian <i>Mezzogiorno</i> (The South). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><a name="_Hlk136665365"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Here, ever ascending rugged mountain switchbacks exploit
every narrow ravine and crease that might allow passage. </span></a></span>Some Hershey candy kiss shaped
mountains sit so close to each other that only narrow fissures exist between
these pointy tops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Farther south in neighboring
Calabria, where nature had made travel practically impossible, men have burrowed
tunnels through peaks and sculpted bridges connecting them impossible only centuries earlier.</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhcdQwnbfP5QwypQFXrrdjgTFZNQo1w1CUTF7-faHmX0YHUE9GZ9y1AXPXmWJZ6lc8rNL0XdLOqQTurKAVuLKW7jSwB4Z-lVLlzsEJN2__8cNVC3zhAVjzfdgoc6JNucjouwKVXI-hSFBG8yYrcPC7pkK7QTw8YsAVKPjNURzvziN6zwYKJaOXC9u6/s275/4%20calabria.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhcdQwnbfP5QwypQFXrrdjgTFZNQo1w1CUTF7-faHmX0YHUE9GZ9y1AXPXmWJZ6lc8rNL0XdLOqQTurKAVuLKW7jSwB4Z-lVLlzsEJN2__8cNVC3zhAVjzfdgoc6JNucjouwKVXI-hSFBG8yYrcPC7pkK7QTw8YsAVKPjNURzvziN6zwYKJaOXC9u6/s1600/4%20calabria.jpeg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Phenomenal Tunnel & Bridge <br />Consrtructionin Calabria</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The tunnels along
Highway E-45 are so long that Margaret, our GPS, loses her signal before we can
exit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The engineering marvels of joists
and support girders which connect the tunnels, tower high above steep, narrow ravines.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I drive too fast, but the distances
tunnel-to-tunnel appear insufficient to allow time for Margaret to reacquire
the navigation signal before you enter the next warren of tunnels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The signal loss, however, is hardly noticed
because we are enthralled as we approach each exit, anticipating the next
panorama, however brief, off toward the Med from our elevated perch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> Far off</span> below us, along the shoreline, we’d
catch glimpses of small villages and narrow, secluded beaches, each undoubtedly
with its own story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How to get there remains
a story unto itself. </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Leaving
the Neapolitan coastal plain</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> and the impediments of the Apennines now in our
rearview mirror, we were soon deep into the pastoral fields of Campania.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While man has helpfully tinkered to make
Calabria accessible to the world, back on SS-7, especially that portion of the
road from Avellino to Lioni, nature, not man, has gouged two delightful valleys
that serve as steppingstones to Calitri.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Both are relatively small, or better put, tiny, by Tuscan standards. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rounding a turn, they appear as </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-dDdEj4vMBVjPR-byILYdwFso8dLors2bkWAwhdFSV3BNrF8NHRDw50Kzzb7e2qqLM33Wp8JrQkgkTdNuPO0BidgvC5usVeSERYi3Jog6LKdM4jLiyWTPccd5swdBmXYMDCenEpXJk_KtUIiBvgSaAmdwI-VZv2CojFa-sjmd-N1EkaNI1q_wPpg/s800/5%20La-piana-del-dragone.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji-dDdEj4vMBVjPR-byILYdwFso8dLors2bkWAwhdFSV3BNrF8NHRDw50Kzzb7e2qqLM33Wp8JrQkgkTdNuPO0BidgvC5usVeSERYi3Jog6LKdM4jLiyWTPccd5swdBmXYMDCenEpXJk_KtUIiBvgSaAmdwI-VZv2CojFa-sjmd-N1EkaNI1q_wPpg/s320/5%20La-piana-del-dragone.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>SS-7 Valley Scene on Way to Calitri</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">diminutive bowls
bordered by a rise in the terrain.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">Looking
down into them, a web of roads blotting the landscape connects ranches with
grazing animals, farms hemmed with hay fields, and picturesque homes under
shading trees. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">These vistas offered a startling
spectral shift from the white snow we’d left behind to the verdant colors before
us throughout this Italian countryside. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">The
empty vastness of the Atlantic had opened our eyes to the breadth of nature’s template.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> Here, u</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">nlike at sea, the vista of an ever-shifting
otherworld of green rose to draw a different horizon.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">Passing clouds served as filters.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">In kaleidoscope fashion, they altered the
light to gradually shift the greens of the scenes from emerald to soothing olive,
lime, and fern, onto the coolness of moss and sage.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">These greens, carved from this countryside, tell of its strength. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">Early on some
mornings, you can ‘breathe cloud’ as you skirt the</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9-sMBHa2zXkTEDuhRjDglidQjzuAopFWStgF15cJRYD3v4Ul3WKIagITZs8HsLCMgmJOA71zlJhmKrnFokCMGmjDrEHTRkzJK1WsbQTwhfwwsSIGn_TCETbl7g2SMnHhig2rSWhoQmKQ-AqPdWvG5w0EDMm1Q0AflPCUXtMUCocqRv8xmbrWhslh/s1480/6%20Volturara-Irpina%20Castle.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="840" data-original-width="1480" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie9-sMBHa2zXkTEDuhRjDglidQjzuAopFWStgF15cJRYD3v4Ul3WKIagITZs8HsLCMgmJOA71zlJhmKrnFokCMGmjDrEHTRkzJK1WsbQTwhfwwsSIGn_TCETbl7g2SMnHhig2rSWhoQmKQ-AqPdWvG5w0EDMm1Q0AflPCUXtMUCocqRv8xmbrWhslh/w400-h228/6%20Volturara-Irpina%20Castle.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Norman Volturaria Castle Oversees the Valley<br />(</span>Photo courtesy of Salvatore Cassese<span style="font-size: medium;">)</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />valley walls and pass above
and below low-lying morning puffs of vapor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Viewed from above, you experience the illusion that you are skimming
across an enormous inland sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"><b>In
the corner of a valley basin</b> hemmed by a pyramid-shaped mountain is the town of
Volturaria.</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">The hamlet was first
recorded in 976 AD. Its name was apparently derived
from the original Etruscan base vel (high ground), but also from </span><i style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">Utur</i><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">,
which in Oscan-Samnite means "stagnant water."</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;"> </span> </span>During the Swabian-Norman domination (999 to
1139), known as The Kingdom In The Sun, a medieval Norman Castle was built atop
this peak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later, during the Aragon
dynasty, the Castle was transformed
into a noble residence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thereafter, the
Castle was the property of several lords.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Among them was Guglielmo de Tivilla, who sent troops to the Holy </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VDRJAXGe7TDJ_BQ0tdt_M-tYsWKGNNQ_f9ELifh0RYf-8lAkqXohuqBMKUOVPwlQ5NMFuFrEvrO4Y4w0XKLbVkANdKFsfsAhxMCjibsi5S6uLPdrZcyiq49TTMq2UWoEmKuwtZnVbHi9UEpzAKSpUUe2lilmQMFTilP_JEl02T6uZPrOvDByzahO/s548/7%20Volturara.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="318" data-original-width="548" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9VDRJAXGe7TDJ_BQ0tdt_M-tYsWKGNNQ_f9ELifh0RYf-8lAkqXohuqBMKUOVPwlQ5NMFuFrEvrO4Y4w0XKLbVkANdKFsfsAhxMCjibsi5S6uLPdrZcyiq49TTMq2UWoEmKuwtZnVbHi9UEpzAKSpUUe2lilmQMFTilP_JEl02T6uZPrOvDByzahO/s320/7%20Volturara.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Dragon Now Long Gone, This is the<br /><i>Piana del Dragone </i></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Land
during the Crusades.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 1303, ownership
passed to Nicola della Marra. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It remained
in the ownership of the della Marra family until the 16th century. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today the Castle has four quadrangular towers
no more than forty feet high, along with a wide courtyard.<sup><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Volturara_Irpina#cite_note-4"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[4]</span></a></sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is a land of myths and legends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Evidence of this rests in the valley’s name. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today it is known not as Marra Valley but as <i>Piana
del Dragone</i> (the Dragon Plane).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
name derives from an urban legend that a prince named Gesio managed to kill a
three-headed dragon with his sword.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once
it lost the duel, the monster sank into the bowels of the earth, creating three
holes dug by its three heads, giving rise to the natural sinkhole called
Dragon’s Mouth still visible today.<sup>[1] </sup></span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Shooting
along the highway</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that rounds this creator-like valley, we soon crested its
ridgeline to find ourselves negotiating a few tunnels in a descending
rollercoaster ride into the next panoramic vista.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much larger than Dragon valley, this valley
offers a much more striking approach.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
especially enjoyed it because I wasn’t driving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We
entered the valley</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> by Cassano Irpino, a town characterized by the steep,
narrow ridgeline it rests on to the side of SS-7 and exits on a section of</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2SnacT4f53S8aaAcSwnYJfKpvdUoKXiGkrTSD7oOWp0E8eLdFRzAeenZDebQydl4w0_f2U0MAUpzVmHmTeytj2O436EZ_lJG95qg7dvw5o_rTmIfqd5qLLo_7wSB0PxqOxw24JI-lxuAyOVRirtL_tgI4f_zSU4uYHShN4Jh_9WBJsalu_rm_B7x/s1188/8%20chestnuts.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="959" data-original-width="1188" height="258" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEga2SnacT4f53S8aaAcSwnYJfKpvdUoKXiGkrTSD7oOWp0E8eLdFRzAeenZDebQydl4w0_f2U0MAUpzVmHmTeytj2O436EZ_lJG95qg7dvw5o_rTmIfqd5qLLo_7wSB0PxqOxw24JI-lxuAyOVRirtL_tgI4f_zSU4uYHShN4Jh_9WBJsalu_rm_B7x/s320/8%20chestnuts.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Castagne Harvest </span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">the
highway elevated on concrete stilts to the side of the Piccolo Ranch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Off to the right is Montella, a town founded
by the Samnites in the first millennium B.C. to later become a municipality of
the Roman Empire.<sup>[2] </sup>Coming in along this downhill serpentine path,
for the first time I noted chestnuts in their spiny husks lying along the
roadside. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Castagne (chestnuts) have made
Montella famous. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here chestnut trees
cover the mountainsides.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A chestnut
cooperative of local producers traditionally contributes about 60% of the
chestnuts harvested throughout the Irpinian region.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The terrain, altitude, and volcanic soil are
ideal for the predominant chestnut strain grown here, the <i>palommina</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are so valued that these chestnuts have
an official DOC seal of approval that in 1996 was elevated to premier IGP status
as <i>'Castagna di Montella</i>.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
designation made them the <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5npy-GWvUJ6eQQkTRqGVNEzm4M18OKnlNuRPgC8yFaeJ5LY7pex3R6uZev8KS7f-Mw0P8Kv-qyCXW2R1elWcRaJVrhBqCq1ZmNX-4kuXw7tD8SVJPYuWUGXWvEVPkYIVXfe6o2RCtuFdnTjm_2BAoxiqrdHW6pEIHjH4d7dm6YFYGwkUb_MzH_QDb/s900/9%20chestnut.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="900" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5npy-GWvUJ6eQQkTRqGVNEzm4M18OKnlNuRPgC8yFaeJ5LY7pex3R6uZev8KS7f-Mw0P8Kv-qyCXW2R1elWcRaJVrhBqCq1ZmNX-4kuXw7tD8SVJPYuWUGXWvEVPkYIVXfe6o2RCtuFdnTjm_2BAoxiqrdHW6pEIHjH4d7dm6YFYGwkUb_MzH_QDb/s320/9%20chestnut.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Montella's Prized Palommina Chestnuts</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>first vegetable (as opposed to cheese, meat, etc.) to
receive such recognition in Italy.<sup>[3]<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></sup><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Speckled
here and there</b> are structures, colored shades of Amalfi lemon and crab
apple, topped with terracotta roof tiles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Some are so old that where they manage to peek through the forest
canopy, they are but shells of their former selves, bleached white now and
absent their former rooftops.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is
one abandoned stone homestead I especially like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It lies across the guardrail of SS-7, sharing
a field with a few cows.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the years,
it has aged along with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It still has
its for sale sign (<i>vendesi</i>) but parts of the roof have since collapsed. It has also developed a diagonal crack running from top to bottom across
its front, that most certainly would discourage any passing potential buyer.</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0V5Doiw8rtpHiRdr0U7Nt1uWaT-uxkLz8icMwCTxkCCjYQPqmdtvrIVL2m8SBTwNM2bcOdjfltZnQi7mgiAn7uaJv9aYEMwB_Rj2amGxTTAfCHGUEOSapz4bKdrWFBR_6nuAyUVAdLI-FHQ8dEfCwWYjMTvupH6r7IRbnnKTOd761jRTDsiPmf7J8/s1409/IMG-3426.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="878" data-original-width="1409" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0V5Doiw8rtpHiRdr0U7Nt1uWaT-uxkLz8icMwCTxkCCjYQPqmdtvrIVL2m8SBTwNM2bcOdjfltZnQi7mgiAn7uaJv9aYEMwB_Rj2amGxTTAfCHGUEOSapz4bKdrWFBR_6nuAyUVAdLI-FHQ8dEfCwWYjMTvupH6r7IRbnnKTOd761jRTDsiPmf7J8/s320/IMG-3426.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Still for Sale - A Handyman's Special</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><b style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We’d
visited Montella</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> years earlier and have since returned especially for
the niche dining establishments in the area which in addition to comforting
regional cuisine, offer lovely views from their mountainside perches. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By car, we zig-zag climbed to the Santuario <i>del
Santissimo</i> <i>Salvatore</i> (Sanctuary of the Most Holy Savior), which
dominates the entire valley below from high atop a cone-shaped mountain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we zoomed through the valley that day, we
could see it white against the green of its chestnut-brown forest background. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its development can be traced to 1779, though
records Still for Sale testify to the presence of a chapel there as early as <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: red; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">1500.</span><sup><span style="font-size: 12pt;">[5]</span><span style="font-size: 16px;"> </span></sup></span></span></span>1779 marked a six-month drought that
devastated almost all of Europe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Montella was at death’s doorstep and in fear of a</span><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0oLgZr-uj6mqHPVfZoOWboxdICLXzB0jACF8AO0VQtKdPee6IKS2j1o_xWR5xwkYJgLs_qIgV0JurukxayruY2gS-A6o-4nH_WbRUFiA4wRioGP1FML8SIG-KvSQuDCzt4T52gt46NaXzUDwJTbCM3j4hL48PjU5C2QQ92A7retrVGWedS0i0SKr/s306/10%20Santuario.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="306" data-original-width="243" height="306" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif0oLgZr-uj6mqHPVfZoOWboxdICLXzB0jACF8AO0VQtKdPee6IKS2j1o_xWR5xwkYJgLs_qIgV0JurukxayruY2gS-A6o-4nH_WbRUFiA4wRioGP1FML8SIG-KvSQuDCzt4T52gt46NaXzUDwJTbCM3j4hL48PjU5C2QQ92A7retrVGWedS0i0SKr/s1600/10%20Santuario.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Sanctuary of the Most Holy<br />Savior Overlooks Montella</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">possible famine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Prayers to San Rocco, patron saint of
Montella, were made and a pilgrimage to the top of the mountain and the sanctuary
dedicated to the Savior was organized. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>About
three hundred Montellesi went to the mountain to widen the path for a
procession to follow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The workers drew a
modest quantity of water from the well by the chapel sufficient to quench their
thirst.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To everyone’s surprise, the amount
of water miraculously grew.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like the biblical miracle of the Bread and
Fishes, the event was interpreted to be a miracle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the days that followed, heavy rains put an
end to their long period of drought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From
then on, this sanctuary, steeped in sacred silence situated high atop its
mountain perch and evidently proving a savior to the people of Montella, has
undergone many changes and improvements to become what we discovered during our visit. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I recall
getting there the first time</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d driven
through private acres along forest gravel roads guarded by gates and wire
fences.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The road was terraced as it led
us, ridge to ridge, rising to one side and perilously dropping off on the other. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">I imagined how this terrain made harvesting no easy task.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;">The day we passes, there were p</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">lenty of prickly, tennis ball size chestnuts on the road, under the trees, everywhere. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">I recall opening and
closing those gates to get through these closely watched areas as we made our
way ever higher.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Stealing chestnuts was
as common as vineyards being raided by wild boars.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Instead of electric fences, owners kept close
watch, especially approaching the harvest.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">The results of the harvest are put to good use.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Various </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">castagne</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> products are produced
including fresh and dried chestnuts, whether shelled or not, </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">farina di
castagne</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> (chestnut flour), and </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">confettura di castagne</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> (chestnut jam).</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">An ideal time to visit is in Mid-October during the chestnut harvest, and in November during the Chestnut Festival.</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq25JWoNTPJa2zI_rBqzg9HQTExpsUt1xsQGHRvP4D2P1vrSJuOYL3X2DKVqmklW839PG0j0ejvrkN_zmp5O3d8q0Cyx0Ti_fEqOp0ClHDBacm0OwuPa8aFiyrCBJGjtmmmI_IELEVV1UCdOhFnVBnHMVGoWd880wlSLTp6Uxknu5VwhguHJpplxUZ/s1080/11%20witch%20motif.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="640" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq25JWoNTPJa2zI_rBqzg9HQTExpsUt1xsQGHRvP4D2P1vrSJuOYL3X2DKVqmklW839PG0j0ejvrkN_zmp5O3d8q0Cyx0Ti_fEqOp0ClHDBacm0OwuPa8aFiyrCBJGjtmmmI_IELEVV1UCdOhFnVBnHMVGoWd880wlSLTp6Uxknu5VwhguHJpplxUZ/w228-h396/11%20witch%20motif.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Legend of Witches on <br />the Straga Label</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">From
antiquity</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, the city of Benevento, not far to the northwest of
Montella, was believed to be the seat of witches’ rites even before the arrival
of the Romans. The <i>strega</i> (witch) from the Latin <i>strix</i> (screech-owl),
a bird of ill omen, is often used in Italian to refer to pagan magic users or witches.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Legend has them in this area of Irpina
as well. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can imagine them on holiday, gathered
together in the valley’s forests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As
presented today on the Strega Liqueur label, folklore has them depicted at
night holding hands, dancing and chanting in a raucous around a venerated magical
tree overseen by an owl settled on the letter ‘L’ of Liqueur, with brooms
mustered nearby on the ground.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Appropriately, Benevento’s maker of this liquor co-oped this idea and, as
the legend put it, created a magic potion that, when ingested, forever unites those
who drink it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Following its aging in ash
barrels, Strega has a unique and unmistakable taste thanks to the exclusive use
of natural ingredients which include about 70 herbs and spices, including notes
of saffron which accounts for is color.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Witches
aside</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, near Montella is the Convent of Saint Francis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>According to tradition, it was founded by
Saint Francis of Assisi in AD 1221-1222 when he was turned away from the town
due to the townspeople’s fears of strangers introducing leprosy to the town.<sup>[2]</sup>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without shelter, the saint and his
fellow travelers slept under a tree and were miraculously protected from the
snow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After this event, they founded the
friary, where it remains to this day. Whether large or small, these two valleys add to our perception
of the world and to the grandeur of its diverse scale. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I could
appreciate the scenery</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> because, I as i mentioned, I wasn’t driving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joe, also known as ‘American Joe’ and a good friend
from nearby Pescopagano, had picked us up in Naples.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Joe
drove us first to his home. After a long
spell of winter up in mountaintop ‘Pesco,’ and as he would jokingly describe as
an upcoming brief encounter of a single day in July they'd call summer, I
think they were looking forward to our visit. </span></span>His wife Annamaria had prepared a much
appreciated lunch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a wonderful
offer since our home, shut for the winter with thick walls acting like a
thermos bottle, unlike our empty refrigerator, would be cold inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the Italians are wont to say, we needed to
change the air.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along with plenty of
wine, cheese, and fried peppers, her covered pot revealed a hearty, comforting
stew called <i>Spezzatino di Patate e Carne</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;">For dessert, she had prepared a baked
<i>crostata alla pesca</i> tart that along with some Montenegro Amaro topped
off our </span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">surprise </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in; text-underline: none;">arrival luncheon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">It
was difficult to leave.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">In fact, every
time we visit Joe and Annamaria, it is hard to leave.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Theirs is an example of what I believe makes
Italians stand out from the majority — their hard-wired, unabated sense of
hospitality.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Earlier,
I mentioned</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> how Italy evokes shiny-eyed imaginings in the
uninitiated and a craving to be there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
big part of this phenomenon are Italians like Annamaria and American Joe. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They foster that mind’s eye image we dream of
experiencing of a friendly and generous reception and the entertaining largess they
provide guests, visitors, and even outright strangers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’ve been willing witnesses to this
hospitality. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are some quirks I
have noticed, however.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I’m
respectfully amazed</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, likely because of an inborn American penchant for uninterrupted
progress, whenever I must come to a complete halt in a variety of circumstances
in Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It might be when I chance upon
Italians standing in a doorway chatting, blocking entry, or when an attendant
continues chit-chatting with an associate while a customer, myself for
instance, waits for service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m not
convinced, but I suspect they are utterly oblivious to what is happening around
them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Case in point: We have a new
rotary in the town center with two obstacles, called ‘round abouts’, to
navigate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, for added
entertainment, they are side by side.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
reminds me of a pinball machine where the ball, me, would bounce from one post to
the other as a bell rang, adding up points.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We’d just arrived, and unfamiliar with this particular pattern, I went
between them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I got no points, and I’m
sure some observer who may have seen my maneuver said, “The <i>Americano</i> is
back.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve since figured it out and have
run this gauntlet many times since.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Immediately
following this confusing web of turns is a sharp right turn onto the two-lane
main road through the heart of Calitri. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pretty
impressed with myself for having navigated the maze, I had to come to an abrupt
halt. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t continue. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A car had stopped right at the turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The driver’s window was down, a gentleman in
the center of the road was leaning in, and a conversation was underway. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I couldn’t go around this obstacle because approaching
cars in the opposite lane made that escape route impossible, especially since
the bent over pedestrian’s posterior, extending into their lane, made further passage impossible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could only imagine how long this would have
lasted in the States.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since using a horn
is impolite in Italy and indicative of displeasure, if not ill manners, you
must wait out whatever is being communicated. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is clear. There is so much I still need to
learn about Italian behavior and my behavior in response, patience being chief
among them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A taxi driver in Amsterdam,
himself embroiled in traffic, had made this same point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Irritation is to be avoided; blessed are the
patient. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the old saying goes, “Good
things come to those who wait.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think the
lack of agita is one of them.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> These
steppingstone valleys</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that I count as I range to and from Calitri typify a rural
world immersed in a broad range of heritage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I see this time-refined culture expressed in the care they take with
nature and its bounty that I so admire when offered glimpses of the scenic color pallet that surrounds me.</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvkUhRnWMtfFX0jwC5pa3oTnty_8-NCvpqj80cAn3TBtJcTj3l3hhw3xkhVNpvs5rc9bHMlBwT3RklbPv4UeIE_u8Vf4i4SfP5TbHfHCmkXTw5y0aC2ioTe0_PkTR4wpa2eRiA-RGWxM5HkQEZDpJ_0ftOtCdV3ZTLllge4u0hpkQSwkKWqvp7Ofj/s1280/IMG_3372.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="1280" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcvkUhRnWMtfFX0jwC5pa3oTnty_8-NCvpqj80cAn3TBtJcTj3l3hhw3xkhVNpvs5rc9bHMlBwT3RklbPv4UeIE_u8Vf4i4SfP5TbHfHCmkXTw5y0aC2ioTe0_PkTR4wpa2eRiA-RGWxM5HkQEZDpJ_0ftOtCdV3ZTLllge4u0hpkQSwkKWqvp7Ofj/w333-h256/IMG_3372.jpg" width="333" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Calitri Poppy Field</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">The
millenniums have also allowed this region to inherit a dominant religious
fervor tinged with superstition and spirited magic.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">I’m also mindful of the respect and care they
take with each other — greeting total strangers like us when entering or
leaving a restaurant or simply passing on the street remains amazing to us. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">I called it hospitality earlier, but caring
concern is a better description of the primal nature of these Italians.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Unfortunately</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, there is nowhere to stop along SS-7 to take in these vistas safely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In our indomitable haste to get somewhere, we
only catch glimpses of the true nature of things which, as in this case, defy accurate
description even in pictures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is a
message here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe that is why the impromptu
conversations that seem so inappropriate, especially in the middle of the street,
are so vital to life here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The road of
life is like that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In my haste, I can easily
miss the messaging.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">From
That Rogue Tourist<br /></span><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Paolo</span></b></div>
<br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[1] <i>Volturara Irpina</i>, https://sistemairpinia.provincia.avellino.it/en/comuni/volturara-irpina<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal">[2] <i>Montella</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Montella<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: -13.5pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 10pt -13.5pt; text-indent: -0.25in;">[3] <i>Chestnuts-of-Montella</i>, https://www.deliciousitaly.com/campania-naples-food/chestnuts-of-montella<o:p></o:p></p><p>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">[4] <i>Norman Castle
in Volturara Irpina</i>, http://www.castellidirpinia.com/volturara_en.html</span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">[5] Santuario del Santissimo Salvatore, https://sistemairpinia.provincia.avellino.it/en/places/santuario-del-ss-salvatore<o:p></o:p></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></p><p><br /></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-1568998316250300352023-04-30T09:53:00.018-04:002023-05-06T04:37:21.805-04:00A Land Animal at Sea<h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> <span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><b>A Land Animal at Sea</b></span></span></h3><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We are on an extended excursion</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. Over its course, if all goes to plan, it will
involve trains, planes, automobiles, buses, and at least two stints on boats of
various sizes. Our much-delayed winter
vacation, like a good cheese has aged into a <i>primavera</i> (springtime) return
to Italy. We had been on hold <span style="color: black;">—</span> schedules had slipped, prices
were not optimal, time was needed for tulips in Holland to bloom, COVID’s season
of infection had to abate further, and finally, we waited for schools to release
their charges for the summer. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> It came
together</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> rather oddly for us to get from the States to Italy. We booked a one-way cruise offered by the
Holland America Line called a Repositioning Cruise. It afforded us a relaxing means to travel
from one continent to another in luxury versus </span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtffNuQBB8708zaUIMU92KtEpFYSYf97MY3FJ7VNxLW02Upcwt6f7qnyjMDL8LACEhQm_lkuG03hrKW9tNQxAwaDC507SCeypxEx0coW7f7Io2Nlz5vMfwCYGV29lQSdqvMq-98RywCbG-RD26eWuppNFZnHqHGiAtltOojk-MYZQu2hbrNZ3qm_y/s1024/1%20Historical_Poster.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="663" height="408" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWtffNuQBB8708zaUIMU92KtEpFYSYf97MY3FJ7VNxLW02Upcwt6f7qnyjMDL8LACEhQm_lkuG03hrKW9tNQxAwaDC507SCeypxEx0coW7f7Io2Nlz5vMfwCYGV29lQSdqvMq-98RywCbG-RD26eWuppNFZnHqHGiAtltOojk-MYZQu2hbrNZ3qm_y/w259-h408/1%20Historical_Poster.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>An Early Rotterdam Ad <br /></b><b>Amsterdam </b><b>to New York. <br /></b><b>Yes, it is Dutch.</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">the cramped seating standard in airliners.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">In late fall, repositioning cruises sail from
Europe to the US to ply the waters of southern climes with American snowbirds.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">In the spring, after island hopping in the
Caribbean all winter, like swallows returning from Argentina to San Juan
Capistrano, European cruise ships ‘reposition’ to their customary sailing
haunts.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">We discovered this form of
cruising to be a pleasurable way to slowly travel, all while indulging in true
luxury.</span></div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Our ship, Holland America’s Rotterdam VII</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, was fresh
from Venice’s construction yards. Launched
less than a year ago, she was probably
still under warranty. Embarking from Fort
Lauderdale, Florida, the ship stopped in New York, New York, a city so fabulous
they named it twice, which allowed us to board for a slow ride across the
Atlantic with all the amenities you’d expect while on a cruise. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Thrusters allowed us</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> to pull away
from the dock without the aid of tugboats.
Minutes later, we came to a stop before majestic Lady Liberty. This was something unique on the part of
Holland America. The ship then used its
thrusters to rotate completely around so all aboard might see both the city,
originally a Dutch colony named <i>Nieuw Amsterdam</i>, and this special lady,
a symbol of welcome lauded the world over.
In her raised right hand, she held the Torch of Liberty, its flame
symbolic of the eternal flame maintained by Roman Vestil Virgins over two
thousand years earlier. This Priestess
of Liberty was clothed in a simple <i>stole</i>, the long, pleated robe worn by
Vestal Virgins charged with keeping their sacred flame continually lit. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>It marked a grand beginning</b> to our eight-day
crossing. After days at sea in total isolation,
enforced by nothing but a blank horizon, we’d have the opportunity to visit
Plymouth and Dover (England), Rotterdam (Netherlands), Oslo (Norway), and Copenhagen
(Denmark), before finally docking in Amsterdam (Netherlands). From there, we’d continue south to Italy and
Calitri. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>On this, our first cross-Atlantic cruise</b>, we
were confident that our captain would find it hard to miss Europe. Not being of naval heritage myself and absent
a navy background, I had a hard time with simple basics like distinguishing a
ship from a boat. That was until another
captain on an earlier cruise corrected me when I referred to his ‘ship’ as a
‘boat’ in conversation — “<i>You see son</i> [I was younger then], <i>ships ply the seas
and carry boats while boats are river craft</i>.”
I bowed in obeisance and quietly withdrew backward from his presence. Being more of a land animal, I went off to
ponder ever more challenging nautical issues such as port, starboard, and
knots. He’d made a point. After all, I’d seen those small, orange-topped
life<i>boats</i> dangling like ornaments on either side of his <i>ship</i>. I remained confused, however, for don’t
submariners refer to their craft as a boat?
I’d seen enough WWII submarine movies to know that. Then again, it may all have to do with their
length, not the body of water they occupy.
But I wasn’t going to quibble, for I might soon find myself in the brig,
if I have the term correct. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>From time immemorial</b>, transatlantic travel had
been by sea. That ended with the “<i>Jet
Age</i>,” epitomized by the Boeing 707 jetliner. Like the tap of a technological wand, transatlantic
travel </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajRFpRiUP-EHJfoeDjqgZsEuZsO3h1cMZ3E_xy3H2l4DofQ6lgIqLPEwWB5D_C1LbeWs1KEh0hUr1rquIzmhbleznW0Ep0dcGWJHwALMMY84G5Fy7pFhFVKJLm89M0yG1cYYxFF4GCCXaHDYFrOUTqjX7jGjWDQf48U5bp8mGdWdqAtTxELGHGpHf/s714/3%20Ceremony.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="714" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhajRFpRiUP-EHJfoeDjqgZsEuZsO3h1cMZ3E_xy3H2l4DofQ6lgIqLPEwWB5D_C1LbeWs1KEh0hUr1rquIzmhbleznW0Ep0dcGWJHwALMMY84G5Fy7pFhFVKJLm89M0yG1cYYxFF4GCCXaHDYFrOUTqjX7jGjWDQf48U5bp8mGdWdqAtTxELGHGpHf/s320/3%20Ceremony.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Seventh Incarnation <br /></b><b>of the Rotterdam</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">transformed from days to mere hours. As a result of this innovation, Holland
America Line, like all passenger lines, faced financial ruin even more
threatening than the troubled times of the Depression. From a high point of 61 transatlantic
crossings in 1964, the number had declined to a meager thirteen by 1969. This technical achievement served as a death
knoll warning to the industry which feared for its existence — something needed to be done immediately. </div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>In the wake of difficult decision making</b>, Holland
America Line ceased all North Atlantic passenger service in 1971. It chose to abandon transportation in favor of
what would become known as ‘vacation cruising.’
It is hardly a wonder then that Pan American Airlines’ first
transatlantic jet flight was given the iconic name "Clipper
Mayflower". This monicker was reminiscent
of the speedy ‘clipper ships’ of old, accompanied by an illusion to that historic
first passage by sea made by the intrepid Mayflower 351 years prior. There was much I didn’t know about travelling
by sea. Thankfully, without relying on
me, earlier explorers, adventurers, and outright courageous souls had been
trailblazers, but not without excessive costs. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In the distant past</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, a term like
‘cruising’ was undoubtedly an inappropriate description of the hardships of
life at sea. The word has an air of ease,
decadence, and indulgence. It extends to
the point of extravagance, evoking images of perfumed </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaVFN2cgfL346LnDVjPDF_D8COwGwddrC0NgErojLRgHTwMzaNY7YL07atkYsgdhTfeiDGhvTPYxippO26j-FkBMWY7Drpy8kBfniiUpwg77OH5MVda1QoUx9OpGd91V_IXseAf-5IO_lKjZj7RcAAwHsAgySgMzV9iZoDWT-WFi9kmD9A88V74LU/s1354/2%20cleopatra-fixed.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="734" data-original-width="1354" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVaVFN2cgfL346LnDVjPDF_D8COwGwddrC0NgErojLRgHTwMzaNY7YL07atkYsgdhTfeiDGhvTPYxippO26j-FkBMWY7Drpy8kBfniiUpwg77OH5MVda1QoUx9OpGd91V_IXseAf-5IO_lKjZj7RcAAwHsAgySgMzV9iZoDWT-WFi9kmD9A88V74LU/w346-h187/2%20cleopatra-fixed.jpg" width="346" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Cleopatra Imagined on Her Barge</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Cleopatra on her barge bathed
in the sound of flutes and the breeze from the slow-motion flutter of ostrich feather
studded fans. For much of history transatlantic
voyages were hazardous and fraught with the unexpected from piracy to
malnutrition. </div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In the distant past</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, a term like
‘cruising’ was undoubtedly an inappropriate description of the hardships of
life at sea. The word has an air of ease,
decadence, and indulgence. It extends to
the point of extravagance, evoking images of perfumed Cleopatra on her barge bathed
in the sound of flutes and the breeze from the slow-motion flutter of ostrich feather
studded fans. For much of history transatlantic
voyages were hazardous and fraught with the unexpected from piracy to
malnutrition. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">There was no chance of undernourishment</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, and you
can forget about scurvy on our crossing of the Atlantic. While 2,600 ‘cruisers’ like us were being pampered
by the 1,050 crewmembers aboard the seventh incarnation of the Rotterdam,
Rotterdam VII, with all the comforts modern society can put afloat, our cruise would
take a measly eight days without even pushing above 18 knots. If only she’d been prescient enough to known
what was coming, Cleopatra might have eaten her heart out in envy. It was a completely different story for
earlier travelers crossing these same Atlantic waters, whichever their direction. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Between 1492 and 1504</b>, during the heyday of The
Age of Exploration, that resolute Italian explorer from Genoa, Christopher
Columbus, led four transatlantic maritime expeditions. Unlike ours, if I have my grade schooling
correct, his all-expense-paid ‘anything but a luxury cruise’ was courtesy of </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRK-JbvNlOo9-y3XLKLFJhxqc4RK6LUWWOE3LRxLLXmIXAiYP0tGmDglbsLKn8597bdBShQOcMZDFTAWXUAK1kw-6xxMA7Fi93Zdp0klBdgU1vYEQ6ieefl0OQfECs8iu0JCBAp3xQZ2SoxN0e3JmJ7X_Us_LBlT2_CaKSv-5xY3lKpyy-xlQSPb1/s274/4%20routes.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="184" data-original-width="274" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisRK-JbvNlOo9-y3XLKLFJhxqc4RK6LUWWOE3LRxLLXmIXAiYP0tGmDglbsLKn8597bdBShQOcMZDFTAWXUAK1kw-6xxMA7Fi93Zdp0klBdgU1vYEQ6ieefl0OQfECs8iu0JCBAp3xQZ2SoxN0e3JmJ7X_Us_LBlT2_CaKSv-5xY3lKpyy-xlQSPb1/w322-h216/4%20routes.jpeg" width="322" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Routes of Columbus' Four Voyages</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table>the
Spanish monarchs Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile. Columbus was driven by his desire to find a
direct water route from Europe to the Far East by heading west instead of
sailing south along the West African coast and rounding the Cape of Good Hope
as Portuguese explorers did. With three
ships and a crew totaling 86-89 men, he set out to prove what Greek
philosophers, as far back as the 5th century BC in arguing that the Earth was
round, had inferred: that a person could reach Asia by sailing west from
Europe. On his first trip in 1492, Columbus arrived at what is believed to have
been San Salvador, followed by Cuba, and Hispaniola in 61 days traveling at only
4-6 knots. With time, you’d think
progress would see transit times decrease as technology facilitated increased speeds,
but this was certainly not the case for the Pilgrims, who depended on favorable
winds.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Centuries later</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, on November
11, 1620, a group of Puritans and merchants aboard the cargo ship Mayflower, following
a 2,800 nautical mile trek that began in Plymouth, England (one of our cruise
destinations), finally arrived at present-day Cape Cod, Massachusetts. After an earlier false start, they’d departed
on a historic journey lasting 66 days, seeking a new world and a new life. The 102 passengers included 51 men, 18 women,
33 children, 19 </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCliFFQtl2b44SEtb24k-DZXIuX_zB93dMwIVNZ2yEmqeAeAIBGivH2liJroiJATMSmbMZe6phaQoRSj_r-AYVny-caxwxc5EeSNqS0Spr2tGWZYRxBCRuxY66222qAf2C5S1NwP9DEY_NztDzKpINLNW6IHN4X5AgjFD1Xf2yf6apw5o5tLS3o20/s1600/5%20Mayflower.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1064" data-original-width="1600" height="229" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkCliFFQtl2b44SEtb24k-DZXIuX_zB93dMwIVNZ2yEmqeAeAIBGivH2liJroiJATMSmbMZe6phaQoRSj_r-AYVny-caxwxc5EeSNqS0Spr2tGWZYRxBCRuxY66222qAf2C5S1NwP9DEY_NztDzKpINLNW6IHN4X5AgjFD1Xf2yf6apw5o5tLS3o20/w344-h229/5%20Mayflower.jpg" width="344" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Pilgrim's Hope - The Cargo Ship Mayflower</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">families, and two dogs.
Living conditions were deplorable.
There was no internet, no water made from seawater, no afternoon tea
with petit fours, and little in the way of medical support. Each passenger occupied a space approximately
6 ft long by 3 ft wide by 5 ft high. Three
women were pregnant when the voyage began.
Elizabeth Hopkins gave birth to a baby boy during the journey and fittingly
named him Oceanus. Susanna White gave
birth following arrival while the Pilgrims were finding where to settle and
named him Peregrine, meaning traveler.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In 2023</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> we fell asleep
each night in a climate controlled stateroom to the soothing shimmy and yaw as
the ship’s stabilizers shed the sea’s forces on our hull. In contrast, the Pilgrims retired with storms
and headwinds battered them, praying they might awaken. One of those aboard the Mayflower was Richard
Warren, a merchant. He survived the
crossing, that first horrendous winter, and was present at the first
Thanksgiving in 1621 and undoubtedly many afterward. His DNA passed to seven children, and today
this single Mayflower passenger accounts for over 14 million descendants. One of those is my Maria Elena. In addition to Maria, a sampling of his more
notable progeny includes former US Presidents Ulysses S. Grant and Franklin D
Roosevelt, astronaut Alan Shepard, Ernest Hemmingway, and pop star Taylor Swift
of recent concert ticket fiasco fame.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">But their crossing took its toll.</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> The Mayflower’s passengers were not used to
the rough weather and suffered greatly from sea sickness. Additionally, much of the food set aside for
the journey had been eaten during the long delays in England. There were hardly any fresh vegetables or
meat onboard. With such a poor diet and
cramped living conditions, sicknesses such as scurvy and consumption were
common. One of the crew died on the voyage
and a servant named William Button died three days before land was sighted. Wrapped in sailcloth both were buried at sea. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In the 1880s</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, a period of massive
emigration, Holland America Line became a major carrier of immigrants from
Europe to the New World. Much like the
Pilgrims who escaped religious persecution, they fled oppression, tyranny, and war
in search of opportunity and a better life. About two million people made their way to
Rotterdam Harbor (another of our destinations) during the peak years from 1880
to 1920 to embark on voyages that often ended at Ellis Island, NY. One sailing related myth, to no avail, advised
immigrants to eat onions beginning months before departing to avoid seasickness.
Another misconception concerned ship smokestacks. More stacks implied greater speed. Reasoning that speed meant a quicker voyage, immigrants
favored ships with a greater number of stacks, just in case the onion therapy
failed. Capitalizing on this preference,
cruise lines responded by installing fake smokestacks to insure continued full
capacity. As a case in point, the
Titanic’s fourth funnel was a dummy smokestack.
Living conditions, however, had significantly improved over the austere situation
the Pilgrims experienced. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Thousands of immigrants</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> occupied
the lower “Minus 2 Deck” aboard Holland America transport ships. Even at a
seemingly scant $10 passage fee by today’s standards, transporting immigrants
was a </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5goxTVH7GPcxtShWDVA3Od0ueorxnUgEXnATZDq9iRC-5ilY6xoJXa4YKRzrNAT4eaxPBy_kFpjrsHoiVcicG_5RHwYh5tKiziEn5nDaV8S4f1tpIMqPuGUCuNxo26QaHqJKd_l0s_AATGRhOPYOiYSyHI2mGgjmCImx4FeNLebwiPjRVTyr3ZIK/s1024/6%20immigrants.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="611" data-original-width="1024" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjO5goxTVH7GPcxtShWDVA3Od0ueorxnUgEXnATZDq9iRC-5ilY6xoJXa4YKRzrNAT4eaxPBy_kFpjrsHoiVcicG_5RHwYh5tKiziEn5nDaV8S4f1tpIMqPuGUCuNxo26QaHqJKd_l0s_AATGRhOPYOiYSyHI2mGgjmCImx4FeNLebwiPjRVTyr3ZIK/w354-h211/6%20immigrants.jpg" width="354" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Transatlantic Immigrants on Deck</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">highly profitable part of the shipping business. The class got the moniker of ‘steerage’ from
the fact that these passengers were allowed spaces in the machinery areas of
the ship. A class structure definitely existed to the extent that when
survivors of the Titanic reached the safety of shore they disembarked with
first-class survivors leading the way. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I will admit</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> that a primary
activity aboard ship is eating, not shuffleboard. With so many days at sea, there was honestly little
else to do between entertainment venues, reading, lectures, walks along the
promenade deck, and writing this blog but eat.
The time required to cross the Atlantic by ship gave us, for the first
time, an appreciation of just how vast the Atlantic is. Each day, what was on the menu served as a
draw, as effective as a lamp attracts moths.
Chefs sporting billowing puffy hats did their utmost to keep our forks
occupied while specialty restaurants, for an additional cost, as Emeril Lagasse would
say, would “kick it up a notch”. I’d
swear there was a method in their eagerness to fatten, forgive me, over nourish
us. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In Italy,</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> there’s
nothing more important than coming together to celebrate the joy of great food. Aboard ship, they had created a close second.
This was undoubtedly the inspiration for
our onboard Italian restaurant, <i>The Canaletto</i>, which served as a
romantic alternative to the main dining room. There we enjoyed astounding Italian classics
like braised chicken cacciatore al forno, branzino shrimp ravioli, or saffron
risotto topped with ossobuco … and for dessert why, not cannoli alla Siciliana,
affogato, or lemon ricotta baked cheesecake along with an obligatory <i>aperitivo</i>
like Frangelico. There was certainly
time. It was <i>Buon Appetito</i> day
after day as we gradually made our way eastward, and the weight of the ship’s
stores gradually transferred to the weight of its passengers.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The
<i>Canaletto Ristorante</i></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> was named for the celebrated 18th-century Venetian
artist, Giovanni Antonio Canal, born in Venice in 1697. His father was a painter of theatrical scenery
and was called a <i>pittor di vedute</i> (painter of views). In Canaletto’s early career, he assisted his
father as a theater designer. While in
Rome in 1719-1720, Giovanni abandoned the theatre and began to draw and paint
architectural views. He would adopt the
</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjKbkp4SvQEO6_4S0-8ToygLvb-m15dXXqIl9xhwzyzxLFF8uA6AgczFmBBtyRsmagXu778GggXIMEF4RsjlHgXSyBk15e0W2jUKZh1ofMmU-0VZ4weo8azGTzp1LmuUQEQJyLGY06joJSrLmHm7K7Sss7pWobJcOdWH2o4MpszNW85NWVUe6vVEb/s1065/Caneletto.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1065" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIjKbkp4SvQEO6_4S0-8ToygLvb-m15dXXqIl9xhwzyzxLFF8uA6AgczFmBBtyRsmagXu778GggXIMEF4RsjlHgXSyBk15e0W2jUKZh1ofMmU-0VZ4weo8azGTzp1LmuUQEQJyLGY06joJSrLmHm7K7Sss7pWobJcOdWH2o4MpszNW85NWVUe6vVEb/w361-h244/Caneletto.jpg" width="361" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Bacino Scene of Venice by Canaletto</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">shorthand name “<i>Canaletto</i>,” meaning the ‘little Canal’, presumably to
distinguish his work from his father's.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>His Venice cityscapes</b> captured the daily life of
its people. “His art retains many
vestiges of his beginning as a scene painter for the theater with his
characters in and out of the light in the foreground of architectural marvels.”<sup>[2] </sup>Like the old masters, his paintings
approach photographs of familiar Venetian sights in their clarity and detail,
something I prefer over abstract depictions. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <o:p></o:p></span><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Aboard the Rotterdam</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">, there was
little to offer in terms of a view beyond the line of demarcation where sea and
sky met at a horizon that fully encircled our ship. Yet I’m sure Canaletto, in a daring impulse,
could have created a fine rendering to include an illusion of motion: waves
topped with rolling swells, tumbling frothy whitecaps, and plunging sea troughs
moving across this massive canvas we call an ocean. As our view through insulated glass was
absent sound, so would his imaginings, leaving it to us to invoke sound to this
endless vastness. Beyond the nuances of
wind, weather, and light, his creativity could have even included the seagull we
occasionally saw flying alongside our ship mid-Atlantic. This Jonathon Livingston Seagull, apparently roosting
in the superstructure, appeared to be a hitchhiking immigrant, catching a ride to
England. If Canaletto had been at sea
during the most productive and skilled period of his career, such a creation
would have only added to his fame. In
those years, that almost all of the paintings of <b><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjRk3hgWWjc"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">seabound Venice</span></a></b>
(Rt click, Open Link) were completed, elevating his reputation as one of
the greatest topographical painters of all time.<sup>[1]</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">One day in the late afternoon</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, in a touching
tribute to all who perished at sea aboard the Titanic in 1912, the Rotterdam came
to a stop above the </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQs_mUVJarx4PnbGSB1B0rEsP7iHpDviLVnv-S_bqLtgTBwHFGSzIemaGv4K-Wje9asS7r_kwBDUeuk5yx7cHDov1VoWsfsiv3GNmTBbVcbkZr7Mp1HcZwCay6BCTyYuTWFAbNJh0YmHoTKMxNc5wSaWGyhkhWZW4_XAw7k_2zhhD5UtTLqUdvbFGB/s2015/8%20Titanic.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1359" data-original-width="2015" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQs_mUVJarx4PnbGSB1B0rEsP7iHpDviLVnv-S_bqLtgTBwHFGSzIemaGv4K-Wje9asS7r_kwBDUeuk5yx7cHDov1VoWsfsiv3GNmTBbVcbkZr7Mp1HcZwCay6BCTyYuTWFAbNJh0YmHoTKMxNc5wSaWGyhkhWZW4_XAw7k_2zhhD5UtTLqUdvbFGB/w393-h266/8%20Titanic.jpg" width="393" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Memorial Over The Titanic</b> </h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">final resting place of this once great ship. We hesitated before the saddened gloom of an
empty sea in the pale light of a foul day.
The undulating silver waves only hinted at the writhing energy beneath
us. While its color was blue gray, its
motion produced silvery-white patches here and there as though someone had
scratched the surface to reveal its true color. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I was familiar with the Titanic</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> from an
early age when my father introduced me to a man from Wales. At the time, I’d no idea where that was. I learned that he’d been a crewmember aboard
the Titanic on that fateful voyage and survived because he was one of the
lifeboat operators. We paused just days
before the 111<sup>th</sup> anniversary of this catastrophic accident which
took the lives of 1534 and spared 706.
At the stern of the Rotterdam, the Captain along with some of his staff
and surprisingly a large contingent of passengers filling the deck, gathered
for a ceremony of remembrance. In the
solemnity of the moment, all was silent but for a bracing 40-degree wind. Following some brief words, a moment of
silence, and a blast of the ship’s horn, a wreath honoring those who had died
joined those who had perished in these ocean depths. This act of respect commemorating this tragic
loss had been special — a solemn moment at a historic location. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Early travelers</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> like Columbus,
the Pilgrims, and millions of immigrants who followed made this danger-filled
journey. They include my mother’s
bloodline that departed Normandy for Quebec in 1644. In addition to Richard Warren, Maria Elena’s Irish
ancestors on her mother’s side likewise transited these same waters as my Italian
grandparents had. Thankfully, all
survived. But for them, Maria Elena and
I would not have been on this crossing. Would
we have existed? It was what my inner
monolog was processing as I stood on the fantail that day, mid-Atlantic, close
to nothing and far from everywhere. Sometimes
in the sweep of history, life’s details fall short of historic but are nevertheless
equally worthy of veneration to those who gambled and won. </span></p><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">From That Rogue
Tourist,<br /> </span></b><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Paolo</span></b></h3><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">P.S. Columbus’
heroic 61-day voyage and the Mayflower’s historic 66-day transit can’t compete
with today’s long-duration cruises. Take
for example, a 274-day world cruise circumnavigating the globe. If that is not sufficient, today’s ships
offer the ability to reside continuously at sea. Mrs. Clara MacBeth, an American heiress,
already holds the world record, which may just be impossible to beat. She achieved this distinction by making her
home living aboard Cunard’s RMS Coronia for 15 years at a cost of $20M. In doing so, she holds the undisputed record
as the world’s longest cruiser. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1] <i>National Gallery of Art</i>, <a href="https://www.nga.gov/collection/artist-info.1080.html"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">https://www.nga.gov/collection/artist-info.1080.html</span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p><h1 style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><div><span style="font-family: times; font-size: small; font-weight: normal;">[2] <i>Canaletto</i>,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canaletto</span></div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p></h1><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Note: Information about the Pilgrims was obtained
from the Mayflower Museum, Dover, England during our visit. The history of Holland America Cruise Line and
immigrants was drawn from lectures aboard the Rotterdam given by “Mr. Ocean
Liner,” Mr. William H. Miller, Maritime Historian
Cruise Ship Lecturer. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">Video: </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="background: white;">Canaletto and the Vedute Room: A Conservation Project<br /></span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: justify;">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fjRk3hgWWjc</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br /></p><br /><p></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-89935889921873815062023-03-31T10:32:00.004-04:002023-03-31T10:50:29.526-04:00Satisfying Slush<h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial Black; font-size: 14pt;">Satisfying Slush</span></h3><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX6FGQrH5V0LJrRmLb43UJYyaTgpAwQ7o1OXGHHNBk8_YrjJvqv577Fk7ZlNmbnRVOaK5B-r2joolGmSJrqfwdTANrCScuT_dv0CeNL0lYfFchsWQIAi9bsrxwLVzXIeAfL5ZvknZVTbPWDLM9nQE2nMg0Gej0f8CIUR1ZNttTXXUAK6fQZdH1USOz/s320/1%20Margarita%20Ice%20Machine.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Celebrated Frozen Margarita<br /> </b><b>and Blender</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b> We went out
for lunch the other day</b></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>.</b> Mind you, it’s
not always Italian on the menu for us. We
also enjoy Mexican, although neither of us, while growing up on the east coast, had
the opportunity to sample this tasty fare.
Luckily for us, with a small Mexican cantina in town, we haven’t far to
go for our newfound favorites. Maria
Elena enjoys stuffed Chile Rellenos a-la-cart, absent any of the trimmings like
refried beans and rice. Though not on
the menu, she knows they are available for the asking just like <i>braciole</i>
in a secret sauce is available any time in Calitri at Tre Rose. My choice is a grilled Quesadilla. Its combinations are near endless, with my
current fav being <a name="_Hlk128757330">a Quesadilla</a> Fajita stuffed with
fajita fixings along with beans, rice, and plenty of hot sauce. When it comes to our Mexican drink, however,
we are in lockstep. Like many Mexican
restaurant patrons, there is that lure of a Margarita, made however you like. Beyond the choice of tequila for a classic on-the-rocks,
salt-rimmed Margarita, there are also frozen slushy versions, pre-made, biding
their time going round and round in a blender to stay chilled.</span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It had
been snowing during our leisure sojourn</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">. The sky was bruised and dark. Driving home, I was</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> careful to stay centered
over the flattened berm of slush that now outlined my side of the road. I </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9koruMlhYi9mMLYHkEBWEhgYOMO5n4kvnMNDIZIWUaRe_tg9w464JF83J_1ksJGVPgk_QFIF7OezOrTunEmx3zz8urfAemu6flYKag8Q13mHXnTamNrNOigZLRgTuIu0dCJbf_hZuqf0AFRsnNBdt_cgGhMqYpQWbLYODhb077V21KaqmWMunbdn/s2048/2.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1577" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhN9koruMlhYi9mMLYHkEBWEhgYOMO5n4kvnMNDIZIWUaRe_tg9w464JF83J_1ksJGVPgk_QFIF7OezOrTunEmx3zz8urfAemu6flYKag8Q13mHXnTamNrNOigZLRgTuIu0dCJbf_hZuqf0AFRsnNBdt_cgGhMqYpQWbLYODhb077V21KaqmWMunbdn/s320/2.JPG" width="246" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Maria Elena Somewhere Between <br /></b><b>Winter and Spring, Slush and Snow</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">concentrated on keeping my wheels in the
tread-marked kerfs made by earlier vehicles on either side of this endless ribbon
of wet snow. Maybe we should have stayed
in the cantina longer for the roads to be cleared. After a while, the scene was mesmerizing. Like a brain freeze, occasionally induced when
an icy drink is enjoyed too quickly, navigating the drive home became
challenging even absent the slush sprays of passing vehicles. Even with all this slushy intervention, we
arrived home safely. It had begun with
the swirl of the Margaritas and continued, almost stirring up trouble driving
home. Though it hadn’t amounted to a
brain freeze, slush, one way or the other, was on my mind. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I’d vote
twice</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> that the best kind of slush is in a drink, not on the
road. The Margarita making machine I’d
seen, mixed continuously to allow the antifreeze effect of sugar to bond with
the water molecules before the water had a chance to freeze. Clever, but not the first iced drink. Although not likely to have originated in
Mexico, ice drinks have been around for centuries. The Greeks and Romans used snow from Mount
Etna to cool their wines.<sup>[1]</sup> The
first documented dessert approaching ‘shaved ice’ was recorded in 62 A.D. when
Roman Emperor Nero sent slaves to collect snow from nearby mountains that was then
flavored with a fruit and honey mixture. [4] Different forms of the technique clearly
spread with time. The Italian word <i>sorbetto</i>
and English <i>sherbet</i> come from a Middle Eastern sweet fruit juice and
water drink with a similar sounding name, <i>charbet</i>. <sup>[2]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Today</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, whether
we call them ‘shaved ice’ or ‘Italian ice’, both are sweetened frozen treats. However, there is a difference in how they
are prepared. Italian ice is made in a
process similar to ice cream, where the ingredients are mixed and then frozen. When you make shaved ice, ice in the form of blocks
is shaved into very fine, snow-like pieces and then flavored with sweet syrups and
other toppings. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Granita
is a popular form of Italian ice</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. It was <i>granita</i> and <i>brioche</i> – a
great combination <a name="_Hlk129353075">– </a>that we thoroughly enjoyed for
the first time in the now too-well-known town of Taormina some years ago. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsIsTxUeDNsRiTTJluXh6xbtlYe19_ssP3f6oQqvsSFlLMSRk8pEKseRdyC8sK7dfEcKevZATTIFdlYUsQf1F-QxH71mg3Lc1tCH6P8wV1z7PUKiyrZznkfAAvEIo0j0fE8kamSamRvmXezBvQ-F_TnqG5XPjB9YDappfEY2yA6F_zvqcjHQRr_cPq/s550/3%20folly.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="413" data-original-width="550" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsIsTxUeDNsRiTTJluXh6xbtlYe19_ssP3f6oQqvsSFlLMSRk8pEKseRdyC8sK7dfEcKevZATTIFdlYUsQf1F-QxH71mg3Lc1tCH6P8wV1z7PUKiyrZznkfAAvEIo0j0fE8kamSamRvmXezBvQ-F_TnqG5XPjB9YDappfEY2yA6F_zvqcjHQRr_cPq/w304-h228/3%20folly.jpg" width="304" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>One of the Public Garden Follies</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Early one morning we headed off on a walk of
discovery from our hotel, the <i>Bel Soggiorno</i>. We began by scaling some stairs near the
hotel to <a name="_Hlk129358368">Via Bagnolui Croci </a>that soon led us to the
most strikingly different <i>Giardino Pubblico</i> (Public Gardens) we’d ever
seen up to then or since. It was the creation
of an English gardener, Lady Florence Trevelyan, who had settled there in the
late 19th century. The garden built on a
steep hillside below Via Croci offered spectacular views of the sea as well as smoking
Mount Etna to the south. But its most
striking feature remains the bizarre structures of no apparent purpose throughout
this eclectic garden known as ‘Victorian Follies’ which today, after the city’s
Greek Amphitheater, make this unique garden the second biggest tourist
attraction in Taormina. A short walk
beyond the garden, Via Croci intersects Via Roma and Via di Giovanni. I don’t know if it was a road less traveled, but
we chose Via di Giovanni to meander along a while longer, and <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAW8bJNV9hR95pdzGcpphePQ5IZwq7eYtnAOHMJ9KGlSQ3UmmHApcqhTiupBVVblCeWAu41s4baV7E4BhJJGFmB_i7NHjiT1XFqTJf9IpT2Z4TWUzrtIfeB7AaCmIuK7vfckQMi8XRuncnqAKdtCik6tNb1qOy7YL6asueruSSf3wdoKamc5VYlqke/s1920/4%20Taormina.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1920" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAW8bJNV9hR95pdzGcpphePQ5IZwq7eYtnAOHMJ9KGlSQ3UmmHApcqhTiupBVVblCeWAu41s4baV7E4BhJJGFmB_i7NHjiT1XFqTJf9IpT2Z4TWUzrtIfeB7AaCmIuK7vfckQMi8XRuncnqAKdtCik6tNb1qOy7YL6asueruSSf3wdoKamc5VYlqke/s320/4%20Taormina.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>A Quiet Moment at Bam Bar</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><br />as Robert Frost put
it, we “<i>took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.” </i>We were fortunate for it soon led us to the
popular Bam Bar, home to <i>Granita Siciliana</i>.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I will
admit</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> we were totally unfamiliar with <i>granita</i> but were
quickly educated when the barista took us under his wing. We learned that <i>granita</i>, an anytime
treat, is a semi-frozen dessert that lives somewhere between ice cream and
sorbet. Their common denominator is that
they are each enjoyed a spoonful at a time.
<i>Granita</i> made its debut in Sicily when various combinations of
fruit juices and syrups were added to water and sugar and then stirred at a very
low temperature to produce a dense mixture related to sorbet but with a
smoother crystalline texture. <sup>[7]</sup> At least in Sicily, that texture varies. According to food critic Jeffery
Steingartenon, <i>granita</i> on the western coast is coarse, while on the opposite
coast, </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3706" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtponPkyo2789FfJXVJHM2xwFYTibNfEgM4MbB00Ke9ODVTHFgfzOyx_syzQG248GyxUCBdWA9QTh5ZfQns7z8WuRGjnRy0KD3ML9lXlXB2326ukmykFQtrw3p2BBVmM1bVJW4pObo6yYUDTzm61KhLdEjpOLdOBzG_nC_ucaukn_kZ10ItdBawZTM/w280-h228/5%20Barista.jpg" width="280" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Album Photo - Our Barista That Day</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">it is nearly as smooth as sorbet. </span><sup style="color: #0d0d0d;">[9]</sup><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"> I can only imagine how it varies along the
entire boot of Italy. This variance in texture
depends on how the ice crystals are created.
If the adage “a picture is worth a thousand words” still holds, here is
a video, </span><b style="color: #0d0d0d;"><a href="https://youtu.be/OBFo72rKDFc"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Granita
Siciliana</span></a></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">, that presents the past and present of this
treat. If you follow along in Italian,
great. If you haven’t mastered those
nouns and verbs yet, you can follow along with English subtitles. In either case, the video not only allows you
to almost savor this nectar but also offers a glimpse of vibrant Taormina. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">An
excellent example</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> of the slushy shaved ice variant is <i>grattachecca</i>. Its name is derived from the verb <i>grattare</i>
(to scratch) while <i>checca</i> is Roman jargon that once identified the large
block of ice used to </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZuoq-vH-fZ14mt3DS0-5syBaK37kJ4HaHpsu_NAbFS5_6Xdkeif5DDqKzexeEnVXW4anY0IATZ4SJI3cQoxtQE8up1Addr7Z7BPzxlBqj0DfPrp4WfeqNr_29tkxm5TJFCORigXD6jkJeCeff-YMztgpN7YqQLJ4gDbl2Nhd0oizW-4QwHyFbpPL/s450/6%20granita-bam-bar-taormina.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="338" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqZuoq-vH-fZ14mt3DS0-5syBaK37kJ4HaHpsu_NAbFS5_6Xdkeif5DDqKzexeEnVXW4anY0IATZ4SJI3cQoxtQE8up1Addr7Z7BPzxlBqj0DfPrp4WfeqNr_29tkxm5TJFCORigXD6jkJeCeff-YMztgpN7YqQLJ4gDbl2Nhd0oizW-4QwHyFbpPL/w226-h301/6%20granita-bam-bar-taormina.jpg" width="226" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Our Bam Bar Granita & Brioche</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">refrigerate food before the <i>frigorifero</i>
(refrigerator) was invented. <sup>[8]</sup> This popular icy originated in the kiosks and
bars along Rome’s Tiber River in the early twentieth century.<sup>[3]</sup> Unlike granita which requires some advance
preparation to allow time for the sugar-water mix to gel, <i>grattachecca</i> is
made on the spot with ice shaved from a block and flavoring added to the top
just before serving. This comes at a cost
in way of its texture. In Rome today, only
a few kiosks prepare a <i>grattachecca </i>with ice grated from a single block
by hand. If the vendor is a purist with
a strong connection to tradition, the rather common practice of using
mechanically crushed ice cubes is an abomination. Instead, a purist classically prepares this
icy the traditional way with a tool called a <i>raschietto </i>that resembles a
carpenter’s handheld plane to shave a block of ice that results in ice shavings
that look like snow. </div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">This street
food</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is widespread throughout Italy. In the depths of Naples, in Spaccanapoli for
example, with popular flavors of almond milk, black cherry, and mint, it is
called <i>rattata</i>; in Palermo it is </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAEd2maR8vt41eXzKAN7fXjI56uHvtdkI5U6NRm-RF7APk2hTxCaoRMSbkQFXS-VEHuLlSJLV-3OTdRp3jFvdUtS-COk4RQuCZHz2lG6kWtXMZw65TrKGNQ3arvaffiDF9pPQacOOSZLHh7PGxrwol_Z4OgHpl-Wt8GwCzQEm___q1-3VuCpeEAgd/s232/7%20gratta%20Rome.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="232" data-original-width="217" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLAEd2maR8vt41eXzKAN7fXjI56uHvtdkI5U6NRm-RF7APk2hTxCaoRMSbkQFXS-VEHuLlSJLV-3OTdRp3jFvdUtS-COk4RQuCZHz2lG6kWtXMZw65TrKGNQ3arvaffiDF9pPQacOOSZLHh7PGxrwol_Z4OgHpl-Wt8GwCzQEm___q1-3VuCpeEAgd/s1600/7%20gratta%20Rome.jpg" width="217" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>A Rome Grattachecca Kiosk</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">known as <i>grattatella</i>; in Bari as
<i>grattamarianna</i>; while in the Calabria region its name is <i>scirubetta</i>
(a derivative of Middle Eastern sherbert), very similar to the others, but as
opposed to shaved ice it uses freshly fallen snow. <sup>[5]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><h3 style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Weather permitting, here is a simple scirubetta recipe: [6]<br /></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">1.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Wait for snow to start falling.<br /> <o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">2.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;"> </span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Go outside and collect the freshest flakes in a pot
(from the rooftop tiles is an excellent spot) and bring into the house.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">3.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Scoop the freshly gathered snow into a small bowl or
glass.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">4.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Drizzle it with the liquid of your choice and stir.<br /><o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">5.<span style="font-feature-settings: normal; font-kerning: auto; font-optical-sizing: auto; font-stretch: normal; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variation-settings: normal; line-height: normal;">
</span></span><!--[endif]--></span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: small;">Enjoy!</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></h3><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Maybe you
caught it, but the downside of a <i>scirubetta</i> is that it must </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGuDK9PogMvf6bTrKOfgHyi1QpdP_6BujM8Kt2G60uEen93XqJh8-c7aoizvz_E3u296WEHbhNcBXcGSav5aI2fMrnZtnCFtmZu1ts6xOC7sF0eBcT8-ACNeT82CJAaHpoEF_XSwtOOGGSjcQnJQYZyMSh36DMepzIha-N7GnwvawQCKcHrSfVSWl/s758/8%20manual-ice-shaver.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="505" data-original-width="758" height="152" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJGuDK9PogMvf6bTrKOfgHyi1QpdP_6BujM8Kt2G60uEen93XqJh8-c7aoizvz_E3u296WEHbhNcBXcGSav5aI2fMrnZtnCFtmZu1ts6xOC7sF0eBcT8-ACNeT82CJAaHpoEF_XSwtOOGGSjcQnJQYZyMSh36DMepzIha-N7GnwvawQCKcHrSfVSWl/w228-h152/8%20manual-ice-shaver.jpeg" width="228" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Shaving Ice With a Raschietto</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">be winter,
and I’m guessing your roof is preferred on the chance your neighbors have pets.
<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">By this
point</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, absent a brain freeze from too many ice drinks, your ‘liquid
of choice,’ can also be alcoholic like a Margarita. As Italy has its <i>caffè corretto</i>,
coffee that, let’s say, has been ‘corrected’ with grappa, and sometimes sambuca
or brandy, so too icy creations like <i>granita</i> and <i>grattachecca</i> have
their intoxicating cousins. Hidden
behind signature drinks like the fashionable <i>Aperol Spritz</i> and peach-flavored
<i>Bellini</i> are lesser-known contributions to Italy’s canon of cocktails
that serve as Italy’s answer to Frozen Daiquiris and Kahlua-based Mudslides. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Bam
Bar’s <i>Granita Siciliana</i></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> was a hit for us in Sicily. In Rome, <i>grattachecca</i> cooled us in
kiosks along the Tiber. The search for
slushies next draws us northeast of Roma to Florence, the birthplace of many
beginnings like the Renaissance, and some claim civilization itself. It was also here where the <i>Negroni</i>
serendipitously appeared. It lives in
the genre</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqL-JgJSht3tEowg91MdY2JjSQB21gIXqlmBqNHo2K45LZ2jwUEd-bdXmM5ixbx8YYNf1fT6sqXkldECU8j4GPxSS0h1K2Agbw9727wExul6PnQy4NzXv7Ste71KvCkYH-K-F5HiO5OYsSED0zY-5q3ALpyxuel2q5b9pPpVO1pSGeVXLJPlkCdgU/s275/10%20Negroni.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfqL-JgJSht3tEowg91MdY2JjSQB21gIXqlmBqNHo2K45LZ2jwUEd-bdXmM5ixbx8YYNf1fT6sqXkldECU8j4GPxSS0h1K2Agbw9727wExul6PnQy4NzXv7Ste71KvCkYH-K-F5HiO5OYsSED0zY-5q3ALpyxuel2q5b9pPpVO1pSGeVXLJPlkCdgU/s1600/10%20Negroni.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>The Classic Negroni</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;">of the <i>aperitivo</i>, the before-dinner drink. While early alchemists tried their best to
turn lead into gold, it was at Cafe Casoni where cocktail chemistry made a
leaping advancement. The more prominent
version of its muddled lore relates that its birthday was approximately 1919. Little more is certifiable. Sometime during that year, flamboyant Count <a name="_Hlk129693786">Camillo Negroni (short for </a>Count Camillo Luigi
Manfredo Maria Negroni), a frequent café customer; said to have been a no-lie,
true, rodeo clown in the American Wild West as well as a riverboat gambler, arrived
and made a special request. That
historic day, Cammillo asked barman Bosco Scarselli to top off his regular
libation, Campari and vermouth, with gin instead of standard soda water. Fosco complied and, in a further creative step, garnished it with an orange slice instead of lemon, thus giving birth to the <i>Negroni</i>,
named after the Count, that we enjoy to this day.</div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I have
grown</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> or better said ‘learned,’ to enjoy this Italian classic. The first time you sip one, it tends to quickly
prompt a love or hate response. Words
like ‘bitter’ and ‘medicinal’ accompany that first reaction. But low marks on a first impression may
require a second examination. It’s also not
something to down like a shot or tumbler half full of bourbon like we see in a
movie. That’s acting with coke. A bittersweet <i>negroni</i> must be nursed
and sipped, which prolongs the moment and the pleasure. Its simple preparation may account for its
popularity. It is concocted with one
part gin (preferably Bombay Sapphire Gin), one-part sweet Vermouth, and one
part Campari and then garnished with an orange wedge or a twist of orange peel.
Try one, be part of the fantasy, and
take part in the magic of this very Italian tradition. You may enjoy it but if not, it has a sweeter
slushy cousin.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The Negroni’s familial relation</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> with this
classic Italian staple can transform a sultry summer day into the soft cooling patter
of a summer shower by serving it</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_vOIbiSXshybNEDQ6G8h0IksOFbarsGmSNdGpMRylbBrvSv73vpIajmDOjzbDDbV93m24Okrj5x3qMdPXhByHglleXvRzhzHM6effql6ab0zUuVl2Ay_FKFY5m1VSSWqAcejMbuslax4QZ_ey175ae8lJgLbo7jmGfzqVduwE7ol6c0JryjW1vnw/s225/11%20Frozen%20Negroni.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEib_vOIbiSXshybNEDQ6G8h0IksOFbarsGmSNdGpMRylbBrvSv73vpIajmDOjzbDDbV93m24Okrj5x3qMdPXhByHglleXvRzhzHM6effql6ab0zUuVl2Ay_FKFY5m1VSSWqAcejMbuslax4QZ_ey175ae8lJgLbo7jmGfzqVduwE7ol6c0JryjW1vnw/s1600/11%20Frozen%20Negroni.jpg" width="225" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Frozen Negroni</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">frozen.
As in a Mexican restaurant, a frozen <i>negroni</i> can be made quickly in
large batches, by hand, with the aid of a blender. There is also no shaved or crushed ice involved. Here is a recipe complements of Joe Campanale.
<sup>[11]</sup><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt; margin-left: 1.0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 3pt 1in; text-align: justify; text-indent: -63pt;">Ingredients: (<span style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">Note that this slushy version
modifies the 1:1:1 Negroni alcohol ratio. Here the Campari’s flavor is emphasized</span>)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">1 ounce Campari<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">1/2 ounce Sweet Vermouth<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">1/2 ounce Gin<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">1 scoop sorbet (try grapefruit!)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Orange slice garnish<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 3pt 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span color="windowtext">Directions:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span color="windowtext">Combine all
ingredients in a bowl and mix with a whisk.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span color="windowtext">Pour the mixture into a rocks glass and, if desired,
top with an additional splash of Campari and garnish.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The
following Frozen Negroni recipe, compliments of Elana Lepkowski, is biased
toward the Gin over the Campari in balance, takes longer to prepare, offers
more servings, and can be prepped in advance. <sup>[12]</sup><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 3pt 9pt;">Ingredients for 3-4 Servings: <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;">4 ½ ounces Gin<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;">2 ½ ounces Campari<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;">2 ½ ounces Sweet Vermouth<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;">3 cups ice <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 3.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 3pt 0.5in;">Orange slices, for garnish<o:p></o:p></p><p style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 3pt 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Directions:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Combine gin, Campari, and sweet Vermouth in an airtight
container. Place in the freezer and
freeze for 8 hours, up to 3 days. (The alcohol prevents it from freezing solid)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 0.5in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">When ready to serve, add the chilled alcohol and cups
of ice to a blender. Blend on high speed
until uniform and smooth, about 30 seconds.
Pour into rocks glasses or small wine glasses. Garnish with an orange slice and serve
immediately.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">A final
icy</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, our favorite, the frozen <a name="_Hlk129601880"><i>Sgroppino</i></a>,
</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbEZit_mgtuajl5xoWjVafCYB58VPrLrB45u6ygPDbobsZ1C_dtCR_7dJAliwpkaw3pnejoxDmC8YGNEpuQZHI9Cr6lG1hFa79kAGMCSGCwIPdsyjlJ5EIIZHtWxbJvqPr5_WSwoR0Lbo4zBNu_26gciOM9HmYRLjT25RVTa2HxlXxihmlY11AVJ-R/s771/12%20Frozen-Sgroppino.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="628" data-original-width="771" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbEZit_mgtuajl5xoWjVafCYB58VPrLrB45u6ygPDbobsZ1C_dtCR_7dJAliwpkaw3pnejoxDmC8YGNEpuQZHI9Cr6lG1hFa79kAGMCSGCwIPdsyjlJ5EIIZHtWxbJvqPr5_WSwoR0Lbo4zBNu_26gciOM9HmYRLjT25RVTa2HxlXxihmlY11AVJ-R/w267-h218/12%20Frozen-Sgroppino.jpg" width="267" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Loosen up With a Sgroppino</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">brings us to Venice, and with not much of Italy remaining, our final stop. <i>Sgroppino </i>is a tough word to get your
consonants around which can be attributed to it being drawn from Venetian dialect
where the verb <i>sgorpãre</i> means ‘<a name="_Hlk129602274">to loosen’</a>,
which seems an apt choice of descriptive words for this versatile alcoholic
beverage. With many uses that range from
serving it as an anytime cocktail, a sorbet-like palette cleanser, a dessert,
and following dessert, as a <i>digestivo</i>, when exactly to order or serve
one (maybe two) can be problematic. Open
to interpretation then, it seems to allow us to enjoy one (maybe two) just
about any time. Basically, it’s a Prosecco
slushy with a little vodka and a lot of tart frozen lemon sorbet with the added
punch of limoncello.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt;">Recipe for 1 Serving: <sup>[10]</sup><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 9pt;">Ingredients:<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;">1 ounce Vodka<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;">1 ounce Limoncello<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;">1 scoop frozen Lemon Sorbet (not sherbet
or ice cream)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 0.5in;">1 splash Prosecco<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 0.5in;">Lemon wheel garnish<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 9.0pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 9pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Directions:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 40.3pt; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 40.3pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Scoop
the sorbet into a bowl. Pour in half of the Prosecco and whisk until you have a
smooth icy mixture.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 40.5pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Whisk in
the vodka and the remaining Prosecco.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">At the
moment</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, with 8-11 inches of snow on the way, it is definitely
not hot outside. In fact, having just
snow-raked the roof to make room for more, it offers an excellent opportunity
to gather fresh snow for a <i>scirubetta</i>.
The forecast is snow in hours, lasting days — but I guarantee, that very
soon, as the earth tilts and corrects back toward the sun, a cooling slushy
iced drink, alcoholic or not, will be much appreciated. Whatever their names, they’re refreshing. Go ahead, make one for yourself, </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5dZMONwpwdmVKU5PpHEM3uYKTZOI-x1-B-lT_kdBamlVxJrblZbEmNuDdpTn_vFM2NXLgiunqy_9gQAOJ4A4ZUK2HFk5LqGQ1bgflA6g8Pk_VDA64uex5EcHP7w7ipfuwuVjQNuPOvhDuaonJ82PwrPLF_gsquHabPu3wZRPVRsrD-iGg7DCv5Tp/s1799/13%20sesto.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="808" data-original-width="1799" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis5dZMONwpwdmVKU5PpHEM3uYKTZOI-x1-B-lT_kdBamlVxJrblZbEmNuDdpTn_vFM2NXLgiunqy_9gQAOJ4A4ZUK2HFk5LqGQ1bgflA6g8Pk_VDA64uex5EcHP7w7ipfuwuVjQNuPOvhDuaonJ82PwrPLF_gsquHabPu3wZRPVRsrD-iGg7DCv5Tp/w516-h199/13%20sesto.jpg" width="516" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>A View Toward the Arno River from the 'Se-Sto Restaurant-Bar' Atop </b><b style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Florence's Westin Hotel Capable of Brewing Any Drink You'd Like</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">and be part
of the tradition, absent only the view across some lovely Italian piazza. Better yet, go for it. Head for Taormina, Rome, Florence, or Venice
for the proper setting and really enjoy those picturesque views that can stop
your heart while you nibble on <i>cicchetti</i> snacks like fried artichokes in
Rome’s Trastevere district or an equally crispy Sicilian <i>arancini </i>rice
ball with a tasty surprise inside.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><h3 style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial Black;"><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">From
That Rogue Tourist,<br /></span></b><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Paolo</span></b></span></h3><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1] <i>Italian Ice</i>,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_ice#cite_note-9<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[2] <i>Seattle Sorbets</i>, https://www.<a name="_Hlk129931065">seattlesorbets</a>.com/what-is-sorbet#:~:text=Sorbet%20can%20be%20traced%20back,)%E2%80%9D%20or%20%E2%80%9Cjuice
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[3] <a name="_Hlk129936096"><i>Whether Shaved by Hand
or Machine, This Roman Treat Is Just as Frosty</i>,</a> Povoledo, Elisabetta
(September 9, 2016). The New York Times <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[4] <i>Shaved Ice</i>, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shaved_ice<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[5] <i>Grattachecca</i> - Wikipedia, the free
encyclopedia<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[6] <i>La Scirubetta Calabrese: Ancient Snow Cone</i>, Bleeding Espresso, https://bleedingespresso.com/2017/01/scirubetta-calabrese-ancient-snow-cone.html<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[7] <i>Watermelon Granita Recipe</i>,
https://cooking.nytimes.com/recipes/1014903-watermelon-granita<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[8] <i>Granita and Grattachecca: are they the same
thing?, </i>Granita and Grattachecca | Rivareno<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">CAPTION: La Scirubetta Calabrese with Fig Honey (by
@egidio_painter on Twitter)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[9] <i>The Mother of All Ice Cream. The Man Who Ate
Everything</i>, Steingarten, Jeffrey (1997). Vintage Books. pp. 361–380. ISBN
0-375-70202-4.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[10] <i>Frozen Sgroppino</i>,
https://punchdrink.com/recipes/frozen-sgroppino/, by Joe Campanale <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[11] <i>Frozen Negroni</i>, https://punchdrink.com/recipes/alta-lineas-frozen-negroni/,
by Joe Campanale<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3.0pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[12] <i>Frozen Negroni Recipe</i>, Summer Eats,
https://www.seriouseats.com/how-to-make-frozen-negroni-slushie-gin-campari-cocktail-summer#,
by Elana Lepkowski<o:p></o:p></span></p></div><p>
</p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-20004033595502219742023-02-28T14:23:00.011-05:002023-02-28T15:15:28.122-05:00Caveat Emptor<h3 style="text-align: left;"> </h3><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: justify;"><b>Caveat Emptor</b></span></h3><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWAGLtKcoqgRluRqL4yTBroSkt6rCKaZep_zHUq47yCNS8gdBiTRos4gVmlxt9mu4VJdCoLK_AN8gHmMKClRtQ8vHKPxBrokDkd_5vu_yz2on9_3KbN3WY4tuwu7WW63yIRlvpW-i_-hmMoq3ifutldliiYMNCmG0o9uZX0otS0isdzKzlUE3SiR6/s970/1%20multiverse.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="970" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSWAGLtKcoqgRluRqL4yTBroSkt6rCKaZep_zHUq47yCNS8gdBiTRos4gVmlxt9mu4VJdCoLK_AN8gHmMKClRtQ8vHKPxBrokDkd_5vu_yz2on9_3KbN3WY4tuwu7WW63yIRlvpW-i_-hmMoq3ifutldliiYMNCmG0o9uZX0otS0isdzKzlUE3SiR6/w400-h263/1%20multiverse.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The World of the Multiverse</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"> <b> A short time ago</b> with <span style="color: #0d0d0d;">temperatures down to -15°F (-26°C), Maria Elena
and I, comfortably bundled in sofa throws, binge-watched the TV series, </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">The
Man in the High Castle</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">We’d missed
this historically convoluted, rapidly shifting drama years ago when it was
doled out in forty installments over four years. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">We got goosebumps watching but believe me, it wasn’t
because we were cold.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">This fictional
history presents a world where the Axis powers, not the Allies, have won WWII.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">Germany controls the eastern half of the US,
while Japan has colonized the west coast to the Rockies, where a neutral zone buffers
these former allies. This, however, is only one ‘reality.’ We soon learned that
there are multiple dimensions, in this case, multiple universes. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">As a kid waiting for a Saturday haircut, I
recall reading comic books while waiting my turn.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">I vividly remember one in particular — a
spaceship traveling to the edge of the universe.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">Smashing through a barrier, it emerged only to
find itself a spec on the rim of a birdbath in some unknowable garden.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">Even then, before it had a name, I understood
what a multiverse was. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">Feel those goosebumps
yet?</span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Watching
this thought-provoking saga</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> gets even ‘goose bumpier.’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we continued to be overshadowed by alt-worlds
and an overarching counterfeit history, we gradually became aware of a more
subtle but unshakable theme. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like the
portrayal of this fantasy history, much more is fake. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who is really who, and what is actually real
is a blur if not the theme of this production. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Worlds apart, identities quickly shift along with
character names, their locations, allegiances, and at times complete abandonment
of their former selves. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dark characters,
made over to miraculously become white-hat, good guys, would soon revert. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With nothing fixed, nothing solid, I wondered
how the actors kept track of the persona they were portraying, and which
alternate universe they occupied in a particular scene. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We went so far as to question if the actors’ biographies
and their actual names were real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
elaborate complexity of this tale made it even more riveting for Maria Elena
and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Two or three episodes nightly
may not be considered binge-watching, but in addition to precluding the gradual
drip of weekly episodes, it gave us time to consider the messages being
communicated.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Today’s
world is not dissimilar</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Technology and
ubiquitous fake news conspire to complicate our lives and our world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Technical advances make it easy to create and
disseminate alternate versions of reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Imagery, for example, has gone far beyond <i>Photoshop</i>’s ability to
change heads while altering a scene or creating voices matched to public
figures is easy to forge into believability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Need a speech or help with a test? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><i>ChatGPT</i>, a powerful artificially intelligent
software program, can write one or even help pass a Wharton School of Business
exam. <sup>[1] [2]</sup> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s said, “we
are what we eat,” but aren’t we also what we are fed to see and read?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In <i>The
High Castle</i> series</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, there were frequent visits to a memorabilia shop
featuring high-value American historical artifacts. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In imitation of the faked documents and lives
of its characters, it was here that authenticity was underwritten by forged slips
of paper vouching to an object’s genuineness. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like the class ring I wear asserting “<i>Esse
non-Videri</i>” (“To Be Not to Seem”), truth is affirmed through individual
action and, for bona fide objects, their actual use as intended. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the dilemma of “<i>The Man in the High
Castle</i>” for in this world, nothing is really what it appears to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Real along with genuine, rare, and priceless,
are jumbled with bogus, forged, and outright imitations. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In today’s world, a fake, whatever form it
takes, is harder and harder to distinguish, so it is wise to be on guard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii3zGjPw3hS-oqNPKPiI-QYUZGjGlkvZAK_Ek2yyUsicCxEv2CZzOlTfdn_2OuFz1-JWV8SzEWpF1r0uwMLkS32O0YlzdXuCkKkhOsdJagXMIFqFjdj_jkGZkp_M_n_qu628au_M-ntv5IaEih5RsU2X7yxe2GFWndGVvX_SoOQ15CJG3p80VSB85z/s259/2%20images.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii3zGjPw3hS-oqNPKPiI-QYUZGjGlkvZAK_Ek2yyUsicCxEv2CZzOlTfdn_2OuFz1-JWV8SzEWpF1r0uwMLkS32O0YlzdXuCkKkhOsdJagXMIFqFjdj_jkGZkp_M_n_qu628au_M-ntv5IaEih5RsU2X7yxe2GFWndGVvX_SoOQ15CJG3p80VSB85z/w259-h208/2%20images.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>The Ever-Vigilant Carabinieri</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-weight: bold;"> In Italy</b><b>,
</b>the law enforcement agencies responsible for dealing with crimes of
misrepresentation are the <i>Guardia di</i> </div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvg1OnCUSDhb1QGiEvTgfkgW7SxlAZbIgBFEHJPM-LfsVssVO9tF3ltKadHdyKYzK4kUOT4cg1CZh504ySm-O8eDAt7UOBrOycjwWWtSie0Peowu-1JYVVrzjltphhE5Exx3A5d_dXkxVV0ibYsTEcTvHmLhDOh-_CRc45thW4NnmHlUqU0-i8z05x/s224/3%20Finanza.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="224" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvg1OnCUSDhb1QGiEvTgfkgW7SxlAZbIgBFEHJPM-LfsVssVO9tF3ltKadHdyKYzK4kUOT4cg1CZh504ySm-O8eDAt7UOBrOycjwWWtSie0Peowu-1JYVVrzjltphhE5Exx3A5d_dXkxVV0ibYsTEcTvHmLhDOh-_CRc45thW4NnmHlUqU0-i8z05x/w224-h210/3%20Finanza.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Guardia di Finanza on <br /></b><b>the Move</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><i> Finanza</i> (Finance Police) and the <i>Carabinieri</i>
(named after a rifle they traditionally carried).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Interpol summarizes the <i>Guardia di Finanza</i>
as "a force with military status and nationwide responsibility among its
other missions for financial crime investigations …” <sup>[3]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The <i>Carabinieri</i> are a national police
force “responsible for … protecting the environment, health, work and the nation’s
cultural heritage to the observance of EU agricultural and food regulations …” <sup>[4]</sup>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Though spared from having to deal with
travel portals and alternate universes, our universe is enough to keep both
agencies extremely busy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Fake
‘Made in Italy’ products</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, especially high-end, popular brands, flood today’s
marketplace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Much like the jumble of
real and faked pieces of historic Americana in <i>The Man in the High Castle</i>,
faked Italian products have all the trappings of the real thing, making it
difficult for consumers to distinguish genuine from forgeries. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As in the case of <i>High Castle</i>
characters’ efforts to pass on counterfeit pieces of Americana, today’s
agro-criminals have done their jobs correctly when unknowingly, consumers walk
away with a fake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fraudster’s
business model appears to be working. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their
illegitimate parallel economy in Italian products is estimated to generate a whopping
€120 billion annually worldwide.<sup>[15]</sup> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In such a free for all global market, technology
allows packaging to be copied and substitutions of key ingredients to be easily
made.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unsubstantiated claims of ‘Organic,’
‘Green/All-natural,’ along with labels of ‘Italy,’ ‘Italian,’ and depictions of
the Italian flag, intent on deception, play on a customer’s desire for Italian
products.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Among the most copied ‘Made in
Italy’ products targeted by organized crime in Italy and elsewhere are wines,
cheeses, extra virgin olive oil, cold cuts, fresh fruit, and vegetables such as
San Marzano tomatoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These authenticity
thieves sometimes resort to what is called an ‘Italian Sounding Strategy.’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They’ve discovered that something as simple as
spelling the name of a familiar Italian product a bit differently is enough to
deceive consumers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Parmesao Regianito
substitutes for <i>Parmigiano Reggiano</i>, Grana Parrano replaces <i>Grana
Padano</i>, and Salsa Pomarola pretends to be <i>Salsa di Pomodoro</i>.<sup>[11]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although spelled correctly, the <i>Panettone</i>
I almost purchased for Christmas hailed from Brazil, despite the green, white,
and red Italian flag on the box.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even
more reason for buyers of ‘Made in Italy’ to be cautious. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The
situation has grown critical</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> when six out of ten Italian food products reaching our
tables are forgeries and troubling that those around the table are unaware they
have a copy in their hands.<sup>[12]</sup> Today’s commerce has buyers at a
disadvantage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are now forced to rely
more and more upon the honesty of the seller.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><i>Caveat emptor</i>, “let the buyer beware,” is a common law maxim that
buyers purchase at their own risk in the absence of an express warranty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s enough to expect a proper tasting <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0bV82TPRf8Bh-sn5Z62sfZA-geKp_mlHPuvjNnMKgA_p4SrK3axMEPEMN1g-TRrgfYeySbx1MOgYwDq1XwWv2ax8tr2dwaYsPzmZn5rS4dsZ1XA13Ijo7wtE9EHpLUZn8cAS6LRIgCaLwIW20EQbh4Z2715GRcOLZ9cIhmOOhB0p6kt6gnBnmtBQ/s275/5%20DOC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="208" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ0bV82TPRf8Bh-sn5Z62sfZA-geKp_mlHPuvjNnMKgA_p4SrK3axMEPEMN1g-TRrgfYeySbx1MOgYwDq1XwWv2ax8tr2dwaYsPzmZn5rS4dsZ1XA13Ijo7wtE9EHpLUZn8cAS6LRIgCaLwIW20EQbh4Z2715GRcOLZ9cIhmOOhB0p6kt6gnBnmtBQ/w275-h208/5%20DOC.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>DOC Label with Alphanumeric<br /> </b><b>and QR Codes</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><br />glass
of wine and not have to reject it because it was drawn from an uncorked bottle
that has been sitting open on the shelf for who knows how long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These days, caution is demanded, beginning well
before starting with the unopened bottle.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Italy
has official forms of wine certification</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, DOC (Denomination
of Controlled Origin) and DOCG (Denomination of Controlled Origin and
Guaranteed). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were instituted to
make it easier for consumers to understand what to expect from the content of a
bottle of Italian wine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A DOC label regulates
grape varieties, where they are harvested, the producer, the growing method, harvest
yields, alcohol levels, and aging requirements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are currently over 329 distinct DOC wines in Italy, each with
unique regulations <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnObbog3PM0Td0njvixbSo6J8MM9rMuKuuO1mwU4tZCgSdm7mqBmXFoNWr09fIWZWXKHGo-UdwAf8e2tE6xiUwO4h3RSuRVdxdlCTRJ--i5XhMz9egyokeJ2Gx0TyjKeMtdPUwD0Hr3R39QBn6JdRC6Gau2Z3nwQdqGPyAVLese0tX68yEASox1Ax/s372/4%20DOCG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="136" data-original-width="372" height="117" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYnObbog3PM0Td0njvixbSo6J8MM9rMuKuuO1mwU4tZCgSdm7mqBmXFoNWr09fIWZWXKHGo-UdwAf8e2tE6xiUwO4h3RSuRVdxdlCTRJ--i5XhMz9egyokeJ2Gx0TyjKeMtdPUwD0Hr3R39QBn6JdRC6Gau2Z3nwQdqGPyAVLese0tX68yEASox1Ax/s320/4%20DOCG.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>DOCG Label with Alphanumeric<br /></b><b>and QR Codes</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><br />that winemakers must follow.<sup>[6]</sup> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In contrast, the requirements for a bottle to
be labeled DOCG are even stricter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yields
must be lower, and the wine must be aged for at least two years in oak followed
by one year in the bottle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>DOCG-certified
wines must also satisfy government taste testing before receiving the government
<i>garantita</i> set aside for Italian wines of exceptionally high quality.<sup>[5]</sup>
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In all of Italy, there are just 74 DOCG-certified
wines. <sup>[6]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both types of certification
include an alphanumeric code across the neck of the bottle to prevent
counterfeiting (see photos).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unfortunately,
even these protections are often outflanked by technology as criminals reach
around these safeguards.<sup>[6]</sup><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In 2015</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, Sotheby’s
—New York auctioned a case of 1985-vintage Bolgheri region DOC Sassicaia, considered
one of Italy’s most renowned wines, for $18,375.<sup>[7]</sup> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
2018, the 2015 vintage achieved <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRUpmCzYqCB7cCSzqUj6oWD9n4DW88aMxlQCiUXSjPrlkXND_l1yzkudyMPl7NDy52b2mDHvXVZnq_TzNYIQ8G3gs790gHFjKXYCk3kHsDRpc2nHr5weH6o3VPgBaWZFRz373Bfy8Tu19ucn2A3Bayp7hrVqCxFYE_2cZThqFXYrz8BuEwV5pQWa3/s620/6%20Sass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="372" data-original-width="620" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVRUpmCzYqCB7cCSzqUj6oWD9n4DW88aMxlQCiUXSjPrlkXND_l1yzkudyMPl7NDy52b2mDHvXVZnq_TzNYIQ8G3gs790gHFjKXYCk3kHsDRpc2nHr5weH6o3VPgBaWZFRz373Bfy8Tu19ucn2A3Bayp7hrVqCxFYE_2cZThqFXYrz8BuEwV5pQWa3/w335-h192/6%20Sass.jpg" width="335" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Warehouse Fakes of 24-month Oak Barrel<br /> </b><b>Aged DOC Bolgheri Sassicaia Wine</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table>Wine Spectator praise as the world’s best.<sup>[9]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In 2019, the 2016 vintage was awarded the
maximum 100 points by American wine critic Robert Parker. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Four years later, on average, a single 2016
bottle of Sassicaia would sell for €561.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Criminal elements did not miss the potential for this kind of return.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>In 2020, CNN
reported</b> that Italian police broke up a crime ring producing counterfeit
bottles of this Super-Tuscan wine.<sup>[7]</sup> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ploy originated in Sicily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Empty bottles hailed from Turkey. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The meticulously crafted labels and
Sassicaia-branded wood cases came from Bulgaria. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fraud continued when bottles were filled
with low-quality Sicilian wine and wrapped in producer Tenuta San Guido’s distinctive
tissue paper, duplicated to the original’s precise thickness and color in
Bulgaria.<sup>[8]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over 4,000
counterfeit bottles of this prestigious red wine were subsequently seized in Operation
“Bad Tuscan” by Italian police.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>CNN
further reported that the counterfeiting ring was believed to have produced 700
cases totaling 4,200 bottles each month, amounting to about €40,000 in sales.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not surprisingly, the 2010 and 2015 vintages,
so celebrated by wine critics, were the most prevalent among those
confiscated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, when raiding the
counterfeiters’ warehouse, police found them labeling bottles as the vineyard’s
2015 vintage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I
understand that amazing discounts</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;"> are possible
when you buy something that miraculously fell from a truck or is sold off a
tailgate, but in this instance, </span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSsUxkfsfA9viKYeDHO4R3sIM9VTrRB68OuMnE6-IipJFLBdKsIlcmjPwIpea4tprrpZbVGELeB6aNYasp_-h844IcwhD7SGEZTUat0rJN-rZp_WB6fyh3w_CPx1hTKwpVwLbwEJ-tfpb8nK4Dg_4vhSgqW8RbvJaZrDqa2a6hAhyV9ASzEPE1Cw4Z/s1200/9%20italian-wine.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSsUxkfsfA9viKYeDHO4R3sIM9VTrRB68OuMnE6-IipJFLBdKsIlcmjPwIpea4tprrpZbVGELeB6aNYasp_-h844IcwhD7SGEZTUat0rJN-rZp_WB6fyh3w_CPx1hTKwpVwLbwEJ-tfpb8nK4Dg_4vhSgqW8RbvJaZrDqa2a6hAhyV9ASzEPE1Cw4Z/w302-h228/9%20italian-wine.jpg" width="302" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>What's in Your Wine Glass?</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><o:p></o:p></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">it went sideways.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Totally by chance, two members of the </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Guardia
di Finanza</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">, of all people, came upon a case of the faked wine which appeared
to have fallen from a truck on a street in Empoli, Tuscany. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Finding a case of such a valuable wine lying
on the side of an Italian road was definitely suspicious.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Stranger yet, a note inside the case contained
two mobile phone numbers. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">A few
calls</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> and the year-long investigation that followed led to the
arrest of a father and son in a Milan warehouse.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This incident reminded me of a similar event when
electronics were stolen from a friend’s convertible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Apprehending the ‘perp’ was straightforward
when his wallet was discovered on the car’s floor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The matter was closed that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the case of the imitation wine, an
investigation of eleven others thought complicit in the scheme ensued. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From phone intercepts, police learned that the
clever counterfeiters were selling cases of 2015 <a name="_Hlk126767987">Sassicaia
</a>for around €500, about 70 percent less than an authentic case.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Subsequent telephone surveillance suggested
the counterfeiting ring was preparing 1,100 cases of wine for Chinese, Korean,
and Russian customers estimated to have had a market value of nearly two
million euros.<sup>[8] [10]</sup><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
needn’t worry about my supply of Sassicaia.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I haven’t any bottles, not a single one, aging in my wine <s>cellar</s>
alcove!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">This
kind of fraud</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is today mirrored across Italy and the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In another report …<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.5in 10pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">“The Italian NAS Carabinieri of Florence … supported by
Europol, took down a network of wine counterfeiters, selling online fake
premium Italian wines. Law enforcement officers carried out raids in eight
Italian provinces (Avellino, Barletta-Andria-Trani, Brescia, Como, Foggia,
Pisa, Prato, and Rome). The investigation discovered that low-quality wines
were used to refill bottles having their original labels [authentic bottles
gathered from restaurants] Packaging films and false masking guarantee seals [DOC
& DOCG] were finally applied to conceal the lack of distinctive labels on
the capsules [shrink wrap bottle tops] used for the counterfeit units and then
sold through an online auction service. Once contact with a buyer was
established, the counterfeiters expanded their promotional offers even further,
setting prices way below the ones usually seen on the market.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The wines were sold in Belgium, France,
Germany, Italy, Spain, and the United States, often ending in the glasses of
unaware customers of wine bars and catering services” <sup>[13]</sup><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We are not
safe</b> thinking that if we do not deal with high-cost wines, we’re immune to
these tactics.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such fraudulent activity
isn’t restricted to high-cost varietals: Any wine can be <span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">targeted. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Everyday wines such as Chianti, Prosecco, and Amarone
are favorite victims of fraudsters as well.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">Early in 2020, a joint operation conducted by Europol
and Interpol, targeted the trafficking of <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMLGf3s1q8DjbLSroPB-wIP94qkTsC8qM2yVlS5Pn2SgWvGddlKnSXqmdQaTuBchDEjjZKKHum7RKeAwVH69BGuqanp4nKbeXCx2fp8ETf4rQ2QywtMY7T9OHHHUPMtmukx93KhryxJX_uK3EYAxwT0hwcJnUWeW3cWNmqnnMhHuumaX7Vjg835EQ/s275/7%20images55.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZMLGf3s1q8DjbLSroPB-wIP94qkTsC8qM2yVlS5Pn2SgWvGddlKnSXqmdQaTuBchDEjjZKKHum7RKeAwVH69BGuqanp4nKbeXCx2fp8ETf4rQ2QywtMY7T9OHHHUPMtmukx93KhryxJX_uK3EYAxwT0hwcJnUWeW3cWNmqnnMhHuumaX7Vjg835EQ/w275-h194/7%20images55.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Sunshine in a Bottle!</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table>counterfeit wine and other products across
22 countries. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An investigation led by
the Italian Anti-fraud <i>Carabinieri</i> NAS department resulted in the
successful break up of an Italian Chinese operation that bottled wines with a
false indication of origin, including fake Chianti, and sold them throughout
China.<sup>[14]</sup></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">When
quality is jeopardized</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> by greed, and ‘more’ outpaces ‘meaningful,’ what can
we do to avoid being conned by fraudsters? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Question each bottle?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Stop drinking wine altogether?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe I’m naïve because ‘real’ is what I’m
used to and expect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being literal, I
believe what I’m told, see, and read on labels and packaging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not enjoying vino would be as unimaginable as
drinking nothing but water.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Conveniences
of today’s technology</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, such as medical advances, the Internet, and practically
instant communication, come hand in hand with the risk of high-tech fraud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unless there is some sort of black hole
portal to the multiverse the likes of <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbXZOXIC7FVOPa-XVdm2TwoTJDSipleOyE7iZT7G6RPsCckcu70YVdW22snwZ8-Y2OLtxs89oStS8Kwpmv3uUIk88w2l12m8adv3qm-d87S_ZrEAzQ-kR_WPlJL7DL-Tyh1B42UPczHxb9t8ts72warMgvdfD6ka_zKix9nMMPANcgdKfLOZ3gptH/s290/8%20mimeo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="174" data-original-width="290" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfbXZOXIC7FVOPa-XVdm2TwoTJDSipleOyE7iZT7G6RPsCckcu70YVdW22snwZ8-Y2OLtxs89oStS8Kwpmv3uUIk88w2l12m8adv3qm-d87S_ZrEAzQ-kR_WPlJL7DL-Tyh1B42UPczHxb9t8ts72warMgvdfD6ka_zKix9nMMPANcgdKfLOZ3gptH/w325-h174/8%20mimeo.jpg" width="325" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>A Mimeograph Machine and Those<br /></b><b>'Dirty Purples'</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><i>The Man in the High Castle</i>, there
is no way to return to a former, less complicated world of carbon paper,
mimeograph machines, and IBM Selectric typewriters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As with everything in our technology-dominated
world, where we must deal with computer viruses, fraudulent emails, and
identity theft, we must be vigilant and on guard when it comes to product
labels.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A careful look at the front and
back wine labels helps, especially if details are wanting or there are clear
discrepancies like the lack of that alphanumeric <a name="_Hlk126933170">government
seal</a> on a DOC/DOCG bottle’s neck especially when you know one should be
there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>An inordinately low price compared
to a genuine item is another clue that we may be dealing with an imposter. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Due diligence is the added price we pay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With reasonable care then and by dealing with
reputable sources, go ahead, pull that cork, and enjoy your sunshine in a
bottle. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">From
That Rogue Tourist,<br /></span><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Paolo</span></h3><div><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></div><div><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></div><div><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><p class="MsoNormal">[1] Rep. Jake Auchincloss uses ChatGPT AI to Write
House Speech, https://www.cbsnews.com/boston/news/chatgpt-artificial-intelligence-change-future-of-education-congressman-jake-auchincloss-house-speech/#:~:text=Auchincloss%20became%20the%20first%20Congressman%20to%20present%20a,a%20response%20as%20if%20a%20human%20wrote%20it<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[2] AI Program Earned Passing Bar Exam Scores on
Evidence and Torts; Can it Work in Court?, AI program earned passing bar exam
scores on evidence and torts; can it work in court? (abajournal.com) <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] Italie, Interpol. 1 March 2016, <a name="_Hlk126671132">https://www.</a>interpol.int/fr/Qui-nous-sommes/Les-pays-membres/Europe/Italie
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] Italy, Europol. 7 March 2018, https://www.europol.europa.eu/partners-collaboration/member-states/italy
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] Fake Foods: Italy’s Most Counterfeited Products, <a href="https://www.italianfoodexperts.com/fake-foods-italys-most-counterfeited-products/873"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Italy's
most faked foods | The Italian Food Experts</span></a> <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[6] What Is DOC and DOCG Wine? Differences Between DOC,
DOCG, IGT, and VdT on Italian Wine Labels, What Is DOC and DOCG Wine?
Differences Between DOC, DOCG, IGT, and VdT on Italian Wine Labels - 2023 -
MasterClass<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[7] Italian Police Seize 4,000 Bottles of Counterfeit 'Super
Tuscan' Wine, Fakes imitate one of Italy’s top wines, Bolgheri Sassicaia, which
costs up to £320 a Bottle - Search (bing.com)<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">[8] Italian Police Bust
Counterfeit Sassicaia Wine Ring, October 15, 2020,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Italian Police Bust Counterfeit Sassicaia Wine Ring |
VinePair<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[9] Asta Record per il Sassicaia 1985, Asta record per
il Sassicaia 1985 Il Tirreno<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">[10] Italian Police Uncover
Counterfeit Sassicaia Ring, <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Italian Police Uncover Counterfeit Sassicaia Ring |
Wine Spectator<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">[11] What are the Most Copied
Italian Foods in the World?, Oct 16, 2020,<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Italian Sounding: 10 most copied Italian foods in the
world (sistemieconsulenze.it) <o:p></o:p></p>
<h1 style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; margin-top: 0in;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: windowtext;">[</span></span></span><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: windowtext;">12] <i>Fake
Italian Foods<span style="font-variant-caps: small-caps; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">: </span></i></span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: windowtext;">6 Out of 10 Products are Forgeries</span></span></i></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: windowtext;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">, 10 Feb 2023, Fake Italian Food: 6 Out of 10 Products Are Forgeries (italicsmag.com)</span></span></span></h1>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">[13] Fake Wines Sold Under
Expensive Italian Labels Off the Market, 30 June 2020, Fake wines sold under expensive Italian labels off the
market | Europol (Europa.eu)</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">[14] Italian Authorities Battle
Wine Counterfeits, 12 Jan 2022, Italian Authorities Battle Wine Counterfeits - Pix</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in;">[15] Fake 'Italian' Food Products'
Global Turnover Up to 120bn, Fake 'Italian' food products' global turnover up to
120bn - Lifestyle - ANSA.it</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p></span></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #666666;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<br /><p></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-10023659672243479452023-01-31T11:16:00.016-05:002023-01-31T12:58:25.368-05:00Londinium Diaspora<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7LHUglabqL6ITpkWCeT5-8PkhXE8GZIPaDe-W9WnqIFxO1nYSzGwXfSQuWa8bf8udcwlzr-24hpB701pW8GHB6zFMq_aDeLB4i1c4_fgsrg9mKk2BikCKkM23UOcpN6P2PwjbxJ6rjevCF8yToUsGvFl9ORNOBZ_-Xc0quI5alggF3OEicZYBXvV3/s3992/1%20IMG_1066.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2371" data-original-width="3992" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7LHUglabqL6ITpkWCeT5-8PkhXE8GZIPaDe-W9WnqIFxO1nYSzGwXfSQuWa8bf8udcwlzr-24hpB701pW8GHB6zFMq_aDeLB4i1c4_fgsrg9mKk2BikCKkM23UOcpN6P2PwjbxJ6rjevCF8yToUsGvFl9ORNOBZ_-Xc0quI5alggF3OEicZYBXvV3/w463-h275/1%20IMG_1066.JPG" width="463" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h2><b>Inbound — Destination Londinium</b></h2></td></tr></tbody></table><b style="text-align: left;"></b><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><b style="text-align: left;"><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Londinium Diaspora</span></b></b></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Judging from the map</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> display on the
back of the passenger seat before me, we had just crossed the Mid-Atlantic
Ridge cruising at 40,000 feet at an imperceptible speed of 600 knots. Although our pilot announced we were aboard a
brand-new Airbus 330 (sorry, Boeing), both the WIFI and our closest toilet are
inoperative. Nevertheless, the
technology, unimaginable to the likes of the Wright Brothers, is simply amazing. It is early January ‘23 as I open my laptop
to chronicle our trip to what the ancient Romans knew as <i>Londinium</i>,<sup>[2]</sup>
not some new element on the Periodic Table, but rather today’s London. Cosmopolitan to the hilt, like a magnet,
London draws a diverse, multi-national throng of visitors no matter the time of
year. We were proof of that.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">London, especially this time of year</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, was a
trade-off on weather, cost of course, and the absence of hordes of people. We had promised our granddaughter a
celebratory trip when she graduated from high school. COVID put an end to that plan. We hoped visiting London would make up for
that disappointment. As for the weather,
the three of us would take our chances, although, like Lloyd’s of London, we
were well indemnified with umbrellas.
Besides, I had just finished reading Sarum, an epic historical novel
about early England on the order of Michener’s The Source (both highly
</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEr846eWxvjCDtk5mnL4OWkkx8hGqMhJeRLiH7coNFsT2dDRlKiuTkPMLpt43zxtafXy2dbUpKFmrtNWLLYXQJ1d7FPbF5UXAUZIBBUFnGG0z7aqhPct7IRaovyZMcz9_JdrPTm7TA83Zav-0K0hqTiplSDrYmtf-vanHlyoou-q4nHbkGuY-UBkPS/s1851/2%20ancient%20London.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1349" data-original-width="1851" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEr846eWxvjCDtk5mnL4OWkkx8hGqMhJeRLiH7coNFsT2dDRlKiuTkPMLpt43zxtafXy2dbUpKFmrtNWLLYXQJ1d7FPbF5UXAUZIBBUFnGG0z7aqhPct7IRaovyZMcz9_JdrPTm7TA83Zav-0K0hqTiplSDrYmtf-vanHlyoou-q4nHbkGuY-UBkPS/s320/2%20ancient%20London.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Roman <i>Londinium</i></b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">recommended). Like the Crown Jewels in
London Tower, London beckoned with the sweep of rich history. Besides, I was searching for evidence of
Italian heritage in my surroundings, beginning with Rome’s influence on the
British capital. London, I expected,
would be full of it, especially since this city was begun by those pseudo-Italians,
those pesky Romans.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Julius Caesar</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> first invaded
Britain in 55 BC, which in later years led to the founding <a name="_Hlk124498342">of <i>Londinium</i></a> around 47–50 AD <sup>[1]</sup> at
a key crossing point over the Thames River (called <i>Tamesis</i> or Dark Water
by the Romans <sup>[3]</sup>) Its location was chosen out of necessity, for it
was there that the river was narrow enough to bridge. Its Roman roads and water access turned the
city, then the size of present-day Hyde Park, into the commercial hub of Roman
Britain.<sup>[4]</sup> Today, London is
more than two times the size of New York City, but with less than half the
population.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">When Romans traveled</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> or, I should say,
conquered, they always brought Rome along with them. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1mLsJwvPE6q4j6y800SHv493QhphGdEiacVRrXsF7ayifFn36hzR8DOq3H4Z7xKj6HSrn6KPeGd19VgMD42YlxfeL9l_8tHWhFpkIB2YrNJr0iKdLzTQrp7CI9Br1dTk2Pa5SGrDWh6IdThZFn8TaG8_0Gz-BmJAS6eUlbc6ueKab54DGeaIB7dC/s4032/3%20IMG_1586.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1mLsJwvPE6q4j6y800SHv493QhphGdEiacVRrXsF7ayifFn36hzR8DOq3H4Z7xKj6HSrn6KPeGd19VgMD42YlxfeL9l_8tHWhFpkIB2YrNJr0iKdLzTQrp7CI9Br1dTk2Pa5SGrDWh6IdThZFn8TaG8_0Gz-BmJAS6eUlbc6ueKab54DGeaIB7dC/s320/3%20IMG_1586.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Tower of London Original Roman Wall</b> </h3></td></tr></tbody></table><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Londinium</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, eventually becoming a
‘Little Rome’ to them, was no exception.
In today’s Billingsgate (north of the Thames between the Crown and Tower
Bridges), for instance, Emperor Marcus Aurelius Antoninus (ruled 161-180 AD)
built a bathhouse complex on the riverfront. It was rediscovered in 1848 when excavation unearthed
the signature remains of a classic Roman bath: the frigidarium cold room, though
why they’d want one in London baffles me; the warm tepidaria; and the hot caldaria
room. Again in 1988, another
characteristic piece of Roman culture was revealed during the construction of an
art gallery. This time, evidence of a
massive amphitheater dated to the 1st Century AD was uncovered. The Romans either thought big or money was no
object, for it was sized to accommodate 6,000 entertainment-hungry viewers in a
city estimated at 40,000. Evidently, the
Romans intended to stay and brought along their methods of cleanliness and entertainment. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglX2Q0FLdm_nUEIajHjEzNzrRD9DHV30orIOKMMo6TJRJOR9NDyXAwLh1qvy1XL8h9HXtU7cunqOYd96ECmZaKm5EPZLLaIkfm_tk0Z6ILgocCz6nnCNbIzlym9-EuL8a9LUS_tVMDWs6TGZdpRaqcpzPMrXu4_vZ5ZjRQKxHUcNkJTfr2Ma4CcVNd/s3648/4%20Britannia-Statue.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3648" data-original-width="2736" height="291" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglX2Q0FLdm_nUEIajHjEzNzrRD9DHV30orIOKMMo6TJRJOR9NDyXAwLh1qvy1XL8h9HXtU7cunqOYd96ECmZaKm5EPZLLaIkfm_tk0Z6ILgocCz6nnCNbIzlym9-EuL8a9LUS_tVMDWs6TGZdpRaqcpzPMrXu4_vZ5ZjRQKxHUcNkJTfr2Ma4CcVNd/w218-h291/4%20Britannia-Statue.jpg" width="218" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Roman Goddess Britannia</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table>While they were being entertained, they at
least had the opportunity to be hygienic about it. The Romans stayed in Britain for approximately
400 years. They finally withdrew in 410 AD,
but not before the Roman goddess Britannia, armed with a spear and shield and
wearing a Corinthian helmet, became the female personification of Roman
Britannia.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[5]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> It was the likes
of Caesar, later emperors, and countless others who left their marks </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">and
influenced an entire island’s population.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwrfiYo0zdMJDTDEZdMBZyH_hsWMxMwU_3JQztokPMkx0RGp2f3M-M_k7K2CFRlQeoAWSFnAQnKM3N55yphZT3Cp53cG5ivX6TEYSu_xjbEORIXuHPWrBAVxcKgFyuMyFGdMaJN1dq5UGWrdlOQ4KxXpgw5WYaWDdSD_Z-68UZ5IfvNcD0A3OZ13Tf/s1023/5%20City%20Hall%20and%20Shad.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="555" data-original-width="1023" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwrfiYo0zdMJDTDEZdMBZyH_hsWMxMwU_3JQztokPMkx0RGp2f3M-M_k7K2CFRlQeoAWSFnAQnKM3N55yphZT3Cp53cG5ivX6TEYSu_xjbEORIXuHPWrBAVxcKgFyuMyFGdMaJN1dq5UGWrdlOQ4KxXpgw5WYaWDdSD_Z-68UZ5IfvNcD0A3OZ13Tf/w288-h157/5%20City%20Hall%20and%20Shad.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The 'Shard' Rises Over London</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">London’s ancient amphitheater </span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: left;">and its
public bath have since been replaced. Modern-day
influences include a sky-scraping hotel/business complex called ‘The Shard,’
designed by the Italian architect Renzo Piano. Today it remains the tallest building in the
United Kingdom. The ‘London Eye’ observation
wheel dominates the south shore of the Thames, while the interestingly shaped
‘Walkie-Talkie’ building, featuring an enclosed garden, offers even more spectacular
views across the city. Amazingly, this urban metropolis was easily accessible and navigable aboard a high-speed
subway network</span><p></p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPW20FaYf2xCQREAEb_xkyhohTPh4u1UW31hXPIHbtpJMs59mYVykX41kR7kZsPQAjjwCi3c_9UyjSNXOol-0_epaqnV8vwHQwgxf3fNRF-enobI4d8ipsXylWQcwKEfYhUm-yLmdqo06_9m4SFHvEYICFRMOCxGyHkxbBbWiPuM4NZR1Q2QPlG_W1/s4032/7%20IMG_1214.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPW20FaYf2xCQREAEb_xkyhohTPh4u1UW31hXPIHbtpJMs59mYVykX41kR7kZsPQAjjwCi3c_9UyjSNXOol-0_epaqnV8vwHQwgxf3fNRF-enobI4d8ipsXylWQcwKEfYhUm-yLmdqo06_9m4SFHvEYICFRMOCxGyHkxbBbWiPuM4NZR1Q2QPlG_W1/w206-h275/7%20IMG_1214.JPG" width="206" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Ascending from the Tube.<br /></b><b>So Glad They Worked.</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZYub4UytnsND_dUAnkWIfVHh0DH2TQ2asR6MPmtJZFnPbRpRAKxq_jxzUo_C-XVUQnTlmKS9eU3DjyZ13HZ1aflpevdzGiX4Hkp9aKGeuXsVnIeDJzhVjwgIdvvYOpwjnIssoc8Z-L6gHF2DT8-wOZYci3ueq0pB6yyP-9lkNBo1po15papsDXZN/s1200/6%20W-T.jpg.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyZYub4UytnsND_dUAnkWIfVHh0DH2TQ2asR6MPmtJZFnPbRpRAKxq_jxzUo_C-XVUQnTlmKS9eU3DjyZ13HZ1aflpevdzGiX4Hkp9aKGeuXsVnIeDJzhVjwgIdvvYOpwjnIssoc8Z-L6gHF2DT8-wOZYci3ueq0pB6yyP-9lkNBo1po15papsDXZN/w199-h199/6%20W-T.jpg.jpg" width="199" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Looks Like A Walkie-<br /></b><b>Talkie, </b><b style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Doesn't It</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">that crisscrossed the city — thank God for the</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Piccadilly
Line. Reminiscent of Caesar’s famous
battle-tempered “I came, I saw, I conquered,” the Tube’s safety-conscious motto
heard throughout the system, “See it, Say it, Sorted,” in stiff upper lip British resolute style, describes a situation where everything is properly
handled. I just love their lingo, serious
or not.</div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Tracing Italian heritage</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> has
always interested me. I learned that
during the early 1800s, an influx of Italians settled in the Farrington
district of Central London. On a city
map, I saw how this area took the form of a triangle bound by Clerkenwell Road,
Farringdon Road, and Rosebery Avenue.<sup>[6]</sup> It was here, based on nationality and religion,
that arriving Italian immigrants grouped together. While affordable, this run-down area, which some
would characterize as a slum, may account for Italian households experiencing
the worst living conditions compared to other immigrant groups. Despite terrible living conditions, language differences,
and bigotry, it was here that an ethnically Italian presence emerged. The opening of <a name="_Hlk125139377">St
Peter's Italian Church </a>in 1863 provided further unity and afforded the
community a place to worship in their Italian language.<sup>[6]</sup> By 1885, the Italian population had eclipsed
12,000. Southern Italians traditionally made
their homes in this ‘Little Italy’ triangle while those from northern Italy
established themselves in newer Soho. After
WWI, a well-established ‘Little Italy’ had its own pubs, cafes, grocers,
schools, clubs, a hospital, churches, even a driving school. Unfortunately, the area was unpoliced. This allowed Charles 'Darby' Sabini, a real-life
British-Italian mob boss, to assume the role.
He enforced his own laws with his ethnically Italian gang and became
known as the ‘Protector of Little Italy.’<sup>[7]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Sadly</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, this once thriving zone of Italian identity is no
more. Everything abruptly changed on 10
June 1940, for this was the day Mussolini declared war on Great Britain. That night, in a collective anti-Italian hysteria,
angry riots broke out in many British cities. Anything Italian was ransacked. Property and businesses were looted and burned. Italians were subjected to physical
violence. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6VmdWEes4neDYOBSG8yAIkIKlU-GewA9GKjl8uFOfI0iKlag8jvcMVD4KcPfv0o0j-uhMPKkWiBZQc9tPEagytbyrmfvw5oGwpNqmpfVbDA1TX4vRN-Nn3A1yIa6vwkIo52Pe7x2wrmVD_jTMCAet4iQMvqwt2VFG7ttRftk78DPfCUePwPehegB/s1024/8%20arandora-star.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="736" data-original-width="1024" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgp6VmdWEes4neDYOBSG8yAIkIKlU-GewA9GKjl8uFOfI0iKlag8jvcMVD4KcPfv0o0j-uhMPKkWiBZQc9tPEagytbyrmfvw5oGwpNqmpfVbDA1TX4vRN-Nn3A1yIa6vwkIo52Pe7x2wrmVD_jTMCAet4iQMvqwt2VFG7ttRftk78DPfCUePwPehegB/s320/8%20arandora-star.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Ill-Fated SS Arandolla Star</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Overnight, Italians had become
enemy aliens. It did not matter that
many had British citizenship, had resided in Britain for decades, or had sons
serving in the British armed forces. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">While there is no verifiable evidence</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, Prime
Minister Churchill was alleged to have uttered the infamous phrase "collar
the lot" the day following Italy’s declaration of war and the riots.<sup>[8]</sup>
In the aftermath, Italian businesses were
nationalized by the state. Religious
processions were outlawed. A German invasion
appeared imminent. Unwilling to risk an
invasion from within, all enemy aliens in Britain were arrested. The press’ refrain, “No half measures will do,”
in fear of a fifth column uprising (traitors poised to support an enemy
invasion from within), was a familiar drumbeat.
Suspicious of their loyalties, Italian males, ages seventeen to sixty,
who had not been resident in Britain for greater than twenty years, were
arrested and interned in camps. During
this dark period, Italians were deported to Australia, Canada, or the Isle of
Man. Whether </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj_U1aX9I7OtT3m22HlicjopXs2-6AQ86If1FxRsnTZEgZxaq6ue_0M51ZMvn3-kJkIXAhBV65Vnco5dS8ZtCNr_PeVTT1yyO3VACpxurCuv6_qjdHhpk604NHfU-5AZugWm6ZmrD7VESxCH6UZSOMIZh7S-Kp4NOJItMpZsEXNsHNh1FHiPQA9I24/s976/9%20Plaque.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="549" data-original-width="976" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj_U1aX9I7OtT3m22HlicjopXs2-6AQ86If1FxRsnTZEgZxaq6ue_0M51ZMvn3-kJkIXAhBV65Vnco5dS8ZtCNr_PeVTT1yyO3VACpxurCuv6_qjdHhpk604NHfU-5AZugWm6ZmrD7VESxCH6UZSOMIZh7S-Kp4NOJItMpZsEXNsHNh1FHiPQA9I24/s320/9%20Plaque.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Memorial to those Lost Aboard SS Arandolla at<br /></b><b>St Peter's Church in London's Former 'Little Italy'</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">overreaching panic or a proactive
policy, once in motion, there were further horrific incidents. One, in particular, occurred on 2 July
following the departure of the SS Arandolla Star from Liverpool. Among those aboard were 712 Italians destined
for internment camps in Canada.
Unfortunately, the ship never arrived.
It was torpedoed by a German U-Boat, killing 805 aboard, including many of
the British Italian internees.<sup>[9]</sup> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">By this point</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, even though I
hadn’t gotten far along in satisfying my curiosity, I began to despair. I began to feel I had arrived too late, that there
had been an Italian diaspora. It was as
though London’s ‘Little Italy’ had been scattered throughout London. Many of those I met professed an Italian pedigree,
but something like a thriving ‘Little Italy’ as in Boston’s North End and New
York City in Lower Manhattan proved extinct.
Italians, with a story of their lineage and time to share it, were in
short supply. A present-day Italian
center of activity remained out of reach no matter the metro line. About all that remained were sprinklings of
restaurants here and there. Shakespeare’s
company of actors at the nearby Globe Theater had claimed a “wish is father to
the thought,” and as the Bard had further scrawled, I “made a virtue of
necessity” and decided to dig deeper.<sup>[10]</sup> I went underground, and I’m not referring to
the Tube. I’d frequent British pubs, one
pint at a time, to broaden my search. Fortunately,
I was up to the task and hoped to meet many Brits of Italian heritage. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">At the “Lamb & Flag”</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> pub on
Rose Street (interesting how </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7EFj3Eat-lTtmRXbsDpMw2wv_dXUzP5mn-Cqx1eKirmyK11M4453brzS26cjpTykoPFpV0H2R1sFjVByFSeu9yCqjAAqSCANy105CeTTLy7T0qTGjfuwUwwqmJL76aJtYJu_iVetzDbt6YBfQcm4zDylDCCZl2Z8QJry-n9ZFDEKqml1aWiPA_4A/s612/10%20Lamb%20and%20Flag.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="612" data-original-width="612" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgB7EFj3Eat-lTtmRXbsDpMw2wv_dXUzP5mn-Cqx1eKirmyK11M4453brzS26cjpTykoPFpV0H2R1sFjVByFSeu9yCqjAAqSCANy105CeTTLy7T0qTGjfuwUwwqmJL76aJtYJu_iVetzDbt6YBfQcm4zDylDCCZl2Z8QJry-n9ZFDEKqml1aWiPA_4A/s320/10%20Lamb%20and%20Flag.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The Lamb & Flag at the End of a Narrow Alley</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">British eateries typically include two nouns in
their titles), a stomping ground of Charles Dickens, we happened upon two
couples. The English speaker of the
group was a Canadian from Niagara Falls.
He and his Italian wife had moved to Italy while the other couple lived
in Vincenza, a lovely city we’ve enjoyed visiting. Tourists like us, these self-proclaimed experts
seemingly on all matters Italian, advised that we not eat the purported Italian
food in London. “<i>Semplicemente terribile</i>”
(simply terrible), they warned. Although
we are millennia past that once Roman delicacy of dormice, it is generally recognized that England is not known for its cuisine. Not to disparage the cuisine of other
nationalities in this diverse city, but from their counsel, Italian fare appeared to be off the mark. We decided to
wait and see.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">A stop at the British Museum</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> to see
the Rosetta Stone led us to <i>Il Italiano Castelletto</i>. We </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEQ9yADc5QHA9ipDo0AE5Lgp9_CKW64CBfRUtpnZAVNnGAo6Scxf70-gCMb5WJihDMmfnzYdERLqVhOj4HCyx9SwprJtL__bdSrrGXSfc8rir7Iu5GTL81XFY1JmArWoGqwYubP15wIL0W5Kdl4VO7IrpAj2GGssGdIfitjYpJTukbfdDgqITAIvpX/s3024/11%20IMG_1327.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2478" data-original-width="3024" height="262" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEQ9yADc5QHA9ipDo0AE5Lgp9_CKW64CBfRUtpnZAVNnGAo6Scxf70-gCMb5WJihDMmfnzYdERLqVhOj4HCyx9SwprJtL__bdSrrGXSfc8rir7Iu5GTL81XFY1JmArWoGqwYubP15wIL0W5Kdl4VO7IrpAj2GGssGdIfitjYpJTukbfdDgqITAIvpX/s320/11%20IMG_1327.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>The British Museum</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">hesitated at the sandwich board menu by
the door and were pleased to find very reasonably priced Spritzes. That was enough to get us inside, especially
after a long dry stint in the museum. It
wasn’t long before the bucatini pasta and pizzas passing by us had worked their
magic to the point that we soon were enjoying a spicy <i>pizza diavola</i>. It materialized from a dumbwaiter and a
source located somewhere below us to land on our table. Judging from its flavor, it may have come
from hell itself. It was perfect, with a
thin crust, just the way we like our Italian pizzas. Those who’d made our pie may have been
Italian; we’d never know. Our
wait staff definitely wasn’t. But from a
perusal of the menu and the samples we’d enjoyed, all appeared authentic. Had the group from <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQtdqOIFQBVkYG9yVhmv1jW92oDi5qHDuR_tAKQkrUnemkGiu3vW3iG4P4iqVbGg7pjz1YPIzGmbZNEs6QtL6yEU1bh7neReewS9kpU17dLQJSULCxRdNzCD15iertGXdKOXIcW3dltrL3I8EQMygyF82bToNMZf65I-PI7GwVuYqVOTYwZvtY92J/s4032/12%20IMG_1356.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMQtdqOIFQBVkYG9yVhmv1jW92oDi5qHDuR_tAKQkrUnemkGiu3vW3iG4P4iqVbGg7pjz1YPIzGmbZNEs6QtL6yEU1bh7neReewS9kpU17dLQJSULCxRdNzCD15iertGXdKOXIcW3dltrL3I8EQMygyF82bToNMZf65I-PI7GwVuYqVOTYwZvtY92J/s320/12%20IMG_1356.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h2><b>London Pizza Anyone?</b></h2></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Vincenza been present,
they may have gone so far as to retract their condemnation.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">One evening following dinner</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> in the Covent
Garden area of London, we came upon “The Savoy Tap” on Savoy Street. It was once the location of a nobleman’s grand townhouse
in medieval London, a stone’s throw away from the Waterloo Bridge that
crosses the Thames near the famous Savoy Palace Hotel. The sign outside declared it a London ale
house that espoused traditional hospitality.
We decided to sample this hospitality and stopped for a nightcap. The Savoy comprised one large, rather plain gathering
room with only a few tables for such a large space. Tall, mullioned windows faced the street, and
toward a corner, a rather empty bookcase </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMYuPfiS1gJKBp0ifIlnYjfvh6RLsq0cxa03IQnp55PtNbqkIHvQRZcCb0ZiF9RFuhXlxmno4aprcEXWpX_0xBnqtbaVEmMYbA8o4VTngz1Qe5C_sshaIkt2c8OBb2HyIMZUKh_kD8CewhLcPuAXiurYRco5Xcp5jcWC-KERLf0ixfSt0Os2RejxG/s4032/13%20IMG_1250.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMYuPfiS1gJKBp0ifIlnYjfvh6RLsq0cxa03IQnp55PtNbqkIHvQRZcCb0ZiF9RFuhXlxmno4aprcEXWpX_0xBnqtbaVEmMYbA8o4VTngz1Qe5C_sshaIkt2c8OBb2HyIMZUKh_kD8CewhLcPuAXiurYRco5Xcp5jcWC-KERLf0ixfSt0Os2RejxG/s320/13%20IMG_1250.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Tap into Hospitality, Beer, and Lively<br /></b></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>at the Savoy</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Here, we met Guiseppe Calabrese</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> from
Vauxhall, located on the south side of the Thames. Though we’d been surprised by the Italian novelty
of his name, we hadn’t questioned its validity.
I knew that with a name like his, he was definitely Italian. Nevertheless, as though he was accustomed to
people expressing “you’re kidding me” in disbelief, he quickly produced a photo
ID to verify his claim. Like me, his tall
frame hosted a stocky build. I’d
estimate that Guiseppe was in his early 40s. His amiable face had a full black beard with a
mustache that widened with his broad smiles beneath the bridge of his
Mediterranean nose. His dark hair was
pulled tightly into a bun. He was clearly
at home in the Savoy, relaxed in the company of friends. We soon learned the barkeep’s name was Sam
when I ordered a pint of Moretti and, for Maria Elena, Sambuca on ice. Guiseppe and some pals were engrossed in a Football
Association Cup soccer tournament playoff game on TV between Manchester United
and ‘EVE,’ which I soon learned was Everton. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Guiseppe worked as a civil engineer</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> and as a licensed, </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5u8TBN9T5tDwNevMjprFsQUima7vbrcQc-rHd0s3T_Hg5bTM4ZX785J4XhP8mzHnQfm6x81nXY9ukgfNGY9Ehn5nC35jsd2sGZRVcYXxbL3RfHMjqAYfZhK3PFgOhAY4nlB7oJEnhuzA-1p8geA-V-iVdJ-RaFvioBH6iSuxTFVCvvXBBNpBvcjjG/s4032/14%20IMG_1243.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5u8TBN9T5tDwNevMjprFsQUima7vbrcQc-rHd0s3T_Hg5bTM4ZX785J4XhP8mzHnQfm6x81nXY9ukgfNGY9Ehn5nC35jsd2sGZRVcYXxbL3RfHMjqAYfZhK3PFgOhAY4nlB7oJEnhuzA-1p8geA-V-iVdJ-RaFvioBH6iSuxTFVCvvXBBNpBvcjjG/s320/14%20IMG_1243.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Guiseppe — A True Italian</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">hard-helmeted commercial diver who repaired ship hulls. His British accent had hints of other
dialects, which was explained when he mentioned that </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">in addition to English, </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">he
spoke Greek, French, Spanish, and Italian.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Other than snippets about his family, he knew little about his
heritage.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Using a form of social media
of their time, his parents had met at a wine bar in London.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">His mother was Spanish from Pamplona “Running
of the Bulls” fame, while his father, now deceased, was Italian from Calabria. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">His mom had worked in the Spanish Embassy,
while his father had been an engineer for a cruise line. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">He emphasized that communication between his
parents had been difficult and, as a result, was insistent about one thing — contrary
to common belief, the Spanish and Italian languages are in no way similar.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It was a chilly morning</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> with a
light drizzle that greeted us the morning we crossed the Thames to the extraordinary,
open-air Borough Market. After purchasing
a bag full of spices, there followed an interlude with artist Diamond Belva (Belva
means ‘Beast’ in Italian). We met him on
the way to the nearby Globe Theater. It
was while conversing with him that we purchased a small painting. When asked why he’d left Milan for London, he
answered that while the English and Italians love art equally, in London, there were</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDm-qRHPPFWJsbqE1yBMeRfL6PDWC0rg1RfhdVNqXm58IFy_YQQSP3Nc8MonD7cEoR76TH2iDXC_vxuCMaGE24iOx-fmUMr2mAffpG7bjN66PwAO5wKDKeUivNYKcZXeathGWg4_w1WtKuEpDOtSftzD0zZ4T6dzaN6AArpMvPmL_tjvN2n6-N5PfU/s4032/15%20IMG_1282.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDm-qRHPPFWJsbqE1yBMeRfL6PDWC0rg1RfhdVNqXm58IFy_YQQSP3Nc8MonD7cEoR76TH2iDXC_vxuCMaGE24iOx-fmUMr2mAffpG7bjN66PwAO5wKDKeUivNYKcZXeathGWg4_w1WtKuEpDOtSftzD0zZ4T6dzaN6AArpMvPmL_tjvN2n6-N5PfU/s320/15%20IMG_1282.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Streetside Artist Diamond Belva<br /> </b><b>Bargains with Maria Elena</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">fewer artists like himself selling their wares. From a supply and demand point of view, it
couldn’t have been truer. With a bridge
above him providing protection from the elements and a heavily trafficked
thoroughfare of potential patrons like us, he appeared to have cornered the
market. Apparently a local now, this
young, rather handsome Italian ‘beast’ had no idea of the existence of a center
of Italian activity in London. My Don
Quixote-like search for a ‘Little Italy’ in London had grown hopelessly bleak. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">I’d talked to enough people</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> by this
point, including a young Italian salesgirl from Puglia, nine years in London, who
again confirmed the absence of an ethnic Italian district. Soho did have a smattering of antiseptic-sounding
Italian restaurants. We’d already
experienced the Soho Londonized Italian phenomenon, especially while exiting
Leicester Square along Panton Street. We
found this wide avenue clad on either side with <i>ristauranti</i>. After discovering pasta dishes as costly as £22, we decided to take a pass, including one eatery where Al Pacino purportedly could taste Sicily while enjoying penne with meatballs. This reminds me … we discovered that London
has evolved far beyond Roman silver <i>denarius</i> coins. It is effectively a cashless city. You are expected to use a ‘tap-style’ credit
card just about everywhere, including a taxi.
Once made of paper, their bills are made of thin plastic that we were
told could </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgul3ejIPRLqjI8qFhw9JxIg5VJlQS74pKe5Zziz48H9l43wfm3BXUuK5aUp2lD7SW2Hs0-6aaImstATJ8seSUwSLWmz3IASmV_tJqEEA-Hi-saPxmIGp9Pej-xoJRn5aIMi6hFiq-DCAYMJ1V0T0WjnsSw0MxsbMJoMdmUOOo8i7LgZ-92YRMjgW8I/s3196/16%20IMG_1388.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3196" data-original-width="2675" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgul3ejIPRLqjI8qFhw9JxIg5VJlQS74pKe5Zziz48H9l43wfm3BXUuK5aUp2lD7SW2Hs0-6aaImstATJ8seSUwSLWmz3IASmV_tJqEEA-Hi-saPxmIGp9Pej-xoJRn5aIMi6hFiq-DCAYMJ1V0T0WjnsSw0MxsbMJoMdmUOOo8i7LgZ-92YRMjgW8I/w223-h266/16%20IMG_1388.JPG" width="223" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>A Londonized Italian Restaurant</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">be washed. I immediately
thought of money laundering! Although we
avoided the overpriced pasta, I was definitely ‘tapped out’ by the time we
departed. I wondered if our Vincenza
acquaintance’s advice still held sway. Without question, prices were undoubtedly stratospheric when compared to those of our
favorite Calitri haunt, Tre Rose.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Finally, there was a proper-looking London chap</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, umbrella
and all, who appeared as we surfaced from the Knightsbridge underground, conveniently
located by the entrance to the world-famous Harrods Department Store. I surmised he was Italian when I overheard
him use a few “<i>a destra</i>” (on the right) and “<i>gira a sinistra</i>”
(turn left) as his hand waved gestures of direction to some tourists. As he moved closer, I said hello in
Italian. He stopped, and we talked. He worked at Harrods and was on his way
there. He confirmed what all the
evidence had pointed to, that </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeronwO0keFiAp1qEDmHqh066fzsc38ouMv5NBR8eAQo4A07Gejzq_coIvDaLf69H55y6vPN-R9F-ScJiCvG2UNUjYFc64rzq4QoEh7A5E50NAUP84HruFimA4jyzgpW77jvTMds6akdO-mr-Z6NhPe8A8pHvguKaZYWumXBwbFF-NXVopN-GIP4iX/s4032/17%20IMG_1211.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeronwO0keFiAp1qEDmHqh066fzsc38ouMv5NBR8eAQo4A07Gejzq_coIvDaLf69H55y6vPN-R9F-ScJiCvG2UNUjYFc64rzq4QoEh7A5E50NAUP84HruFimA4jyzgpW77jvTMds6akdO-mr-Z6NhPe8A8pHvguKaZYWumXBwbFF-NXVopN-GIP4iX/w303-h227/17%20IMG_1211.JPG" width="303" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Harrods Dept Store — an Entire City Block</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">there was no real center of Italian culture in
London. Apparently, Italians had
successfully integrated and, like the sprawl of the city, were everywhere. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">By this point, readers may wonder</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, why go
to London looking for Italians when there are plenty in Italy? It’s not that I want to be charged with ‘cultural
appropriation’ whenever I enjoy a plate of pasta. According to the numbers, I am about 20%
Italian, enough to enjoy an Italian passport. Even so, wherever I am, I appreciate being in
the company of Italians, hearing their stories, sharing their sincere
enjoyment of life, and Italian largess in general. Maybe I’m into some Italian version of Zen,
seeking the ultimate reality found in the joy of being Italian. But was I looking in the wrong place when the
charm of small-town Italy appears absent in large cities, especially foreign
ones? In the meantime, with 80% more
Italian osmosis to go, I’ll keep looking, for my fascination with all things
Italian remains. <o:p></o:p></span></p><h4 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">From that Rogue
Tourist<br /></span><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Paolo</span></h4><p>
</p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-42562788930951906442022-12-31T19:04:00.024-05:002022-12-31T20:47:53.984-05:00Harborside Enchantment<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 9pt 12pt 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial Black;">Harborside Enchantment</span><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.35pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 9.35pt 10pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Where
do you think</b> you might be when <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6Q-GDVSAfqK4LTq7UFfdB2F2nTtEM5z2Bzuav3EW0CHlwX7ytH5FPOfF1e7JTB71AERA-YVsl-SQxF-1q_aco-ftt3F1ER6t8SuhDkblZrcUF2DcbVFcdGdjJdoL9U1t51MQPYuTyv2aL82mn2QXCqIZnV0ErLj35qbKbdMk7cw31OWQsfcqHrQO/s1000/1%20252.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="750" data-original-width="1000" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI6Q-GDVSAfqK4LTq7UFfdB2F2nTtEM5z2Bzuav3EW0CHlwX7ytH5FPOfF1e7JTB71AERA-YVsl-SQxF-1q_aco-ftt3F1ER6t8SuhDkblZrcUF2DcbVFcdGdjJdoL9U1t51MQPYuTyv2aL82mn2QXCqIZnV0ErLj35qbKbdMk7cw31OWQsfcqHrQO/s320/1%20252.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h4><b><span style="font-size: medium;">A Closeup of our Tranquility Base <br /></span></b><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Marine di Corricella</i></span></b></h4></td></tr></tbody></table><br />you venture to your mailbox, fetch your
mail, and notice that the postal code is 80079?
Is your first thought ‘return to sender’? That zip code is definitely not from the USA. If you recognize that this code is from the
city of Stremin, currently from that much in the news country of Ukraine, you
would not only be correct but most definitely may have missed out on a career
as a quiz show champion. If you happened
to live in Stremin, you might want to move 12 degrees longitude to the west to
a more sedate and far safer address with the same postal code. Welcome to the Island of Procida. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.35pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 9.35pt 10pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Procida
guards the entrance</b> to the Gulf of Naples and lies in the shadow of that
ominous iconic landmark that today threatens over three million people, <i>Vesuvius</i>. This tiny island has been a long time becoming
what it is today. It owes its <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2y60p1qTqt2ZEPXLHo1r4jc0yO2bPRj3Dp6OXBRf5sm21Ak3fFDYr0ce4C9aH-7LGVtLdkZ2tHC7HSIcGkrABkhSiAQF8bqPMd5n6j6ShrmpigZPKnGFSYNIgtxvV1m0KKCy-l4b5q22P-APN5MsK87S-ApKMc5gExyhd9UxCc9qZE8XL49Ah0W-r/s1079/2%20Vulture%20Vulcano.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="1079" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2y60p1qTqt2ZEPXLHo1r4jc0yO2bPRj3Dp6OXBRf5sm21Ak3fFDYr0ce4C9aH-7LGVtLdkZ2tHC7HSIcGkrABkhSiAQF8bqPMd5n6j6ShrmpigZPKnGFSYNIgtxvV1m0KKCy-l4b5q22P-APN5MsK87S-ApKMc5gExyhd9UxCc9qZE8XL49Ah0W-r/s320/2%20Vulture%20Vulcano.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Our Extinct Volcano - <i>Mount Vulture</i></b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br />formation
to the eruptions of four volcanoes, now submerged. Like <i>Mount Vulture</i>, the prominent
landmark outside our Calitri windows, it thankfully remains dormant. Yet it was the eruptions of <i>Vulture</i>,
millions of years ago, that gave rise to a viticultural terroir that today
accounts for the celebrated DOC <i>Aglianico del Vulture</i> wine.<sup>[1] </sup><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.35pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 9.35pt 10pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>The
<a name="_Hlk121932069">Mycenaeans</a></b>,
who hadn’t the luxury of journeying by ferry as today’s visitors do, were early
Procida settlers. Their arrival is
believed to have occurred sometime between 1600 and 1400 BC, well before the
broader <i>Magna Graecia</i> migrations would begin. These first-to-arrive Greeks came from
mainland Greece. Much later, Greek
settlers came to Procida from the nearby mainland colony of Cumae. Others would migrate from the neighboring
island of Ischia. Fast forwarding
through time, Procida became a fashionable resort for well-to-do patrician-class
Romans.<sup>[2]</sup> These days, with the
convenience of a short ferry ride, this underrated getaway has evolved into an
alluring and timeless retreat when contrasted with more renowned and nearby
Ischia and the frenzied mayhem of mainland Naples. It remains a great place to enjoy a respite
from a hectic world. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.35pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 9.35pt 10pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>While
it lies well offshore</b>, it remains part of metropolitan Naples. A relatively small place, it only occupies an
area of 1.6 square miles. It is also
rather hilly, which does not make for a leisurely <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68xX_8JxwPBY0KWWYFZ07bR6cg_LLyZTlfotg9hVVYNiPdDWi9isoRso7HzIkrMKglQWSwgI0HCA4qmL0SniTEDb-r3cS3huTcJ0PCWGkLwehFWMn3QI83HdHFDqeM6RVUocGckfvZQJlGvYkvPvrPU0iTWzWTlYKgPkMA_2hlS8nwLX92E-bgzjX/s2048/3%20Marina-Corricella-Procida.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="2048" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi68xX_8JxwPBY0KWWYFZ07bR6cg_LLyZTlfotg9hVVYNiPdDWi9isoRso7HzIkrMKglQWSwgI0HCA4qmL0SniTEDb-r3cS3huTcJ0PCWGkLwehFWMn3QI83HdHFDqeM6RVUocGckfvZQJlGvYkvPvrPU0iTWzWTlYKgPkMA_2hlS8nwLX92E-bgzjX/s320/3%20Marina-Corricella-Procida.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Our Destination <i>Marina di Corricella</i></span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br />walk. If my thinking is correct, with about 10,500
full-time residents, it has a rather sparse distribution of people. Most of the population is concentrated around
the picturesque port of <i>Marina di Corricella</i>. Even here, you will still not experience the
shoulder-to-shoulder congestion found in the nearby port towns of Amalfi or
Positano. This is especially the case when
cruise ships spawn their tenders and discharge thousands of tourists,
reminiscent of being invaded by a bigger city, a much bigger city. This small hidden port, really a fishing
haven full of colorful craft bobbing at anchor, lies on the opposite side of
the island from <i>Marina Grande</i>, where ferries come and go to service the
island. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 4.3pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 4.3pt 10pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Slightly
faded buildings</b> painted a <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzVc9CiY_GWtyKBwvdJQ_t5p_UB5iDLyc9d40eW7hksnkwFWwMSMW3MyfYikw9PgK5DpOSOWNSqrlr3g-bRbfAyVP8zg9OCuRjnqzELhInpdZoNnWVohBt0vwFRc7LqJzE6A6mPlZMAPBgcYo0TISNq3xdNRSk6hByDoVzxNEhx3KQ1oVW2RZ0sRt/s1100/4%20marina%20Grande.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="553" data-original-width="1100" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFzVc9CiY_GWtyKBwvdJQ_t5p_UB5iDLyc9d40eW7hksnkwFWwMSMW3MyfYikw9PgK5DpOSOWNSqrlr3g-bRbfAyVP8zg9OCuRjnqzELhInpdZoNnWVohBt0vwFRc7LqJzE6A6mPlZMAPBgcYo0TISNq3xdNRSk6hByDoVzxNEhx3KQ1oVW2RZ0sRt/w396-h199/4%20marina%20Grande.jpg" width="396" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Arrival Port of <i>Marina Grande</i></span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br />rainbow of colors watch over the waterfront in greeting.
They are not from some theme park fantasy
or part of a cinematic backlot. <i>Palazzo
Montefusco</i>, located right in front of the landing pier and once the summer
residence of the King of Naples, stands out.
Despite this royal residence, the atmosphere of a fishing village
remains. Here at the island’s transportation
and economic center, you can still purchase fish at its best, straight from the
boats. You will also find local craft
shops as well as bars and restaurants much appreciated by those like us, fresh
off the ferries and somewhat disoriented, who have chosen this island getaway. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 4.3pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 4.3pt 10pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>If
there is spectacle on hand</b> mirroring its history, tinges of it remain in
the pageant of everyday life. We travel
to places like Procida to appreciate these differences, reflected in everyday
life and drawn from that realm where the past leads the present. In this case, not living by the sea only adds
to our amazement with the spectacle of color, animation, and the cacophony that
soon engulfs us. The rhythmic lapping
sound of this sea is the same sound the Mycenaeans heard ages ago. Now, for a few days, it will touch the shore
for us, its new occupiers seeking to stimulate our senses through immersion in
this historical setting. Diverse and
exotic in silent dialogue merge with contemporary and mundane to offer a unique
experience that offsets the routines of our everyday lives. Gone for a while are the paths we habitually
follow, replaced at every turn by routes we’ve no idea where they might take us.
<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 4.3pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 4.3pt 10pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>The
coming and going</b> of <i>Marina Grande</i> is noisy in comparison to our
destination, laid-back <i>Marina di Corricella</i>. We could walk to <a name="_Hlk121350059"><i>Marina
di Corricella</i> </a>from the ferry port, but it is uphill most of the way. The island’s rising backbone, which separates
the two ports, can make for a workout. You
can get closer to <a name="_Hlk121932823"><i>Marina Coricella</i> </a>by taking
the C2 bus from <i>Marina Grande</i>. Ten
minutes later, get off at <i>Piazza dei Martiri</i> (Square of the Martyrs)
located at the top of <i>Via San Rocco</i>.
This small square is named for the twelve inhabitants of Procida beheaded
during the Neapolitan revolution of <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPCNP1N3BN94sKYuJnUF7xDsA0mUyiVkWLCgBaQ1Klc2NWyqfmmDxn2gYIwkFNSRVvkK1ehqJWIDK9dl4wDVMTCXzBwoqJiEWDdiAPIOc3m6XJAH5R8BH2scFHzz_MDVj93hqTycTjxEw2RPODnfStGMuA9eSXTE-RQ0mdFDc1HdRHHJXcv0gG7JQ/s1024/5%20363911634.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="270" data-original-width="1024" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKPCNP1N3BN94sKYuJnUF7xDsA0mUyiVkWLCgBaQ1Klc2NWyqfmmDxn2gYIwkFNSRVvkK1ehqJWIDK9dl4wDVMTCXzBwoqJiEWDdiAPIOc3m6XJAH5R8BH2scFHzz_MDVj93hqTycTjxEw2RPODnfStGMuA9eSXTE-RQ0mdFDc1HdRHHJXcv0gG7JQ/w580-h153/5%20363911634.jpg" width="580" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Piazza dei Martiri</i> & <i>Santa Maria delle Grazie </i>Overlooking <i>Marina di Corricella</i></span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table>1799.<sup>[3]</sup> A nearby taxi stand offers an attractive
alternative and usually comes with the added benefit of free advice. This short ride, however, like the bus, will
not <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zyi6PwczE4Fvon1nZE3uJOh5QvBlYV8EP4MvlJKqDrj2l87B7PjiZF1LGEi4EQAWbNnFgSLfm78c7kE6G0s4NydoOw5Ja_sZaHWApeAqKJyPvUcA2o7QIOzvl-LxmOHxsYU_hJ7UOZtqwwope8eGDnTMDXZRKS7LZMbx_rodvt0J1oKLMeN_QfIJ/s705/7%20M67fc72e306.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="705" data-original-width="564" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_zyi6PwczE4Fvon1nZE3uJOh5QvBlYV8EP4MvlJKqDrj2l87B7PjiZF1LGEi4EQAWbNnFgSLfm78c7kE6G0s4NydoOw5Ja_sZaHWApeAqKJyPvUcA2o7QIOzvl-LxmOHxsYU_hJ7UOZtqwwope8eGDnTMDXZRKS7LZMbx_rodvt0J1oKLMeN_QfIJ/w235-h295/7%20M67fc72e306.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Arrived at <i>Marina di Corricella</i></span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br />deposit you precisely on the <i>Marina di Corricella</i> wharf. Maria Elena and I have made this trip a few
times. So far, the closest we have come to
where the water laps the waterfront is the entrance to the gleaming yellow
church of <i>Santa Maria delle Grazie Incoronata</i>.<a name="_Hlk121828683"> <o:p></o:p></a></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 4.3pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 4.3pt 10pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Marina di Corricella</b> served as
the location for a scene in the seductive movie, <i>The Talented Mr. Ripley</i>,
starring Matt Damon, Jude Law, and Gwyneth Paltrow.<sup>[4]</sup> A sign by the church points this out. The church’s presence may serve as a subtle suggestion
to say a prayer before you make the descent to the port along <i>Discesa
Graziella</i>, a meandering offshoot flight of <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhettVEnOSMByED4McHM3rE334OcvuPelw3GTWILWDisy1JJyaObuh74gWApTzNHjCBhN_BAO3kHe3-OPap3vXyBx6eDc_Tqvn13dkdrFrX9In5Iw-RxBhMmdV2na6J6kDacA_pm7mz5IQty2ItxXjhoYaioUK8HNjPSDNoAURj2wzGLJKxfI9Y0VGT/s840/6%20Procida_Italy-nancy_aiello_tours.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="840" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhettVEnOSMByED4McHM3rE334OcvuPelw3GTWILWDisy1JJyaObuh74gWApTzNHjCBhN_BAO3kHe3-OPap3vXyBx6eDc_Tqvn13dkdrFrX9In5Iw-RxBhMmdV2na6J6kDacA_pm7mz5IQty2ItxXjhoYaioUK8HNjPSDNoAURj2wzGLJKxfI9Y0VGT/w306-h175/6%20Procida_Italy-nancy_aiello_tours.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Seaside at <i>Marina Corricella</i></span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table>stairs along <i>Via San Rocco</i>. If on first thought the stairs don’t look too
bad, keep in mind that gravity works just the opposite when the time arrives to
leave, suitcases and all. Once arrived, a
look back up from the stone-paved wharf reveals a myriad of pastel-colored
houses arranged in a haphazard, near-vertical warren linked by a zig-zag of
staircase streets.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 4.3pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 4.3pt 10pt 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Along
the wharf</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, the umbrella-shaded tables of charming small cafes and
restaurants offer beautiful southern views across a breakwater toward the
Sorrento Peninsula and Capri. Beware, this
is <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyU_iWfdDG5a2ad_As8pzydlilRR3BYHCw2cizj5115symX5vFBKCiPzQXRxV4NJ6OF8FHQEPE9S-Q-sM2Q_DNMM4UaRToIURNXaWtDnG-KYqgA6frkvTc1FTQq_e9M7xC7nSkyfdNmkONpHknDwIu5xRNFMK7KfCTwMzCSeD7G7rxMOCfqVH1j5Tm/s4032/8%20IMG_0493.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyU_iWfdDG5a2ad_As8pzydlilRR3BYHCw2cizj5115symX5vFBKCiPzQXRxV4NJ6OF8FHQEPE9S-Q-sM2Q_DNMM4UaRToIURNXaWtDnG-KYqgA6frkvTc1FTQq_e9M7xC7nSkyfdNmkONpHknDwIu5xRNFMK7KfCTwMzCSeD7G7rxMOCfqVH1j5Tm/w252-h189/8%20IMG_0493.jpg" width="252" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Charming Wharf Restaurants</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br />not a Jimmy Buffet </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Margaritaville</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> sort of place, not yet at
least. But it is gradually approaching
its metaverse of counterparts with Aperol Spritzes readily available to the accompaniment of Elisa or, for those with a more operatic ear, Pavorotti. You will find your preferred refreshment and venue somewhere. </span><span style="text-align: left;">Indeed, one evening on the wharf, to our surprise, we were entertained by a vocalist to the accompaniment of a grand piano … just what Maria Elena enjoys.</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8T8wblwrpcZlC-IQOAjLZqKGraQ7FYff_-V6ayWGbLZEBA3-jtJLggrc2UQGyrgFgRSn8TlBLZM-2JrS0wAtOOVVX2QQYhDDagcodsm4rv2mfF7jTniVhpaMS_-iOJSFVs-Qv5z4BY0EiSyn7pauacoanyR9jy0RDPQkamf7zNJcwg945sWaWgVqD/s2576/9%20IMG_0461.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1932" data-original-width="2576" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8T8wblwrpcZlC-IQOAjLZqKGraQ7FYff_-V6ayWGbLZEBA3-jtJLggrc2UQGyrgFgRSn8TlBLZM-2JrS0wAtOOVVX2QQYhDDagcodsm4rv2mfF7jTniVhpaMS_-iOJSFVs-Qv5z4BY0EiSyn7pauacoanyR9jy0RDPQkamf7zNJcwg945sWaWgVqD/w270-h202/9%20IMG_0461.JPG" width="270" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">A Self-Serving Selfie</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>If you prefer</b> a back-and-forth day trip instead
of staying over, Procida is close enough to Naples to easily come and go. We’d visited Procida years ago and promised to
stay when we returned, which is exactly what we did recently. Unfortunately, it was August which in just
about any language means hot, really hot.
Thankfully, our choice, <i>Casetta Giulia</i> (Julia House), located at the port of <i>Corricella</i>, had <i>aria condizionata</i> (air conditioning) and proved to be a cool gem. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmAW1ldL5BMKwH5cMYw3p4bbZxvZ1C5b0nm_NtId_3trRWYDO8LZtBScJ4fZf5IitS57aHZU78dlQeVI5cxiM9tzKuMptG-QGf6nh_B1XJooYPwa_AL24vo9Km5EGkoppBUqGpehcKtBgmRuaqIvK3jTEM6rZ8iFz2wQlrLc814Fuycp93Vm6ITMm/s1536/10%20Chiaro%20di%20Luna.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="1536" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmmAW1ldL5BMKwH5cMYw3p4bbZxvZ1C5b0nm_NtId_3trRWYDO8LZtBScJ4fZf5IitS57aHZU78dlQeVI5cxiM9tzKuMptG-QGf6nh_B1XJooYPwa_AL24vo9Km5EGkoppBUqGpehcKtBgmRuaqIvK3jTEM6rZ8iFz2wQlrLc814Fuycp93Vm6ITMm/w191-h191/10%20Chiaro%20di%20Luna.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Chiaro de Luna's Staff</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table>But for a 30-step
climb to our studio apartment in a cliffside warren of rooms, the location overlooking
this most picturesque place on the island was perfect. From our terrace, we looked out over the port
each day and then went out and touched it.
<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Heaps of nets</b> along the stone pier that runs the
harbor’s length, bobbing boats moored to stout wharf bollards, and coils of
rope coarse to the touch from their frequent use, attest to the port’s contribution
to a fishing economy. Add a colorful flotilla of modest fishing boats, one<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Cz1_NEvkGr-iLJ5GTicpJzMAqzUgTErrUsJVGWR9Y9S31930cPtn-42odyBrYZegsr0T_17R07XlVHxrKqK66d8M_s_L6ZgOT0-WRJlXNLG__K2sdVwsk1rjQa7sp3zqN2vUm91HFz3IPWrYlFp5b5Wwe0tl_CGA3rgIdWSbvKOqSM2R1j112TSa/s2592/11%20Our%20room.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="2592" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Cz1_NEvkGr-iLJ5GTicpJzMAqzUgTErrUsJVGWR9Y9S31930cPtn-42odyBrYZegsr0T_17R07XlVHxrKqK66d8M_s_L6ZgOT0-WRJlXNLG__K2sdVwsk1rjQa7sp3zqN2vUm91HFz3IPWrYlFp5b5Wwe0tl_CGA3rgIdWSbvKOqSM2R1j112TSa/w282-h211/11%20Our%20room.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Our Apartment (circled)</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br />even named ‘Paolo’ lashed to a buoy, and I felt
right at home. While far from an exact
comparison, I’d liken this wharf to that of nearby <i>Ischia Porto </i>on neighboring Ischia.<span style="text-align: left;"> There, restaurants arc around one side of the circular harbor while commercial activity takes up the rest. </span><span style="text-align: left;">In Procida’s case, geography imposed the need for two ports,</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><i style="text-align: left;">Marina di <a name="_Hlk121825476">Corricella</a></i><span style="text-align: left;"> to one side of the island and, with
its primarily commercial nature, </span><i style="text-align: left;">Marina Grande</i><span style="text-align: left;">, on the opposite side. Restaurants, both glamorous and more sublime, lace
the once cliff wall of port Corricella. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="text-align: left;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; font-style: italic;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFltiVm5A4HuNTKUcQzlWAJ3zz6amuU45_v6ZKAZYBv-aUALr4wZlzf3nql1j8sRLNRrhAQywG-h-v4LjApGMQpJp9bbQYQZAkvmDP8Wv1MUfSdnz4A83brCVAsQ7sZn3unFRPB0D751BoMhrRghnkcChPVEEy93s3bjyhyGT68MMYLFZ86RUS9rAY/s768/12%20356024158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="576" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFltiVm5A4HuNTKUcQzlWAJ3zz6amuU45_v6ZKAZYBv-aUALr4wZlzf3nql1j8sRLNRrhAQywG-h-v4LjApGMQpJp9bbQYQZAkvmDP8Wv1MUfSdnz4A83brCVAsQ7sZn3unFRPB0D751BoMhrRghnkcChPVEEy93s3bjyhyGT68MMYLFZ86RUS9rAY/w228-h304/12%20356024158.jpg" width="228" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium; font-style: normal;">Inside Our Studio Apartment</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table></span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;">They </span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"></span><span style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;">span the length of the wharf burrowed into the bluff, while others extend out from vividly colored building facades bordering the cliff face. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Each day and each night</b>, we walked along the harbor. Our evenings would begin with a promenade to <i>Blue Bar</i> at the far end of the pier for the cultural <span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">ritual of a pre-meal drink, the </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">aperitivo</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IKITOOsdx0Dr9TUOds5VHiny-QyViVcrMWRQhteO4UxwD7NwqWR8ttWazA2b7mAABr-0C5Wu3VRNCpn4P5zunE8VDQ3hnOk6yIQqESX9Vy2WoRTuouuZMyel4d1ryTbD9mt6lAEVjLMFMU_rIqxPRn4SmYk0snA8lxSdzUuCD5j-xcPwvHmJ7v19/s740/14%20la-locanda-del-postino_05.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="740" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1IKITOOsdx0Dr9TUOds5VHiny-QyViVcrMWRQhteO4UxwD7NwqWR8ttWazA2b7mAABr-0C5Wu3VRNCpn4P5zunE8VDQ3hnOk6yIQqESX9Vy2WoRTuouuZMyel4d1ryTbD9mt6lAEVjLMFMU_rIqxPRn4SmYk0snA8lxSdzUuCD5j-xcPwvHmJ7v19/w301-h218/14%20la-locanda-del-postino_05.jpg" width="301" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>View Toward <i>Locanda del Positino </i><br /></b><b>With Its Famous Bicycle</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 24px;">Doing so got us down the pier with intermittent stops to chat and observe the nightlife vibe. Our return stroll concluded with dinner at </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 24px;">Locanda del Postino</i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 24px;">. </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 24px;">La Locanda del </i><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Postino</i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> was but one of
our ‘too many favorites.’ I liked
everything about it, from the inside bar, the daytime shelter of its umbrellas
on the wharf, and their attractively plated yummy presentations. Adding to its reputation is the fact that it
was featured in the movie </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Il Postino</i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> – a celebrated 1994 film that showcased
Procida through the eyes of a postman, Mario Ruoppolo. Its famous prop is the </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1lK5XFMFBnQMcnTWdFSTn62e0H-QDgbLMfxSv-D1O_JyqNnEQ1bu0_yYtsifcKsHn8x6O8gb8N5UsLomsDqf0rckA2guzFYUlgAlZUmgrCBzt-MP4SKJh8a7tfenrv7fnXaA5goDgxjvQzvB5AOYzy8b05SNxTDFITirDs208qBbaIZRfaMGJsYT/s4032/15%20IMG_0470.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl1lK5XFMFBnQMcnTWdFSTn62e0H-QDgbLMfxSv-D1O_JyqNnEQ1bu0_yYtsifcKsHn8x6O8gb8N5UsLomsDqf0rckA2guzFYUlgAlZUmgrCBzt-MP4SKJh8a7tfenrv7fnXaA5goDgxjvQzvB5AOYzy8b05SNxTDFITirDs208qBbaIZRfaMGJsYT/s320/15%20IMG_0470.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Wharf Nightlife</span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table>bicycle that shy Mario
rode to make his deliveries. Not widely
known, Mario, played by Massimo Troisi, was severely ill during its filming. He had postponed heart surgery so it could be
completed. Unfortunately, twelve hours
after the filming concluded, he died of a heart attack.</span><sup style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">[5]</sup><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> An evening could also include a brief cruise
across the bay to </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Ristorante <a name="_Hlk121994309">La Conchiglia da Tonino</a></i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">.
The enjoyment there includes a panorama of </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Marina di Corricella</i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
with </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Vesuvius</i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> off in the background, followed by a fantastic bounty of
seafood and pasta. On the return ride,
you may notice the boat settled just a little deeper in the water. Take this trip earlier in the day for La </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Conchiglia</i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
is situated on </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Spiaggia della Chiaia</i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> (Chiaia Beach), one of Procida’s most
beautiful beaches known for its dark sand and crystal-clear water. </span><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>With much to offer</b>, Procida recently gained worldwide attention when it beat out nine competitors for the honor of being crowned Italy’s “<i>Capital</i><i> of Culture for 2022</i>.” <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Ra9E8IWfz1_aatkU4OSjUQanqKRNLChPSmFi3LWk0z73BEommxCIzkVXVKlhAVLD4wIwAJigMT41V9_oQrI1M8d2CGNomjXvs_qhCCdDSvT31BaNWRDwMNLtG5rDNE95WprhTANeOWYSNj0PO2ZnWe3TVwwZQH7mgshCIwpIztj59XdJjl_642Gr/s4032/16%20IMG_0502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Ra9E8IWfz1_aatkU4OSjUQanqKRNLChPSmFi3LWk0z73BEommxCIzkVXVKlhAVLD4wIwAJigMT41V9_oQrI1M8d2CGNomjXvs_qhCCdDSvT31BaNWRDwMNLtG5rDNE95WprhTANeOWYSNj0PO2ZnWe3TVwwZQH7mgshCIwpIztj59XdJjl_642Gr/s320/16%20IMG_0502.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Maria Elena at Aparitivo Time <br /> </b><b>at the <i>Blu Bar</i></b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table><br />This feat was particularly noteworthy because,
in garnering the title, it became the first island ever to be granted the
honor. Cultural events involving 350
artists from 45 countries included art exhibitions, festivals, and live
performances spread over ten months of the year. The lengthy duration was intended to encourage
responsible travel and circumvent a sudden mass influx of visitors. Hardly known outside of Italy, <i>National
Geographic Magazine</i> included Procida in its worldwide list of “<i>25
Amazing Journeys for 2022</i>.” <sup>[6]</sup><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>My rendering of Procida</b> can’t replace a visit
there. This mishmash of stairs, caves,
arches, patios, domes, windows, and loggias awash in history is one of the most
amazing places you’re ever likely to visit.
Like all of Italy, all the ancient glory that was once Rome, even on a
little island like Procida, we can read about it at home one page at a time and
later put the book aside on the nightstand.
But here, beyond the myth we may have made of it, we can put our hands
on what remains of reality. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXPP15aNG0YkzMM4fWD2NFLecGfRjCQ2TK-3JEcj6P-_nro7loRKjkow0UzJw6OyLIdxvE5uqPzBTWjWmUvK5K_oZrWWi6PJDZgGp52PECW4QBYAgTWVhP7sVZi7tvIZFJS2u5Hz-ZmMaZyQRnYIgmC8qCIFU_Fz5z1hEF6RZqspvDaTKtxFzwfPU/s768/18%2043147193.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="576" height="379" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrXPP15aNG0YkzMM4fWD2NFLecGfRjCQ2TK-3JEcj6P-_nro7loRKjkow0UzJw6OyLIdxvE5uqPzBTWjWmUvK5K_oZrWWi6PJDZgGp52PECW4QBYAgTWVhP7sVZi7tvIZFJS2u5Hz-ZmMaZyQRnYIgmC8qCIFU_Fz5z1hEF6RZqspvDaTKtxFzwfPU/w284-h379/18%2043147193.jpg" width="284" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>A Peaceful day Concludes with a<br /> </b><b>Romantic Evening</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table>With the
spotlight of the cultural award now moved elsewhere, Procida is once again
relaxed and hopefully returned to its quiet seclusion as a great place to enjoy
a peaceful, romantic day or two, again with the bonus of a short ferry
ride. I can promise you this: fishermen continue
to mend their nets, restaurants open and close their sun umbrellas each day,
boats will come and go while children play by the sea as it splashes ashore, and
life quietly moves along. Here is a tip
– get there soon before it all changes.</p><h4 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: "Arial Black",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">From That Rogue
Tourist,<br /></span></b><b><span style="font-family: "Arial Black",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Paolo</span></b></h4><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 9pt; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="background: white; color: #202124; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 9pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal">[1] Vulture Region,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vulture_(region)<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 9pt; text-align: justify;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal">[2] Procida, Province of Napoli, Campania, https://www.italyheritage.com/regions/campania/napoli/procida.htm#:~:text=Its%20history%20is%20very%20ancient,resort%20for%20the%20patrician%20class.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">[3] Procida, </span><span style="text-align: justify;">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Procida</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 10pt 9pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> [4] </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The Talented Mr.
Ripley, https://www.movie-locations.com/movies/t/Talented-Mr-Ripley.php</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 10pt 9pt; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-align: justify;"> [5] </span><span style="text-align: justify;">Il Postino: The Postman, https:\\en.wikipdeia.org/wiki/Il_Postino:
The_Postman</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt 9pt; text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 8pt 9pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> [6] Best in the
World 2022, </span>https://www.nationalgeographic.com/travel/article/best-of-the-world-2022<o:p></o:p></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-4825932030462138952022-11-30T14:57:00.058-05:002023-01-04T09:51:33.993-05:00Warriors, Gods, and Cats<p> <b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Warriors, Gods, and Cats</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><v:shapetype coordsize="21600,21600" filled="f" id="_x0000_t75" o:preferrelative="t" o:spt="75" path="m@4@5l@4@11@9@11@9@5xe" stroked="f">
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</w:wrap></v:imagedata></v:shape><p style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b> We always think</b> we'll have all the time in the world to do everything we want to do when we finally retire. What we don't factor in are all the unpleasant things we'll have to do. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> I’m not referring here to the annual drudgery
of </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">reluctantly taking a required minimum distribution from </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">our retirement funds
or the nagging need to keep everything around us, including ourselves,
functioning. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Short of Maria Elena’s
dogged </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">persistence, I especially try to avoid the unpleasantness of doctor visits. Guys <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIa0f7K9jbVdlLmE2wznHlXhzZbxHmItSGQCtNp3PsudLewb07jItHUs8xMArT40Njxtg2KPdow7OqbsdGFeCmLlQ1ejbO1xm-BV0CbkgmPEsiWAnA7OBlEytuE4YexfrypmChTM-nU1mOM9UfhqMm7IQwWd6MnI5DSrHWeOKLAa58NPEZ5RybtGC/s3264/1%20Overhall.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIa0f7K9jbVdlLmE2wznHlXhzZbxHmItSGQCtNp3PsudLewb07jItHUs8xMArT40Njxtg2KPdow7OqbsdGFeCmLlQ1ejbO1xm-BV0CbkgmPEsiWAnA7OBlEytuE4YexfrypmChTM-nU1mOM9UfhqMm7IQwWd6MnI5DSrHWeOKLAa58NPEZ5RybtGC/s320/1%20Overhall.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Ouch</b>, <b>A Major Overhaul</b></span></p></td></tr></tbody></table>being guys (here, permit me to use a
broad brush), we generally don’t want to spend a minute of our time on doctor
visits when there is golf, camping, travel, doing nothing all day, you name it, </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">to timeshare. There are times, however, when parts simply wear
out. Take, for instance, going in for a
tune-up (annual physical), or short of preventive maintenance, getting towed in
for some vehicle breakdown (ambulance ride).
Not surprisingly, our bodies follow the same pattern, though at times
spare parts are hard to come by. </span></div><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Yes, there are
warning signs.</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: left;"> Sticking to my car
analogy a bit longer, mufflers get louder, brakes squeal, and at times water may
appear on the engine oil dipstick. As
for me, I’ve had this ‘unibody chassis’ of mine, popularly mass-produced after
the Second World War, for a long time now. As of yet, there is no chance of a trade-in
judging from the lingering existence of actuarial life expectancy tables. More than out of alignment, the structural
support of my load-bearing frame has been giving me trouble since I fell on my
tailbone playing high school basketball. Since then, as frequently as once a year, I am
usually down for about a week, in bed with a back issue. I still vividly recall those doctor
hypodermic needle visits to our home in Calitri, black bag and all. They saved the day. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> True to my nature, I went down once again.</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; text-indent: 0.25in;"> Hopefully, the last time was in
April ’22. Unwise of me, </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; text-indent: 24px;">I proved I couldn’t do it all, like</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"> lifting a mattress. In dashboard warning light fashion, this light
just wouldn’t go out, even given three months of rest and relaxation in Italy. In </span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Casino Royale</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">, </span></div><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizlU7E2Pa6j7JeBt7FgTFaSwc5WJa9FKiVdMQHJFD-bJRRTxnoYlnbBMEdzj4iaHhii5PxXtpwAcO7RtcLfp6OszGm_pZlNSNdLjm0_xdCOdFNm8S35M-Bx0tQ2vsg8M9j8BgJYL8uG1MAUj_ZxHqnc0scMbEZVUIOVvnZs-cu1ARPAD3H4ZZhWUeH/s1341/2%20Villa.jpeg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="1341" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizlU7E2Pa6j7JeBt7FgTFaSwc5WJa9FKiVdMQHJFD-bJRRTxnoYlnbBMEdzj4iaHhii5PxXtpwAcO7RtcLfp6OszGm_pZlNSNdLjm0_xdCOdFNm8S35M-Bx0tQ2vsg8M9j8BgJYL8uG1MAUj_ZxHqnc0scMbEZVUIOVvnZs-cu1ARPAD3H4ZZhWUeH/w422-h211/2%20Villa.jpeg" width="422" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><span style="font-size: small;">Villa Balbianello at Lago di Como</span></h3></td></tr></tbody></table></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; text-indent: 0.25in;">James Bond
of “Shaken, not Stirred” fame recuperated at <i>Villa del Balbianello</i> jutting
into Lake Como. Of course, forget that I couldn’t
afford it but still, why not me? My
L4-L5 vertebrae, including the shock absorber in </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">between, had
called it quits.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Persistent pain and the
inability to walk very far made our stay unpleasant, to say the least.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">But for a few escapes from the medieval life
of the Borgo, we stayed close to Calitri that trip. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Short of a tow, I needed a fix (not that kind)
ASAP on return, even without Maria Elena’s encouragement.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">That happened when I limped into the hospital and six hours later cautiously hobbled out, rebuilt
and shiny like a ‘newified’ but used car.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">With all the downtime, well before life gets in the way again,
it got me thinking. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Like running a computer scan</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">, what better time for taking inventory of one’s
life than when you have given up control, put yourself in someone else’s hands,
closed your eyes, and surrendered to surgery?</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">And it just so happened to be in November </span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left;">– the month of the dead</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">. Clearly, it’s a busy month, packed full of lighthearted
and solemn celebrations for remembering the departed, and short of that, those who
have</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQHyYNqOWZVtgLhdMQsc41L14TuWH5qpwWfBWihHILIPpiYkQ-DbJicQzvWf7k7bZ4OqvHwlmgxuU54BYgugDIRovJ504JLkxDKRANq4ElrzClR3Cgl86teyRb_vYsCgXUelqn_ZTMta2DerK1CitpF5FS1Ypx2PlJQE9nzm6e_VwT2kyMADeh63zD/s940/3%20Samhain.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQHyYNqOWZVtgLhdMQsc41L14TuWH5qpwWfBWihHILIPpiYkQ-DbJicQzvWf7k7bZ4OqvHwlmgxuU54BYgugDIRovJ504JLkxDKRANq4ElrzClR3Cgl86teyRb_vYsCgXUelqn_ZTMta2DerK1CitpF5FS1Ypx2PlJQE9nzm6e_VwT2kyMADeh63zD/s320/3%20Samhain.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">risked death for a greater cause. ‘All
Hallows Eve,’ what we call Halloween, is a tradition that originated with the
ancient Celtic festival of <i>Samhain</i>. It was a spirit night when the souls of the
dead were expected to return to their family homes, and people wore costumes to
ward off ghosts. By the eighth century,
Pope Gregory III incorporated some of its traditions when he established All Saints Day as a time to remember the dead, including saints,
martyrs, … and the faithful departed. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b> Later
in the month,</b> we celebrate Veterans Day, initially conceived as Armistice Day in memory of the living and
departed American military veterans who perished in World War I. That war ended in
1918 at the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month. We now celebrate it annually, always on the
11th, as Veterans Day in honor of all veterans, living and dead, from all of
America’s wars, in memory of their patriotism and willingness to serve and
sacrifice</span> <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">for the nation’s good. </span></div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Not surprisingly</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">, the cumulative effects of Halloween, followed by All Souls Day, my
surgery, and Veterans Day, all tempered by the scourge of COVID, have seen my
thoughts easily turn toward mortality. But also in November, is the redeeming arrival of Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving first took place when a small group
of colonists rejoiced over a bountiful harvest following their near extinction
from a brutal winter. This time of
celebration offers an opportunity, in the company of family and friends, to
give thanks and reflect on our lives. Like a cat with nine lives, who seem immune to damage and remarkably able to
survive, this whole experience has given me pause to think back and weigh my
mortality. I too have been fortunate to
land on my feet more than once.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I continue
to be amazed</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> at the medical advancements of our day and the resilience of our bodies.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Yet with advancements being
made daily, 20 or 30 years hence will history look back at us, appalled at our ‘primitive’
medical practices?</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Still, my systolic blood
pressure wasn’t at 135 mmHg for nothing when I was processed into the hospital.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">No matter how far medicine has come, a far,
far cry from the barbarism of bloodletting and leeches, I was still
nervous.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">After all, I was ‘going under’
as they say. </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Could something go wrong,
would I wake up?</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Had I become overly conditioned to those TV ads for pharmaceuticals we’re bombarded with daily? </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">While we are encouraged to ask our doctors
about them following the advertisement's happy faces and upbeat claims, many conclude with a list of dire side effects, including death.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Thinking it over, me thinks I was rightfully
nervous enough to have pushed the pressure monitor to at least 165 mmHg! </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Telling from the forms that needed signing,
they were wary too. </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Cats, nine lives</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> … to be so
fortunate. During the Vietnam War, my
crewmate was grounded for a few days.
His malady: different blood pressure from one arm to the next. The Air Force had acronyms for everything; He
was placed in Duty Not Including Flying (DNIF) status. Regardless of blood pressure, we relieved the stress by taunting fellow</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"> aviators with gibes like: "</span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">If you don’t make it back today, can I have that stereo amp you just bought?</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">”</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;"> Fueled by testosterone, our bluster served to offset the life-threatening
seriousness of the missions at hand.
We’d signed those forms years earlier.
Following that mission to Hanoi, I
scrawled a poem </span><span color="windowtext" style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;">(located at the bottom of this blog) </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">to exhaust the anxiety and capture the emotion of that day’s
sortie. Like a cat, I’d ‘landed’ on my
feet. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Clearly, our battle
bravado</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> was a far more
secular cry than those uttered by Carthaginian warriors and Roman legionnaires to their
gods before the Battle of Cannae. They
were certainly not fated by horoscopes but were instead weighted by the sway of
their gods. Rather, far more likely, they spoke of Elysian fields
where heroic souls were conveyed by the gods after their deaths. I’ve mentioned Cannae in the
past. This major battle took place
</span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvAnFqeCuVqcrLBTaa3CuAh2LL03_BR4BS2yxS4J_KaQLU-cBrLa1_0Lvz32sKgyYk2gdIrIyuO4_HS2Iye_7AnQ5IJvQHD2dLogreCw6ZYxNqVeu24e5SvfL6vmWZ23g6gkUhxHJKjdCA8FmRhwJ815DLJ7z8vkdmMGGwd2Os9KhMTJBzK8ASzQc/s1600/4%20Cannae%20Battlefield.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="980" data-original-width="1600" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBvAnFqeCuVqcrLBTaa3CuAh2LL03_BR4BS2yxS4J_KaQLU-cBrLa1_0Lvz32sKgyYk2gdIrIyuO4_HS2Iye_7AnQ5IJvQHD2dLogreCw6ZYxNqVeu24e5SvfL6vmWZ23g6gkUhxHJKjdCA8FmRhwJ815DLJ7z8vkdmMGGwd2Os9KhMTJBzK8ASzQc/w340-h209/4%20Cannae%20Battlefield.jpg" width="340" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>The Fields of the Battle of Cannae Today.<br />For Thousands, It Was Their Entrance to <br />the Elysian Fields</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">approximately five miles from Canosa di Puglia on the right bank of the ancient
Aufidus River. It was at Cannae that <span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 18.4px; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">one </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">of history’s</span><span color="rgba(0, 0, 0, 0)"> </span>greatest generals, the Carthaginian Hannibal Barca </span>defeated Rome in 216 B.C. </span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Unlike my close encounter, their
battle hadn’t been fought with throttle nudges and the flip of switches from 30,000
feet, amidst the explosion of missiles so close that the nav team
questioned the cause of the intense flashes.</span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">At Cannae, combat was hand-to-hand.</span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Carthaginian troops manning the center of the line were instructed to give way to a far greater Roman force pressing in on them so
that Hannibal’s heavily armed foot soldiers and flanking cavalry might envelop the Romans and annihilate them.</span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">This maneuver remains part of the curriculum studied at military
academies the world over.</span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span color="windowtext" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">In contrast, our lack of maneuver,
equally worthy of study, was literally straightforward — straight and level until
we broke left post target.</span></div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>Not too many years
ago</b>,<b> </b></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">we visited our friend Pietro
in Canosa di Puglia. Canosa is located
at the eastern end of the A16 Autostrada that extends across Italy from Naples
to just about 12 </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><h3><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOWcCADLLcdOESX8590WVcPt95IVepWL-O-ThSh2U5aKy_MDwN67-pCcGJzxsYF2XS4NQk7Zx6NqxTPQ_vcVamI_xmO0McyQJXHATBZGZEGgbp5vBoMFxU1rNX3kh5VdzNOrul7aSopTx4XaYBe1Sgc-ccGjGwKLCMBn0bqWF959xALyQczCANml0/s640/5%20thumbnail.jpeg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbOWcCADLLcdOESX8590WVcPt95IVepWL-O-ThSh2U5aKy_MDwN67-pCcGJzxsYF2XS4NQk7Zx6NqxTPQ_vcVamI_xmO0McyQJXHATBZGZEGgbp5vBoMFxU1rNX3kh5VdzNOrul7aSopTx4XaYBe1Sgc-ccGjGwKLCMBn0bqWF959xALyQczCANml0/w340-h267/5%20thumbnail.jpeg" width="340" /></a></h3></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>Fallen Carthaginian Warrior?</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">miles short of the still undiscovered crystal waters of the
Adriatic Sea. Thoughtfully, Pietro had
arranged a tour of the historical sites around and even some under his hometown with
Renato, a guide with the historical society.
Theirs is a wealth of history, but after all, this is Italy which helped
explain the hoop full of history represented by each key Renato carried, which opened every historic site in town. How
he knew one from the other is yet a mystery.
One of these archaeological stops was at <i>Il Battistero di San Giovanni</i>. As we walked along a narrow-elevated catwalk, </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: Times New Roman, serif;">we</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"> came upon an
exposed grave. </span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> T</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">he grave contained the skeletal remains of </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">two corpses. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">One appeared
much taller than the other.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Close
examination has determined that the taller male was unlikely Italian, known in
those days to have been shorter in stature.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> Due to </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">his height, he was positioned somewhat askew,
somewhat diagonally within the confines of the grave.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">He lay there on his back with his hands
clasped at the waist, his head propped up on a sort of stone pillow, legs
splayed wide. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">One leg lay straight, the
other bent bow-legged as a cavalryman might</span><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">develop.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">He is believed to have been injured</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> in the nearby battle and evacuated to Canosa only
to<span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> eventually
succumb to his wounds. The prestigious
location of his grave suggests that he may have been a Carthaginian soldier
of significant rank. Like the American <i>Tomb
of the Unknown Soldier</i> in Arlington, Virginia, here rested the remains of a
soldier struck down in battle, unknown and separated from his name for over
2200 years. Unlike the USA's Arlington
National Cemetery, there is no perpetual guard here, only a catwalk where
occasional visitors like us can hesitate and hover over this warrior’s final
resting place to wonder. The American
</span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyqb9d0-9XFZO3Y-X48bgMy0D1gwSJLiVEtPekyxhu7KgyIrk3iAS5rg02z59KlbRlSBWaLaBT2e9ynvQDh9ZU9GTSsd5oamNfKfQ50eiySY77Wmist09Y7rwuekpKphmKkrPeNJ_7ToNoH467BQ6-w2pr3-zDjhgob7kFntftoP-kLOyPvCD2Tav/s552/6%20Lt%20.jpg.png" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="552" data-original-width="400" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOyqb9d0-9XFZO3Y-X48bgMy0D1gwSJLiVEtPekyxhu7KgyIrk3iAS5rg02z59KlbRlSBWaLaBT2e9ynvQDh9ZU9GTSsd5oamNfKfQ50eiySY77Wmist09Y7rwuekpKphmKkrPeNJ_7ToNoH467BQ6-w2pr3-zDjhgob7kFntftoP-kLOyPvCD2Tav/w209-h299/6%20Lt%20.jpg.png" width="209" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>Cadet Mike Blassie <br />Class of 1970</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">memorial honors a fallen hero from WWI, WWII, Korea, and Vietnam. The Vietnam Unknown’s headstone reads, "<i>Here
rests in honored glory an American soldier known but to God." </i>For 14
years, the identity of this unknown did indeed remain known only to God.<sup>[<b>1</b>]</sup>
In his farewell words to this Unknown, </span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">President</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Reagan said:</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 3pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%;">“Today,
we pause to embrace him and all who served so well in a war whose end offered
no parades, no flags, and so little thanks. We write no last chapters. We close
no books. We put away no final memories. Thank you, dear son, and may God
cradle you in his loving arms.” <sup>[<b>2</b>]</sup><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The books
had remained open</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> for events in 1984 led to DNA fingerprinting that
positively identified the unknown’s remains as those of Air Force 1</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">st</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
Lt Michael Blassie, who in 1972 had been shot down near An Loc, South
Vietnam.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Graduating in 1970, he’d been a
year behind me at the Academy.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">On the
confirmation of his identity, his body was exhumed for burial elsewhere.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">It was then decided that the crypt, meant to
contain the remains of a Vietnam unknown, would henceforth remain vacant
(cenotaph).</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><b><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">Alongside the unknown Canosa warrior</span></b><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> lay the weapon paraphernalia
of a soldier. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">His rank may help explain why he’d been interned
beneath a temple thought to have occupied this site before its transformation
into a Catholic church. Had he been
surprised by the events that overtook him?
He undoubtedly survived the earlier battles</span><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> at Trebia (near modern-day Piacenza</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">)<span style="background: white; color: #202122;"> and Lake Trasimene (south of Cortona).</span><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">In the process, had he gone beyond his limit of cat
lives? In the end,
something caught up with him, though hopefully not before he’d beseeched the </span></span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px;">Punic god </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">Melqart.<sup>[<b>4</b>]</sup> <span style="background: white;">According to ancient sources, Hannibal s</span></span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">wore an oath to Melqart in 237 B.C. at age nine, stating that
he would forever be the enemy of </span><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">Rome.<sup>[<b>3</b>]</sup></span><span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"> Unquestionably,
he’d kept his word. His fallen comrade
had apparently died trying</span><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">.
Together they had obliterated four reinforced Roman legions. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: left;"><b style="background-color: transparent;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">News, even then, traveled
fast.</span></b><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> As they say: “If it bleeds, it leads.” Word of the defeat, fueled by word of mouth
and even faster horses, raced to Rome 300 miles away well before Hannibal’s
envoy, arrived seeking their surrender. Gripped
in panic, the city was in chaos. The
unprecedented demise of the empire’s finest young men, 50,000 to 60,000,
touched </span></span></span></span></span></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxm3ULu5MQc7P7upNvl_AaRT9TMbYC-RcYkiK8_u55AniDVS_KCTngp4LSDvUnF_9wzZZGxQ1Q8VKoPVrgtqNspEiDd21Do_pmAhtuxykODaAh-QdvMJJpn76CwZWlsgwGEkwqK2pvOvABigl6uhccdDYBu7E0155MfgFdKd4jlr8uruwH7osrMwo/s326/7%20Delphi%20Sibyl.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="326" data-original-width="271" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnxm3ULu5MQc7P7upNvl_AaRT9TMbYC-RcYkiK8_u55AniDVS_KCTngp4LSDvUnF_9wzZZGxQ1Q8VKoPVrgtqNspEiDd21Do_pmAhtuxykODaAh-QdvMJJpn76CwZWlsgwGEkwqK2pvOvABigl6uhccdDYBu7E0155MfgFdKd4jlr8uruwH7osrMwo/w253-h304/7%20Delphi%20Sibyl.jpg" width="253" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>Delphic Sibyl with Scroll by<br /><b>Michelangelo </b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">just about every Roman family. The Senate itself,
short members due to those killed at Cannae, resorted to extraordinary measures. Rome became so desperate that they once again
turned to human sacrifice, a practice they’d long since abandoned. History reports that twice they buried two
people alive at the Roman Forum in sacrifice to their gods.<sup>[<b>5</b>]</sup> Other measures included dispatching a
delegation to consult the Delphic oracle in Greece. In addition, there was the rare act of
consulting the Sibylline Scrolls, closely guarded in the Forum. They hoped this collection of oracular
utterances, composed by prophetic priestesses (the Sibyls), might provide them
with guidance.<sup>[<b>5</b>]</sup> Unfortunately,
they resisted the peace terms, and the</span> </span></span></span></span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt;">Second Punic War
continued unabated.</span></div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>Cannae concentrated</b> on high ground, terrain,
and the location of natural obstructions like rivers. The new battle arena, the modern aerospace high
ground, comes with its own prophets, </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="514" data-original-width="799" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjw7t0zt8jA_D5ZhxxrtOynqXCimyE--nrvxbwJyGkJgupFW2t2_K6kpXuO9aH9LoP47EN954b-wA9r-nVyyCnYz1DP5nnqugCQmHFVfnafv_DnfEcqTiw8Ydr7623X4NiMOkYVSa1lD1zK6tDosHJC1m4cJzOXS5fCJf_MBX77t1OJ9-Tgp4kKv-O/s320/8%20Bell_X-1.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>X-1 Beneath its B-29 Carrier (N<span style="font-size: small;">ote the <br /></span><span style="font-size: small;">frost from the liquid oxygen fuel tank)</span></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;"><div style="font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">advocates, and heroes. My list includes visionaries like
Billy Mitchel, Werner Von Braun, John Glenn, and industrial mogul Elon Musk. In particular, there is one
standout warrior, Chuck Yeager. Unlike
the biblical story of Ezekiel, who in a vision described a fiery airborne
wheel, Yeager flew one. Wounded in 1944,
this 21-year-old P-51 fighter pilot was harbored by the French underground
after being shot down following eight combat missions. While saving the life of a companion, he barely survived his escape across the Pyrenees to Spain. Apparently, the ‘gods’ had more for him to
accomplish, including many more scrapes with death. Some call it luck, but luck changes. In 1947 this iconic pilot,
now a WW II Ace with 13 kills (five in one day), cracked two ribs days before </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">he ‘flew’ from a galloping horse on a moonless night.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[<b>6</b>] </sup><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">I
guess crew rest wasn’t a big deal back then out in the Mojave Desert (today’s
Edwards AFB). Following this injury, he didn't go DNIF; there was more to break that day. Concealing </span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5RQemRa0S6CD-FYhcIGmuLb83JXDgt6piI5lu6dLr7SemY5_ywKcygbA1trBE-VOrd3fZdTHeHAbkX8AQBawEFfVYYAq857OeXJ2koYJk84T5_kRAk-OTsU0TVwP3ZwkQ2OdrmqXLxupQaDfVLh9NPN6gEmU6Fn1Jm2aHZT6iexnUiQxbEGgDIuc/s1520/9%20Yeager.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1222" data-original-width="1520" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie5RQemRa0S6CD-FYhcIGmuLb83JXDgt6piI5lu6dLr7SemY5_ywKcygbA1trBE-VOrd3fZdTHeHAbkX8AQBawEFfVYYAq857OeXJ2koYJk84T5_kRAk-OTsU0TVwP3ZwkQ2OdrmqXLxupQaDfVLh9NPN6gEmU6Fn1Jm2aHZT6iexnUiQxbEGgDIuc/w309-h253/9%20Yeager.jpg" width="309" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>Are Heroes Born or Made?</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">his injury, he gingerly
positioned himself in the rocket plane’s cockpit after closing the hatch to
Glamorous Glennis with the aid of a ten-inch piece of broomstick. The Bell Aircraft X-1 rocket plane cradled
beneath its B-29 mothership was nicknamed for his wife. Minutes later, as he passed through the previously
impenetrable sound barrier, the applause of the gods produced a thunderous clap </span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">never before heard
on this earth. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">He had broken through a barrier, the sound barrier, believed impenetrable. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Many also believed it would prove deadly to the
pilot as well, but t</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">he only barrier proved to be in
our knowledge, not his courage. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Here was a person whose scrapes with death in
war and peace far exceeded the number of lives any cat would ever consider
parlaying.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">In Calitri, word that someone has lost their battle</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> travels by phone and
text messages just as you’d expect. Yet there
are remnants of the past that still endure. Before the marvels of modern technology, news traveled
word-of-mouth much like it had from nearby Cannae to Rome. Through the centuries and the many wars that have plagued </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvPvJY3OQfyC08wAIzh7TLpx0FKWI1Bmrt4ZnLPHX1ej7oWo1qw0AfYFwkPjGbtndbA0rneXue-OOOuXJSpXYtuREt5sJkH36nN7dsUZKAxMHFT_wh6LcZ3qVhsswoLrmljHpH7GZ0kZI6MNhWj5ku6QA6YzLupHyw3LN9BqdXThqUNBXB9mfMggh/s1200/10%20Town%20crier.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVvPvJY3OQfyC08wAIzh7TLpx0FKWI1Bmrt4ZnLPHX1ej7oWo1qw0AfYFwkPjGbtndbA0rneXue-OOOuXJSpXYtuREt5sJkH36nN7dsUZKAxMHFT_wh6LcZ3qVhsswoLrmljHpH7GZ0kZI6MNhWj5ku6QA6YzLupHyw3LN9BqdXThqUNBXB9mfMggh/w306-h204/10%20Town%20crier.jpg" width="306" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3>The <i>Praeco</i> of the TV Series "Rome"</h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Italy, people gathered in squares to listen to announcements,
specifically news of campaign events, call-ups, and the names of those who had
perished. We might call these purveyors of information Town Criers, but even that sounds too colonial, if not medieval. In ancient Rome, well before Town Criers came
into vogue, the ‘news anchor’ who verbally presented the latest news, proclamations,
enacted laws, and even upcoming games, were called a <i>praeco</i> (messenger).<sup>[<b>7</b>] </sup></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Throughout
Calitri today, small billboards substitute for the <i>praeco</i> of old.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I refer to them as death boards. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Absent a town newspaper, these billboards at
various locations serve to notify the townsfolk of recent
deaths.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Residents </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvpNIAFV0gZBt4HI9pK2_RqWkCDeEidKVVyMr0s6n5iTe_87XYASfDaqLbFOsYdR9PUgPkoCjwc8MNwimasOOf9cxMCdQHPPXLZ4sBcPUyy00wI4J5pQpzjBc2eqNspJVQse6GoVJjyUyL6t5WpatgCYmnhkYl_3X-TYO4vhfiUY7r7u80ZppwqXM/s2016/11%20IMG_0610.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisvpNIAFV0gZBt4HI9pK2_RqWkCDeEidKVVyMr0s6n5iTe_87XYASfDaqLbFOsYdR9PUgPkoCjwc8MNwimasOOf9cxMCdQHPPXLZ4sBcPUyy00wI4J5pQpzjBc2eqNspJVQse6GoVJjyUyL6t5WpatgCYmnhkYl_3X-TYO4vhfiUY7r7u80ZppwqXM/s320/11%20IMG_0610.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><h3><b>Calitri Death <br /></b><b>Announcements</b></h3></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">gather about them to
inspect the latest postings. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Likely a
funeral service gathers the information, has them printed, and then like a wall paperer with an oversized brush, pastes them over
earlier announcements.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Included are the
particulars about an upcoming funeral service, often a picture, some family
information, and memorial messages of remembrance. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">I’ve watched this unfold practically daily.</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">This sneaker net may be slow, but it was and remains
effective. </span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>Clearly,</b> I’ve been
retrospective about one of my close calls. Regardless
of who I may prefer watching over me, be it muse, God(s), guardian angel, or some
Delphic pronouncement, gladly under the benevolent favor of something more than fate or a roll
of the dice, there is strength in believing you are not alone. On my fateful brush with history, I still
recall a priest standing in a jeep slowly moving down the flightline passing
each bomber revetment while sprinkling holy water. I imagined both sides praying for deliverance
that day. Many, in fact, on both sides,
no doubt to the same God. But had anyone
stopped to think whose side God was on?
But then, God forgive me, I’d be ascribing human traits to a deity. With the wonderment of a statement like “Did I do That?” and
instances of cat-like close calls, I need all
the guidance and godly intervention available.
We all approach life-threatening events differently. In the Vietnam experience I related, the routine of training influenced my survival. Only later, heading home, the adrenaline
evaporated and the sobering realization of the callous nakedness of battle settled in. Like my surgery, my life had been in other’s
hands, both those of my crew and my enemy. A few feet here or there or possibly a different missile approach angle and the outcome may have been entirely different. Maybe it’s easier just being a cat
who always seems to survive dangerous situations. That night, forget cats, <i>Topaz 3</i> (my
call sign) landed on tiger pawns.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.25in; text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">To All Warriors Here and Remembered ― Happy
Veterans Day</span></i></b><b><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></b></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">From That Rogue Tourist<br /></span></b><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Paolo</span></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1] Michael Blaisse, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Blassie
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[2] The Secret of File X-26: How Lt. Michael
Blassie’s Remains Were Rescued from the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier,
https://veteransbreakfastclub.org/the-secret-of-file-x-26-how-lt-<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[3] Battle of Cannae,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Cannae<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;">[4] Melqart, <a href="https://www.worldhistory.org/Melqart/"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">https://www.worldhistory.org/Melqart/</span></a><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[5] Battle of Cannae, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Cannae#Aftermath<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt 0.25in; text-indent: -0.25in;"><span class="MsoHyperlink"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[6] Yeager, An Autobiography, by General Chuck
Yeager & Leo Janos, Bantam Books,1985 <o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><h1 style="background: rgb(251, 251, 251); margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: -9.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 6pt -9pt;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">[7] Roman
Town Crier, https://imperiumromanum.pl/en/curiosities/roman-town-crier/ <o:p></o:p></span></h1><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 18pt;"><br /></span></b></p><h4 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 18pt;">Scenario on Day One<br /></span></b><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;">18 Dec
1972, Guam</span></b></h4>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">It was a
time like none before</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Not yet
seen nor wanting revisit</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">It had a
smell its own, a sound its own, a sight its own</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Plane after
plane, wave after wave, silver sword and black stilettos</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">One after
another, hour after hour, as the earth shook - black flag waving in a sextant
port</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Who would
have thought it just days before</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">The crews
tempers stiffened as they heard the word to go - a mission like no other, day
one of a new war</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">And on they
flew, the air tepid with the thickness of oily fumes not knowing what lie ahead</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Surmising,
speculating in bar-room jargon, inflated high spirits, shear guts and scattered
fears</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Some not to
return - many to follow</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">And by the
by what would be said of them</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Icarus for
a day, young, bold but always pressing on</span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;">What matter
... "Topaz 3, Takeoff Roll"<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11.5pt;"><br /></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-align: center; text-autospace: none;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKu1XK51dMPa0vPAzhPkYhF0tLoDespvxSeF5ripPjLoRiCB8feSse-ja_i7QktLSfFPYhm1f5JChqdMeKdzxc7ALa4hKd8ycseMW7KUvwsgAkLtmuc0tU7mZSMgak_mJC7Y61rriZKo40VJtm_WRYbt-9ftK8znS7hYyljfttYMZmSEMhAG_724Hf/s540/Poem.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="540" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKu1XK51dMPa0vPAzhPkYhF0tLoDespvxSeF5ripPjLoRiCB8feSse-ja_i7QktLSfFPYhm1f5JChqdMeKdzxc7ALa4hKd8ycseMW7KUvwsgAkLtmuc0tU7mZSMgak_mJC7Y61rriZKo40VJtm_WRYbt-9ftK8znS7hYyljfttYMZmSEMhAG_724Hf/s320/Poem.JPG" width="320" /></a></b></div><p></p></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><h4 style="line-height: 107%; margin-bottom: 8pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <span> </span><span> </span></span></span><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">1st Lt
Paul Monico<br /></span></b><b style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> <span> </span><span> </span><span> </span>Crew
E13<br /></span></b><b><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>42</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 6.5pt;">nd </span></b><b><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Bomb Wing, 69</span></b><b><span style="font-size: 6.5pt;">th </span></b><b><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Bomb
Sq Heavy<br /></span></b><b><span color="windowtext" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><span> </span><span> <span> </span></span>Loring AFB, ME</span></b></h4><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="tab-stops: 301.5pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span color="windowtext"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><br /><p></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-81470817157084938332022-10-31T08:55:00.029-04:002022-11-01T21:53:36.892-04:00<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial Black;">Liquid
Thoughts</span></b><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgye3YT4xbZhF0_NQ0YsZ6Ffy9qToH_hnftGcnxtc8Ulmcoomh98wDCbvoWyIMqTLNAQ0H26TqBPnuk30aJIWrHZ5zextzEhNH6_iIklqcf0zOR2_U9JjIFSXEc7ElTsa1Ba-_zkn_UK35t2BFObNythBNouvlVZVQ-CPUoUzlgWPjypttyucS45_t7/s275/1%20Bond.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgye3YT4xbZhF0_NQ0YsZ6Ffy9qToH_hnftGcnxtc8Ulmcoomh98wDCbvoWyIMqTLNAQ0H26TqBPnuk30aJIWrHZ5zextzEhNH6_iIklqcf0zOR2_U9JjIFSXEc7ElTsa1Ba-_zkn_UK35t2BFObNythBNouvlVZVQ-CPUoUzlgWPjypttyucS45_t7/w400-h266/1%20Bond.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Bond with His 'Never Stirred' Martini</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> “Shaken, not stirred.”</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-weight: bold; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span> I always <span style="color: #0d0d0d;">wondered about this directive given every
waiter when any James Bond character ordered a martini. Now that Daniel Craig, this best of Bond actors
in my estimation has left us, will this charge continue? Keeping with Ian Fleming’s Bond character
just a moment longer, a slightly modified version of this catchphrase, "shaken
and not stirred," first appears in the novel </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">Diamonds Are Forever</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">
(1956) spoken in print by evil Dr. Julius No. Knowing who ‘voiced’ it first could win you a
trivia contest. Hearing Bond say the
words verbally did not occur until later. In the film adaptations of Fleming's novels,
the line was first reserved for villainous Dr. No, in the 1962 movie of the
same name when he offers the drink to Bond.
Bond, then played by Sean Connery, did not verbally order one himself
until </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">Goldfinger</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"> (1964).</span><sup style="color: #0d0d0d;">[1]</sup> <span style="color: #0d0d0d;"> In the first of the series novels, </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">Casino Royal</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">,
his special modified martini was christened ‘The Vesper.’ It contained both Gin and Vodka, substitutes
lemon peel for olives, and contains French Kina Lillet instead of dry
vermouth. After all this is James Bond,
it had to be special.</span><sup style="color: #0d0d0d;">[10]</sup></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">“Shaken, not stirred,”</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> are today
words that have become part of the James Bond franchise and undoubtedly are
known and uttered over cocktails worldwide, but what might they mean? Hard to believe but martini connoisseurs have
investigated the difference between a martini shaken and one stirred. Come to find out, a shaken martini was found
to have more antioxidants than a stirred one.
Does that make them healthier? I
doubt that 007 was aware of this but in his profession, downing these favorites
of his would certainly have helped reduce the cell damage from a bullet hole! It was Ian Fleming’s biographer, Andrew
Lycett, who added insight as to why shaken was preferred. He believed that Fleming liked his martinis shaken,
not stirred because Fleming thought that stirring a drink “bruised” the liquor
and thus diminished its flavor. Additionally,
shaking or stirring a martini with ice serves both to chill and dilute the
drink. While both techniques are equally
effective, shaking is much faster (with less dilution), and results in a
cloudier appearance. I guess it is an
example of each his own, Double O Seven included. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>I’ve never been one</b> who enjoyed a martini,
whether shaken or stirred. Drinking one,
made of gin or vodka with or without a string of skewered olives, for me is close
to ingesting straight alcohol. Something
about that taste puts me off, making it not my idea of a pleasurable drink. Mix the alcohol with tonic or just about
anything and I’ve no problem whatsoever. I guess I’m just not the Marlboro cowboy type
who supposedly could swagger up to a saloon’s bar and knock off a bottle of
straight whiskey, a shot at a time, and never seemed to wobble out. There is a story that claims that cowboys, low
on cash, paid for their whiskey at the local saloon by trading. While I’m familiar with slogans like “Cars
for Kids,” I admit I’ve never heard of “Bullets for Booze.” In the old west, a .45 cartridge for a
six-gun cost about 12 cents. Coincidentally,
so did a glass of whiskey. Exchanging a
cartridge for a drink soon sanctioned calling the drink a 'shot' of whiskey.[2] The practice may be more part of movie lore
but there seemingly are many followers these days who do high test shots. Talking of “shots” I’m getting off target here
just a bit.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Cowboys aside,</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> the admonition
“Shaken, not stirred” </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzfhZnBF1FqQo0x-CNzZPFnLMej-9uNiZ94tL1AyqezRJYonh_MWp_l_AeQxj3KSVh8nm5iuA_lXte1fTJBCVhsOw5qaG0jNL_qBYn4OszJV3Mp9uxlP2Yh3WGfyXvyZl4ZeY0wefW2523E_QUJ2dnAF3zC5GT7HnqyTCwoiw2r9riu5_AZLX469dR/s2016/2.2.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzfhZnBF1FqQo0x-CNzZPFnLMej-9uNiZ94tL1AyqezRJYonh_MWp_l_AeQxj3KSVh8nm5iuA_lXte1fTJBCVhsOw5qaG0jNL_qBYn4OszJV3Mp9uxlP2Yh3WGfyXvyZl4ZeY0wefW2523E_QUJ2dnAF3zC5GT7HnqyTCwoiw2r9riu5_AZLX469dR/s320/2.2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Our Granddaughter Harper <br />with Macario Gazzosa Her</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;">doesn’t apply when enjoying <i>Gazzosa</i> (Got-zoh-sa)
which when I first heard it mentioned sounded like a “got soda.” I wasn’t far off though. Maybe you’ve not heard of it, but our
grandchildren certainly have. It was something
of a discovery they made on their visits to Italy. It is definitely non-alcoholic and certainly
never shaken without consequences. Turns
out, <i>Gazzosa</i>, often confused with <i>Schweppes Limone</i>, is a traditional
fizzy Italian beverage on the order of soda, little known outside the borders
of Italy. There are a number of
brands. The few we are now familiar with
include <i>Macario</i>, <i>Arnone</i>, and <i>Lurisia</i>. All the brands of this sparkling lemon drink are
best served chilled, but you don't want to dilute it by pouring it over ice. It’s best to keep them in the fridge until
you're ready to enjoy one. Here is a
drink that does away with the overbearing sweetness of commercial sodas. With a lemony flavor that starts off slightly
tart, it gradually becomes sweeter, approaching lemonade as you continue, like
a cowboy, to knock back and down the bottle. If for a moment, you can ignore the
approximate 12 million cigarette smokers, Italians are generally very health
conscious. The growth and consumption of
natural foods, absent sweeteners, GMOs, preservatives, and the use of
pesticides, has grown to be part of their identity and key to the Mediterranean
diet. As opposed to colas packed with
sugar, this thirst-quenching retro drink reintroduces the excellence of natural
flavors through the infusion of lemon peel.
It is thus a healthy alternative to colas. Slightly gaseous, it is the right choice for
those looking for a low-calorie refreshing drink.</div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The Arnone brand</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> of <i>Gazzosa</i>
was born in 1907 from the dream and passion of Nicola Arnone, who together with
his wife, Rosa, founded a small company in Casoria, a part of Metropolitan
Naples. There, he created an artisanal
sugary drink, that i</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">rresistible flavor of historic </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">Gazzosa</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">. In time, </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UJTUG_bK3P_6IT_Z40TCZvygJWuMH2jPeFEei4afM1Pl1SYl7-vvUFMKc2MjmyMgkEOqntENXvOTMaEHizi_YQOcpUaMJRIGDD2Elp1KSwvyvPeo5a62yeX5yRj_4K5OoQMnMg-MXAovMjuravxe-rszP9CzdK9Nzt43YbAI4eOJlw4uz1xgDwVY/s790/2.5%20.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="527" data-original-width="790" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7UJTUG_bK3P_6IT_Z40TCZvygJWuMH2jPeFEei4afM1Pl1SYl7-vvUFMKc2MjmyMgkEOqntENXvOTMaEHizi_YQOcpUaMJRIGDD2Elp1KSwvyvPeo5a62yeX5yRj_4K5OoQMnMg-MXAovMjuravxe-rszP9CzdK9Nzt43YbAI4eOJlw4uz1xgDwVY/w320-h213/2.5%20.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Early Arnone Company Workers</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: justify;"><div style="text-align: justify;">Nicola and Rosa saw the dream pass
to a new generation headed by the Arnone brothers, Giuseppe and Pasquale. Following WWII, America culture spread globally
and began to influence the drinking habits of Italians. Aware of this influence and sensing a growing
change in Italian soft drinking habits, they began to produce new fruity
carbonated drinks. Today, absent sugar, <i>La
Gassosa</i>, the original Arnone brand, has an unmistakably refreshing and
delicate taste.<sup>[3a]</sup> It was a beverage
found to go well with any meal, even when added to mixed drinks. Add it to cocktails or mix it with Vodka for a
simple, satisfying alcoholic drink. When
added to vino, <i>Gazzosa</i> creates a sweet sparkling wine on the order of a
spritz. Now here is a drink that can be
stirred.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UaY3tii5qLPkGCJsvVdmi4vf2jYmVJJoISOKvEpPGyoPC_U6_HZI7A4VVwi53Kq35gLFSZnLM30YmTfFmOrKBBcrVPNXlqfAAkpGpQWSJ_G5AyCHB4DKv9YvbjzEMhITQHYwWSENYPcoX3xndVuSye8WDvORy8VAUcg5UT7V2dI1GiHQ4awBxBxB/s400/3%20Macario.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="116" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-UaY3tii5qLPkGCJsvVdmi4vf2jYmVJJoISOKvEpPGyoPC_U6_HZI7A4VVwi53Kq35gLFSZnLM30YmTfFmOrKBBcrVPNXlqfAAkpGpQWSJ_G5AyCHB4DKv9YvbjzEMhITQHYwWSENYPcoX3xndVuSye8WDvORy8VAUcg5UT7V2dI1GiHQ4awBxBxB/w122-h358/3%20Macario.jpg" width="122" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">One of Eight<br />Femme<br />Fatale Labels</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /> While I was drinking sugary Kool-Aid</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;"> in the
1950s, it was Grandmother Vittoria Macario who first brewed refreshing <i>Macario
Gazzosa</i> in her home relying on old, handed-down recipes. It was intended for the enjoyment of young
and old alike, especially on hot summer afternoons. Her ingredients, absent any reliance on
sweeteners or preservatives, were simple, the flavors unforgettable, and the
responses of those who tasted it enthusiastic.
It was such a hit, the family decided to create a small artisanal
production, so others could also enjoy its invigorating taste. For years the company prospered only, with
the passing of Vittorio’s successor, to eventually go out of business. It was a grandchild, prompted by memories of
Vittoria during their special times together, who along with her original recipes
would revive the business and preserve the spirit of those earlier days.<sup>[3b]</sup> Today, enjoying this second chance at life
just as Vittoria had done in the 1950s, the Macario brand strives to quench the
thirst of my grandchildren. In 5th
Avenue panache, its appeal is further heightened by the inclusion </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">of eight calendar-girl style labels on</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> today’s
bottles.</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">While I was collecting </span><a name="_Hlk116399105" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Ovaltine proof-of-purchase
labels to mail in for my <i>Captain Midnight</i> “secret decoder” badge in the
50s, today’s collectors shouldn’t miss out on any of these beauties. Let’s see, millions of bottles multiplied by
eight is a staggering number. Continuing
that 5th Avenue appeal, as we were encouraged to do years back, you’d definitely
want to “<i>be the first on your block to collect them all.</i>”</a></div></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">No story of <i>Gazzosa</i></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is
complete without mention of the </span><a name="_Hlk117370702" style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: left;"><i>Lurisia</i> </a><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: left;">brand from </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznxxXIaneb8JmkwDZu1qLm_aXEy48-UUpkMICe5oOhskNnWj_R-VkmvGMSGpjGugKb8ifbloxk-sCqtwa9iNck7qaqUW7PJBnA35ITZaz_kLZ8jUX_03nnaB6BeuVfHBw4NY92YHLu3vzRXakbBMokYWWAkz2KXZPR0wRMS2CdmMXvwRiTVzx2KmU/s2016/3.3.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="273" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjznxxXIaneb8JmkwDZu1qLm_aXEy48-UUpkMICe5oOhskNnWj_R-VkmvGMSGpjGugKb8ifbloxk-sCqtwa9iNck7qaqUW7PJBnA35ITZaz_kLZ8jUX_03nnaB6BeuVfHBw4NY92YHLu3vzRXakbBMokYWWAkz2KXZPR0wRMS2CdmMXvwRiTVzx2KmU/w205-h273/3.3.JPG" width="205" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Lurisia Brand<br />Noticeably Empty</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">the Piedmont region which has also been an Italian favorite for
generations. <a name="_Hlk118092953">It
is a standout in the canon of Italian soft drinks because of the intense flavor
of the lemons used. </a>The unique taste
of this beverage comes from afar, in both distance and time. The original <i>Lurisia</i> recipe dates from
the ’50s and calls for the use of juicy Sfusati lemons that have been cultivated
on terraces of the Amalfi Coast of Italy for more than 300 years. They are so special that they have attained
the important Italian certification as an Indication of Geographic Protection (IGP)
product.<sup>[3c]</sup> This designation
shows that the quality or reputation of your food is linked to the place or
region where it is produced or processed.
These intensely aromatic lemons are famous for their juicy, thick pulp
and favor a gentle acidity that dissolves into a semi-sweet taste. Like the thick, pulpy meat of Italian olives,
my guess is that the thickness of these lemon skins serves as insulation from
the intense heat of the <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkhnqocLHTbTbAwwy2byjGNulKc7vDFmfaXcsx3sBK1poELjFJiX6mkXTybMMqmoOgZ6A1qFwO-L9XJFNWXqeqp1lj5U6nNB3OEgY2Zq7kuB0IoDezW78daX3-pDD5lUXfitCwJpW1fjoATga3h3BJL1tVywOhuquDwada3y43D5q9fxoJHZJThpr/s3128/3.5.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3128" data-original-width="1969" height="307" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkhnqocLHTbTbAwwy2byjGNulKc7vDFmfaXcsx3sBK1poELjFJiX6mkXTybMMqmoOgZ6A1qFwO-L9XJFNWXqeqp1lj5U6nNB3OEgY2Zq7kuB0IoDezW78daX3-pDD5lUXfitCwJpW1fjoATga3h3BJL1tVywOhuquDwada3y43D5q9fxoJHZJThpr/w211-h307/3.5.jpg" width="211" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">My Childhood Sunday <br />Movie Licorice Candy</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>southern</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: left;"> Italian Amalfi area. This additional pulp uniquely adds to the
fresh lemony taste.</span><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">For those looking for something more ambitious</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, beyond
a thirst-quenching soft drink or possibly an enhanced glass of wine, there are many
other offerings. One type, in particular, has
somewhat of a polarizing love or hate-it reputation, much like Italian Grappa. In France, this aperitif is known as Pastis. In Greece, you order it as Ouzo, while Italians
call their potion Sambuca. What they
have in common is an intense licorice flavor that brings back memories of those
capsule-shaped <i>Good and Plenty</i> candies I enjoyed in my youth during
Sunday afternoon movies at the Cameo Theater.
Here again, there is no need to shake or stir. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> Our first encounter</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;"> with each of
these ‘spirits’ remains a pleasant memory on the order of a visit by Dickens’ <i>Ghost
of Christmas Past</i>. Each is now part
of our history yet new enough to be remembered.
It was while aboard a longboat early on a summer evening as we languidly
floated past the remains of the medieval <i>Pont d'Avignon</i> extending into
the Rhône from Avignon that we first experienced Pastis. Often referred to as the “National Drink of France,”
it has been around since the early 20th Century. The name "pastis" is thought to have derived from a </span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFkTSqtW5xnhEfeSbA69O2GSqWy6NJRqqyVk5TsYai7qaEK98wMKQ6C09ZNxM-XpNP3udW04RAGKL8SHvnX2rlXoNyjAwOBpEWusocMEIj0CtP_OhG6xvkrKJ8HZYj3VJV-8BTxO4vJHbbukhNLNVS6Xi-QQJPqjQzKBQLwSS5fR8byDV0J9l44zs/s3153/4%20pont-st-benezet.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2102" data-original-width="3153" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPFkTSqtW5xnhEfeSbA69O2GSqWy6NJRqqyVk5TsYai7qaEK98wMKQ6C09ZNxM-XpNP3udW04RAGKL8SHvnX2rlXoNyjAwOBpEWusocMEIj0CtP_OhG6xvkrKJ8HZYj3VJV-8BTxO4vJHbbukhNLNVS6Xi-QQJPqjQzKBQLwSS5fR8byDV0J9l44zs/w335-h223/4%20pont-st-benezet.jpg" width="335" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">What Remains of Le Pont d'Avignon</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">French word peculiar to Provence, "pastis," meaning
a mash-up or blend. There is also some
merit that its source lies in the French word "pastiche” which speaks to “a
stylistic imitation of something”. In
this case, it just may infer that it is an imitation of an earlier outlawed
drink called Absinthe, once mistakenly thought to cause brain damage.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[5]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
The southern France region of Provence is
especially known for its Pastis. There
it is often consumed over ice and is considered smoother and mellower than
other anise-based spirits.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[5]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
Anethol, an aromatic licorice-flavored extract taken from star anise
pods accounts for a major portion of Pastis’ flavor. The anethole is complemented further by a
degree of flavor derived from licorice root. While there are other </span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jtNWjhpkR4unFnDMct3U8CAzL6N-6rsIumfIJUxEWupMBvoBvxCgnPC8aUKgr9Q_mVv9cGF9hIL5vqKomA3F3vdBzINkX5y6DWDU9Uf-l4eAru5OfB1bzAwYEBvOlzzTyfDEJQsj8Wv7h7GbylTK1aa_b2p47bK7paQE_srMWRrII787vtzTvLAP/s200/5%20star-anise.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="200" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_jtNWjhpkR4unFnDMct3U8CAzL6N-6rsIumfIJUxEWupMBvoBvxCgnPC8aUKgr9Q_mVv9cGF9hIL5vqKomA3F3vdBzINkX5y6DWDU9Uf-l4eAru5OfB1bzAwYEBvOlzzTyfDEJQsj8Wv7h7GbylTK1aa_b2p47bK7paQE_srMWRrII787vtzTvLAP/w171-h191/5%20star-anise.jpg" width="171" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Chinese Star Anise <br />Pod</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">aromatic herbs and
spices involved (cinnamon, cardamom, pepper, fennel, and sage) as well as sugar,
its dominant flavor is that of licorice. Pastis is normally diluted with water before
drinking. Much like aristocratic women
of ancient Rome had their wine diluted, it is so potent, that a normal serving
is one part Pastis to five parts water.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[8]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> That night, aboard our river boat on French
waters, under French stars, we had no idea of its backstory or potency. There was no diluting, shaking, or stirring Pastis
that evening as we savored its strong black licorice flavor neat.</span></div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We quickly became recidivists</b>
when again we meet this exotic potion on the island of Crete. <span style="color: #0d0d0d;">We were portside in Chania where secretive alleyways
meld into a crescent-shaped waterfront dotted with restaurants. As stars began to gather, we sipped our
cloudy drafts of Ouzo looking off across a 14th-century Venetian harbor at its
16th-century lighthouse. As Pastis is to
France, Ouzo is popular throughout Greece, though I’d estimate Ouzo has far more
followers worldwide. It begins as a
by-product of grapes first pressed to make wine similar to the process Italians
use to make Grappa. Ouzo is a product of
distillation. After it is distilled,
spices and herbs are added to create its unique flavor. Its primary additive is anise seed, giving the
clear liquid its pungent licorice flavor. Other common flavorings include fennel,
coriander, clove, cinnamon, and star anise.
While anise seed and star anise are similarly named and flavored, they
are actually d</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">ifferent</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">.
Anise is a plant whose seed is popular in European on through Middle
Eastern cuisine while star anise is the fruit of an evergreen shrub native to China. The </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">most common way to enjoy the drink is over ice. When water or ice is added, Ouzo turns from </span></p><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCGHTwpDfv6juXUJ4cyXQF6gzb13RHKULKHwDiPmha2gXkVx1ws1FWpU61Q8GMkLjn4wPVCZ8r7QSpE_AEqVu1t6l7MA_4V336YiHKBygv-12WXz-hM8pzwa3RVdjKaYvLlY_8eCq_q2PFg2e_pMeXeetYlCp6oGC7yeLXL0LEEuOb6Q7RaaDRCwCj/s259/8%20Rest.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCGHTwpDfv6juXUJ4cyXQF6gzb13RHKULKHwDiPmha2gXkVx1ws1FWpU61Q8GMkLjn4wPVCZ8r7QSpE_AEqVu1t6l7MA_4V336YiHKBygv-12WXz-hM8pzwa3RVdjKaYvLlY_8eCq_q2PFg2e_pMeXeetYlCp6oGC7yeLXL0LEEuOb6Q7RaaDRCwCj/s1600/8%20Rest.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Corfu's Romantic <br />Mesogeios Restaurant</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">clear to a milky color. This is because anethole, the principal oil of
both anise seed and anise star, while completely soluble in alcohol becomes
visible when diluted, a phenomenon called the “Ouzo Effect.” Adding a single cube of ice to the spirit will
trigger this effect causing it to separate into an emulsion whose fine droplets
become visible. We were shown this Ouzo
magic by our Crete waiter, who from experience had gathered we were new to
this. Watching the process, it was as
though it was snowing beneath the cube of ice as it melted. We have never seen this chemistry happen
faster than with that particular Ouzo, that night. Evidently, it was ‘the right stuff.’ </div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> Ouzo’s pedigree has many fathers</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">. It is thought that the drink was the pet
product of a group of monks living in a monastery on holy Mount Athos in 14th Century Greece. </span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0RHjLvrJmOhWB224WpIU-Wyv78FKZdDzngVury3bnwOE9fTkpJxmlNBOvnqbtaaNajHZU50AEkYLp1dGu58Obmj0ZsjRTpzSnTdFStQOwb09AlKovEOuREiYR8HevTZ8HStr4GdFOLPBEB9bN2fSfyh7yfS5KFBw3mh1HjG-NvuhJByQcb0-0eZg/s259/7%20Ouzo.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp0RHjLvrJmOhWB224WpIU-Wyv78FKZdDzngVury3bnwOE9fTkpJxmlNBOvnqbtaaNajHZU50AEkYLp1dGu58Obmj0ZsjRTpzSnTdFStQOwb09AlKovEOuREiYR8HevTZ8HStr4GdFOLPBEB9bN2fSfyh7yfS5KFBw3mh1HjG-NvuhJByQcb0-0eZg/s1600/7%20Ouzo.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Iced Milky Ouzo</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Where its name came from
is murkier. It may have come either from
the ancient Greek word </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">ozo</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> which means smell or the Turkish word </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">uzum</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">
which means grape.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[6]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> There is
even a story involving an Ottoman physician.
We heard a version of this tale one evening from our waiter, a Greek surprisingly
named Anthony, while at the </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Mesogeios Restaurant</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> in Corfu. It is a story not too farfetched which I was
able to corroborate. It was originally related
by </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">Alexander Philadelpheus</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, a distinguished
Greek archaeologist and historian when he provided his thoughts on the origins
of the word </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">ouzo</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">. According to
the professor, </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">tsipouro</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> gradually morphed into </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">ouzo</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> following the
visit of the Ottoman Greek consulate physician, Anastas Bey, to the Thessaly
region of Greece. At the time, Thessaly
exported fine silk cocoons to Marseille.
In order to distinguish the product, outgoing crates were stamped "uso </span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xFYJ44XvYgwTt70Wng8ZUf9fmYHZZLsuAsoiAzxyJIeOro1aUsvB_jQh7L55pXnGpxuBqtjWIBukZf6p65er0YcQ9BTFE26d581kCK_ax3iLW7-k75KmJ2rCzMCgTCojvaK686qwLWSvO_1C46Ew4US4BVVUHlcmwY8If88QeaBFK0jUHhAkDq-s/s1080/9%20.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="960" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_xFYJ44XvYgwTt70Wng8ZUf9fmYHZZLsuAsoiAzxyJIeOro1aUsvB_jQh7L55pXnGpxuBqtjWIBukZf6p65er0YcQ9BTFE26d581kCK_ax3iLW7-k75KmJ2rCzMCgTCojvaK686qwLWSvO_1C46Ew4US4BVVUHlcmwY8If88QeaBFK0jUHhAkDq-s/w224-h253/9%20.jpg" width="224" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Molinari, That Caffe Staple <br />Sambuca</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Marsiglia</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">"—Italian for "To be used in
Marseille". One day, while there,
Dr. Bey was asked to sample the local </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">tsipouro</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">. Upon tasting it, he immediately exclaimed: "This
is uso Marsiglia, my friends” in reference to Thessaly’s high-quality cocoons. The term subsequently spread by word of
mouth, until </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">tsipouro</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> gradually became known as Ouzo.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[6]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> In 2006, Ouzo received the title “Protected
Designation of Origin” from the EU, meaning it can only be Ouzo if it’s made in
Greece, where it’s been produced since 1856.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[5]</sup></div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> One of Maria Elena’s best-loved recollections</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">, one that
often bursts from her memory, <a name="_Hlk117193913">involves a particular early
fall evening </a>on the island of Ortigia.
Ortigia, situated on the eastern side of Sicily, is a morsel of an
island bathed in the waters of the Ionian Sea.
Falling away into the sea, it is essentially an island of an island
connected by bridge to Syracuse. It was
there, extending well past 1 am, as we sat in the expansive <i>Piazza del Duomo</i>
sheathed in sheets of marble, that we drank our first <i>cicchet</i> (shot) of Sambuca. As to its name, its etymology is derived from
the Latin word <i>sambucus</i>, meaning </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">“elderberry.” </span><sup style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">[5]</sup><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> Here, as with Pastis </span></div><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFDIjgXQri7P4YncM5qECfiviXXFQX8-PXWMSLPL-ici2rz6pAAX69DE81wqMmbx6Dks30OMDBrmOlkDrDLrlRfD_K-tHH18k_TQf0OC8vXKT6t-IShDzjzYUiheWXcT_XkalCvEW7nRDQNvsJwI0eRYXQ-tyBBV8knQPAtqQNYH4t2jMs12bATkI/s275/10%20.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZFDIjgXQri7P4YncM5qECfiviXXFQX8-PXWMSLPL-ici2rz6pAAX69DE81wqMmbx6Dks30OMDBrmOlkDrDLrlRfD_K-tHH18k_TQf0OC8vXKT6t-IShDzjzYUiheWXcT_XkalCvEW7nRDQNvsJwI0eRYXQ-tyBBV8knQPAtqQNYH4t2jMs12bATkI/s1600/10%20.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">"There's a Fly in My Sambuca"</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">and Ouzo, this Italian
household regular is a sweetened anise-flavored liqueur served neat or with
water. Italians, who love their espresso,
go so far as to sometimes serve it with coffee beans to combine the bitterness
of the beans with the sweetness of the Sambuca.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[5]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> Its preparation, more a ritual, is referred
to as “</span><a href="https://youtu.be/MHcD8BfJvjI" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">con la mosca</span></a><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">,”
(click to open link) or “with the fly.” It
is the Sambuca equivalent to </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">caffè corretto</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> (corrected coffee), where a
small amount of alcohol is added to coffee.
As to the origin of </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">con la mosca</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, one anecdotal story, wide open
to doubt, relates to entertainment. It
involves the making of Federico Fellini's film </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">La Dolce Vita</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">. During the making of this motion picture masterpiece,
actors Marcello Mastroianni, Anita Ekberg, Walter Chiari and others would take
their breaks in a cafe on Rome's Via Veneto.
One day, one of them jokingly dropped a coffee bean into a glass of Sambuca </span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgtf42uajpVLb1JFE-z7dRxZvWSiS_TIwPVzgP7-aF0N-AlMlowl_OiD0VPa5nDW_WCRyd_EuwlDXIx9V6EhUVketj5ltQ1lYZClfUL_-iPSqSnC7u7ZyllP4KTanc2rKwDa4gN3kcGz0HxTS4TdizspSwVQFObwIfeSvc9FDfKKtjFtprJ0smNsT/s1462/11%20Dolce_Vita.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1462" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgtf42uajpVLb1JFE-z7dRxZvWSiS_TIwPVzgP7-aF0N-AlMlowl_OiD0VPa5nDW_WCRyd_EuwlDXIx9V6EhUVketj5ltQ1lYZClfUL_-iPSqSnC7u7ZyllP4KTanc2rKwDa4gN3kcGz0HxTS4TdizspSwVQFObwIfeSvc9FDfKKtjFtprJ0smNsT/w282-h174/11%20Dolce_Vita.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">La Dolca Vita's Anita Ekberg and <br />Marcello Mastroianni in Sunglasses</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">and began shouting “There’s a Fly.” </span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[7]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> While this may rank as a fanciful tale, the
number of beans used comes from the realm of superstition. Like avoiding black cats, an Italian
superstition holds that anything served in even numbers is unlucky and suggests
a less than cordial tone. This helps
explain why using an even number of beans (in Sambuca) or olives (in a martini)
would be toying with luck. Five being
too many, that leaves either one or three.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[9]</sup><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> A proper martini keeps on the safe side and mimics
this triple pattern when it comes to olives, and as was shown </span></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FJXCPbXgdbCM1k56MfQKlHIF8pEPJChHIkFgOGjV4W8txrdXXZtSPT5p4vuhbyLV82RIo73VvRQWM9lVLcLtNm4AzfkmluCiuqBjlHSDSJlPnYU3w3Kzah2fTTXcNxDJBDZF9h2dRGl2Th3Rf1J5OEiIXkHTd1gzLC3mrif4rZOXMXfhXAD-rR-U/s3256/12.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3256" data-original-width="2058" height="370" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5FJXCPbXgdbCM1k56MfQKlHIF8pEPJChHIkFgOGjV4W8txrdXXZtSPT5p4vuhbyLV82RIo73VvRQWM9lVLcLtNm4AzfkmluCiuqBjlHSDSJlPnYU3w3Kzah2fTTXcNxDJBDZF9h2dRGl2Th3Rf1J5OEiIXkHTd1gzLC3mrif4rZOXMXfhXAD-rR-U/w234-h370/12.jpg" width="234" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Gazzosa at University with <br />Granddaughter Gabriella</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">in the earlier
video, this explains the addition of exactly three coffee beans, no more, no
less, when making a </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">con la mosca</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> Sambuca aperitif. That night in Ortigia, it was either the
glimmer of a thunderstorm of stars reflected from the piazza’s marble pavement,
the influence of the Sambuca, or both, that gave a special glow to the imposing
7th Century </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Duomo of Siracusa</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> rising before us. We’d been lingerers well into morning with
few by then wandering about. Had we remained
longer, which Italian hospitality would allow, there was a chance we would have
been bathed in the new light of day. Our waiter, who may have thought we
awaited the morning’s light, must have been relieved when we asked for </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">il
conto</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, the bill.</span></div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0.25in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Iterations on this theme</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> go on
and on wherever and however we enjoy our refreshments. Whether neat, stirred, dirty with brine,
shaken, garnished with salty olives, sweet, dry, with ice, seeded with coffee
beans, right out of the frig, you name it, it’s all a matter of preference. While clearly not overwhelming events, their
what, where, and how proved unique to us and helps explain why we travel.
Recounting the innocent excitement of our grandchildren on through <a name="_Hlk107141409">the echoes of memor</a>ies of three special occasions,
each with a distinct national beverage, are instances when the pages of my
memory have been shaken AND stirred. Built
on experiences gifted one at a time, recalling them has shaken my memory and
stirred the recall of bygone days still very much alive. <o:p></o:p></span></p><div style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial Black;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">From that Rogue<br /> </span><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Paolo</span></span></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1] Shaken, not Stirred,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shaken,_not_stirred<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[2] </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Why a
Shot of Whiskey Is Called a “Shot”, <span style="background: white;">https://www.thrillist.com/culture/shot-of-whiskey-origin</span><span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[3a] Arnone, http://www.arnone.it/en<u>/</u><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[3b] Macario Retro Drink,</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <span style="background: white;">https://www.macariocompany.it/en/</span><span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[3c] Larisia, https://ch.coca-colahellenic.com/en/our-24-7-portfolio/sparkling/lurisia<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-outline-level: 1;"><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[4] </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Pastis
Licorice Liquor,<span style="background: white;">
https://www.easy-french-food.com/licorice-liquor.html<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; mso-outline-level: 1;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0d0d0d;">[5] </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">All
the Anise Spirits That Aren’t Absinthe, Explained, https://vinepair.com/articles/anise-spirits-absinthe-guide/<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[6] Drawn from “The Times of Thessaly,” 1959<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[7]<i> </i>Molinari Con La Mosca, </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">https://www.molinari.it/en/sambuca-coffee-beans</span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[8] Pastis, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pastis<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[9] </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">The History of Martini Olives and a
Lasting Superstition, https://vinepair.com/articles/history-martini-olives-superstition/</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[10] </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">James Bond’s Vesper
Martini Cocktail, https://flourchild.com/its-no-mystery-why-james-bonds-vesper-martini-is-delicious/<o:p></o:p></span></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-18999401592323238052022-09-30T09:46:00.017-04:002022-10-01T12:00:34.542-04:00SS-91<p style="text-align: center;"></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaA9w5ujuiaPRVvUITIfGA6tEG8zTNzRv-rsr85YLLzYKOarvjqXpRHZdA0LQqw3t-DRcltex6z_rMB4lPUWqxds0zKrMPkty6GBakzBW2rvx1IYxEGqIaoG8COh_0At2jCCw8CC_1gCfpsmRXEGhcvWnBI162QsahPZnabfIKwmN7FKRhwbkPtZNX/s3264/IMG_0197.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaA9w5ujuiaPRVvUITIfGA6tEG8zTNzRv-rsr85YLLzYKOarvjqXpRHZdA0LQqw3t-DRcltex6z_rMB4lPUWqxds0zKrMPkty6GBakzBW2rvx1IYxEGqIaoG8COh_0At2jCCw8CC_1gCfpsmRXEGhcvWnBI162QsahPZnabfIKwmN7FKRhwbkPtZNX/w400-h300/IMG_0197.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoCaption" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt;">From SS-91 Looking Off Toward the Town of Cairano<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">
<p align="center" class="MsoCaption" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt;">on the Distant Anvil Shaped Peak<o:p></o:p></span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><b style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: arial;">SS-91</span></b><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>It’s fun to sometimes take a ride</b>, like one of
those Sunday afternoon jaunts as a kid with Mom and Dad. Nowadays, we challenge ourselves to live actively
even in the July heat of Italy. One late afternoon recently, we took a ride when
the light was about right to take in what we could of the beautiful countryside
about us here in Campania. It is hard to
describe what our eyes perceive. A
camera just can’t compare to what our eyes present. It is due to the processor each of us has called
a brain. The brain takes in a rather
narrow, highly focused image and stitches it with a wide-angle peripheral image
to fashion what we take in. My camera
can’t do that, a 70mm IMAX scene can’t do it either. Then how do we capture the essence of what
the eyes see? We can’t. This is especially a shame when trying to
capture the panoramic grandeur of a scene spread out before us. Panning about slowly is our only insufficient
hope compared to those backseat Sunday scenes back then from that old, green, ’52
Chevy. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>There is a particular road we occasionally travel</b>,
<i>Strade Statali</i>-91 or State Highway-91. Beginning from a southern segment where it intersects
the east-west SS-7 artery that runs past Calitri, it continues its climb north beyond
the next main east-west thoroughfare, the A-16 Autostrada. While we haven’t explored its entire length,
we use it to travel the tens of miles from, let’s call it Conza della Campania alongside
SS-7, northward through the countryside about as far as the town of
Andretta. I find it both a relaxing and interesting
ride that in a brief few miles conveys us through history, both of a recent and
far, far past vintage. It is a trail of
past lives, death and destruction, modern advances, and the continued simple
agrarian lifestyle which is embodied in this area.<o:p></o:p></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1433" data-original-width="1951" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU2oiX_bXA9qdFHyYNysQBamRRT3J1BEfo62O7AkePewYAzH8-bMSyw058qb1lWrSntNeq6MFjXYOWpDu9vmseWirxHuyDNIRAcwGKccsUjWcgMUImJiWmhLeEn5El7qyv7jP0Ttir5MvRMESeoAJv0bQyIIrZOF1P2aluZQijgG5VOOd-pOsKUR--/w320-h226/2%20IMG_0577.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>L'Ottaggano</i>, a Refreshing Change Along SS-7</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Serving as a marker, we begin our jaunt</b> at a
rather new restaurant that lies at the junction of the ‘slip road,’ (as our
British-voiced GPS Margarette would announce), from SS-7 onto SS-91. As I said, it is new. When we first visited, it was only five days
in the making of a name for itself. In Conza
Della Campania it is called <i>L’Ottaggano</i>. As its name implies, it is octagonal in shape
making it unique to the area and difficult to miss especially at the wide-open
intersection it occupies. We sat outside, to our surprise, with many others we
knew from Calitri. Word had clearly
spread throughout the river valley and folks were eager to give it a try. While they offer a range of entrees from
pizza to T-bone steaks, the majority of their menu was reserved for a
description of hamburgers, many named after colors such as Mr. White, Mr.
Brown, Mr. Blonde, Mr. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1xhwaZ8ejOQxo77La78ty9oKpR9oUDmfheF_y03m5-7PlnZgtHNUz1xki8PHGfOvFQ2AC1QJ-z3iA2tF3lFaNNoj2p2wZ8G-PQY-JqmgmKxUZwvD7pUn0myhr6AlgEnNtCY4p1-kssnz2rxfe7H5MoGVqzCwcY7MF4GTxUQxWzvZ2LqZDUpfKMO-/s1247/3%20burger.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1247" data-original-width="1115" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn1xhwaZ8ejOQxo77La78ty9oKpR9oUDmfheF_y03m5-7PlnZgtHNUz1xki8PHGfOvFQ2AC1QJ-z3iA2tF3lFaNNoj2p2wZ8G-PQY-JqmgmKxUZwvD7pUn0myhr6AlgEnNtCY4p1-kssnz2rxfe7H5MoGVqzCwcY7MF4GTxUQxWzvZ2LqZDUpfKMO-/w230-h257/3%20burger.jpg" width="230" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Mr. White Burger</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>Blue, etc. All
sorts of added fixings somehow combine to explain their colorful names. Each featured a different topping … the likes of
crispy bacon, prosciutto, sliced tomatoes, sharp <i>caciocavallo</i> or tangy gorgonzola
cheeses, rucola, caramelized onions, porcini mushrooms, and so on. Clearly, they are catching on to burger-making
here. They were so large it was a
challenge to get your jaw open enough and not revert to a fork and knife. Each to his own, but having been gone so long,
thinking back to their American cousins, their patties were very lean by
comparison, lacked a juicy flavorful consistency, and as yet were not offered char-grilled. Clearly, Burger King and MacD still have comfortable
leads. It appears to be that way with
hamburgers wherever we purchased them. Options
for 80 or 90% lean meat don’t appear to exist at the markets. If I could figure out how to ask a butcher for
an 80% lean / 20% fat ground beef mixture or to simply add a little suet, it could
result in a range of offensive responses ranging from a frown to an outright affront
to Italian gastronomy. Worth a try, I’ll
have <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdPhsd9y0rBuTNVvMIQEVNda_tYkwH7VaAr9bFGMtxqDjVIcOMDlTVH_Awrw141NquZywi9dJ8ze2oNBB5kqTPRlE_AYL6XMz6IN21YUU5XH72hf7unDhs_qsVuYlI2OM4ULxHwD1Uma8n9WCdWh6aEErmpzzRbjonJZaNoL6oaRrpjma1cVcFPSo/s360/4%20.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="258" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPdPhsd9y0rBuTNVvMIQEVNda_tYkwH7VaAr9bFGMtxqDjVIcOMDlTVH_Awrw141NquZywi9dJ8ze2oNBB5kqTPRlE_AYL6XMz6IN21YUU5XH72hf7unDhs_qsVuYlI2OM4ULxHwD1Uma8n9WCdWh6aEErmpzzRbjonJZaNoL6oaRrpjma1cVcFPSo/w198-h276/4%20.jpg" width="198" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Earthquake Devastation</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />a go at it next time with Michele, our butcher. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Moving along SS-91 just a mile or so</b>, we arrive
in old Conza della Campania, or what is left of it. It was on Sunday evening, 23 November 1980
that a 6.9 magnitude <i>terremoto</i> (earthquake) materialized out of the blue
to level dozens of villages, including Calitri.
In its wake it left 2,600 people dead, 8,000 injured, in addition to
approximately 300,000 homeless. It was
just the other day when the visiting former <i>Calitrani</i> di Carlo brothers,
who had been born in the building outside our doorway (and kept a corralled pig
there by the stairs leading to the castle), told us that his grandmother had
died there during the quake. Likewise, the
original Conza was completely razed to the ground only to be rebuilt on another
site some miles away. From the rubble of
Conza, which included the ancient <i>Cattedrale di Santa Maria Assunta</i>,
built on the remains of a Roman basilica, various structures from past eras emerged. They include the ruins of a Roman settlement,
now part of the archaeological area of Compsa.[3] Following the destruction and subsequent
demolition carried out </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEVvXSuQOqdFAoHMpwzqy23yRRSlmOax2p1VoEhFocq0AnflKVnSNZdmSJe_GV9pv6xneL3Rat15yK0iVcKNv46ETE20tsOachFabv5CWlRVNGL-kjqX2lZtkHtDc_b2Hukm24VIYqGLFqn6cLO3VFFfACedxdIz8GcDXZxtbs9ckdpsvI_GYvyGS/s1698/4.5%20IMG_0595.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1698" data-original-width="1510" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsEVvXSuQOqdFAoHMpwzqy23yRRSlmOax2p1VoEhFocq0AnflKVnSNZdmSJe_GV9pv6xneL3Rat15yK0iVcKNv46ETE20tsOachFabv5CWlRVNGL-kjqX2lZtkHtDc_b2Hukm24VIYqGLFqn6cLO3VFFfACedxdIz8GcDXZxtbs9ckdpsvI_GYvyGS/w254-h285/4.5%20IMG_0595.jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Moment the 1980 Terremoto </span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">Struck Calitri</span><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">(</span><i><span style="font-size: medium;">Clock was Never Repaired</span></i><span style="font-size: medium;">)</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />throughout Conza, Roman finds were unearthed. Their existence came to light some six meters
below the road level of the town following the removal of rubble. These finds included the cobbled pavement of
the <i>Piazza del Foro</i>, the remains of Irpinia houses prior to the 2nd
century BC, the vestiges of a Roman building with a limestone block podium, remnants
of the forum square with a funerary stone, and a Roman spa facility. Along with these, vestiges of a Roman
amphitheater have emerged along with a votive altar dedicated to Venus, in
addition to numerous epigraphs, sarcophagi, and mosaics.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>According to
recent studies</b>, it appears that the original Samnite settlement, located in
the area, later moved to the environs of present-day Conza following the Roman
conquest.<sup>[2]</sup> The Samnites, reportedly
an offshoot from a group of Sabine exiles<sup>[1]</sup>, were an ancient people
who settled this area well before the Romans arrived. Maria Elena and I were able to observe some
evidence of this when we visited the archaeological site and were shown telltale
remnants of a herringbone pattern made of small, elongated stones, still in the earth and attributed to them. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0FJg4eBuqAa0aL9C2oi94iKsBzt9FNkK3YS9xckA4rC2I3HYqCT1JkK-pdCyjJRJ4MDBSLFpsWw9mWlcpVWNh6yIb0SPtPAZ8sjlNyHm609hTrOCLNhiLQiYXvXVAaSVrn_WGH_e2V4BErVAx01h_zoDmmeDN2RPq5Y_1SkFWeAtWaL8R-pvO1uh/s480/5.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic0FJg4eBuqAa0aL9C2oi94iKsBzt9FNkK3YS9xckA4rC2I3HYqCT1JkK-pdCyjJRJ4MDBSLFpsWw9mWlcpVWNh6yIb0SPtPAZ8sjlNyHm609hTrOCLNhiLQiYXvXVAaSVrn_WGH_e2V4BErVAx01h_zoDmmeDN2RPq5Y_1SkFWeAtWaL8R-pvO1uh/s320/5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Conza Archaeological Park</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Some homes
have been rebuilt</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> while others, some multistory, are new to the scene. Following a few signs leading off SS-91 through
the devastation of the old town, brings us to an excellent restaurant with a
fantastic view. Because of its relative
isolation, it is primarily known only to area residents. It is the </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Antica Trattoria Zia Michelina</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">. We have eaten there many times including on
multiple birthdays accompanied by friends.
In 2012 we knew it as </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">La Locanda Ninco Nanco</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, named after a local
</span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">brigante</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> (bandit) who met with a bad end. I’m sure that well before we discovered it,
it was known by another name. Instead of
tearing them down, Italians repurpose buildings unlike the general custom in
the States. Being made of stone likely
accounts for some of this reuse. In
time, people may come and go along with the storefront names, but the buildings
remain. That is unless there is an
earthquake. In addition to the fare Chef Angelo serves up, it is </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7H1BjLd4u6MCY5IXaKSVlxzYyOXQg-btdAXajTx_9gRJXS41gmtVdEQTUuz2jFcv1jcQ1EPXAEU5aLWicxwjSI8gqD54bw1VaFTt9FafIA4SJqM76fgLc6tAmvY9-5DdPmhCMyp3KCSwZboX-SmkdXv-BFaxd4A4F-76D8ewKpngstGut-fnBab5/s2016/6%20IMG_0582.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7H1BjLd4u6MCY5IXaKSVlxzYyOXQg-btdAXajTx_9gRJXS41gmtVdEQTUuz2jFcv1jcQ1EPXAEU5aLWicxwjSI8gqD54bw1VaFTt9FafIA4SJqM76fgLc6tAmvY9-5DdPmhCMyp3KCSwZboX-SmkdXv-BFaxd4A4F-76D8ewKpngstGut-fnBab5/w284-h213/6%20IMG_0582.jpg" width="284" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Just Follow the Signs</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">spectacular location high up on a mountain ridge along
SS-91 that adds to its fame. While the
restaurant may not be very large, its side patio presents a panorama unlike any
other in the region (unless, forgive me, I add our rooftop terrace to the
mix). As though you are on a cloud, about
you the majesty of the Ofanto River valley lies at the base of our table like the
edge of some infinity swimming pool. It
is a spectacular scene, especially when washed in the light of the late
afternoon, bordering on evening. You may
imagine it, but like a photo, it is not the true experience. It begins in the west as the Apennines
gradually swallow the light of day. I find
it to be the finest part of the day, that twilight time before sunset when
daylight leaches to evening. Here, shards
of reflected light on the water of manmade </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Lago Conza</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, far below, offer
a momentary mirage soon to be overtaken by the </span><a name="_Hlk32945490" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">flickering
wash of starlight as we finish sipping </a><a name="_Hlk32945490" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uMZhtFc0kqs16ReRjew3vg-YqsVfNd6pykfGsBo6zL_STRlYeIDS5R_nmiNFchI1vDwfUvGKZiFXBee1myt2bVnh1mwdCd5JhrrHfpvO9ypJEV3LmIysfrDvMYV8eQkrCzGeCXnVs37aXEvTulB9WzynbM5uu3I0RVXa560U0NXNQ_LHCl01hCoI/s2048/7%20Dam.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0uMZhtFc0kqs16ReRjew3vg-YqsVfNd6pykfGsBo6zL_STRlYeIDS5R_nmiNFchI1vDwfUvGKZiFXBee1myt2bVnh1mwdCd5JhrrHfpvO9ypJEV3LmIysfrDvMYV8eQkrCzGeCXnVs37aXEvTulB9WzynbM5uu3I0RVXa560U0NXNQ_LHCl01hCoI/s320/7%20Dam.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Dam Across the Ofanto River</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>an aperitivo. The lake was created in the seventies when a <i>diga</i>
(dam) was constructed across the <i>Fuime Ofano</i> (</a><a href="https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ofanto" style="text-indent: 0.25in;" title="Ofanto">Ofanto</a><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> River). The resulting reservoir was intended for
irrigation purposes, and later as a source of drinking water. Since 1999, the southern side of the lake has
been designated a WWF-protected oasis.
From this lofty perch, across miles of rolling countryside dotted with
fields and forests, nature gradually clicks off its luxuriant color palette and
bids goodnight. It is indeed an
enchanting spot to linger.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>When last there</b>, I recall enjoying <i>cavatelli
rosso</i> with hunks of <i>baccalà</i> (cod) and black olives. Now refreshed by the repast and the scenery, Mare
and I continued our journey first along an elevated span across the outflow of
the dam. It leads us by the water
treatment plant to join winding roads through hayfields dotted with growing
numbers of wind </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5r2ZT-Xz5OuVjFe9-N_mmHCgtRBF5ZoMbG4Y0OlxyuzNGTWf4XY2FZdmrgjy1c0tDxbPC334VUHs7NEh39FdQsCB9aBJwR9yqSm2IXTypgxO-LbEM2HRBH1qX4S1IG9omPoG8lZg9uVvCdNJk5OESVvvP2LobwEqJjrhBxz0Cp_06-IbTYQKKQLdD/s3264/6.5%20IMG_0181.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2448" data-original-width="3264" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5r2ZT-Xz5OuVjFe9-N_mmHCgtRBF5ZoMbG4Y0OlxyuzNGTWf4XY2FZdmrgjy1c0tDxbPC334VUHs7NEh39FdQsCB9aBJwR9yqSm2IXTypgxO-LbEM2HRBH1qX4S1IG9omPoG8lZg9uVvCdNJk5OESVvvP2LobwEqJjrhBxz0Cp_06-IbTYQKKQLdD/s320/6.5%20IMG_0181.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">No, This is Not a Painting</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />turbines and patches of forest teaming with wild boar. There is ruin here also, though not necessarily
from earthquakes. The timeless cycle of
life is evident in the remains of old farmhouses which speckle the rolling
fields corralled by lopsided barbed wire fences. Though beautiful to behold, this remains wild
country where life, even though tractors have long replaced teams of oxen, is
hard and remains physically demanding.
On this stretch of SS-91, agriculture is focused on growing hay
needed throughout southern Italy to feed livestock during the long stretch of
winter.<span style="text-align: left;"> Daily, trailers loaded with round haybales lumber </span><span style="text-align: left;">along the roads to the</span><p></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0w1Nwm7iTSgNfAGRZZpWiWc541sOtjVh_f_BXadvRIU7nwkygIiQ7yu_5qpJehMhttWmtMYNXvMZzDYdd9cPsBMleVXXZ1tkMXFv-E4EN-ilL5moK7pNcds-rTOQQBXJJBdKoDKqKAG7SkWx8mMSfpEgo5b_F52VGVVwkIuw48og2GGrDJxTOvIol/s2953/8%20IMG_0405.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2953" data-original-width="2411" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0w1Nwm7iTSgNfAGRZZpWiWc541sOtjVh_f_BXadvRIU7nwkygIiQ7yu_5qpJehMhttWmtMYNXvMZzDYdd9cPsBMleVXXZ1tkMXFv-E4EN-ilL5moK7pNcds-rTOQQBXJJBdKoDKqKAG7SkWx8mMSfpEgo5b_F52VGVVwkIuw48og2GGrDJxTOvIol/w170-h209/8%20IMG_0405.jpg" width="170" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Abandoned Farmhouse</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />annoyance of more speed-conscious
drivers. Not everything is cultivated. Areas like steep ravines, saddles, and the
juncture of hills too difficult to utilize remain wildly untouched and forested.
Though unscathed, these areas are not
unused. They team with wild boar. Negotiating these still natural stretches as
we continue toward Andretta, we’ve had to stop our car to let these feral pigs
cross the road. Actually, we had little
choice since mother hog and her piglet brood, called a sounder, offered little choice. <div><b style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br /></b></div><div><div style="text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><b style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Just ahead lay Andretta</b><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">. The name stems from Greek for firmness or fortress,
</span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">andreia</i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">. If it sounds remote, it
is. Why it is there is yet a mystery to
me. After ten or more kilometers, a farm
here and there, intermittent between expanses of beautiful though stark
countryside, Andretta gradually materializes first from the hint of a few houses
into something more than a hamlet to a striving <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7Ex9qf7BZrEzNxDavo7kiF-E0eQolb_CgDbb0y5qPi1FviBSunBiTtVM2EbCxTrca5CIsmBo7PYQv4maZe8F38ADbZ0RDzAsuguBF-q2yNONt7pVR8fowCzaG2RPdIy9GUEio7q98-0z1VykecYdX81v-B0RAgkfjiYtIA2-ndLNBiCQJI4RYE-3/s275/10.%20Boar.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQ7Ex9qf7BZrEzNxDavo7kiF-E0eQolb_CgDbb0y5qPi1FviBSunBiTtVM2EbCxTrca5CIsmBo7PYQv4maZe8F38ADbZ0RDzAsuguBF-q2yNONt7pVR8fowCzaG2RPdIy9GUEio7q98-0z1VykecYdX81v-B0RAgkfjiYtIA2-ndLNBiCQJI4RYE-3/s1600/10.%20Boar.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">These Little Piggies Don't Go to Market</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>community. While Andretta has been inhabited since the sixth
century BC and by 1931 saw its population grow to 4900 residents, emigration has
since reduced its numbers to the point that today only approximately 2000 souls
make it their home. Today, this settlement’s
arrangement features small scattered residential areas like those we’d witnessed
along SS-91 with a clear agro-pastoral bent, expressive of its Samnite-Roman cultural
inheritance. Holding further to its past, Andretta's coat of arms has the manacing wildness of a<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAw38zhS5w17UUirI4uZqqWl6LVuWQfGpOq9U1LoOjN6aG_l9OVrgb5plgfQbjR6yY3wQkmWBDnYQYE7XBC42UBcKhqs1vVEdryOoI9wPM6tfNwEq1AxkV6uunnZuCk9AprhgZmNkbwdNH6qOdlVvFKf-ItodtOqj9EIAn2L4yamA9EgLFyTvl4uoF/s3264/11%20IMG_0198.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAw38zhS5w17UUirI4uZqqWl6LVuWQfGpOq9U1LoOjN6aG_l9OVrgb5plgfQbjR6yY3wQkmWBDnYQYE7XBC42UBcKhqs1vVEdryOoI9wPM6tfNwEq1AxkV6uunnZuCk9AprhgZmNkbwdNH6qOdlVvFKf-ItodtOqj9EIAn2L4yamA9EgLFyTvl4uoF/w182-h242/11%20IMG_0198.JPG" width="182" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Wild Country</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>rampant golden
lion holding a laurel branch poised on the Samnite shield. I can imagine Roman legions marching through its
countryside unknowingly on their way to utter defeat in Cannae at the hands of
the Carthaginians. Surprisingly, this historic
battle took place on a more distant riverbank farther east, although beside the
same Ofanto River as Conza. Andretta grew from a small village at the end of
the Greek-Gothic war (535-554 AD). It
formed part of a defensive and territorial control system and served as the
last barrier to the advance of the Lombards towards Salerno and the Puglia
region. Eventually, when Conza was
occupied by the Lombards, Andretta became a fortified village and was elevated
to the rank of Castellum, a small, fortified military camp.</span><sup style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">[4]</sup><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> While it was settled in the Bronze Age, its earliest
historical mention was in 1124, then under Norman rule.</span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>To this point</b>, Andretta marks the farthest we’ve
ever gone along SS-19. There’s no need
to go beyond it for our terminus is the door front of <i>Pizzeria Da Zio Rocco
e Gianmaria</i>, where a menu still </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5itaUAJACifUT5ukFELQJ5hlQwlouobv_Dwhx3-7OYK5yBneqNvcgVySSrWusn_sHKs2e8aXcSPDjhWq1R9KVmDjwPOZb9Un9cjYRzQb5rOn2qmN0kyjIC1u3qeRJVgaMGVZamJXUOBGWA-gohdrtSm3j_4l6J65QooCl8jmTNFiNg0rJY4dPyaQx/s3023/12%20IMG_0399.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2735" data-original-width="3023" height="250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5itaUAJACifUT5ukFELQJ5hlQwlouobv_Dwhx3-7OYK5yBneqNvcgVySSrWusn_sHKs2e8aXcSPDjhWq1R9KVmDjwPOZb9Un9cjYRzQb5rOn2qmN0kyjIC1u3qeRJVgaMGVZamJXUOBGWA-gohdrtSm3j_4l6J65QooCl8jmTNFiNg0rJY4dPyaQx/w276-h250/12%20IMG_0399.JPG" width="276" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Entry Walkway to Zio's Pizzeria</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>does not exist (see “<i>I Am The Menu</i>” in
the Blog archive published Aug 2017). Following
a thirty-one-month absence, there had been visible changes. The ‘nave’ of this gastronomic shrine had
been paneled on either side with romantic tables for two, shaded by overhead vines. Continuing straight ahead through the
doorway, across the foyer into the kitchen, we’d walk directly into the
roaring heart of Gianmaria’s den, the pizzeria’s wood oven.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Keeping with tradition</b>, there is no need for a
menu when Zio Rocco himself will explain what is on offer that evening. Zio himself hadn’t changed much. He was as welcoming as ever, though certainly
more arthritic. All part of the show, he
remains his commanding, brusque self. Here
is a genuine place with a rustic atmosphere typical of the cuisine of the area.
What is not typical is the pizza served in
this far-flung oasis. He has struck on a
pizza like none other. In fact, I’m
unsure whether any other pizza topping choices are offered there. After all, Zio (Uncle) began by selling pork. It is a wonderful pie, the best I’ve ever
eaten. The closest runner-up to it might
be a sausage pizza but unlike</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_s-q3_HF4sWe6_oixN3-M1IAIOqVEqvnDOdtsdSa21TezPWQQ-A-ocTKfI-KIZRrO3F8eIxFO8DJAOTLWXb5XE6GlB9nfPQR6xF6MW_lMBHH9DAlOPfSnt5JbRtXHb9ck_Vu4Ir9QEFb4Kl4QJhdzXjyqtNeS11VI9taooccvoSXX8hVYaC-Q40kb/s4032/13%20IMG_0565.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_s-q3_HF4sWe6_oixN3-M1IAIOqVEqvnDOdtsdSa21TezPWQQ-A-ocTKfI-KIZRrO3F8eIxFO8DJAOTLWXb5XE6GlB9nfPQR6xF6MW_lMBHH9DAlOPfSnt5JbRtXHb9ck_Vu4Ir9QEFb4Kl4QJhdzXjyqtNeS11VI9taooccvoSXX8hVYaC-Q40kb/w331-h248/13%20IMG_0565.JPG" width="331" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Zio Rocco One and Only Pork Pizza</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>any of those, this is a true pork pizza teaming with
large chunks of juicy roasted pork. Once
removed from Gianmaria’s wood-fired oven it is then camouflaged with crispy leaves
of Boston lettuce. Hopefully, I’m not
revealing trade secrets here. For all I
know, the pork topping could have been wild <i>porchetta</i> from that sounder
pack of pigs now all grown up that we’d had a run-in with years earlier. More is on offer here than pizza, more than
announced by Zio, the ‘living menu’. We
once asked Zio if he had any ravioli. He
hadn’t. He made a call, however, and a
full plate of the freshly made puffy pillows arrived. When it comes to food, it just may take a
village after all! <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>As part of my predisposition</b> for musing over possible
futures if I’d chosen what was behind ‘Curtain 1’ versus ‘Curtain 2’, I
sometimes daydream about what life would have been like for us if we had never
visited Italy, if we had never bought our pied-à-terre in Calitri, if we had never
taken that turn off SS-7 onto SS-91, definitely a road less traveled. As Robert Frost wrote in his 1915 breakthrough
poem, <b><a href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44272/the-road-not-taken">The Road
Not Taken</a></b>:<o:p></o:p></p><div style="margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: center;"><b><i>“Two
roads diverged in a wood, and I—<br /></i><i>I
took the one less traveled by,<br /></i><i>And
that has made all the difference."</i></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify;">Life is a journey, and we are all on roads to different places. Point A may lead to B or C or … <a name="_Hlk115421493">Our decisions or a left
turn versus a right can make a world of difference.</a> We tend to speed along and take </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAfABU3N4ZubVZkm6A6QuAIDxRM_iuoI8fGYVaoJSj6b6DDkTN1gn3Wv0kHuOU2-647evX6qyP86aH2kD2iuzQE8t0B4xNPzxQ1noPv6RKn40-3qxkzwicOyfNyV7oJvTBVGyysBrREIiHNV_WYyfkSTNw7C5oONC4cqs-Y-VIvSwkn3w1P_7Fwou/s4032/13%20IMG_0410.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpAfABU3N4ZubVZkm6A6QuAIDxRM_iuoI8fGYVaoJSj6b6DDkTN1gn3Wv0kHuOU2-647evX6qyP86aH2kD2iuzQE8t0B4xNPzxQ1noPv6RKn40-3qxkzwicOyfNyV7oJvTBVGyysBrREIiHNV_WYyfkSTNw7C5oONC4cqs-Y-VIvSwkn3w1P_7Fwou/w159-h212/13%20IMG_0410.JPG" width="159" /></a></div>scant notice,
as beautiful as it may be, of what lies around us, never chancing to detour
from our customary paths, and take the chance to explore what ifs. Once upon a time, a turn off SS-7 brought us first
to <i>Zia Michelina</i> and then on to Andretta and <i>Zio Rocco</i>. What lies ahead farther along SS-91? I know for a fact that it leads on to
Bisaccia, home to the <i>Grillo Doro Ristorante</i> (Golden Cricket), and along
the way, following diverging paths, lie the makings for stories for another
day.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;"><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif">From
That Rogue Tourist<br /></span></b><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif">Paolo</span><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif"> </span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">[1] <i>Samnites</i>,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samnites#:~:text=Origins%20and%20early%20history,-Map%20of%20Ancient&text=The%20Greek%20geographer%20Strabo%20wrote,a%20group%20of%20Sabine%20exiles.
<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1.2pt; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">[2] <cite><span style="color: #202122;">Rafael
Scopacasa, Ancient Samnium: Settlement, Culture, and Identity Between History
and Archeology, Oxford University Press, 2015,</span></cite></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">[3] <i>Compsa</i>, </span><span style="background: white; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 115%;">https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Compsa</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">[4] <i>Commune
de Andretta Storia, </i>https://www.comune.andretta.av.it/index.php?action=index&p=76<o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> </span></p></div>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-70811804152599537522022-08-31T12:17:00.032-04:002023-01-15T12:51:26.988-05:00Island Hopping<p> </p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; mso-no-proof: yes;">Island Hopping</span></b><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We must be island people</b>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lately, at least, it </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnalUXCDM62dq-Fhse4Gf1kwfDM9naLlpj2WcY5p6peORUOIGZEmK3bJ25lxBxI3XtSPLbmk4B__up-XzkHidGpg4q3M-C91PzSxwhAFX3o7hP6GXWsat2l40OyN7lCIUcDo4lsM66BntY5t7oMEJvmZPXfkMKYeBpJJz4oe7Zf-5Z4lErgKdbJOfA/s2016/1%20IMG_0241.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnalUXCDM62dq-Fhse4Gf1kwfDM9naLlpj2WcY5p6peORUOIGZEmK3bJ25lxBxI3XtSPLbmk4B__up-XzkHidGpg4q3M-C91PzSxwhAFX3o7hP6GXWsat2l40OyN7lCIUcDo4lsM66BntY5t7oMEJvmZPXfkMKYeBpJJz4oe7Zf-5Z4lErgKdbJOfA/s320/1%20IMG_0241.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Awaiting the Magic to Begin</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="text-align: left;">appears so, though not
so much me. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Maria Elena, originally from
an island in what better place than Rhode Island, has always had an affinity for
the sea.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">As for me, </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">basically a tree hugger, whether sea or ocean,
they’re nice to visit.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">With so much sun,
sand, and usually people, its charms soon wane on me in the time needed of about
a week.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">There was a time, however, when
I’d spent far too many months on the remote island of Guam in the Pacific.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Nevertheless, I’m always game to test a
proposition, and in a way, explore self-imposed boundaries. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">Whether they are modified or not is another story,
but I haven’t been back to Guam.</span><p></p><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dpe4GIYvSlF0FdrT-H3TxmhCodm3yHmupYjIgXD2skjDaSH1v6RXlmmm9vswUbNFilD-Xk2qpFAMJ8z7Y1-guJe4yx5dVz0J1modkYwcW-2DMHaHjlAze5ekHBzXjOTrmfsUHJYpDjjGbUkt4DO7xY9ljhFHe9Ox3_4fpkYSVdN8oYVhJ1x396MN/s2016/3%20IMG_0260.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8dpe4GIYvSlF0FdrT-H3TxmhCodm3yHmupYjIgXD2skjDaSH1v6RXlmmm9vswUbNFilD-Xk2qpFAMJ8z7Y1-guJe4yx5dVz0J1modkYwcW-2DMHaHjlAze5ekHBzXjOTrmfsUHJYpDjjGbUkt4DO7xY9ljhFHe9Ox3_4fpkYSVdN8oYVhJ1x396MN/w233-h175/3%20IMG_0260.JPG" width="233" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Writ Large, the Intriguing Sign<br /></span></span></b><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Above the Fireplace Mantle </span></span></b></div></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3_WIQwrfxgwtjhUZ4VrDp_0HYEA64JetSKtKAROCj3KWb0QjE0DNsIB-lv2mHLvyJPgv8oF199hX1UBRC3tBQocJ-_HSPS6Uds0hesUO3nAxJDdNe-iZpT3HU_Dd32AH0a7wZgLDIR0aioCHuO1hBM5MvkG8uXcwyQ3wN4ib2WKCzLJCC4JK36-vP/s2016/2%20IMG_0233.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3_WIQwrfxgwtjhUZ4VrDp_0HYEA64JetSKtKAROCj3KWb0QjE0DNsIB-lv2mHLvyJPgv8oF199hX1UBRC3tBQocJ-_HSPS6Uds0hesUO3nAxJDdNe-iZpT3HU_Dd32AH0a7wZgLDIR0aioCHuO1hBM5MvkG8uXcwyQ3wN4ib2WKCzLJCC4JK36-vP/s320/2%20IMG_0233.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">All the World's a Stage</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b> We’d recently been to the island of Corfu</b></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><b> </b>in the Ionian
Sea. It was a place big enough, that
when inland</span>, you easily lost any sense you were on an island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The glint from the sea was soon replaced by
narrow lanes woven through verdant hillsides.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">One evening, in fact, leaving the </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">sprawl of coastal resorts behind, we
ventured inland to a rather un-notice eatery in an out-of-the-way village.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Luckily, our driver knew how to get to this
hidden gem.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I’ll share it here with the
caveat you tell no one lest its innocence disappears in notoriety. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">It is </span><a name="_Hlk109406504" style="text-indent: 0.25in;">the <i>Taverna
Stamatis</i></a><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The name alone is rather
interesting.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">I recall asking our all-at-once owner, hostess, server, maître-d, and I’m sure at times cook, Margaretta,
what a rather prominently displayed sign above the fireplace said. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHsvSHux-OGqpFvRiVdcYdVvIKOK22eIery3UftYf6sKsabInAoZgpas7bfb8bQ9PfuU2QVRFOuFofiSMiFCww_erXvs75SQQ0_Ih7xHkh1xJ-qb4gW3aoVGiHFY_HuzrxX27ziT0RqYkxs6ez1QlT6wTwGLL3vHB2pCK9xxVQ77hzVWT04hR1dTeU/s2016/4%20IMG_0372.JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHsvSHux-OGqpFvRiVdcYdVvIKOK22eIery3UftYf6sKsabInAoZgpas7bfb8bQ9PfuU2QVRFOuFofiSMiFCww_erXvs75SQQ0_Ih7xHkh1xJ-qb4gW3aoVGiHFY_HuzrxX27ziT0RqYkxs6ez1QlT6wTwGLL3vHB2pCK9xxVQ77hzVWT04hR1dTeU/w271-h203/4%20IMG_0372.JPG" width="271" /></a></div></span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Maybe we ought to know what it said to avoid some faux</span><a name="_Hlk109386946" style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> pas</a><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Was it some cipher on how to behave, that ignorant of its message, we might
infringe on some house rule?</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">After all,
being on an island, it was paramount to keep our heads above water.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Translated, it became clear. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> <span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;">Though I’m sure, with some loss in</span><br /></span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">translation, its meaning is unmistakable.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">We knew of the </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Slow Food Movement</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">It originated in Italy in 1989 in response
to the growth of the fast food industry. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">This plaque laid it out with a policy mantra
that oblivious, non-polyglot patrons could not comprehend.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Patrons like us, whose knowledge of Greek is
limited to long-ago math and physics class Greek symbols, would be at a loss.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">They might complain if they experienced slow
service.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Thankfully, I’d asked.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">We were after all on an island, on island
time, so what was the hurry.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">With no
cruise ship to catch, ours was strictly a leisurely escape.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">It also hinted that their patrons were local
Greeks, not frenetic tourist, always on the move, eager for new sights, and
another selfie. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">That made it even
better.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">It was only 8 P.M.,</span></b><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"> early even for hungry Greeks. Apparently, we needed to stretch things out a
little, especially after Margherita, overworked as she was, took a moment to
tell us it was going to be a big night.
The idea of unhurried, mindful dining appealed to us. We’d <span style="background: white; color: #333333; letter-spacing: 0.1pt;">forget about </span><span style="background: white; color: #202124;">calories, carbohydrates, and fats at least for tonight. </span>Delay would certainly extend our stay,
but with any luck, not beyond when the taxi shuttle services called it a night. That is unless we made friends. As we </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2LBtTOVA4xq_aoxwFPqpfkZSUtuSnH5xdJAeRW72Kcge-rLCSvMAKzzBGSrE-2-YWSNu7Q4J70Ny0TCNUdcfnOJHW8cHKqJuvsgpsxrrHdZkxka6HMuDj4DH8JOvugvGBEVV9C3uKreSZf6ERUyCsO5XR7vESrJTPzmlHJaZqugKMj-rPga9EW365/s2016/5%20IMG_0263.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2LBtTOVA4xq_aoxwFPqpfkZSUtuSnH5xdJAeRW72Kcge-rLCSvMAKzzBGSrE-2-YWSNu7Q4J70Ny0TCNUdcfnOJHW8cHKqJuvsgpsxrrHdZkxka6HMuDj4DH8JOvugvGBEVV9C3uKreSZf6ERUyCsO5XR7vESrJTPzmlHJaZqugKMj-rPga9EW365/s320/5%20IMG_0263.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Too Much Tzatziki?<br />Not for much Longer.</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><p></p><p class="MsoCaption" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">sipped our first bottle of local unlabeled wine, people gradually trickled in, some in groups, to fill the long tables awaiting them.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Many seemed acquainted.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Some were smartly dressed.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Apparently, something was afoot, and we’d gratefully stumbled right smack into it.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>The menu featured traditional Greek food</b> but was
silent about what was to follow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even
with the welcomed distractions, dinner was fabulous. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were far from Italian shores, with no sign
of pasta of any size or shape on the menu.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Instead, it featured starters, meats, and veggies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We enjoyed <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a mountain of white tzatziki, some smooth
baked feta we corralled with bread, and grilled mushrooms before Maria Elena and
I shifted to our main courses that arrived in keeping with our plan to stretch our
stay as long as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mare chose unmarinated
lamb chops reported to actually taste like lamb, while I went for the wood oven-prepared pork shank cooked overnight with black beer and mustard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I must admit, it was so tender, it fell off
the bone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>As we continued with our feast</b>, musicians arrived,
set up, and soon began to play.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
learned that the violinist, though young (seemingly everyone is these days), was
renowned throughout the </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27hwSaSQZNbAF2dsas3nEvXgnIaSZmKpg2qytb7Koqu2WwwhvxDGtS1DBK4F0RjS4FzZ6IOuqTh0tM4jXBU1Jm7BKv9Tt_v_fs7z54bzAJFvFy8bzFCGxOj0adFEAovyEp54ux9Xv5Kc30BDqhxYJjfyqjxseR0VfBF2pj6AGwOuuw8wtWc9Ho1BJ/s339/6%20thumbnail.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="208" data-original-width="339" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg27hwSaSQZNbAF2dsas3nEvXgnIaSZmKpg2qytb7Koqu2WwwhvxDGtS1DBK4F0RjS4FzZ6IOuqTh0tM4jXBU1Jm7BKv9Tt_v_fs7z54bzAJFvFy8bzFCGxOj0adFEAovyEp54ux9Xv5Kc30BDqhxYJjfyqjxseR0VfBF2pj6AGwOuuw8wtWc9Ho1BJ/s320/6%20thumbnail.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Our Greek Musical Entertainers</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had
to have been born with a fiddle in his tiny hands, for he could stroke those
strings seemingly without paying attention while talking to his mates, or with
it propped vertically on his leg. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
clearly an extension of himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was
accompanied by two other accomplished artists who played what appeared to be long-necked cousins of the mandolin and offshoots of the Greek lute known as a <i>bouzouki</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A female singer, with a small drum, added to
the threesome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soon people were spontaneously
on their feet, holding hands, dancing in a circle or in long lines that snaked through
the tables, moving to their intoxicating rhythms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, we moved our table back a bit to let
them through more easily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone, absent
the two of us, sang along to the traditional tunes this foursome created, no
doubt heavily dipped in ancestry. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>The music and dancing</b> went off like it was an
audition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe the entire evening was
an audition, though certainly not for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Are you familiar with Nia Vardalos?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I bet you are.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is the
Canadian actress, director, producer, and screenwriter who wrote and starred as
Toula in the pop culture sensation, <a href="https://youtu.be/7gjmK4xvsDg">My
Big Fat Greek Wedding</a> (watch it here).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She had eaten at Taverna Stamatis weeks </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbVDfEu565RBB1XCO8NfroxqzheU-6XS-RUop6enz0GVZBqJZEukH3gkYtgX4hUmW3hEI7DoHpCFVO2emK-iuy-gRkLJhXTDeDAIIzxt8pNwKhDR4kRd4PTL2fyAnEcWs-WTfniPtLqqNXJSZUYvbmWW1rS5W19RS-aqoCeJQ60K8Pz2h3edBGBM4/s2016/7%20IMG_0253.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZbVDfEu565RBB1XCO8NfroxqzheU-6XS-RUop6enz0GVZBqJZEukH3gkYtgX4hUmW3hEI7DoHpCFVO2emK-iuy-gRkLJhXTDeDAIIzxt8pNwKhDR4kRd4PTL2fyAnEcWs-WTfniPtLqqNXJSZUYvbmWW1rS5W19RS-aqoCeJQ60K8Pz2h3edBGBM4/w345-h259/7%20IMG_0253.JPG" width="345" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Window Onto an Experience</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This night, some of her advance team would
arrive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They did and sat at the table alongside
ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From an attractive actress vying
for a screen-double position and the location director from Athens, we learned
that a sequel was in the works, would be out in December of 22, and if things
remained as planned, would include scenes from <i>Taverna Stamatis</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We wondered if we’d recognize the taverna or
be able to find our little table for two on the big screen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Marie Elena finished the last of her lamb
chops, even absent a bottle of Windex popularized in the film, she just may
have channeled the line made famous by that movie, <a href="https://youtu.be/kTIV2CSxYr8">“He don’t eat no meat? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What you mean he don’t eat no meat? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh that’s OK, that’s OK, I make lamb!”</a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People talk about language immersion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That night, off somewhere in Greek mountains
at a place I’d no idea how to get to or home from, we‘d been outright immersed in
an experience.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It had been <i>Mamma Mia,
Opa</i>, and <i>My Big Fat Greek Wedding</i> rolled into one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We made it back</b> with the help of one of the
waiters who</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha2FtK94cVfrShN9JMhdaMn11NgBbDBJ8O_AW0b9kZCE37nulPcR_lJVHAivslvJWD53ERj43Xf2njQSM4q8kdn8M-Gu8MfoXB7ZAWpDT-u9279QUNH2yNw9NFvJldjGsOxq6gt-6ofqRYmq2nNTKZCintpjlgIyOYFZTs553rHnC_97PozPkCP1uS/s754/1%20IMG_0443.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="754" data-original-width="540" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha2FtK94cVfrShN9JMhdaMn11NgBbDBJ8O_AW0b9kZCE37nulPcR_lJVHAivslvJWD53ERj43Xf2njQSM4q8kdn8M-Gu8MfoXB7ZAWpDT-u9279QUNH2yNw9NFvJldjGsOxq6gt-6ofqRYmq2nNTKZCintpjlgIyOYFZTs553rHnC_97PozPkCP1uS/w261-h364/1%20IMG_0443.JPG" width="261" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Ischia View Toward <br />Castello Aragonese</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>made some calls, and our adventure continued.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Some weeks later we found ourselves on another island, in
a different sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This time it was a volcanic
island in the Gulf of Naples in the Tyrrhenian Sea. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At our feet lay enchanting Ischia, along with
nearby Procida.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had visited Ischia in
the past and were comfortable with it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Its secrets, from volcanically heated seawater to the undersea ruins of
the Roman town of Aenaria, lay shallower to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Ischia is often referred to as “The Poor Man’s Capri.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is not as well visited as nearby Positano and
tiny Amalfi. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both of these are on the
list of destinations of note, with their imported cruise ship tourists today
replacing the Saracen invaders of old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Today’s Ischia, however, is getting there, for there are more than thirty
ferry crossings to and from the mainland daily.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Getting aboard one of those ferries in Naples or Pozzuoli only continues
the fun.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We had departed
Calitri</b> on a surprisingly cool morning, headed toward Avellino, to eventually
arrive at the Naples Airport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, we
weren’t going to fly from there, simply park our car, and transfer by bus to
the port.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But ‘flying’ had occupied my
mind, though it had nothing to do with a winged vehicle. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unregulated wannabe Formula One drivers used
to be confined to Naples, but now the A-16 Autostrada leading to Naples seems
wide open for anyone to try their hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The BMWs, Mercedes, big Renaults, and Alfa Romeo types had far more
horses than I; Their horses could fly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
didn’t help our need for speed that we were burning GPL (<i>Gas di Petrolio
Liquefatto</i>) either. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With less energy
than gasoline, the few horses we did have in our stable were also malnourished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things moved fast, very fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As an example, while a look in the review
mirror might indicate all-clear, no sooner would I switch lanes when flashing
headlights announced the surprise arrival of another roadrunner practically in
my trunk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That slowed them, but usually,
they would woosh past little <i>Bianca</i> (our Fiat).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The smallness of <i>Bianca</i> only
exaggerated the difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They also knew
where the traffic cameras were and dutifully slowed, but when safely passed, they’d
lite their afterburners and zoom away at warp speed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can tolerate all that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a name="_Hlk111649341">It is on two-lane
roads, when speedsters cut back to rejoin my lane after passing me, that I find
troublesome.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></a>I’d been taught to wait
until I saw the car I’d just passed in my rearview mirror before turning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seems this technique is not taught in their
driving schools.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I swear I swerved a
number of times to avoid approaching contact and honked an equal number of
times to weakly indicate my displeasure (our horn isn’t much either).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is amazing how a Doctor Jekyll-Mr. Hyde personality
transformation consumes Italians when a steering wheel, rather than a hypnotic pocket
watch, is dangled before their eyes.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Embarkation at the Naples docks </b>was equally a
fun sport.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is one thing to visit a
place once every few years, like us after a five year hiatus, versus every
day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People unfamiliar with the rhythm
of a place, that between visits can be transformed dramatically, have no idea
where to get a ticket, which queue to join to get one, and which of many
ill-marked wharves to wait for their particular ferry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ticket windows independently service their
particular boats and routes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many listed
Ischia as a destination.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You’d have to
check with a few to find out the best departure time for you, then join that
line.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are also multiple ports on
Ischia, so where exactly they’d drop you off was also important. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Throngs of people surged in the ticket lines
and at least once again to ensure they had a place onboard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Such are the hurdles travelers must experience
and </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxTbfxbEPmQLhGeWi9AGPL6ADU-025ybOrPCmuiPVf19STjZmOCCeaKGHm2oSfu_w3lYR05kzCgbHkGFaJZkoLAi94fFmFtPBqYw0ZJ3ukbf_rMjwqKeMDvrUWwRhPbFC0JFgiV4r7gdVJ_XalRpojgxunznFQdVLXEZzDhJlMEgVMvd0on68vFjV/s253/2%20Central%20Park.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="138" data-original-width="253" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZxTbfxbEPmQLhGeWi9AGPL6ADU-025ybOrPCmuiPVf19STjZmOCCeaKGHm2oSfu_w3lYR05kzCgbHkGFaJZkoLAi94fFmFtPBqYw0ZJ3ukbf_rMjwqKeMDvrUWwRhPbFC0JFgiV4r7gdVJ_XalRpojgxunznFQdVLXEZzDhJlMEgVMvd0on68vFjV/w400-h218/2%20Central%20Park.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Central Park Terme on the Island of Ischia</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>learn to adjust to, exacerbated further by the July heat.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Once again</b>,
we chose to stay at the <i>Central Park Terme Hotel</i> in the town of Ischia
Porto.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Later, while sitting at the
Neptune Bar, a little hootch clad in bamboo beside the pool, we got to meet lifeguard
and stand-in bartender, Umberto. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along
with a fellow guest, a <a name="_Hlk110496705">slummier from Milan named Gianpaolo,
we took notes on where to have dinner and of course, gained an appreciation for particular
Ischia wines</a>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, sinner that I am,
visits to food establishments, with their intense aromatic </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_n7PLGwew20q5V8vc0FknWJ3tUoGIZ2psfr5z0vNhZzYgKxy7Zzii0YlNA57oWtwNMXk2L1srSu85np0aVHIEMHSDQxiiBUNzugBlu6mU123d5i5s4wpTqqPWFf43XRT3Xmx3Q1tovzqmXLt9arOO5e0eN3zvQ1Z-_VprUAozJCDpxwNPMMwVpGmS/s275/3%20bar.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_n7PLGwew20q5V8vc0FknWJ3tUoGIZ2psfr5z0vNhZzYgKxy7Zzii0YlNA57oWtwNMXk2L1srSu85np0aVHIEMHSDQxiiBUNzugBlu6mU123d5i5s4wpTqqPWFf43XRT3Xmx3Q1tovzqmXLt9arOO5e0eN3zvQ1Z-_VprUAozJCDpxwNPMMwVpGmS/s1600/3%20bar.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Our Hotel's Neptune Bar</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>messaging continues
to outnumber my visits to churches, calling to us with the peal of their bells
every quarter hour. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That first night, now
well armed, we ate at one of the recommended establishments to one side of the
port laced with private cruisers, their fantails arrayed for private dining. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Absent any invitation to come aboard a single
yacht and join in, we instead dined at <i>O’Purticciull Ristorante</i> that had
been waiting there for us since 1968.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
starters, we enjoyed porcini mushrooms and <i>alichi fritte</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With our newfound appreciation of the local
wines, our wine choice was an excellent straw-colored local white, <i>Vigna del
Lume</i>, by Antonio Mazzella. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Keeping
to a seafood theme, for our main courses, we enjoyed an always pleasing <i>Spaghetti
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MsvYC8_8p_8B0OTU4ICDazGCjAV9lqz6dv2Ta-1UnKE-b9gW7WoqcvAODrDIemSRAGgt7SSoNa3xJHip9W0O-uFFQcILWrBSH3dp-14wT-QAfyibTxUzljZz3-Hu3309jM83-DexRrhzPDhWchrdMNXgpeCCK99XuI6K1gWRh9qsD7LEsBHKfVZH/s862/4%20Ristorante-O-Poticciull-Ischia-Like-4.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="650" data-original-width="862" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5MsvYC8_8p_8B0OTU4ICDazGCjAV9lqz6dv2Ta-1UnKE-b9gW7WoqcvAODrDIemSRAGgt7SSoNa3xJHip9W0O-uFFQcILWrBSH3dp-14wT-QAfyibTxUzljZz3-Hu3309jM83-DexRrhzPDhWchrdMNXgpeCCK99XuI6K1gWRh9qsD7LEsBHKfVZH/w299-h225/4%20Ristorante-O-Poticciull-Ischia-Like-4.jpg" width="299" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">O'Purticciull Ristorante at the <br />Port of Ischia</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>alle Vongole,</i> but for the carnivore rogue among us, ignoring proper wine
paring etiquette, the choice was sliced <i>Tagliata di Scottona su Letto di
Rucola</i> with shavings of <i>Grana Padana</i> cheese.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a name="_Hlk112860577">Those poolside recommendations
we’d been given were right on the mark.</a><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>While there one day</b>, we purchased all-day bus
tickets that gave us the ability to hop on and off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was reminiscent of another Ischia bus ride
years earlier.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, as on this day, we
stood in the heat of the day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, it
was hot, crowded, and with a shortage of seats, we’d stood. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unlike that day, we wore masks which only made
it more oppressive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Buses and
trains are the last strongholds of mask wearers ordained by Italian law.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> We had</span> no idea since airlines dropped the
requirement the day we’d arrived in Italy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Seeing masks being worn, we assumed it was by choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQO2OIRWFrb0VwxLLYb1P8_pgW659UBY0rTHl-CRucuNjSr8U8RC9EA-Udy0DDHLZIbyj0cRcra6uBt_xVdhasUxGXweSDcWMUAgpjZZyxAir6WlXn7-9tm63cz0ZB9TAYsOXZkE8E2q_iRX9EziRRF4rd2IABWxTMXggdWdwwjAzHlnJTz2wYI7kk/s4032/5.5%20IMG_0445.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQO2OIRWFrb0VwxLLYb1P8_pgW659UBY0rTHl-CRucuNjSr8U8RC9EA-Udy0DDHLZIbyj0cRcra6uBt_xVdhasUxGXweSDcWMUAgpjZZyxAir6WlXn7-9tm63cz0ZB9TAYsOXZkE8E2q_iRX9EziRRF4rd2IABWxTMXggdWdwwjAzHlnJTz2wYI7kk/s320/5.5%20IMG_0445.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times; font-size: medium;"><b>Excellent Ischia Bus Line <br />Steps from Our Hotel</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>was quickly re-educated on the matter when a
badge-wielding plainclothes officer demanded we put on masks or get off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: left;">He had a tone of
authority that went with the job. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; text-align: left;">Short two masks, we quickly
obliged and bought some. </span>When we returned, the bus now
overfilled, I could understand that this newfound closeness demanded it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were arrayed like pick-up sticks, not yet
dropped on the table but still standing upright in the cylinder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The next day, ourselves now obediently masked,
we observed as another officer fined two female tourists 49€ each as they
stepped from the bus maskless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d been
lucky.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We hopped off in Forio</b>, an energetic port town on Ischia’s western coast noted for its ceramics and a 2002 Papal visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone was on the move. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With no particular place to go before
continuing our orbit of the island, we sat at a shaded café by a busy
intersection and observed the goings-on: a municipal cop directing traffic,
suitcase towing tourists going every which way along with ever so scantily clad
bathing beauties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Contrary to usual
movement, at least to me, where the left to right fractional to Need a Traturn of a knob
increases things, we chose to travel counterclockwise around the island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOXo3RuJK-5nVLnYXYuxJj5LFRjcJ49qSAQPajtMA8JzWdqFcgttYm9KG8mtWUsyE156BivWXc6K6FWvaFs5zZv9A5GIf_jkRWvnt35bOSkPLHvnQKGNycUalsT-bKdHeUlt4pMHW7QVqT0ipDmpdJGrvkOzp0S2IwlrIwcBkzQErFF6B5GKploJAB/s4032/6%20IMG_0425.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOXo3RuJK-5nVLnYXYuxJj5LFRjcJ49qSAQPajtMA8JzWdqFcgttYm9KG8mtWUsyE156BivWXc6K6FWvaFs5zZv9A5GIf_jkRWvnt35bOSkPLHvnQKGNycUalsT-bKdHeUlt4pMHW7QVqT0ipDmpdJGrvkOzp0S2IwlrIwcBkzQErFF6B5GKploJAB/s320/6%20IMG_0425.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Island Streets Busy Enough to Need <br />a Traffic Director</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>was in hope that with each turn of the
bus’s wheels, this movement might slow down the world around us, reduce the
hectic pace, and provide a glimpse of Ischia yet untouched. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If counterclockwise is unconventional, well, that’s us, and that’s what we did as we passed through little towns and hamlets, some so small, they didn’t merit a bus stop.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>True to the unconventional, as if our bus, reminiscent of needles on a
clock, were moving in reverse, so the landscape grew wilder, as though traveling
back to an earlier time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Self-reliant countryside homes had extensive gardens; their hills pierced
with sticks supporting tomato vines with spare poles leaning in nearby corners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Small belvedere piazzas (from Italian words, <i>bel</i>,
meaning ‘beautiful,’ and <i>vedere</i>, meaning ‘view’) near ancient churches teetered
on the edge of an infinite panorama that extended from the island’s wildness to
a cerulean-colored sea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only the glaring
inclusion of an occasional satellite dish <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUykzaMUYhKf5u-ZUczn1EMnyTzSdJXWpJ6DdGdEDRuKan4W4p2PtO7hu6I3zO0MAaDRNS9HBQRCegZaZ0QockYPo3t8XLY1oTKxijAFJEa80vH2uhz1dZCU6LJVoszV9dupaeFBmP0azYAOD0M2oVL6lkVZ_epXG4TJj-kt0eK839nj9Dl2pt0Kq/s1883/7%20IMG_0432.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1406" data-original-width="1883" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkUykzaMUYhKf5u-ZUczn1EMnyTzSdJXWpJ6DdGdEDRuKan4W4p2PtO7hu6I3zO0MAaDRNS9HBQRCegZaZ0QockYPo3t8XLY1oTKxijAFJEa80vH2uhz1dZCU6LJVoszV9dupaeFBmP0azYAOD0M2oVL6lkVZ_epXG4TJj-kt0eK839nj9Dl2pt0Kq/s320/7%20IMG_0432.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Beginning Our Climb into<br />Ischia's back Country</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />reminded us of the here and now.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>At the bottom of the island</b>, around the six
o’clock position, we stopped at lovely Sant Angelo where Chancellor Angela
Merkel would vacation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From there, we
switched buses and drove to Panza, then on to Serrara to again change buses before
arriving in Fontana.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our growing
remoteness saw fewer passengers and ever smaller busses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one point, the only two onboard, we could
choose any seat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We climbed along narrow
hairpin roads skirting Mount Epomeo, Ischia’s highest point. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The views about midway up its slopes were
spectacular, and the reassuring skill of the driver remarkable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luckily, he knew his route well. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At one point, the road narrowed enough that it
essentially became one-way, with a traffic light controlling the alternating flow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the past, we have stopped for sheep to
cross, even <i>cinghiale</i> (wild boar). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here the pesky critters were other buses
converging on us from the opposite direction, seemingly always at a turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We yielded </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsol8wuC-YE_zK5X8gIPp-MNviBoc8rEaWkBdf9hvyGdHpnPN21TRKROcAPB3sEtRXbRx0PWogYG4-RHDqSGaf00Rpya2yf3BkLKMhhqW1Pj3n_DmqNPWooMJlFFfQFW2-jLsRPYnlYFYsGKWtveYkhrKJfT8qhi0TTGiHWv3JzQiNCWNnZG0MJL4A/s676/8%20Acquedotto_pilastri.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="507" data-original-width="676" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsol8wuC-YE_zK5X8gIPp-MNviBoc8rEaWkBdf9hvyGdHpnPN21TRKROcAPB3sEtRXbRx0PWogYG4-RHDqSGaf00Rpya2yf3BkLKMhhqW1Pj3n_DmqNPWooMJlFFfQFW2-jLsRPYnlYFYsGKWtveYkhrKJfT8qhi0TTGiHWv3JzQiNCWNnZG0MJL4A/s320/8%20Acquedotto_pilastri.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Ischia's Pilastri Aqueduct</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>on one occasion and crept
backward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other bus was
larger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve no idea how they do it, but
with mirrors retracted and inches separating us, we crept past the behemoth to
the guidance of its driver, now dismounted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Back somewhat on the flats, we drove through Fiaiano, along
appropriately named <i>Via Acquedotto</i>, and passed beneath what I thought
was a Roman aqueduct.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had we actually gone
back in time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not a chance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although it looked like a relic of Roman
vintage, it was actually a ‘recent’ 16th-century design, if we can agree that
the sixteenth century qualifies as recent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We were far from being Magallanes, but we’d managed to circle the
island.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>That evening</b>, we chose a place for dinner we’d
passed many times on earlier Ischia visits but had never taken time to venture
inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Back then, we were staying at a
nearby hotel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking by, we could easily
see inside and hear inviting music.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
night, it was exactly as we remembered it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That in itself is amazing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Staying
with what works for 64 years is definitely a recipe for success. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hadn’t a reservation, and in high season considered
ourselves fortunate to get a table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><a name="_Hlk110797566">The </a><a name="_Hlk110861963"><span style="mso-bookmark: _Hlk110797566;"><i>Giardino degli Aranci</i></span> </a>is located on <i>Via
Enea</i>, a pedestrian street in the historic center of Ischia Porto, and a <i>giardino</i>
(garden) it definitely is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From street
level, we descended into a dining area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We had entered a courtyard open to the sky, replete with trees adorned
with glowing lanterns and dangling lights resembling the oranges (<i>aranci</i>)
of its name which added to the natural setting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>An especially noteworthy feature</b> was the fine
service we experienced. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Any waitperson,
not necessarily the same one who’d seated you, would quickly arrive to help
with just a glance or wave of </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL7TD4XuuxSTr5eQZV8iEdoayunk9NuwJW0MM2Ebs3FpqMQ1FabAfKgM2XbkmuoFcpG3XvFrbbSfWN_E-OmGdOwHUEIn085-cA5RMEYDys1mfYmM8oryeZWkQLBRtIdltlT_3eR_n5x_6p8Td1m1NLFiWripNkMj0UjBH_I9pELRr4C4_TxvO1nc-w/s4032/9%20IMG_0471.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL7TD4XuuxSTr5eQZV8iEdoayunk9NuwJW0MM2Ebs3FpqMQ1FabAfKgM2XbkmuoFcpG3XvFrbbSfWN_E-OmGdOwHUEIn085-cA5RMEYDys1mfYmM8oryeZWkQLBRtIdltlT_3eR_n5x_6p8Td1m1NLFiWripNkMj0UjBH_I9pELRr4C4_TxvO1nc-w/s320/9%20IMG_0471.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Don Andrea Impagliazzo at <br />the Tambourine</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>your hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It certainly made for prompt service. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While we enjoyed a surf-and-turf dinner
composed of a rib-eye steak and grilled swordfish, which we shared, it was the
dolce that was a surprise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Following a
dissertation on what sweets were on hand, Mare chose the last mentioned with
no idea what it would be since it was described simply as <i>dolce del giorno</i>
(dessert of the day).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What arrived was
something like a domed puff ball, looking much like those ‘Hostess Snoballs’ we
enjoyed at recess as kids with cream and cake in the middle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With two forks, we made short work of it. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In addition to the offerings which filled many
menu pages, its walls served as a historical archive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Walking the alcoves on either side of the garden
courtyard, I came upon faces, posters, and autographs of former celebrity guests
from all over the world who have stopped by. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They ranged from icons like Sinatra and Sophia
Loren to political notables and renowned artists.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkXRxGiBgfKPTonrh8xHsUJ7U1-RtavScRe9nwyFB-MJ9Z8Rp-dczMSp9vZjR3Jlu2Eom4m9wzrUtjnu1zF9ZDCiZzPLPJP-cBCJDjkwNbO6G1dH8o4s1xlVL1zGEOvbi0p9lvmRDJSBeXvWaDX-zDQDG_Og5MB1qc7qdqQdH2omT_qj0lW-TLcEd6/s259/10%20sideroom.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="194" data-original-width="259" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkXRxGiBgfKPTonrh8xHsUJ7U1-RtavScRe9nwyFB-MJ9Z8Rp-dczMSp9vZjR3Jlu2Eom4m9wzrUtjnu1zF9ZDCiZzPLPJP-cBCJDjkwNbO6G1dH8o4s1xlVL1zGEOvbi0p9lvmRDJSBeXvWaDX-zDQDG_Og5MB1qc7qdqQdH2omT_qj0lW-TLcEd6/w329-h246/10%20sideroom.jpg" width="329" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Walls Adorned in History</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>them, we were hosted by Cavaliere Don
Andrea Impagliazzo, owner and ever-popular toast of the town. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Occasionally, he’d add to the animated voices
of the entertainers by joining the festivities, thumping a tambourine to the
accompaniment of their Italian guitars. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here, there is clearly a passion for Ischia, evident
in the songs presented and the messages of pride in Ischia that legendary Don
Andrea would convey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he’d been a
crooner like Sinatra, “<i>New York, New York</i>” would have certainly morphed to
“<i>Ischia, Ischia</i>!”<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Now returned</b>, we have had time to sift through our
impressions of those two special island evenings — one a Greek countryside taverna
in Corfu, the other a celebrated Italian ristorante in Ischia Porto. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No doubt location played a role.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It may be false to try to compare the
experiences due to their locations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By
this, I don’t mean island-wise but because one was off in a remote area while
the other was set in a tourist venue. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One was with locals in the mountains where
Maria Elena and I and one other couple were, let’s say, the only outsiders. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other involved tourists in a tourist
mecca.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both had their merits and unique
appeal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe a more balanced comparison
would have resulted if, while circumnavigating the island, we’d hopped off our Ischia
bus at a more remote foodie outpost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Possibly
something worth considering the next time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Nevertheless, it may just come down to us, and what we enjoy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While <i>Taverna Stamatis</i> may someday
evolve into a movie set, the <i>Giardino</i> already felt like one with the
same folkloric act presented nightly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
felt more in a tourist’s world there, in a well-rehearsed climate. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Call it a draw?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, I don’t think so.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the <i>Teverna</i>, intimate, unrehearsed,
and engaging as it was, for just a few hours, we felt like Greeks. Opa!<o:p></o:p></p>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif"><br /></span></span></b></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify;"><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif">From
That Rogue Tourist<br /></span><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif">Paolo</span></span></b></div>
<br /><p></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-34358482844747444232022-07-31T04:06:00.036-04:002022-07-31T10:16:31.766-04:00Blurred Footprints<p> <b style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;">Blurred
Footprints</span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b></b></span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZT3GMlL2MoUmpJUDy17xgaECYVRXGzICgLVzOut6kdxe48yd3uqVbpvZ8RIuhAIKI1hVXuwlQvaVvosVrf6DFjDR2e4HN746QNggMNijfY-7aGz9L9c_CuiFFjuSeTU6ZEgUKGZymX4n7Gt8lCYYhDHt2tC48WRKSKZ_GpfKqf5QLmA6_LWo8iKDD/s1280/1%20sente.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="720" data-original-width="1280" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZT3GMlL2MoUmpJUDy17xgaECYVRXGzICgLVzOut6kdxe48yd3uqVbpvZ8RIuhAIKI1hVXuwlQvaVvosVrf6DFjDR2e4HN746QNggMNijfY-7aGz9L9c_CuiFFjuSeTU6ZEgUKGZymX4n7Gt8lCYYhDHt2tC48WRKSKZ_GpfKqf5QLmA6_LWo8iKDD/w400-h225/1%20sente.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Sfalassa Bridge on the A2 <br />Mediterranean Motorway, Calaria</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><b> There are bridges and then there are bridges</b>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Italy is famous for its bridges, many known
worldwide, especially the famous among Venice’s 391 bridges.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One in particular, the <i>Accademia Bridge</i>,
made of wood, was built almost 100 years ago and meant to be “only temporary.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Looking south, a drive from Calitri all the
way to Reggio-Calabria, where you can catch a ferry to Sicily just across the Strait
of Messina, for example, is a showcase of modern Italian engineering genius, meant
to be permanent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Calabrian terrain
is extremely mountainous, especially along the coast. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its exceptionally precipitous geography kept
people apart and isolated in little coastal hamlets for centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The advent of highway construction in Italy’s
deep south changed all that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can now
emerge from a tunnel, shoot across a bridge, and seconds later enter another <i>galleria</i>
(tunnel) bored into a craggy mountain without slowing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve noticed that some interludes out in the
sunlight between tunnels are so brief that it’s hopeless to get a GPS position update.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a reasonable trade for it avoids the
need for a nose-bleed serpentine descent to the valley floor, far below,
followed by a curvy climb back to cruising altitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Toward the end of this highway system, you
can easily see across the watery gap of the Strait of Messina where for years a
bridge, a little over two miles long, has been proposed and re-proposed all the
way back to ancient times.</div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>Turning to the opposite coast</b>, imagine a bridge-tunnel
network across the Ionian Sea, say from somewhere near Otranto across the
Strait of </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAL7CyxJ3V-syYJ9Z1FEeTow2-1iKhWtSxVKYIVBfBgKTX-0A7x39L7WGq9-Wiz1hpzaq-VrEd90x9EiSt85IwJcRutM-tf0bVwAQixauWx6CMeKdvcRf-ud8hlrrlITI7SNnrBf1Y0buT_eWsPChyyKbViIVeSewrmR184tKxq8rPLmsqCb-YAo6/s300/2%20Boring%20Co.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGAL7CyxJ3V-syYJ9Z1FEeTow2-1iKhWtSxVKYIVBfBgKTX-0A7x39L7WGq9-Wiz1hpzaq-VrEd90x9EiSt85IwJcRutM-tf0bVwAQixauWx6CMeKdvcRf-ud8hlrrlITI7SNnrBf1Y0buT_eWsPChyyKbViIVeSewrmR184tKxq8rPLmsqCb-YAo6/w326-h183/2%20Boring%20Co.jpg" width="326" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>A Giant Musk Boring Company Drill<br />At the Las Vegas Convention Center Loop</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Otranto to Albania.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over thirty
times the distance across the Messina Strait, now that would be a bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Impossible?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, although not as long or as deep, it was done across the English
Channel (32 miles) and the Chesapeake Bay (18 miles), so why not? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While Elon Musk’s SpaceX aims at Mars, his
Boring Company is building high-speed tunneling drills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It may be impractical, but remember, you
heard it here first! <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">What is fascinating</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> and little noticed, is that Italians
name their bridges. In fact, they go to
the trouble to post a sign at each bridge with its name, along with the bridge’s
length in meters. I’ve no </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicHB-_6pcY9SmFgygYE1NH1WqScFWT4dIwTQn6i9qo33ytEHfLNXEJ1K-V6oYJL2vXVAogbM9NxtQLj6wLeaMW9vfCwkFQkIAwKlqXstOL0bgMA2_yR-YupL4ygYbLQwAIusCarPPur50dvaSgDLijohraJGVH1KTYTC9Wkpy1Zeg8Zex6g3PEaL8L/s263/3%20bridge.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="191" data-original-width="263" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicHB-_6pcY9SmFgygYE1NH1WqScFWT4dIwTQn6i9qo33ytEHfLNXEJ1K-V6oYJL2vXVAogbM9NxtQLj6wLeaMW9vfCwkFQkIAwKlqXstOL0bgMA2_yR-YupL4ygYbLQwAIusCarPPur50dvaSgDLijohraJGVH1KTYTC9Wkpy1Zeg8Zex6g3PEaL8L/w263-h191/3%20bridge.jpg" width="263" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Typical Italian Bridge Signage</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">idea why,
especially with the cost involved, but there they are, posted to either side of
bridges over every river, creek, and chasm.
I presume the trans-Ionian Sea crossing I envision would be deserving of
such a sign. But everywhere else, couldn’t
the money be put to better use? Is there
a powerful sign making union out there somewhere?<o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We’d been in Italy for about a month</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. It was getting time for a road trip, off to
somewhere we’d not been before. Without
the bridge-tunnel we needed, and ignoring an overnight ferry, we first headed west
to Naples for a flight before we could head east to nearby Greece. Our sights were set on Corfu, Corfu Town on
the island of Corfu to be exact. Absent
Venice’s canals, we understood that Corfu’s architecture with balconies galore,
its warrens of narrow alleyways, shady back streets and tiny squares full of
bars, eateries, and pretty shops </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNkIj-4oys0Syk8aGNDUkaqvJDFudJAW3mZQuPyuRHXTFJU6VLIwbQMUxMfHM31zIoP1PNOCPNRBoPOl8nBGMfPOBHgdGMaGMsxnb6K2LQqsnfNsInVJXYBCLikzJRleN_Vb4lQWppbQ_9MiITWx7ukLqFWk3vy5LsE1Uh3DHPmweaeMgPX2KxOPs/s300/4%20Map.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="168" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQNkIj-4oys0Syk8aGNDUkaqvJDFudJAW3mZQuPyuRHXTFJU6VLIwbQMUxMfHM31zIoP1PNOCPNRBoPOl8nBGMfPOBHgdGMaGMsxnb6K2LQqsnfNsInVJXYBCLikzJRleN_Vb4lQWppbQ_9MiITWx7ukLqFWk3vy5LsE1Uh3DHPmweaeMgPX2KxOPs/s1600/4%20Map.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Brindisi to Albania/Greece<br />Not Too Far at All </b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">are </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">straight out of Venice. There is an explanation for this. Venetian rule of Corfu began in 1386 AD and
lasted 411 years until the dissolution of the Republic of Venice by Napoleon.<sup>[3]</sup> Over that time, Corfu was heavily seeded with
Italians who are known as the Corfiot.<sup>[1]</sup> In the 12th century, the Kingdom of Naples
sent Italian families to Corfu to rule the island. Then, from the 4th Crusade of 1204 onward,
the Republic of Venice sent many Italian families to Corfu. These families brought Italian ethnic and
linguistic heritage of <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssOe19BQ62zZX3wr-vJ9P52-UvEgUrN_CtYT_oOKD-sKxL6XXhCzTt2TRs0WPg1pgMGxDDm_n5JnhWBnwSkLB20YoK7vJosdYFbB_Mf76D-0RN5L5hGDnkm3Y6nASgPkWDFe_4OH0Ea33ZdMBjnxc-wu2eJDj9j3TmhtI1wuBxb2xziv0nnLizxxd/s640/4.5%20IMG_0205%20(1).JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhssOe19BQ62zZX3wr-vJ9P52-UvEgUrN_CtYT_oOKD-sKxL6XXhCzTt2TRs0WPg1pgMGxDDm_n5JnhWBnwSkLB20YoK7vJosdYFbB_Mf76D-0RN5L5hGDnkm3Y6nASgPkWDFe_4OH0Ea33ZdMBjnxc-wu2eJDj9j3TmhtI1wuBxb2xziv0nnLizxxd/w233-h311/4.5%20IMG_0205%20(1).JPG" width="233" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">A Kingdom of Venice Flag<br />Hangs in the Street of Corfu Town</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242; text-indent: 0.25in;">the Middle Ages to the island.<sup>[1]</sup> In 1386, Corfu voluntarily became part of
Venice's colonies and remained so until the late 18th century. With such an early and enduring presence, it’s
no wonder that to this day there is an indelible Italian imprint on the
character and culture of Corfu at all levels.
It begins with the name itself, Corfu, which is an Italian corruption of
the Greek word for crests, <i>koryphai</i>.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: xx-small; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1]</span></sup><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We wanted to find out for ourselves</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, so in mid-July
we headed off to the </span><a href="https://www.tripadvisor.com/Hotel_Review-g662629-d289555-Reviews-Mayor_Mon_Repos_Palace_Art_Hotel-Corfu_Town_Corfu_Ionian_Islands.html"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Mayor Mon Repos
Palace Hotel</span></a><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> in Corfu Town. It
was certainly not the best time to venture off being as hot as it was in Italy
and no telling how hot in Greece but clinging to the hope it had air
conditioning and that it operated, we drove to Capodichino Airport in Naples. We’d worked to keep our baggage to a minimum, somewhere
just above wearing bathing suits the entire trip. EasyJet doesn’t make it ‘easy’ as their name
tries to infer. There is a cost for
everything … à la carte seats, down to costs based on dimensions for in-cabin
and in-hold baggage. They slice and dice
everything. I wondered if it is to make
up for pandemic losses like everyone was into. </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-o7pO8R68e9r8F_xXtpyPLmmxmRbWyayRBFIqkEWS55FGid9rimsrac2E3gFQ0bXsOAbRbX79ymHnYLmaff32WWd8RtgvUbKuJ25DkUkvUmawN1a4JCK7wOP11sTj5DiX3ERzBQ4rca9Pz2jFu76-iIZ5dbYrPoNWz7ot7ZWNWoJGfyU--NhhyMW/s1648/4.7%20IMG_0052%20(1).JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1648" data-original-width="1398" height="324" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB-o7pO8R68e9r8F_xXtpyPLmmxmRbWyayRBFIqkEWS55FGid9rimsrac2E3gFQ0bXsOAbRbX79ymHnYLmaff32WWd8RtgvUbKuJ25DkUkvUmawN1a4JCK7wOP11sTj5DiX3ERzBQ4rca9Pz2jFu76-iIZ5dbYrPoNWz7ot7ZWNWoJGfyU--NhhyMW/w289-h324/4.7%20IMG_0052%20(1).JPG" width="289" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Maria Elena, the Easy Jetsetter<br />Gets Aboard</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">But then, if I recall, I think they were
always into ringing out their customers shy of going upside down to shake the
last Euro from their pockets, like a roller coaster ride. “</span><i style="color: #0d0d0d;">This is the Captain speaking, sorry for
that turbulence back there folks, but today’s in-flight special is a seatbelt
promotion for only €25, that’s a 20% discount</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d;">!” I looked for a standing option since it was
only an hour flight, but they haven’t figured that one out nor your lung
capacity to charge you for the air you might want to breathe. Am I being too sarcastic? We’d soon see. </span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">It took an uneventful</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> hour and a half drive to the
airport. We arrived early to an overcrowded
terminal. I guess it’s to be expected in
the stampede of the mid-July tourist season; By August, Italy’s cities would be
abandoned. Thankfully, it was also icy
cool inside which helped to quickly wick us dry. There was no real EasyJet check-in. We were supposed to have printed our boarding
passes at home. We’re lucky to have
Internet, but a printer too! That will
have to wait. So, we downloaded our
tickets to our phones. It seems to work
for our daughter at Dunkin’s when she pays for her coffee with a QR code scan,
and it worked to get us through the security scanner at Capo. As for those poor souls with baggage to check,
they were in a queue that terminated at a luggage self-service robot, that when
properly stroked with the correct button pushes and scans, ejected a tag for their
luggage. We were glad we didn’t have to
take that tech course. The flight was
quick, about an hour. I spent what
little flight time there was fiddling with the seat trying to get it to recline
only to learn this Airbus model did not offer this luxury, even for an
additional cost. Thankfully, we hadn’t
far to go, just across Italy and then those hundred miles or so of bridgeless
water. No sooner had we leveled off when
our descent began. This was well before
I could finish my Moretti “guy in the green hat” beer. With no baggage to wait for and not a customs
checker in sight, we were outside in a flash negotiating with a taxi driver who
had been born in NYC. Twenty eight euros
became 15 and we were off. Come to find
out, though Greek, he had no Italian heritage, but I had to start somewhere. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Our arrival welcoming was extra-ordinary</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. It began right at reception when Spiros, who
we </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUaQMnV10y5u62g04CcANs17vjEd-esRiUnL8YM4nS04FEWavH34gwJrQNQUDXxliryAFfyroUzsRBuMWPqcyfVCrliuzxrEv4DlwNrRSJGcC-LXSdDYxAjG7KEnZFUSTj80q1SsUVvlotDqi5BurM2mEd3o650PDh7YEc6JtdQo70QxolYYtyJIB/s1975/5%20IMG_0103.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1311" data-original-width="1975" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTUaQMnV10y5u62g04CcANs17vjEd-esRiUnL8YM4nS04FEWavH34gwJrQNQUDXxliryAFfyroUzsRBuMWPqcyfVCrliuzxrEv4DlwNrRSJGcC-LXSdDYxAjG7KEnZFUSTj80q1SsUVvlotDqi5BurM2mEd3o650PDh7YEc6JtdQo70QxolYYtyJIB/w331-h219/5%20IMG_0103.JPG" width="331" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Mayor Mon Repos Palace <br />Hotel, Corfu</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">would learn was the bartender, materialized from around a corner with flutes
of cold, sparkling Greek wine. This was
followed with keys to an enchanting, third-floor front room with a balcony
overlooking the sea with mainland Greece off in the distance. If their plan had been to impress us, they
certainly succeeded. We were convinced
of this within thirty minutes of our arrival. </span><span style="text-align: left;">Minutes later, now in our room, I responded to a gentle tap
at our door to meet Alexandra.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">She
presented us with a fruit plate and a cake that wished us “</span><i style="text-align: left;">Happy Anniversary</i><span style="text-align: left;">.”</span><span style="text-align: left;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">I’d mentioned this was our anniversary trip when
making the reservation and they’d remembered.
From then on, the treatment we received from everyone was outstanding
including little Efi (Effrosyni) who worked at night outside in the patio </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">Passaggio
Bistro</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">, and the ever caring sisters, Iris (Irida) and Isavella who <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBRxP4aqrB3idi8yg9ppnqmvo4azFlnGy9hNO1JjXnI6yHXfPtsmInNgpp-aETr8iHy1iAnvbFuzHMvFENiuNEz76_xNBfGi7gtrilQPCYyg4XEBsS05k-UAekRUgXCYwe0m4nNwXFmzts8ZrJ-j2KKZ51ihIfNpeLKF3iWtMmYQJm_8GWBjB8WlE/s304/6%20Viadotto_Sfalassa.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="166" data-original-width="304" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizBRxP4aqrB3idi8yg9ppnqmvo4azFlnGy9hNO1JjXnI6yHXfPtsmInNgpp-aETr8iHy1iAnvbFuzHMvFENiuNEz76_xNBfGi7gtrilQPCYyg4XEBsS05k-UAekRUgXCYwe0m4nNwXFmzts8ZrJ-j2KKZ51ihIfNpeLKF3iWtMmYQJm_8GWBjB8WlE/s1600/6%20Viadotto_Sfalassa.jpg" width="304" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Efi's Realm, the<i> Passaggio Bistro</i><br />by Night </span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>exemplified
warm, concerned hospitality. In command
of the front desk, we came to rely on Katerina, who over our stay couldn’t do
enough for us, and who on her own, just might account for one of the stars of
their four star rating. This
service-centric care extended right to the kitchen staff. I chatted with them by rubbing my belly in an
attempt to communicate how much I’d enjoyed the </span><i style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">moussaka</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">. This resulted in big smiles of approval. Welcome to Venetian Greece.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">We were quickly off on our first expedition</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> with some taverna
tips from helpful Katerina. By then it
was late. We checked out a few places as
we walked down a nearby side street. The
songs of cicadas, thousands of them I’m sure, was deafeningly persistent. I’m convinced their legs shorten by the day. An area bordering the sea, hemmed either side
by roads, sheltered outdoor garden restaurant after restaurant. From their kitchens, just across one of those
streets, a steady shuffle of their servings, carried aloft on a <i>panamana</i>
or what might be described as a large cutting board with handles, kept patrons
well supplied. We successfully
maneuvered as far as the <i>Demitri </i>restaurant where we finally yielded to
their front man, Paavo. Paavo should be
granted an honorary degree in marketing for his ability to oil you into his
garden of gastronomy. He reminded us of
the men outside the Ischia Port restaurants enticing you to join them instead
of a neighboring establishment. It
turned out that Paavo was half Italian and half Greek. Just imagine, what luck and it was only my second
try! Whether that had occurred well in
the past and he represented a true <i>Corfiot</i> descendent or whether he was
of a more modern </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_e_m0GJyjSbbB110Ot4z0oyCWmIHDKAI__02RdoiR1XNmmEJ7p3EfmvvpBUY_B-3F2tnWC3s0ZsBTACTaEcoOqblqqsHDS_p3_E0HgIMROrYS_yOtNF89tJzT4dXEDXBliZQOvAm-TEMGAfWsnVdAZmSXs2QIRkDxtk7FjDbAj7aaiPvAr245x_nI/s960/7%20Corfu.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="830" data-original-width="960" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_e_m0GJyjSbbB110Ot4z0oyCWmIHDKAI__02RdoiR1XNmmEJ7p3EfmvvpBUY_B-3F2tnWC3s0ZsBTACTaEcoOqblqqsHDS_p3_E0HgIMROrYS_yOtNF89tJzT4dXEDXBliZQOvAm-TEMGAfWsnVdAZmSXs2QIRkDxtk7FjDbAj7aaiPvAr245x_nI/s320/7%20Corfu.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Welcome to the Paradise of Gaios</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">extraction wasn’t clear.
Yet too young to be interested in his heritage, by the time I’d finished
my milk colored ouzo, I was pretty sure Paavo’s cultural puzzle was a false
positive. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Corfu and a few other islands</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> form a small <a name="_Hlk108692919">archipelago</a>. The
real white sandy beaches and clearest waters lie further south, especially on
Antipaxos. Neighboring olive covered Paxos
is charming with quaint harbors like Gaios, its capitol, that emits a relaxed, bohemian
vibe. To see it we island hopped there on
a day long cruise that calls for a three hour boat ride each way. I began to understand why I hadn’t joined the
Navy. I was curious, however, enough to
want to know why one island, Antipaxos, was ‘anti’ the other, Paxos. To us ‘anti’ meant against. Didn’t they get along? It was from our waiter, Thason, at the <i>Manesko</i>
restaurant (meaning ‘Street’) in Gaios that we learned that here it meant ‘ahead’
or a ‘short distance apart’. One island
was just ahead of the other. That
resolved and now ashore, I began to wonder about food. I sometimes wonder why food, transformed into
leftovers in the refrigerator, can taste better the second </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPEnTasnYHmCNqXTMITCo_CcRaetnreTSfJ9FtJMgVGhwcLgG8HjMiJ8w-TSHc6mWBv306zn8kSF1rOy3EqfcpjNvA2xmj8nN_-cSjhr8T1WmbMvekWaLRX9eFwEL-agf0aloDRo4JqWelDP61-xS9dpe3suia_QzjRnE2nqbIHBO2YZFJiHNYp4x/s1883/8%20IMG_0401.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1452" data-original-width="1883" height="277" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBPEnTasnYHmCNqXTMITCo_CcRaetnreTSfJ9FtJMgVGhwcLgG8HjMiJ8w-TSHc6mWBv306zn8kSF1rOy3EqfcpjNvA2xmj8nN_-cSjhr8T1WmbMvekWaLRX9eFwEL-agf0aloDRo4JqWelDP61-xS9dpe3suia_QzjRnE2nqbIHBO2YZFJiHNYp4x/w359-h277/8%20IMG_0401.jpg" width="359" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Still Some Moussaka Left When I Thought <br />About a Photo but Dangerously Low <br />on the Alpha Beer</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;">day. Maria Elena attributes it to what she calls
‘wedding,’ Like me, she never took
anything approaching organic chemistry, but she speculates it is an overnight ‘wedding’
of molecules, like what happens to wine over three to six months in an oak
barrique or cheese molding in a grotto.
Thankfully, while the miracle happens much faster in the frig, it was
not the case for the surprise meal we happened upon, thanks to Thason. He was right that his mother’s equivalent to
lasagna , <i>moussaka</i>, right from the oven only hours earlier, would prove
to be the best I’d ever had. I found
something else special on Paxos. After
hours bobbing along like a buoy, the many milliliters of the local Alpha beer I
ingested, just shy of an intravenous injection, proved a lifesaver. As for Thason, he proved to be a pureblooded
Greek right out of central casting for <i>The 300</i>.</div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Days later at La Boca in Corfu Town</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">, we met a Maltese
man named Christos. He operated an
all-day coffee and wine bar. It was
early, still hours </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEI5vW2H4wAHIDJ44zH0py-3loUgTOmdYNz0Ye4dtkFoUU2NWKZTi9e9S-v3p9_JTmlElwzxPQO7WMXlvaPZScMD_nWA2COYjM_uqPdC9M31nujsh5Uc9kzukrnH99et3omovp27nxuPYZEgskBE84YL8LamSIkGRIzAEnbjGNI2R1IYO2wa9iReQ/s640/9%20IMG_0200.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEI5vW2H4wAHIDJ44zH0py-3loUgTOmdYNz0Ye4dtkFoUU2NWKZTi9e9S-v3p9_JTmlElwzxPQO7WMXlvaPZScMD_nWA2COYjM_uqPdC9M31nujsh5Uc9kzukrnH99et3omovp27nxuPYZEgskBE84YL8LamSIkGRIzAEnbjGNI2R1IYO2wa9iReQ/s320/9%20IMG_0200.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Corfu Godfather's Lair</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">before the evening tourist rush, so he had time to chat with
us. We figured our best chance to find
the pedigree we were after was where Italians might congregate, someplace like
an Italian restaurant. He suggested that
we forget about either of the Italian places next door to him, and instead go
to <i>Il Vesuvio</i>. With its owner
named Mimmo (short for Domenico) it boosted my hopes of realizing my
quest. Had I hit the jackpot and
discovered someone of true Venetian extraction?
Talking with Mimmo later, my hopes were dashed when I learned he was a
more recent transplant. An expat from
Naples, he identified more with the <i>Cosa Nostra</i> criminal organization
then the Doge of Venice. In fact, he
insisted I go across the street to a veritable shrine he’d created to <i>The
Godfather</i>, right down tr portraits of the major characters.</span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">By this point </span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">I realized that my cohort and I were on
a rather fruitless Don Quixote style quest.
As </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;">was his pursuit, ours was truly quixotic, a rather romantic attempt
to achieve the unachievable. It </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr5bZthoNPSLXo-Vc7Gh446yQt_xg4xMFQdfXnTMtIdImlOH1hxMEg3LDegSA90MhbTfB_2ezbKNSaxKaWfgfS0LiwxUgkOEBxXHnKvOLwq41cX6-YkyK7JiEXpN1lAdFq645rgVzM0YOi09ACi0eMIfoLwdG8Hr-Se7WXG2ygZ4c2vdqwC_kO8TAu/s640/10%20IMG_0232.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr5bZthoNPSLXo-Vc7Gh446yQt_xg4xMFQdfXnTMtIdImlOH1hxMEg3LDegSA90MhbTfB_2ezbKNSaxKaWfgfS0LiwxUgkOEBxXHnKvOLwq41cX6-YkyK7JiEXpN1lAdFq645rgVzM0YOi09ACi0eMIfoLwdG8Hr-Se7WXG2ygZ4c2vdqwC_kO8TAu/w240-h200/10%20IMG_0232.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Street Pavers Typical of <br />Venetian & Roman Roads</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-align: left; text-indent: 0.25in;">was about as futile as<br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3549" data-original-width="3024" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCF7cuQRmnZITTcg1gyFX0A8TXTrjERiEjzpLd72pbGJBvNpxTJwcbc0NXeHwybcBXw32nu3wwU1v0S_HuE1RC-GXDP9Gs4eUBbk58z7WxuvWc6QYEQ5mu9QF0yJtdHbxHct7oouD0H0F8EH4kxLID9B12ACoJvv3TW4d50gE5QbXfmGX1fDv-QAQ3/s320/11%20IMG_0227.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="273" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Symbolic of Venice, a Fishtail <br />Capped Building Gets a Facelift </b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">an endeavor as that bridge I’d conjured spanning the Ionian
Sea. If my search was to continue, I
needed to broaden its scope. If not the </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Confiot</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">
themselves, then how about their trappings?
Their shadows lay in what they had left behind. Like those Italian bridges with their signs,
here the signs, bridges to the present, were evident throughout Corfu
Town. This Italian style mix of Gothic,
Byzantine, and Islamic architecture, so indicative of a once flowering trade
empire, remain distinct in its appearance.
Sitting outside a corner café one afternoon at a high-top table by a
broad piazza in the labyrinth of Corfu’s streets, we were surrounded by shadows
of evidence. At our feet lay the
distinctive pavement they’d once traversed.
Nearby, tarps shielded a tower under repair capped by <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjca1M1RzqvSAnLaZmRLM9flM7o-DR54OBZ-hTlZDsGd2C7cVWkp5FBf72IYzaFla6j_Ap7TJYzxB4CzmzBYhREeE21vGs4YNMaAMiIGM3zMK7-4WAsVt65Om5f1XT-AwSD5OPzl4JPzOOlaGioS5-Qk5eFq0jw9zlY2iU8O3f-S7T5CtUxSBqbR2v9/s598/12%20IMG_0230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="598" data-original-width="480" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjca1M1RzqvSAnLaZmRLM9flM7o-DR54OBZ-hTlZDsGd2C7cVWkp5FBf72IYzaFla6j_Ap7TJYzxB4CzmzBYhREeE21vGs4YNMaAMiIGM3zMK7-4WAsVt65Om5f1XT-AwSD5OPzl4JPzOOlaGioS5-Qk5eFq0jw9zlY2iU8O3f-S7T5CtUxSBqbR2v9/w194-h242/12%20IMG_0230.jpg" width="194" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">One of Many Venetian<br />Style Wells</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />fishtail shaped
merlons especially indicative of Venetian rule.
Across the street, imposing building after building along with colonnades
reminiscent of Saint Mark’s Square echoed a timeless, recurring Italian design.
On our bus ride from town back to our
hotel, the old Venetian fort with its towering walls hosted an additional
symbol of Venetian majesty, a winged lion.
Like Venice’s </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Rialto Bridge</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> or Rome’s <br />Pantheon, all these remain. </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;">They represent a look back to
classical times and add reasoning to why Corfu serves as a UNESCO World Heritage
site, where cultures mix to this day.</span><sup style="text-indent: 0.25in;">[2]</sup><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-indent: 0.25in;"> Even at our stop on olive covered Paxos the
once Italian influence was evident in its Venetian-ear town hall.</span></div></span><p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Today Corfu Town</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> is a hive of tourist activity and new
construction. Although a growing tourist
destination that is stretching its natural resources, heavy traces clearly
survive of its vibrant Italian past. For
Maria Elena and me, Corfu <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT3Ww7boxjXxlWMhMXyd2LuwoRnbb_z7nWiKdXo-QAZ0ylezlBWgqu-BOXFAiCwYOOtevaYkixyKGJGfPa5T1kSH3CjhJ0wyUIJU-v69EgoeC7dqD-MfVCfe1Bh_mxJtez7Lqj0i3WgpQIj02HLxgSy_2Xb51sJTEuyxK1hFPnkWQzmt2mt3H8fRY5/s1691/13%20IMG_0154.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1691" data-original-width="1282" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT3Ww7boxjXxlWMhMXyd2LuwoRnbb_z7nWiKdXo-QAZ0ylezlBWgqu-BOXFAiCwYOOtevaYkixyKGJGfPa5T1kSH3CjhJ0wyUIJU-v69EgoeC7dqD-MfVCfe1Bh_mxJtez7Lqj0i3WgpQIj02HLxgSy_2Xb51sJTEuyxK1hFPnkWQzmt2mt3H8fRY5/s320/13%20IMG_0154.jpg" width="243" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Blurred Footprints</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>will forever remain more than an island, a testament
to more than <i>tzatziki</i>, <i>ouzo</i>, and <i>moussaka</i>. Yes, it has all those plus Neapolitans like Mimmo,
at least one Italian taxi driver born in New York, and a waiter, Paavo, of
mixed heritage. Could it be that
Italians are coming home to Greece and Corfu?
After all, beginning with the <i>Magna Graecia</i> in the 8th century BC
(well before there was a Venice), adventurous Greeks were colonizing the
coastal areas of southern Italy (Calabria, Apulia, Basilicata, Campania, and
Sicily). Culture, even absent a bridge,
flowed both ways to create an Italian-Greek legacy built on blurred footprints.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="border-bottom: solid #A2A9B1 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 31pt;">
<h1 style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span></h1>
<h1 style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">From That Rogue Tourist<o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: none; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Paolo<o:p></o:p></span></h1><div><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></div><div><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></div><div><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><div style="border-bottom: solid #A2A9B1 1.0pt; border: none; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 31pt;">
<h1 style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><span style="background-color: white;">[1] </span></span>Corfiot Italians<o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corfiot_Italians#:~:text=In%20the%2012th%20century%2C%20the,Middle%20Ages%20to%20the%20island</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: none; margin-bottom: 3.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 3pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 8pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></h1>
<h1 style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">[2] Old Town of Corfu<o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">https://whc.unesco.org/en/list/978/</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"> </span></h1>
<h1 style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">[3] Venetian Rule of the Ionian Islands<o:p></o:p></span></h1>
<h1 style="border: none; margin: 0in; mso-border-bottom-alt: solid #A2A9B1 .75pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 31.0pt 0in; padding: 0in;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venetian_rule_in_the_Ionian_Islands</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></span></h1><div><span style="font-size: 12pt; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div></div><p></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-8645450609628530002022-06-30T02:38:00.008-04:002022-07-01T02:11:36.365-04:00Return to Old Yet New Norms<p style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="671" data-original-width="639" height="327" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHksvMwShSOzSyruOWYm_sCnSKbnxudFOk_iTF533KZGV-wE5JMjLWSt_QtV2ammScVUrbI8nEnq4PwKGF8RnE6LF0rXYLMLZIdd80qSk7xn2diTbjRgN8rpb_FpWp8LZkqMTPUQtzA9qXKwPvcFjJlyplBhkTtJIalVv4QYHLTjewUXozFew-wUsh/w381-h327/5901_n.jpg" width="381" /></p><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoCaption" style="margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 12pt;">Medieval Calitri Borgo by Night</span></b></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">
<p align="center" class="MsoCaption" style="margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10pt;">(</span></b><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 8pt;">With due Credit to
the Unknown Photographer</span></b><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 10pt;">)<o:p></o:p></span></b></p></td></tr></tbody></table><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Return to Old Yet New Norms</span></b><o:p style="font-size: 14pt;"></o:p></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><b style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </b><b style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">We finally kicked the tires</b><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">, pulled the chocks,
and lit the fires (appropriate </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Top Gun Maverick</i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> jargon?) that had blocked
our movement, holding us back from Italy these past years. </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Now, we were off. </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Our first touchdown aboard Aer Lingus would be
in Dublin on our trek onward to Naples and finally by car to Calitri.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">We had no idea what returning would be like. </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Gone from bucolic Calitri since November 2019,
I sensed it might feel strange after such a long absence to be there again. </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">What would it be like? </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Would it mirror our first visit, when in 2006,
we arrived mid-afternoon and drove a switchback road up into town from the Ofanto
River valley below?</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">As I navigated that
climb, I recall Maria Elena’s comments. </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">With
each turn, they ranged from incredulity to amazement. </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Calitri was a far cry from what she had
imagined.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">This wasn’t the stylish Italian
Riviera or Renaissance Tuscany filled with art cities. </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">No, we were in southern Italy.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">It is politely known as the </span><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Mezzogiorno </i><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">though
at times in condescension, it is made light of and referred to as Africa.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">We would learn that what it lacked in wealth,
it more than made up for with an outpouring of friendliness.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">What it was and remains was a faithful
example of Italian life, built on a timeline of simplicity, featuring a
quieter, less complicated, far more refreshing lifestyle than what we were
accustomed too.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Back then, we had arrived </b>when Calitri was at
rest, its streets idle of activity, its doors closed, its stores shuttered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was like a Hollywood set awaiting its
actors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was the afternoon slump of
the <i>riposo</i> when the town restored itself and its inhabitants rested for
a few hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Honestly, today after such
a long absence, I hold a trickle of worry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I’d had plenty of time to play imaginative mind games.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess it would more aptly be defined as apprehension.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would these streets have the familiarity we
once knew, the enveloping ease of the townsfolk with their former welcoming
hugs? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would Rosa, the greengrocer, pick
up where she and Maria Elena had left off exchanging names of vegetables, each trading
in their native language? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Seeing faces hopefully
absent masks, would they move above a smile in a riot of pleasurable surprise on
seeing us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would our arrival serve as a
sign that the miserable anguish of COVID was over and the cathartic relief of
‘old norms’ had returned?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it too
much to expect?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For us, could we once
again look forward to enriching the pages of our memory with new, long absent
adventures?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over two and a half years,
31 months to be exact, was what we had paid. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had all this time extracted an irreplaceable
fee?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had any of our acquaintances
perished?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Too many anxious questions, far
too many question marks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nevertheless, I
looked forward to regaining the rhythm of our earlier stays, back in the saddle
as it were, hopefully to soon be incapable of speaking without moving my hands.
<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Once again able to travel</b>, we had recently been liberated
from the isolation of Zoom meetings, social distancing, invasive nose swabs,
and N95 masks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, just today,
another barrier was removed with the elimination of the need for COVID testing
in order for us to return to the USA.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Thinking about it, ours was nothing like the confined life of hiding and
ever present fear of death Anne Frank endured in WWII.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our quarantine was limited to social
distancing and the inconvenience of a mask, and if truth be told, a rather low
probability of death from a virus which thankfully others worked daily to contain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anne had to hide away in an attic for two
years with the certain diagnosis of death if discovered by the Nazis.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not even close in comparison, today there is
convenience even in our hardships.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Maybe I’m being overly aspirational</b>, too hopeful
for things to be the way they were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here
I am, assuming things would be different when we have certainly changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A lot of time has passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We couldn’t even recall the trash schedule:
Monday, Wednesday, Friday <i>umido</i> (moist garbage), with Tuesday and Thursday
reserved for dry trash? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then, is it
the other way around or on other days?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes, time plays tricks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Its activities
are evident when we can’t recall a schedule or when a glance in a mirror reveals
its incessant busywork.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without question,
we were definitely different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now of a post-prime
vintage, during our absence we had grown older, more than simply gray hairs and
liver spots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were stiffer, far from
spry, well accustomed to <i>brutte schiene</i> (bad backs).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No doubt, it would seem a longer, lengthier
walk from the piazza through the clock tunnel to our home in Vico Ruggiero.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trans-Atlantic quarantine had represented
a pause, but our arrival heralded a new beginning, a new chapter in living our
dream.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Rounding a few bends</b> <i>of Strade Statali</i> 7
(State Highway 7), past the lofty town of Cairano, we would feel the reality of
having arrived. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moments later, we’d catch
sight of Calitri jutting from a cluster of hilltops, lost in the memory of
centuries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Closer still, when we spied
rooftops clad in red half-pipes of clay, we’d know we’d returned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If we were on schedule, it would be a
flashback to that first arrival during the <i>riposo</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one would be around.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No matter how tired we were from our travels,
we would have to make it to the <i>passagiatta</i>, that traditional evening
stroll of the townspeople, followed by dinner at popular Tre Rose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, that was the plan.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We survived the walk</b>, clicking and clattering our
luggage over the stone pavers. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seemed
that </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIj7w4gQJ2l9Uhu12fPj92bcI-p9QE4VgARJPk8S8lgy2jDZTyHhW0Cm8Hi-QTrwQiAUWCz3EGnDueDeJz3zvi3rJ6-gSNFvVDvxduYVz-PTLd5aJzpmcxuOqvRIgC2mzlypISlcZxrsntnMQDRPg8oeMjiNiGggL9jFfn1Oia3emk3qfuBNbHWhTh/s2016/2.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIj7w4gQJ2l9Uhu12fPj92bcI-p9QE4VgARJPk8S8lgy2jDZTyHhW0Cm8Hi-QTrwQiAUWCz3EGnDueDeJz3zvi3rJ6-gSNFvVDvxduYVz-PTLd5aJzpmcxuOqvRIgC2mzlypISlcZxrsntnMQDRPg8oeMjiNiGggL9jFfn1Oia3emk3qfuBNbHWhTh/s320/2.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Key in the Lock<br />Welcome Home</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>our home had been moved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes,
blaming our age, the walk from the piazza, where we parked, felt longer, the
distance increased. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We had wondered what
we would discover outside our door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had
the space, a small public area, a ‘yard’ of stone and cement, grown wild from
lack of attention over the years? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was it
overgrown with weeds and littered with debris as we had found it in the
beginning in 2006?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To our surprise, the ‘yard’
was in great shape and as I turned the key, our attention turned to the door
and what awaited inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I inserted our
long key and with a few turns swung open the door and entered reality.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finally, after all this time, we were home. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Inside, we quickly discovered evidence of change</b>.
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Over the years, there have been visitors
who have stayed in our home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
apparently enjoyed redecorating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
some time, we couldn’t find various items beginning with the rugs!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We discovered a bedroom rug at the top of the
stairs by the door to the roof patio, while another for the guest room was
rolled up out on the sun porch. The microwave had a bowl still inside and for
some strange reason all the plugs and cables to the TV system had been
removed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That took a while to figure out
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and rearrange. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things just weren’t where they belonged, but
that is to be expected. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a few
minutes search, we gave up and crashed following close to 30 hours on the
road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We had no food</b> other than various unopened packets
of pasta, now well dried and a jar of long expired pees, so around the proper
Italian time of 8 PM, we ventured out to explore and have that promised dinner
at <i>Tre Rose</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The peanuts and soft
drinks we’d consumed on our various flights had counted for nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This would constitute our <span style="font-family: "Times New Roman",serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">53<sup>rd</sup> wedding </span> anniversary
dinner. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We may have overslept <i>il
passagiatta</i> by an hour or so because there were few people still
about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was after all suppertime and
while not necessarily at <i>Tre Rose</i>, the townsfolk were certainly scooting
themselves up to a table somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Driving
there, we were surprised to note that several businesses were permanently
closed like the popular pizzeria <i>Non Solo Punto Pizza</i> across the street from
<i>Paldo’s Café</i> as well as the <i>Bontà Calitrane</i> wine and cheese bar along
with <i>Tiffany Bar</i> and <i>Blueberry Bar</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They appeared likely victims of COVID, unable
to survive the absence of patrons during the extreme Italian lockdown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although the plague still lingered, on the
streets there were few telltale masks visible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The following day, I saw men sitting maskless side-by-side on benches along
Corso Garibaldi moving occasionally only to avoid an intense sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was an improvement over what we observed
on our flight across the Atlantic. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Onboard,
a young woman wore two facemasks the entire flight, and on boarding, sanitized
her seat area and tray table with disinfectant wipes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other than that, masks were rare. A good
sign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one had even asked us if we had
been vaxed. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Fashionably arrived at <i>Tre Rose</i> </b>on the
cusp of the evening’s activity (at least we thought so), we enjoyed a fabulous
meal. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For her starter, Mare chose freshly
sliced <i>bresaola</i> drizzled with virgin oil and a squirt of lemon juice generously
showered with shavings of grana padano and leafy rocket (derived from the
Italian word <i>ruchetta</i>). <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loves
fries and her order of their hand-cut slender fingers beat everything she’d
eaten over our two year absence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNq0X0p0FxFuav0IpOc_k7l56hb-9f7t8XJyxj5RLOsAGfz08So1kri0RlB0Gtkqj8MHTpxLF5_54rYz8t1ofREeXaHJ6ENJOUjsGagTSbTSEQdWSrLkmuR6HeC47CkvG22IlSx3TkZGzOscjh8Btlmx-yIhMt_hGS53OVNmAjbB7duUl9kF_udwX/s2016/3.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDNq0X0p0FxFuav0IpOc_k7l56hb-9f7t8XJyxj5RLOsAGfz08So1kri0RlB0Gtkqj8MHTpxLF5_54rYz8t1ofREeXaHJ6ENJOUjsGagTSbTSEQdWSrLkmuR6HeC47CkvG22IlSx3TkZGzOscjh8Btlmx-yIhMt_hGS53OVNmAjbB7duUl9kF_udwX/s320/3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Maria Elena's to Die for Ricotta Pera</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>Don’t
tell but I snuck a few.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were glad to
see that the <i>Burger King</i> style packets of oil and vinegar we‘d seen
introduced in 2018 were gone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The ‘old
norm’ of real bottles had returned. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bravo!
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She accompanied this with a large
grilled <i>maiale</i> (pork) steak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This,
however, was all build-up to the pièce de resistance, their <i>ricotta pera</i>
pie made by that cabal of women in the kitchen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You have to be quick about it because it disappears fast, although as
insurance we’ve never gone so far as to order it immediately on our
arrival.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As for me, I enjoyed a caprese
salad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have tried our damnedest to
duplicate it in the States but find it impossible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was fantastic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is it the oil, the tomatoes, no question the
absolute real buffalo mozzarella?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has
to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Along with a <i>braciole </i>that
had cooked in the sauce all day, I enjoyed that familiar assault on my senses, <i>pasta
alla arrabbiata</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a chaser, in the
accompanying photo note the basket with hot peppers and scissors for added
heat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh, and lest I forget, there was
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpM8yf3wAOAaeF-9q2e-_sRHHhvF5xcqzYXbkCrty0KHgoXiGaHwhmTfqqKGORG8Sek_XrL5Oa_KS3bzJgBfTQZ9zfV2OI4KMIFS6B2jI15OW2y3fYOScWBgYVFA3xjRCydWN9Z-W6mbY88vHHLyoRuu1aYQHXMa3UVkBhntRSXDdHoJ1X2dM7Kd2/s2016/4.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqpM8yf3wAOAaeF-9q2e-_sRHHhvF5xcqzYXbkCrty0KHgoXiGaHwhmTfqqKGORG8Sek_XrL5Oa_KS3bzJgBfTQZ9zfV2OI4KMIFS6B2jI15OW2y3fYOScWBgYVFA3xjRCydWN9Z-W6mbY88vHHLyoRuu1aYQHXMa3UVkBhntRSXDdHoJ1X2dM7Kd2/s320/4.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Always Tempting<br />Paolo's Arribbiata</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />plenty of vino.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forget about that old <a href="https://youtu.be/BCbjuPv2Ewg">September Song</a> about May to December. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Parroting that old ballad, it was a long, long
time from November ‘19 till June ‘22.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hopefully
this had been worth its 53 years in the making.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 110%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Ever so gradually</b>, little things might emerge to
slowly replace familiar sounds from the States. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At a pizzeria, for instance, hearing the
substitution of words like <i>take-away</i> for our ubiquitous <i>take-out</i>
would be a start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nods of recognition along
with those many greetings from all those we’d pass, so foreign in the States
where eye contact is ill-advised, might serve as a salve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’d so missed those hello smiles, far more
than upturned chins when passing, when people took time to stop, hug, and talk
with us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Little examples like these would
represent a climate shift from the impersonal to a far more preferable way of
life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were a number of seismic
shifts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rosa, for example, had retired
when her husband had passed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My
celibrated “<a href="https://youtu.be/w7vk4mp7klM">singing barber</a>,” had also
retired (click to see the clip - that’s me under the shaving cream trying to
capture what was happening).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet another
friend, always well-dressed Peppe, a former railroad conductor, had also suddenly
died. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On a lighter note, at the town’s
main traffic intersection, a double traffic circle had been installed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>On my first try, I felt like I was in a
pinball machine maneuvering around the bumpers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Only later after studying the circulation pattern did I realize how
badly I’d messed up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span lang="IT" style="color: #0d0d0d; line-height: 110%; mso-ansi-language: IT; mso-bidi-font-family: "Courier New"; mso-bidi-font-size: 10.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">A
quick look and some bad math had put me </span>between them, though no one
seemed to mind. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It explains why I always
flew with a navigation team. <o:p></o:p><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Another notable change, related to driving, was part of
a global tsunami. </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">The price of fuel was
noticeably higher, deliriously on the order of 35-50% costlier.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">When I filled little Bianca, our 2010 Fiat
Punto, the sign read 2.089€.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">That’s not
per gallon mind you, but per liter. This puts the gallon equivalent in the
stratosphere at around 7.91€ ($8.30). </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">And
to think, we complain, but then we haven’t been away long either.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Thankfully, our Bianca is a hybrid, though not
of the vaunted electric variety.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">No, our
little two-door is a mix of </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">la benzina</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> (gasoline) and propane, known as GPL
(</span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="background: white; color: #202124;">Gas di Petrolio Liquefatto</span></i><span style="background: white; color: #202124; text-indent: 0.25in;">)</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Not to be left behind, the price of GPL has
also risen.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Currently at 0.799€ per
liter, it has experienced an approximate 0.20€ rise, making it still
affordable.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">So we putt-putt about on our
fuel of choice, GPL.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b> There was an additional tremor of surprise</b> a few
nights later when we visited <i>Double Jacks</i>, a Bavarian style pub and
restaurant in Calitri.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The long and
short of it, it had changed entirely in both its operators and with it its
fare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With a new guard having taken
over, it marked the end of an era.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While
Bruno still owned it, its day to day operations had moved to a young husband
and wife team.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We especially missed
visiting with Bruno’s parents, Giuseppe and <a name="_Hlk106453592">Santina</a>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Invariably, each night, they had been there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their humble presence was felt by all,
including us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was with them, following
a meal, that we’d often share many a limoncello long into the evening.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like lowering a commander’s flag, even
Bruno’s signature beer collection was gone. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A piece of community fabric had been torn,
traditions in the form of familiar ways, familiar faces, altered.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few days later I made some inquiries and
found their home with the help of a woman who walked beside our car as I
followed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A day later when I returned,
Santina answered the door.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The grapevine had</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY802148w9TAW8CIw7D1mSWWUGurLjOWBfJiycUKLsqmdw5enh_woJNoMeN0j0QViExOk6KdM7dKfZyfBhr_4LoivW_SF4dWOqEn0hVOMnm_xbJm-XQD_NiTgIH_JYEZ9_ZpXZLzZC3ZDEEN7IMM1ZKQIjJaCH8_0ZHakViPLigyuiLigRyBLXyDd/s254/5.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="198" data-original-width="254" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFY802148w9TAW8CIw7D1mSWWUGurLjOWBfJiycUKLsqmdw5enh_woJNoMeN0j0QViExOk6KdM7dKfZyfBhr_4LoivW_SF4dWOqEn0hVOMnm_xbJm-XQD_NiTgIH_JYEZ9_ZpXZLzZC3ZDEEN7IMM1ZKQIjJaCH8_0ZHakViPLigyuiLigRyBLXyDd/s1600/5.jpg" width="254" /></a></div>already alerted her that some <i>straniero</i> (foreigner) had been asking
for her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’d been on a bread run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maria Elena wasn’t with me at the time, but
had she been, big hugs would have also greeted her. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I entered their kitchen, Giuseppe greeted
me and immediately ask, “<i>Una Limoncello</i>?”<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Now new forces were at play</b> at <i>Double Jack</i>.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Chef Giovanni Tobio commanded the kitchen
while his wife, Maria Angela, was in control out front.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>During that surprising return evening, we
found it very busy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A party celebrating
the end of the school year filled a nearby banquet length table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We reacquainted with some of the
attendees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Young children milled and at
times ran about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was easy to pick out
the owner’s young daughter, Maddalena. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
she dashed by our table on into the kitchen only to quickly emerge with a pizza
cutting wheel, we realized many such excursions lay ahead for her. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfa7OkYD8znZBp5CWh2dMaagndNoMLXc5hSfhI6FNySPrVAgsROhX_LP-QgKCMtRMJECDHZ2GAa2xe0w4-WRxb8OKSLgVau4KlU1_1-xONOsIf0pQYkladPBHflHbhsbiqHliaoyZX76r8maXz8LeoYXkV43qcyIsZfJHIslHKABrSkhDAJsOyxhQ/s720/6.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="509" data-original-width="720" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLfa7OkYD8znZBp5CWh2dMaagndNoMLXc5hSfhI6FNySPrVAgsROhX_LP-QgKCMtRMJECDHZ2GAa2xe0w4-WRxb8OKSLgVau4KlU1_1-xONOsIf0pQYkladPBHflHbhsbiqHliaoyZX76r8maXz8LeoYXkV43qcyIsZfJHIslHKABrSkhDAJsOyxhQ/s320/6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">New Double Jack Menu - Now<br /><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;">Plasticized in
Creeping American Style</span></span></b><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>She was a vibrant child, new to all this, in
what for us had represented a way of life in Calitri. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The staff also included a new <i>cameriere</i>
(waiter).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, right off, he was
interesting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His name was Natale, the
first Italian I’d known with that name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was very helpful explaining the new menu especially the offerings of the <i>spina</i>
(beer tap).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I chose the abbey brewed Leffe
ale, distributed by Anheuser-Busch InBev.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maria Elena’s Belgian ale was called Kwak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was served in a Pauwel Kwak beer glass
resembling a bulbous test-tube supported in a wooden frame.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For dinner, she enjoyed a long missed
favorite of hers, “<i>Tagliata di Controfiletto</i>.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It arrived covered in <i>pecorino</i> cheese
and <i>rocket </i>(arugula).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Natale
explained that it was cut from the shoulder of a local bovine donor.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My offering, a different version of <i>tagliata</i>,
came from distant <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuuBnxZKs56DaoYLReUH576QOIkdBlzVRdhqfStx1UuFT03NnsY-R7hhkiKAySEg0RZKYQxz2R5UeAY_PGMu86GdXx-iCnOEYi7agCZZM8DzOzonKJyxJNCJr9kMKOBSYEqe36LG22EmJj1ei63noA0Hk7BHxa3AWmj4fvPWofCHBKMM4AhFLtGvMI/s2016/7.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2016" data-original-width="1512" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuuBnxZKs56DaoYLReUH576QOIkdBlzVRdhqfStx1UuFT03NnsY-R7hhkiKAySEg0RZKYQxz2R5UeAY_PGMu86GdXx-iCnOEYi7agCZZM8DzOzonKJyxJNCJr9kMKOBSYEqe36LG22EmJj1ei63noA0Hk7BHxa3AWmj4fvPWofCHBKMM4AhFLtGvMI/s320/7.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Mare's Tagliata <br />Already into Just a Little</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>Argentina. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cut from a
different part of a cow, it was listed on the menu as mouthwatering “<i>Entrecote</i>,”
the French term for sirloin. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They also
differed in appearance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While her steak
was cut into slices resembling London broil, its Argentine cousin came intact.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our meals were delicious and honestly a step-up
from <i>Double Jack’s</i> pizza focus of the past.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Change is normally a gradual creep</b>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We expected some, but in just a few days to
learn of years of change, this we hadn’t anticipated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The changes we’d noticed, and undoubtedly will
continue to experience, could actually be categorized as normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What proved abnormal was that during our long
absence, they had accumulated and hit us, smack, all at once.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The normality of a steady drip had grown to
an all at once torrent. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But does an overdose
of reality matter?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess that depends.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>A few nights back</b>, we sat upstairs on our
terrace. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Technically, we were above “<i>a
room without a roof</i>” as Pharrell Williams put it in his song, <i>Happy,
Happy</i>. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We were sitting beneath a sky
blotted with stars, looking off toward the east. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Across a valley off into neighboring Basilicata,
a spur of the Apennines rises to a series of villages.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They appear connected, left to right, by an
invisible road hidden by the night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Visually,
these villages appear linked by a string of streetlights stretching from one community
off to the next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>From this main line, an
offshoot string of lights, to quote Williams again, on “<i>a street without a
name</i>”, continually blink on and off for a considerable distance. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Evidently due to some problem, it can be
hypnotic as it pulses, on then off, to a steady electrical rhythm.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether it works or doesn’t, the point is,
it’s there; you can depend on it off on the horizon, flashing as it likely did
last month, last week, again tonight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
is like the clock in the Borgo, easily visible, that stopped working to record
the moment of the great 1980 earthquake. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if this unintentional memorial was repaired?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And while those lights are </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNryHZvp5jZCzXDVZMUzhldBeD6H27ovnderUo5kTexH-qPf2cG5rMmwgK0D_NnylvsNlfII09xGwtoeO0DE_XOsfNJnCwBS9u1yo2Foptvkp-NcS3VaCPIO5DEt_agqPWbUFWeI2O-Rf3PJ8UZWgE_fcFo4zIxyWlubCaMY_lRsBP6IlfrEzzIGhq/s960/8.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="960" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNryHZvp5jZCzXDVZMUzhldBeD6H27ovnderUo5kTexH-qPf2cG5rMmwgK0D_NnylvsNlfII09xGwtoeO0DE_XOsfNJnCwBS9u1yo2Foptvkp-NcS3VaCPIO5DEt_agqPWbUFWeI2O-Rf3PJ8UZWgE_fcFo4zIxyWlubCaMY_lRsBP6IlfrEzzIGhq/w400-h266/8.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Calitri at Twilight</span></b><br /><b>(Photo credit to Guiseppe Del Vais)</b></td></tr></tbody></table>certainly on some
repair list, what if that distant “<i>street without a name</i>” were to become
properly illuminated?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I’d have
lost an amusing bearing, those living nearby might rejoice that the pall of a
miasmic fog had been lifted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess it
is relativistic; how a change impacts someone else, and how it moves me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For some change can be ephemeral, for others
it digs in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems comforting for some
things to remain the same even though they may not work properly. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, the earth keeps turning, and time keeps
churning out change.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's how we react
to these changes that makes the difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet there are always events that ground us, things we can rely on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first night we arrived, exhausted, we
collapsed into bed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Outside our balcony
door, as we fell into our dreams, the sky’s canvas had muted to night and showcased
a brilliant moon at our feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
following morning, we awoke to the heralding crow of a rooster announcing
another day, one filled with new beginnings and endings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To my clouded reasoning, my redemption is
found in simpler things like these.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things
we can count on, things that so far remain the same day after day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That’s just life, count on it, and whatever
it reveals.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Finally, once again</b>, we find ourselves back in
the bosom of Italy, adjusting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will
be here for a while; I wonder if noticeable change will have played a hand by
the time we return to the States?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
about gas once again at $3.00 a gallon!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ah,
but maybe I should save that for therapy, if not the musings of another story.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: arial; font-size: large; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b>From That Rogue
Tourist,</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b>Paolo</b></span></p><br /><p></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-6764430329842478772022-05-31T08:03:00.023-04:002022-06-01T14:40:59.508-04:00An Egg Yolk Chronicle<p> <b style="text-indent: 0in;"><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: large; line-height: 115%;">An Egg Yolk Chronicle</span></b></p><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; break-after: avoid; margin-bottom: 0in; text-indent: 0in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b></b></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-left: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcmrAL-8sGQIzcF8-PBiTiQbUOW5iqUGWOiQmyrSePOq6JaYa2RGXTC6eP2vi11iBO4pk8QreX_FyEHBA8Ca_Y_EW4efe9WM1NAie383xNUqUCKEfoCnbd6umSzWO0ZHUbDOFpoQREvC18Rd3iCSQGynXNalHntgBoKcRFDW4xfra7rP9SL93Dlv-/s395/1.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="376" data-original-width="395" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifcmrAL-8sGQIzcF8-PBiTiQbUOW5iqUGWOiQmyrSePOq6JaYa2RGXTC6eP2vi11iBO4pk8QreX_FyEHBA8Ca_Y_EW4efe9WM1NAie383xNUqUCKEfoCnbd6umSzWO0ZHUbDOFpoQREvC18Rd3iCSQGynXNalHntgBoKcRFDW4xfra7rP9SL93Dlv-/w204-h194/1.jpg" width="204" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Encircled Egg Yolk</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;"><b style="font-weight: bold;"> </b><b><span> </span>Has the thought ever occurred to you </b>that there might
be countries that lie within other countries?
With so many other thoughts to occupy us, likely not. But think about it for a moment. Imagine this <span>situation ― a contiguous border that wraps around the interloper to meet
itself and in the process entirely surrounds it like the white of a fried egg encircles
the yolk. You would think that national sovereignty,
the authority of a state to govern itself, would prohibit this. Just imagine the unanticipated consequences. Take, for example, going to war with some
entity other than the country that surrounds it. Most likely, there are many such complications. Why would some foreign self-governing body be
permitted to exist within another sovereign entity? Admittedly, it is a crazy world, yes, and
although not an exact paradigm, it hasn’t been very long, for instance, since free
Berlin was encircled inside East Germany and later cut off further by a wall. Fortunately, since then, is seems that scrambled
eggs have been the order of the day.</span></div><p></p><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> However, such a state of affairs does exist</b>, and you
can probably guess where. If you thought of Italy, you were correct. The Vatican, an
independent sovereignty inside Italy, is a perfect example. Its current status
was brought about by the 1929 Lateran Treaty.<sup>[a]</sup> Earlier in 1791, France had taken over papal
lands in France and by 1861 all the pope's Italian </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQgOrd-K5RBV4Q7IU4-Awy6FVH8pktRssSgUnSg1zmfFV16PN1-oINGaQnz3V1llTAgn2U8ZjTR_p4NaTQS-7QF_nU57jNezryvLgnF070k3Rk3MOpBKbZPkLfbXN-ZsyIxotjKbF8GTO8SCu4rTKC9_9CYNUhd_sHm4Ds20YQk-wrMqhP8e-8RYfd/s251/2%20Vat.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="251" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQgOrd-K5RBV4Q7IU4-Awy6FVH8pktRssSgUnSg1zmfFV16PN1-oINGaQnz3V1llTAgn2U8ZjTR_p4NaTQS-7QF_nU57jNezryvLgnF070k3Rk3MOpBKbZPkLfbXN-ZsyIxotjKbF8GTO8SCu4rTKC9_9CYNUhd_sHm4Ds20YQk-wrMqhP8e-8RYfd/s1600/2%20Vat.jpg" width="251" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Vatican</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">territories had fallen to
the forces of Garibaldi and Italian King Victor Emmanuel II. With French help, the pope held Rome but with
the withdrawal of French troops in 1870, Italian forces marched into Rome and
parliament proclaimed the city Italy's capital.
The pope, who refused to recognize the Italian state, would essentially remain
a virtual prisoner confined to the Vatican.
It was not until after WWI in 1919 that Pope Benedick XV gave his Secretary
of State, Cardinal Pietro Gasparri, the green light to formally propose
independence for the Vatican. It was not
until seven years after Benedick’s death, however, that Pope Pius XI saw its realization. For the betterment of his flock, the pope had
essentially reverted from politician to full-time spiritual head of the
Catholic Church. It had been a long time
coming but with the stroke of a pen, secret negotiations between Prime Minister
Benito Mussolini for the Kingdom of Italy and the Vatican finalized the deal. It was signed by Mussolini for the Italian
government and by Cardinal Gasparri, still the Vatican’s Secretary of State. Later
in 1948, it was confirmed in Article 7 of the Italian Constitution.<sup>[b] </sup>On its ratification, the papacy finally recognized
the Italian State with Rome as its capital.
Italy in return recognized the sovereign power of the popes as rulers of
Vatican City, a territory of 109 acres, thus securing its full independence
from Italy. The pope had been lucky. The loss of distant lands had been balanced
by freeing the papacy from the costly burden of providing for the city of Rome. It had been more than a wash, however, since
the Vatican was now, even as small as it was, a sovereign entity.</div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> So, I guess that about does it</b> when it comes to those
unique, surrounded, ‘yellow yolk’ situations. But that’s not exactly true. Trusting that Lady Luck is on my side, I’m
betting that even fewer know of a place called San Marino. No, San Marino is not an Italian city like
San Gimignano or one of the thousands of other “Sans” across Italy. Long before we visited San Marino in 2016, I
recall their </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBgUNamljsAvx_NTKbQqduf91W_1LRV54pHuV6BeLWWdl4xWQuz-6SCcE_3e_gyl6LsftbEr-dxO-2Zsrp3V-LA6O7RoaBKmlGGC-OscYFnBWk6c9GsimAr2nKA4weUHCSRXJCEG2rgRGA4gxbwfKNSCwTjK31zzOQHcPY0a34hYI5mmLO9hIb-Ao/s691/3%20Monte_Titano.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="382" data-original-width="691" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheBgUNamljsAvx_NTKbQqduf91W_1LRV54pHuV6BeLWWdl4xWQuz-6SCcE_3e_gyl6LsftbEr-dxO-2Zsrp3V-LA6O7RoaBKmlGGC-OscYFnBWk6c9GsimAr2nKA4weUHCSRXJCEG2rgRGA4gxbwfKNSCwTjK31zzOQHcPY0a34hYI5mmLO9hIb-Ao/s320/3%20Monte_Titano.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Formidable Mountain Citidel <br />of San Marino</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">colorful postage stamps in my collection as a child. This particular San is an independent country
with diplomatic relations with most of the world. Though not a member of the European Union, it
is a member of the United Nations. Much
bigger than the Vatican, this particular “yolk” remains one of the smallest countries
in the world with an area of about 24 square miles and a population of about
33,000 people. Like Venice, its official
title contains the assertion “Most Serene Republic.” Welcome to the Most Serene (Serene meaning Sovereign)
Republic of San Marino.<sup>[c]</sup> Legend
has it that in the late days of the Roman Empire, a hermit priest started a monastery
clinging to Mount Titano, in Italy's rugged Apennine Mountains sandwiched
between today’s Emilia-Romagna and Le Marche regions of Italy. It was remote, desolate, hard to attack
making it easier to defend, and for the most part an undesirable place of
little interest to others. From this
simple, isolated beginning the Republic of San Marino (named for the hermit) gradually
emerged, to the justifiable claim of being the world's oldest surviving
republic.</div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> While over the centuries other Italian city-states</b> gradually
disappeared, San Marino managed to keep to itself and maintain a low
profile. In 1631, however, a treaty of
protection negotiated years earlier with Pope Clement VIII came into effect.<sup>[d]</sup>
Although it did not integrate San Marino
as a Papal State, it did extend it papal protection while confirming its
independence. Things remained quiet
until Napoleon invaded Italy and in 1797 demanded that San Marino turn over a
bishop they sought who had taken refuge there.
Stuck between a pope and emperor or a rock, many rocks, and a hard
decision, they placated both sides in a clever move designed not to antagonize
either side. Appearing to fully support
the French and doing all they could to cooperate, San Marino let the bishop quietly
slip away thus pleasing the pope. It was
such a good ruse that Napoleon went so far as to embrace the Republic.<sup>[d</sup>] In fact, the emperor liked the regent of San
Marino so much that he made the citizens of rocky San Marino exempt from all
taxes. Basically, by carefully threading
a needle between powerful interests, San Marino had escaped any backlash from the
pope and earned the goodwill of Napoleon. They would continue to do so in the years
ahead. Shortly afterward, San Marino was
recognized as independent by Napoleon in the Treaty of Tolentino, and by the Congress
of Vienna in 1815.<sup>[d] </sup>Then Giuseppe
Garibaldi honored San Marino’s desire to be left out of the Italian unification
movement then underway. It is believed
that Garibaldi did this out of appreciation for San Marino had taken in war refugees
in prior years including Giuseppe himself and 250 of his Red Shirt followers.<sup>[d]
</sup>Remaining neutral in both World Wars
also helped to further insure its 1,700-year history of sovereignty and independence. In retrospect, had it simply been chance? Unlike other Italian territories, had they simply been
fortunate to have befriended Napoleon and then to have earned Garibaldi’s
gratitude thus insuring their sovereignty? <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> Some actions aren’t nearly as lucky.</b> In fact, some acts are thought utterly
ill-fated and ominous. Take for instance
a cat crossing your path. Not any cat of
course, it must be black. If a cat takes
such a course, it is thought to presage misfortune, even death. A variant of this theme, serving as an
emergency exit, makes an important distinction.
It seems to depend on the direction the cat is moving relative to you. Crossing your path from right to left is the bad
omen but when traveling in the other direction, it portends favorable times
ahead. As for eggs, </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcBnk52-d9Rm0Ctu6Y0J7MV_ro7H958BCYSbaaAL5XqXKr1c5BiYAyIzrhzJ0LC6AT0DRczwS5nvMRJXGhhmpiwLykEG771WXPLvCEnHuhjTt1HubD77EotfaEjI-56DQ2GVjG_3obXAGnt_HPLXFIJzpi_nUAFypj0Q1MD7Hihl6Dt2253WkbKXJH/s277/4%20download.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="182" data-original-width="277" height="182" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcBnk52-d9Rm0Ctu6Y0J7MV_ro7H958BCYSbaaAL5XqXKr1c5BiYAyIzrhzJ0LC6AT0DRczwS5nvMRJXGhhmpiwLykEG771WXPLvCEnHuhjTt1HubD77EotfaEjI-56DQ2GVjG_3obXAGnt_HPLXFIJzpi_nUAFypj0Q1MD7Hihl6Dt2253WkbKXJH/s1600/4%20download.jpg" width="277" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Choose Your Superstition, the Obvious <br />to Egg Yolks and Centipedes </span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">there is about
a one in one thousand chance that the next egg you crack open will be
double-yolked. And depending on those
odds and your cultural perspective, a double-yolked egg can mean a blessing or
a curse. And of course, there is that
taboo about walking under a ladder. To compensate
for this blunder, remedies include spitting on your shoe, walking backward
through the ladder again, or as Michelangelo did in painting some of his caricatures
on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, placing your thumb between your index and
middle fingers (the ‘fig sign’) as you pass through. Ladders not being very wide, you’d need to be
quick about it though, to get it done before emerging on the other side. Then again if you don’t buy into the
superstition just keep walking.</div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> And then there are the triskaidekaphobics.</b> I can’t even pronounce it, but its ‘phobic’
ending tells me something bothers them.
Yes indeed. These folks fear the
number thirteen, thought unlucky.<sup>[e] </sup>This phobia derives from the Greek word for
thirteen, <i>treiskaideka</i>. You may
have noticed that some buildings lack a 13th floor. Calendar dates, like Friday the Thirteenth, follow suit. In fact, we just had one,
Friday, 13 May. Lady Luck appears to
have been providential for here I am writing this and there you are reading
it. When you think about it, we are all
lucky because we’re all here. The dice
were rolled on us thousands of years ago on our individual lines of ancestors, possibly
numbering in the thousands, and at this moment we are the result. Our distant ancestors themselves had been
lucky to have survived. It wasn’t looks,
or connections, or wealth but ability that made the difference. If not another trifecta of all three, they
had to run very, very fast, or been really smart, or possessed an incredible
immune system. But I see I’ve digressed.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> There is historical precedence</b> behind the abhorrence of
Fridays numbered 13. It all has to do
with the massacre of the Knights Templar on Friday, 13 October 1307 (even that
fateful year began with a 13). The
Templars were a wealthy military order during the Crusades, formed to protect pilgrims
visiting the Holy Land while also carrying out military operations, and later expanding
into banking. Though powerful and
influential, they nevertheless were not thought “too big to fail.” The intrigue of a king and pope made sure of it. Fortunately, there was another organization,
even older than the Templars, with a major advantage the Templars lacked which
brings me to the Knights Hospitaller.
Here was a more humanitarian, holy order with a primary focus on charitable
efforts also on-site in Jerusalem.<sup>[f]</sup> It began as a volunteer group running a single
hospice to care for pilgrims, the sick, and the homeless founded by Italian
merchants from the maritime republic of Amalfi then trading in Palestine. They obtained authorization from the Caliph of
Egypt to build a church, a convent, and a hospital in Jerusalem.<sup>[g] </sup>Had their military activities failed,
they could still present themselves as </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTinUFHgVGBwfcxIs41yHDV0Vz7e0h9nRsoA0Dzflwr4UtrqcXazW3_wXx_CMY3322FfCrMUOz_BHiy03s4LG89KZTxjjS636fMfdX4iuKVBduWV31-M6d8BHs3aQZZfKTEmoeMy-wL4326jULNijfMQoUg1tE6TVZHFVsHWhS9M1TtEBwwkxtrbF/s264/5%20Falcon.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="191" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTTinUFHgVGBwfcxIs41yHDV0Vz7e0h9nRsoA0Dzflwr4UtrqcXazW3_wXx_CMY3322FfCrMUOz_BHiy03s4LG89KZTxjjS636fMfdX4iuKVBduWV31-M6d8BHs3aQZZfKTEmoeMy-wL4326jULNijfMQoUg1tE6TVZHFVsHWhS9M1TtEBwwkxtrbF/s1600/5%20Falcon.jpg" width="191" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">'Maltese Falcon' Movie</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>servicing an important civic role. That distinction made all the difference.<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> After the fall of the Kingdom of Jerusalem</b> in 1291, the
Hospitallers moved offshore to the Greek island of Rhodes (1309). In 1530 they relocated to the island of Malta
when Holy Roman Emperor Charles V bestowed Malta to them in return for a yearly
gift payable to the Viceroy of Sicily.
The stipulated annual gift was a single Maltese falcon.<sup>[h] </sup>Even then, it was a pittance of a price
to pay. The real money materialized
years later. <a name="_Hlk104872183">Well, sort of in the 1941 film noir, <i>The Maltese Falcon</i>, where the falcon was
supposedly filled with treasure. </a>This
prop was auctioned in 2013 and realized a real treasure of $4M paid by Las
Vegas casino billionaire Steve Wynn.<sup>[I]</sup><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> The Hospitallers survive to this day</b>. Its 970-year history is preserved in the present-day
organization, <i>The Knights of Malta</i>.
Their official name is the <i>Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of
Saint John of Jerusalem, of Rhodes and of Malta</i>, commonly known as the <i>Sovereign
Military Order of Malta (S.M.O.M.)</i>. Even
after seeing reference to them in Quebec at </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUyYLQXYE32ohIG9JGLSU8q2daCNv5aWSzxgRPNmSTv0xVvmnilqKwL8zyE01wjPNExHUP2BGgfH7DX_CEh6EttV3MHSqXbHlZeUKoOQj71yXs-T0yW1ETsz39a3bUBOxYhKUgHRqghcptHtvQxZq-c6PL4YLMrvJFgYBhYnMJEkP1GlKTwu53B4hi/s985/5.5%20Ch%C3%A2teau-Frontenac-quebec-city.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="859" data-original-width="985" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUyYLQXYE32ohIG9JGLSU8q2daCNv5aWSzxgRPNmSTv0xVvmnilqKwL8zyE01wjPNExHUP2BGgfH7DX_CEh6EttV3MHSqXbHlZeUKoOQj71yXs-T0yW1ETsz39a3bUBOxYhKUgHRqghcptHtvQxZq-c6PL4YLMrvJFgYBhYnMJEkP1GlKTwu53B4hi/w275-h240/5.5%20Ch%C3%A2teau-Frontenac-quebec-city.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span>1647 Order of Malta Symbol <br />Hotel Frontenac, Quebec </span></b><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 115%;">City <sup>[n]</sup></span></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>the Chateau Frontenac years ago,
I’d no idea who or what they were. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> According to international law</b>, S.M.O.M is a
sovereign entity but with a catch. It represents
a rare example of a sovereign entity (like a country) while it is not
a country. I had to scratch my head at
that. If instead, I’d been a lawyer with
a specialty in international law, I likely might have had some idea. Different references on international law offer
different explanations. Apparently, since
it does not have territory, it does not live up to the requirements of being recognized
as a country. Come to find out, all that
is needed is that it be considered a country by other sovereign entities.<sup>[m]</sup>
It is a mishmash of understanding and
not being a member of the bar, lies beyond my wherewithal. In a corkscrew of logic, some countries
consider it a sovereign organization, others consider it a country without
territory, and still others consider it the world's smallest country. Whether a country or not appears to rest on how
you split the fine hairs of interpretation concerning their headquarters. This headquarters consists </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7x4mtGe9KLvjTZVF4tr9cXrcAfMnj4jskc9t7dESVDoGqLFRHWi7NiUfpYvN8hayZ3cd8M8wVwjOAilceh2zMByIxR_Zx5zbusQwQd5qRlvahxkh12t076I_-qlyLRo-iX_zqB22BN6cLhTnKmMFREYUlxNlZLYQ0QWUaNE3KXggg5jlHOmJBg-3/s800/6%20government%20HQ.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="470" data-original-width="800" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7x4mtGe9KLvjTZVF4tr9cXrcAfMnj4jskc9t7dESVDoGqLFRHWi7NiUfpYvN8hayZ3cd8M8wVwjOAilceh2zMByIxR_Zx5zbusQwQd5qRlvahxkh12t076I_-qlyLRo-iX_zqB22BN6cLhTnKmMFREYUlxNlZLYQ0QWUaNE3KXggg5jlHOmJBg-3/s320/6%20government%20HQ.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">S.M.O.M. Hq on Via dei Condetti, Rome</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>of a single “capital”
building, the <i>Magistral Palace</i> located at 68 Via dei Condotti, paces
away from downtown Rome’s <i>Spanish Steps</i>.
The Order’s situation is different from that of the Vatican and San
Marino. Instead, here we have a state the size of a few buildings and although
their vehicles have official plates, they have no roads.<p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> Number 68 Via dei Condotti</b> has been the seat of the
Sovereign Order of Malta’s government since 1834. Here we also find the residence of the Grand
Master and where the Order’s governmental bodies meet. The Magistral Mint is also found here where they
produce Maltese <i>scudo</i>, the coin of the Order, pegged to the Euro. While the Order relies on it, likely on the
basis of tradition, the Maltese have gone to the Euro. The Post Office is also there where correspondence
bearing Order of Malta stamps can be sent to any of 57 countries with which it
has postal arrangements. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8S1_uTPU0kFSGT3DYq1Y5D3-XZ-l2vAhE7pGFG8IGdAFezTaDoRPr-xax5dpb1LyReF5lHDsvUf6u9SozCh8kscR7x62hh8Pzi3FRf1kw5ITSJWjgI6ZeFIT-X8gsTvcoymGAAikq5J5c27IYUcKlhbPLWeQZSqPKZfQ5E92twmYs3FEEbagbDYS/s267/7%20Stamp.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="267" height="201" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ8S1_uTPU0kFSGT3DYq1Y5D3-XZ-l2vAhE7pGFG8IGdAFezTaDoRPr-xax5dpb1LyReF5lHDsvUf6u9SozCh8kscR7x62hh8Pzi3FRf1kw5ITSJWjgI6ZeFIT-X8gsTvcoymGAAikq5J5c27IYUcKlhbPLWeQZSqPKZfQ5E92twmYs3FEEbagbDYS/w285-h201/7%20Stamp.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">A One Scudo S.M.O.M. Stamp</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">The government offices
of Internal Affairs, Foreign Affairs, Hospitaller, Finance, and Communications
of the Order also occupy the Palace.<sup>[o] </sup></div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> If appearances matter, and they do</b>, although the
order may be absent land, it certainly appears to function as a country, enhanced
further by the inclusion of special privileges. If you watch enough TV or follow the news, you
eventually become acquainted with the term diplomatic immunity. A more lawyerly term for it is ‘extraterritoriality’.
This is a privilege usually granted to
diplomats that frees them from the jurisdiction of the country in which they
are present. Extraterritorial status has
been conferred on the Order’s headquarters by the Italian Government, but it is
not clear whether </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj438LoxHV94WrPFUyYlz3e-XTpUS8e5sB71oKLEhtC4-jWD9OBhxvnud5WLewGC5kw3g7zYuyqCFy3MghxwQKRupaxGYwnQfIuUFHKNqFADC3tcRj1BpbG5Af5i_BU1z2yu-DGoITI8ayKz_-w27F2zieDzGl3JHPLRuNAr4_lYab29EWpghAWzUqf/s173/8%20images.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="130" data-original-width="173" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj438LoxHV94WrPFUyYlz3e-XTpUS8e5sB71oKLEhtC4-jWD9OBhxvnud5WLewGC5kw3g7zYuyqCFy3MghxwQKRupaxGYwnQfIuUFHKNqFADC3tcRj1BpbG5Af5i_BU1z2yu-DGoITI8ayKz_-w27F2zieDzGl3JHPLRuNAr4_lYab29EWpghAWzUqf/w257-h193/8%20images.jpg" width="257" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Villa dei Priorato Gardens on<br />Rome's Aventine Hill</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />the headquarters is the ‘territory’ of the S.M.O.M. or simply
its embassy in Italy. Other advantages
include permanent observer status at the UN.
And though not a member of the European Union, it enjoys diplomatic
relations with 112 countries and is a member of numerous international
organizations.<sup>[g]</sup> It even
issues passports, a privilege only countries, the Red Cross, and the UN can
perform. <o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> Another Rome property</b> in the possession of the Order
since the 14th century is <a name="_Hlk103417861"><i>Villa del Priorato</i></a><i>
di Malta</i> on the Aventine Hill in southwestern Rome. The Villa hosts the headquarters of the Grand
Priory of Rome as well as the Sovereign Order’s Embassy to the Holy See and the
Embassy of the Order to Italy. Its one other
territory is in <i>Fort Saint Angelo</i> located in the Grand Harbor in the
Maltese capital city of Valletta. A
portion of this medieval bastion was given to the Order for a duration of 99
years by the Republic of Malta. This
agreement grants the Order use of the upper portion of <i>Fort St. Angelo</i> including
limited extraterritoriality. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixE2v69ZEsp9tdSlrFRFHJSRrSut22sisqPIxrVb6docqXyozwtnqrihhKEriBXqQ7g7ZmUnoNKtkGc4XCfInKGr6soEOQp8XrbXHr9VV5dZ1M9iRJjG6EROpBca2sxJ7PblP2adrwNJHGqrjTlj4xRCmIk-8_T8XHIGmg9K_OBrXhFPxoH_smAnhl/s1495/9%20St._Angelo.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="684" data-original-width="1495" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixE2v69ZEsp9tdSlrFRFHJSRrSut22sisqPIxrVb6docqXyozwtnqrihhKEriBXqQ7g7ZmUnoNKtkGc4XCfInKGr6soEOQp8XrbXHr9VV5dZ1M9iRJjG6EROpBca2sxJ7PblP2adrwNJHGqrjTlj4xRCmIk-8_T8XHIGmg9K_OBrXhFPxoH_smAnhl/w381-h174/9%20St._Angelo.jpg" width="381" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Fort Saint Angelo, Malta</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>Its stated
purpose is "to give the Order the opportunity to be better enabled to <a name="_Hlk103267419">carry out its humanitarian activities as Knights
Hospitallers from Saint Angelo</a>, as well as to better define the legal
status of Saint Angelo subject to the sovereignty of Malta over it".<sup><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sovereign_Military_Order_of_Malta#cite_note-96"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">k</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-style-textfill-fill-alpha: 100.0%; mso-style-textfill-fill-color: #0D0D0D; mso-style-textfill-fill-colortransforms: "lumm=95000 lumo=5000"; mso-style-textfill-fill-themecolor: text1; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">]</span></a></span></sup> Today, a single knight resides in the upper
section of the fort. While the Knights
Templar had been almost “too big to fail,” today’s Hospitallers Knights just may
be “too small to survive.”<o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> One last twist concerns its citizenry</b>. Today, the Order has some 100 knights and
female members in Malta. Worldwide,
there are about 13,500 Knights, Dames, and Chaplains in the Order. Next to </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpIasJGTbQqcht_GTVP9T8pbyX2arCqLhGogQRzxmyyKd2wKpV1v4Fy4WrqvZe1CVjaU8m5kM2Q9-RBFK9RtsN41WRESkf6RJkvxAE_uTW7vcm421zeD_vs9BiiMTfbrRGfup0HZnMziwqsqYLErF14CL15O_YJ-xwFFLVKIDYH21ULtzbbMSuFicx/s815/10%20malta-passport.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="815" data-original-width="575" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpIasJGTbQqcht_GTVP9T8pbyX2arCqLhGogQRzxmyyKd2wKpV1v4Fy4WrqvZe1CVjaU8m5kM2Q9-RBFK9RtsN41WRESkf6RJkvxAE_uTW7vcm421zeD_vs9BiiMTfbrRGfup0HZnMziwqsqYLErF14CL15O_YJ-xwFFLVKIDYH21ULtzbbMSuFicx/s320/10%20malta-passport.jpg" width="226" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Possibly the Rarest of <br />Them All</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">them are 80,000 volunteers and 42,000
employees, mostly medical personnel active in the Order’s tradition of
caregiving and participation in humanitarian projects.<sup>[j]</sup> Being a country, you would expect to find
citizens. By agreement with the Italian government,
citizenship is limited to a total of only three citizens. Only three!
Those three citizens who are granted passports (making them dual
citizens) are the Grand Master, the Deputy Grand Master, and the Order’s
Chancellor. The other members of the
order remain citizens of their respective countries. This situation is similar to that of the
Vatican. The Vatican also has citizens (approx.
1500), and like S.M.O.M. there is no one with only Vatican citizenship, not
even the pope. I’d heard of men or women
without countries but never a country (should I call it a country?) without
territory and let’s say normal citizenry. </div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; margin-top: 12pt;">
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b> Depending on interpretation</b>, the Sovereign Military
Order of Malta just might be the smallest non-island, sovereign country in the
world, taking the lead in the current ranking of smallness by area: The
Vatican, followed by Monaco, and then San Marino.<sup>[p]</sup> I think it safe to say that this ‘trifecta
trinity,’ unique in the world to Italy — the unyielding Vatican, remote San Marino,
and the charitable Military Order of Malta — are all winning historic survivors
in a turbulent world. <a name="_Hlk104873575">Yes, as I said, we do live in a crazy world where it seems consensus
can anoint sovereignty absent even a shovelful of dirt. </a>And while our world is neither true Heaven
nor Hell, in my analogy the world is </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbSKg05FCk70MYk0je6DJyHjxxGRhM-QFjdnvAPVuIRCxNykyrHYZWAz8Hh_FFbSkBNbWSYSGZG8xAs2KRUYl3OWeVM_0nDQKEGFQoGUb1pa5o4H_ajXW-Xy3yRv7aQ4-_3bfHXYdCyB5tP4Qce6yv3ektbBwy07e2Obrpz_uFTZTCzVVhQwJ90fh/s1519/11%20Eggs-in-Purgatory-recipe.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1519" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivbSKg05FCk70MYk0je6DJyHjxxGRhM-QFjdnvAPVuIRCxNykyrHYZWAz8Hh_FFbSkBNbWSYSGZG8xAs2KRUYl3OWeVM_0nDQKEGFQoGUb1pa5o4H_ajXW-Xy3yRv7aQ4-_3bfHXYdCyB5tP4Qce6yv3ektbBwy07e2Obrpz_uFTZTCzVVhQwJ90fh/s320/11%20Eggs-in-Purgatory-recipe.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">That Neapolitan Dish<br />"Eggs in Purgatory"</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>a mélange, more in keeping with that
neither here nor there halfway house known as Purgatory. Yes, it borders on a worldly purgatory reminding
me of that Italian dish, ‘<i>Eggs in Purgatory</i>,’ where a distinct mosaic of
‘outlier yolks’ stand out in the mix mindful of safe places in a turbulent
world of hot spiciness. <o:p></o:p><p></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: large; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><b>From That Rogue Tourist<br /></b></span><b style="font-size: x-large; text-indent: 0in;">Paolo</b></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><b style="font-size: x-large; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></b></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><b style="font-size: x-large; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></b></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><b style="font-size: x-large; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></b></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><b style="font-size: x-large; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></b></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><b style="font-size: x-large; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></b></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[a] <i>Lateran Treaty</i>, https://www.britannica.com/event/Lateran-Treaty<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[b] <i>The Irish Times, May 4, 2022</i>,
https://www.irishtimes.com/opinion/vatican-city-looks-back-on-75-years-as-a-sovereign-state-1.1133452<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[c] <i>San Marino</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/San_Marino<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[d] <i>History of San Marino</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_San_Marino<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[e] <i>Triskaidekaphobia</i>, https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/triskaidekaphobia<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[f] <i>Who were the Knights Hospitaller?</i> LiveScience,
Martyn Conterio, https://www.livescience.com/knights-hospitaller.html<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[g] <i>Knights Hospitaller</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Knights_Hospitaller<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[h] <i>SMOM: Small ‘Country,’ Long Name</i>, https://www.intltravelnews.com/2019/smom-small-country-long-name<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[i] <i>The Mystery of the Maltese Falcon, One of the Most
Valuable Movie Props in History</i>, https://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2016/02/mystery-of-the-maltese-falcon<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[j] <i>Order of Malta</i>, https://www.orderofmalta.int/humanitarian-medical-works/hospitaller-mission/<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[k] <i>Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of St. John - Fort
St Angelo Agreement, - 5 Dec 1998</i>, https://foreign.gov.mt/en/treaties%20series/documents/sovreign%20military%20hospitalier%20order%20of%20st.%20john%20-%20fort%20st%20angelo%20agreement%20-%205%20december%201998.pdf<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[m] <i>R.M.M. Wallace: "International Law"</i>,
Sweet & Maxwell, 2nd edition, London 1992, pg 76. Elias Granqvist, 14 March
2001<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[n] <i>Priory of the Knights of Malta stone, Chateau Frontenac,
Quebec City, Quebec, Canada</i> | Manuel Cohen, https://www.manuelcohen.com/image/I0000UFKl5i2S7bA<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[o] <i>Order of Malta</i>, https://www.orderofmalta.int/government/magistral-palace/<o:p></o:p></p>
<p align="left" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 0.25in; text-indent: 0in;">[p] <i>Smallest Countries in the World by Area,</i> https://www.infoplease.com/world/population/smallest-countries-world<o:p></o:p></p></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: left; text-indent: 0in;"><b style="font-size: x-large; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 27.0pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 0in 27pt; text-indent: 0in;"><br /></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-89747058414245853202022-04-30T11:32:00.015-04:002022-04-30T12:39:05.944-04:00Love Boats<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTzqlasFJHmFosu8FermGmjAI8GzhhzetE5y64ZG2zW4NXd412soWFnRhS0xoiBtqclCSl54I8KBXK1FMkUKBZBgzyYW__XKw8JLco5zJmq2qrdcFFk6dbAuGFTa18pTvPE2e0OYTux_cXb81XotqfBH5YBsir-zsMrTis2ZIddT5AMG4RMLjoPvd/s850/1%20squero-redien.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="201" data-original-width="850" height="123" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiTzqlasFJHmFosu8FermGmjAI8GzhhzetE5y64ZG2zW4NXd412soWFnRhS0xoiBtqclCSl54I8KBXK1FMkUKBZBgzyYW__XKw8JLco5zJmq2qrdcFFk6dbAuGFTa18pTvPE2e0OYTux_cXb81XotqfBH5YBsir-zsMrTis2ZIddT5AMG4RMLjoPvd/w521-h123/1%20squero-redien.jpg" width="521" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Trovaso Squero at the Watery Intersection of Rio de San Trovaso <br />and Rio del Ognissanti</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%;">Love Boats</span></b><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Over time,</b> a span of many years in fact, I gradually
began to be characterized as being useful.
I was useful enough to eventually be referred to as valuable, in a handy
sort of way. My gradual increase in valuation
may have been in proportion to my accumulation of tools. They increased from a fledgling </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYlgepDstmKySyvxrV_bXzsKHnihVwXpWr4t58ZICzvCLToB2OpMICyQ7ZXWECTLKk4F3gZRE-eKsTI7-QArPw6K_jsgJt8D1564Hg883WaTtG4NDLbI60gct_HvjMbIq7ugmaLEqzml2mE7vqg-7APDlzNBAaQujuYS1hUhVak4k6Tlw5e34etc0/s1973/2.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1973" data-original-width="1371" height="325" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzYlgepDstmKySyvxrV_bXzsKHnihVwXpWr4t58ZICzvCLToB2OpMICyQ7ZXWECTLKk4F3gZRE-eKsTI7-QArPw6K_jsgJt8D1564Hg883WaTtG4NDLbI60gct_HvjMbIq7ugmaLEqzml2mE7vqg-7APDlzNBAaQujuYS1hUhVak4k6Tlw5e34etc0/w225-h325/2.JPG" width="225" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">My Handyman Wine <br />Rack Project</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><div style="text-align: justify;">set of screwdrivers
to table saws, routers, and biscuit joiners, on to a moniker scrawled on an old
oar hung over the entrance of my garage workshop proclaiming it the “<i>Quarter
Bubble Construction Company</i>.” I was
usually that accurate and most would agree that a quarter bubble off was still
pretty level. This appellation as a
handyman, however, had evolved rather casually and lacked any official
knighting. It was as my French mother
would say, <i>sans cérémonie</i>. In any
case, though without ceremony, I’d been elevated from fetch-it-boy and dubbed a
handyman. That all ended with our house
fire in 2016. When we returned from
Italy that November, we departed the airport physically with two suitcases to
our names. We needed to begin over and for
me, it also meant I needed to find myself a new set of screwdrivers.</div><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>I have primarily piddled</b> on the home front
making furniture, gazebos, decks, and occasional repairs, but I know those who
have ventured into far trickier woodworking projects like shaping and bending
wood to their will with water and clamps to fashion a watercraft. This is a far <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_jrX8-g1jfK5fZlXoT1b5h2xJpvB9eF0lN1v-ZyThuf-EvLs_Ls9QfS_OUupDIcTsw49F6VsJKeb_bNmIgnpOYesC1E9fkhPsImAchw7TfX6QkRe3xFXrbo308etluTY9kEeWm-5JjDHuhP7ie3clGhY_N1OLmSl4P0NO9f6d633IhVRo0gW-hmu_/s640/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="480" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_jrX8-g1jfK5fZlXoT1b5h2xJpvB9eF0lN1v-ZyThuf-EvLs_Ls9QfS_OUupDIcTsw49F6VsJKeb_bNmIgnpOYesC1E9fkhPsImAchw7TfX6QkRe3xFXrbo308etluTY9kEeWm-5JjDHuhP7ie3clGhY_N1OLmSl4P0NO9f6d633IhVRo0gW-hmu_/s320/3.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">A Big Ben Garvey Under <br />Construction</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />cry from making balsa wood model
airplanes in my youth, where a straight pin substituted for a bar clamp. They ranged from Richard, a local accountant,
who when free, seeking serenity from tedium or simply when the itch arrives,
can step from his office into a yacht-sized workspace and do his own form of
piddling. On a recent visit, I saw it
filling with a Doug Hylan designed <i>Big Ben Garvey</i>, a turn of the century
workboat. A Garvey, having evolved to
adapt to the paper-thin waters of southern New Jersey’s coastal lagoons, is proof
that boats don’t always need pointy front ends.
Then there is a Navy couple, Jeff and Molly, who with a boat kit and the
guidance of professional builder-instructor Geoff Kerr representing the Wooden Boat
School of Brooklin, Maine, attended a six-day workshop to <br />assemble their 20’ <a name="_Hlk101337063"><i>Annapolis</i></a><i> Wherry</i>. An Annapolis Wherry is derived from the
graceful 19th-century wooden wherries that plied the rivers and channels of
England carrying cargo or passengers. Projects
like these are not simply the result of some utilitarian urge to sculpt with epoxy
and fiberglass cloth but of a creative outlet, a personal itch inclined toward hands-on
creativity and precision. <o:p></o:p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXtPfbtQSuOK6UX_13o59rAEVwsvwLuzjOyA_gkMvx2tnIiRbHAWpdaBTtEV-RNbCzNGwDBPlpAC_QjSqwGje5L22m0rhsstRlwO5c91jCuwNiQWuplZ3SKTbJ6D1V8mjRYz594XVsgh0rPaHXOUg9jQuBwxc1ZsnBr4UYbjmEDHxu_N0f0lBqda1/s1597/4%20Molly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1597" data-original-width="900" height="364" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKXtPfbtQSuOK6UX_13o59rAEVwsvwLuzjOyA_gkMvx2tnIiRbHAWpdaBTtEV-RNbCzNGwDBPlpAC_QjSqwGje5L22m0rhsstRlwO5c91jCuwNiQWuplZ3SKTbJ6D1V8mjRYz594XVsgh0rPaHXOUg9jQuBwxc1ZsnBr4UYbjmEDHxu_N0f0lBqda1/w205-h364/4%20Molly.jpg" width="205" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>Jeff and Molly Building <br />Their Wherry</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>While watercraft of every size, nature, and expense</b>
may navigate Chesapeake waters and fill marinas from Miami to Antibes for that
matter, what better place to appreciate boats than in a city afloat, where
beginning in the 14th century, horses were outlawed from the streets and gondolas
became a respectable form of transportation.<sup>[1]</sup> A history like this is limited to but one
place in the world, <i>Venezia</i> (Venice), which in its heyday was referred to
as the “Most Serene Republic.” Here is a
one-of-a-kind jewel that is at once romantic with its Casanova airs, passionate
with mystery revealed only with the lifting of a mask yet withdrawn into a watery
remoteness. This boutique city, made up
of 120 islands, large and small, spans an intricate network of 177 meandering canals. Together, major channels and minor rivulets
called <i>ghebo</i> envelop a fairytale cityscape of Gothic and Islamic
influence. It lies at the crossroad where
East met West, poised on pilings shoe-laced together by 400 bridges. These watery veins and stent-like bridges
serve as thoroughfares that with the pulse of human activity have kept this
lagoon city alive for centuries. <o:p></o:p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0J47o_q1-ghZCBCflXxQ_RFwT73Z4AGwbMbLDwiZUFZGKDbj86cBs1THr5cTbzHPkU08zL5sQorJGx1XrgSV4MP32fIZ_f3E8ao6csDjUeQjxxaafWc5ASreJdY54wgdXlS5FH0RFVjfQVhx9BGcE4udkCLn_Xy4qvxS9vOYInJvbRmyEA5UB_Y9/s275/5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="171" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio0J47o_q1-ghZCBCflXxQ_RFwT73Z4AGwbMbLDwiZUFZGKDbj86cBs1THr5cTbzHPkU08zL5sQorJGx1XrgSV4MP32fIZ_f3E8ao6csDjUeQjxxaafWc5ASreJdY54wgdXlS5FH0RFVjfQVhx9BGcE4udkCLn_Xy4qvxS9vOYInJvbRmyEA5UB_Y9/w257-h171/5.jpg" width="257" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Watery Venetian Lagoon</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Coursing through these iconic water-filled arterial
streets</b> is a particular vessel that makes this once “Most Serene Republic” far
more than <i>Carnivale</i> and reports of high water. With a distinctive shape like none other, the
gondola has existed in Venice since the 11th century. It was first mentioned by name in 1094 by Doge
Vitale Faliero, who started the celebration of <i>Carnivale</i> and the wearing
of masks and costumes. Likely without
the faintest idea he was benchmarking what would evolve to symbolize his city,
he casually mentioned a <i>Gondolum</i> in a letter to the people. To prevent a revolt, he gifted the people
gondola-like boats and said they would help ease their commute within the town.<sup>[1]</sup> The first illustration of a gondola did not
appear until the 1400s in paintings by famed artists Vittore <a name="_Hlk101695643">Carpaccio</a> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53NVLn3xvqegc-3Ra22jiPTUbCh1dOHFo9WdkGIix6uNGaM6jjneqMPjOq5nHoVvK12LzBHogA3h7bGLE0J8biZQDI2Fr06isPWT_g2ituYmWPanFfmKV6Qw12U8aICGThcN7ABhk5RN_ULlJ0gnacIdTWd893zTPLfsUjupLowI7CCGHhjBLm4r0/s2178/6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2178" height="301" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj53NVLn3xvqegc-3Ra22jiPTUbCh1dOHFo9WdkGIix6uNGaM6jjneqMPjOq5nHoVvK12LzBHogA3h7bGLE0J8biZQDI2Fr06isPWT_g2ituYmWPanFfmKV6Qw12U8aICGThcN7ABhk5RN_ULlJ0gnacIdTWd893zTPLfsUjupLowI7CCGHhjBLm4r0/s320/6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Circa 1490 Carpaccio Painting Showing <br />Venice Gondolas</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />and Giovanni Bellini, the namesake of the
Bellini cocktail. It was from the 15th
and 16th centuries that gondolas flourished and were used to navigate Venice’s
lagoons.<sup>[2]</sup><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Gondolas are made</b> at a place called a <i>squero</i>,
a term derived from the word <i>squara</i> which indicates a team of people who
cooperate to build boats. The name stems
from the original workmen, traditionally from Italy's mountainous Belluno
region north of Venice bordering Austria.
These men were experts with wood.<sup>[1]</sup> These construction areas have a characteristic
layout that features a descending ramp into a canal to launch and recover
gondolas. Corralling this distinctive ramp
to complete a typical <i>squero</i> are a smattering of cabin-like storage
sheds called <i>tega</i>, construction buildings, and living quarters. Their out-of-place alpine style is unusual to
the architecture of Venice. Today’s gondolas
are still made by hand in the few <i>squeri</i> that remain using proven methods
developed over centuries by those who have mastered the art and abide by a strict
reference design known as the <i>mariregole</i>.<sup>[2]</sup> Our first visit to Venice found us just a
short walk <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8M8xqc_DB3tfufRRpCCBWIAc04Pmy56U0aMJWK1b7pAcWnG7QLqNtc2VsCATvgEIfuSuxcdiVesDyf8gRnZr3cHxyrcRLawpcdiU10wPzFBw3NineIafpyKcUJTICh5gfAtuuULeXK7w3e4jek52YosGJSeVY8WTObIR61AR0gQ0EgBNPzMf3zUjo/s408/7%20Calle%20Squero.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="243" data-original-width="408" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8M8xqc_DB3tfufRRpCCBWIAc04Pmy56U0aMJWK1b7pAcWnG7QLqNtc2VsCATvgEIfuSuxcdiVesDyf8gRnZr3cHxyrcRLawpcdiU10wPzFBw3NineIafpyKcUJTICh5gfAtuuULeXK7w3e4jek52YosGJSeVY8WTObIR61AR0gQ0EgBNPzMf3zUjo/w356-h212/7%20Calle%20Squero.jpg" width="356" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Mountain Hut & Ramp Layout of<br />Squero di San Trovaso</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>from our apartment above the <i>Taverna San Trovaso</i> to the most
famous of the remaining <i>squeri</i>, <i>Squero di San Trovaso</i>. It is one of the very few <i>squeri</i> still
in operation in Venice and dates back prior to the seventeenth century. This little corner of Venice was across the
Accademia Bridge near the Peggy Guggenheim Museum in the Dorsoduro district at
the watery intersection of <i>Rio de San Trovaso</i> and <i>Rio del Ognissanti</i>. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>A typical gondola</b> is about 35 feet long, five feet
wide, and weighs about 1,100 pounds.<sup>[1]</sup> They have 280 interlocking parts made from eight
types of wood selected for their strength and durability ― elm, mahogany, fir
(now marine plywood), oak, lime, cherry, walnut, and larch.<sup>[3]</sup> Once constructed, the pieces are fitted
together like the balsa model airplanes I once built. Planks of oak, walnut, and cherry give the hull
strength. Lightweight birch forms the flat
bottom, malleable cherry forms the seats and adds structural rigidity for the
hull, larch insures water resistance, bendable walnut constitutes the frame,
linden pieces provide <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvw1KonCqmEM_nTH1Qbc2XXlU0XDSv6IFCDBCtli6pvOT-i4pQBPNjB4OHuOgmplrVuk49rSdssZaQIgWIfAL4Mo3wQnNFZYhtHKt7JMBwmYa1NXW_LSOpm5QlCHa-xsjxBIuPoC7-D4d3CYQvfw3X67RdyuJcrWfG_ZnH6fRcplHSLvpj5gbSpU-i/s275/9%20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvw1KonCqmEM_nTH1Qbc2XXlU0XDSv6IFCDBCtli6pvOT-i4pQBPNjB4OHuOgmplrVuk49rSdssZaQIgWIfAL4Mo3wQnNFZYhtHKt7JMBwmYa1NXW_LSOpm5QlCHa-xsjxBIuPoC7-D4d3CYQvfw3X67RdyuJcrWfG_ZnH6fRcplHSLvpj5gbSpU-i/w298-h198/9%20.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>A <i>R<span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 107%;">è</span>mer</i> Shapes an Oar<br /></b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>reinforcement, mahogany serves as trim, and elm is
perfect for bending. <sup>[3]</sup> Additionally,
a key gondola accessory, its long oar, is handmade from beech.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>When Maria Elena and I</b> took our first gondola
ride, we knew nothing of its secrets and many details of our gondola went
unnoticed while others stood out prominently. For instance, without knowing its name we were
familiar with the forked device on the front of a gondola. However, we had no idea of its significance
both in a historic and functional sense. This headpiece is called the <i>feroda da
prora</i>, which translates to hat for the bow. Prominent as it is but much smaller, it is
evocative of the <i>dreki</i>, the dragon heads of Viking ships. It looks like a flat inverted saxophone in shape
with protruding broad fork-like tines down its spine, but so like Venice, it ‘masks’
a significant functional purpose in addition to underlying historic meaning.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>You see, a gondola is custom-made</b>, not simply
for esthetic purposes like we might choose custom wheels for a car, but also
for the characteristics of its operator. To balance for the weight of the gondolier, the
metal <i>feroda da prora</i>, technically called the <i>ferro</i> (iron), sits
upfront on the boat’s bow weighted to help keep the gondola level in the water. More than a counterbalance, however, it
possesses symbolic meaning. The <i>ferro</i>’s
rounded top<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdYeks_aFdA2ij8rXFxNHuf6eScr9hy3sAI984Lb52JSqaerdVrIkgC3LQetm5sJHyuifg7_dbPZPhnWp6gtD-jciQcJJ8twbqsRg7yiRWuh7B2Ii2ZMvcHEJAJ2juU1dBIQrcv8LSJ4ubFa-5OEkmRSA9FcVgyWafVAY-qIRhVF_TTo532mURqG0/s752/10%20Ferro%20and%20risso.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="564" height="352" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtdYeks_aFdA2ij8rXFxNHuf6eScr9hy3sAI984Lb52JSqaerdVrIkgC3LQetm5sJHyuifg7_dbPZPhnWp6gtD-jciQcJJ8twbqsRg7yiRWuh7B2Ii2ZMvcHEJAJ2juU1dBIQrcv8LSJ4ubFa-5OEkmRSA9FcVgyWafVAY-qIRhVF_TTo532mURqG0/w264-h352/10%20Ferro%20and%20risso.jpg" width="264" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The <i>Risso</i> (Lt) and <i>Feroda <br />da Prora</i> (Rt)</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>represents the distinctive cap worn by former Doge Venetian rulers. From there a long curved extension down to
the water line sporting several protruding prongs represents the lengthy
serpentine Grand Canal. From it, six
tines face forward to symbolize Venice’s <i>sestieri</i> (neighborhoods) in the
following top to bottom order – San Marco, San Polo, Santa Croce, Castello,
Dorsoduro, and Cannaregio. A remaining
tine positioned at the top but pointing aft represents the Giudecca district. The little half-moon beneath the Doge’s cap
and the San Marco tine represents the arched Rialto Bridge. Other spaces, often highlighted with an
ornamental filigree also hold meaning.
The top space between the first two tines represents the glassblowing
island of Murano. The space between the
two bottom tines represents tiny Torcello at the northern end of the lagoon,
while the center space is reserved for the silk island of Burano. Totally absent is the lagoon’s beachy barrier
island, the Lido. But for a single
manmade canal, it lacks dependence on watery thoroughfares as Venice proper. This may explain why it is missing from the <i>feroda
da prora</i>. Opposite the <i>ferro</i>’s
prominent beak on the bow, the aft end of a gondola features a lesser ornament
called a <i>risso</i> (ringlet) named so because of its convoluted shape that
caps the top of the rising stern.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>The <i>feroda da prora</i> </b>helps with fore and
aft pitch, but for lateral side to side stability, the left or port side of a
gondola, toward where the gondolier stands, is nine inches wider and higher
than the starboard side. This asymmetric
feature, designed to offset the gondolier’s weighty position to one side of the
boat, helps offset tilt of the craft while underway. Curved in a bit on one side as it is, allows
the oar to thrust more along the centerline making it easier for the gondola to
move in a straight line.<sup>[1]</sup>
Today, the existence of the <i>prora</i> or <i>ferro</i> is threatened
by Venice’s rising waters. At times, a
protruding <i>ferro</i> makes it impossible for a gondola to pass beneath some
bridges. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We were also unaware</b> that in the past gondolas
had two gondoliers and a small compartment midship, its most expensive
augmentation, that lent it a gracious element. Called a <i>felze</i>, it served for both
privacy and protection from the elements.
They have gone the wayside due to the emphasis on today’s tourist trade.
During inclement weather, tourists would
rather postpone their Gondola rides until better weather arrived, and in the
meantime, enjoy a famous Bellini in the equally celebrated Harry’s Bar. I know we would. Better to postpone a once-in-a-lifetime
experience to await a romantic cruise.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Every large Venetian home and palazzo</b> had a boat
slip similar in function to a garage. Noble
families owned private gondolas and had a gondolier or two to shuttle them
about regardless of foul or <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdpoa_G3mDrhk0pP5s0GlIJ3rm3A68W3AuZKSUDHLZHj6tv6XWt9GRW8YmMWmPwiATbA5E5-UCkUbX42R9pQmGfmc8BXsakaLWPgOofLRQNnnyFHspAc3RkSEdy-IYtHQmSjGWHzeS7hRgeFr7-xmfjdQVrzdmWt4PY0NbBBoVrDP6vP1a9EyHO3d/s974/11%20Falzi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="648" data-original-width="974" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdpoa_G3mDrhk0pP5s0GlIJ3rm3A68W3AuZKSUDHLZHj6tv6XWt9GRW8YmMWmPwiATbA5E5-UCkUbX42R9pQmGfmc8BXsakaLWPgOofLRQNnnyFHspAc3RkSEdy-IYtHQmSjGWHzeS7hRgeFr7-xmfjdQVrzdmWt4PY0NbBBoVrDP6vP1a9EyHO3d/w337-h224/11%20Falzi.jpg" width="337" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">A Felze Shown on a Gondola (1880-1890)<br />Photographed by Paolo Salviati</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>fair weather.
With the likes of Giacomo Casanova and romance inextricably linked with
this libertine city, what happened behind the posh <i>felze</i> curtains was
sworn to secrecy per the gondolier’s professional code to never reveal what
happened under the canopy of his little love boat. Since they traveled throughout the city, heard
both fact and gossip, and observed many an amorous lover’s tryst that didn’t
want for imagination, they were essentially the city’s keepers of secrets, news
bearers, and aware of the latest love interest and scandal. They even had a discrete means of
communication. To send a message silently
while passing, gondoliers of old used a complex set of semaphore-like hand
signals. Similar to the <i>felze</i>,
these too have departed, likely I’d imagine, replaced by cellphones. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Private family gondola service</b> has also
disappeared. In fact, the last private
gondola owner may have been socialite Peggy Guggenheim. While not a Doge, she was certainly the First
Lady of Venice from the 50s on through the 70s.
Here is an interesting comment on her life in Venice with an equally interesting
insinuation, a ‘twist’ in keeping with Venice’s self-indulgent history.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 8pt; text-align: justify;">“<i>About four o’clock, friends arrived
to be taken on Peggy’s daily gondola ride around the city. There were few
private gondolas even then; when she died, hers was the last. You’d board the
gondola at the landing stage below the palazzo, by the great bronze Marino
Marini sculpture, with the phallus you could unscrew. To signify she was not at
home, Peggy took it in the boat, and sat in the stern, surrounded by about 14
writhing Shih Tzus who followed her everywhere. She’d only stay out an hour, as
the dogs had to pee. They were all exactly the same, a rippling fur carpet on
the boat-boards. Soon they’d start tumbling about – she was constantly wary of
them jumping over the side. On landing, the phallus was reinstated on the
Marini”</i> <sup>[6]</sup><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Beyond the physics and intrigue</b>, there was also
a political component we were clueless about.
We knew that Gondolas are always painted black. What we didn’t know was that this was not
always the case. In order to promote
their status, wealthy, powerful Venetian families started to lavishly decorate
their gondolas to outdo one <span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">another. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQEqeM63aqjjLd2m3lIZawBfMRKXm07vEPRIQXboWDhU7moTWXoS7JbE8ox2hITvM9rP7VFL9RRhjLyQIQjk6U63LI3uIyWcBNFAH2raqPPh5FnzETdZ6ATNlqnMhQp_9k9WL72pRZQFx0HSWKQtEPrlxzKRYZP7scuHfk496wA5_qCLbOeWePo6w/s1280/12%20remer%20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="606" data-original-width="1280" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqQEqeM63aqjjLd2m3lIZawBfMRKXm07vEPRIQXboWDhU7moTWXoS7JbE8ox2hITvM9rP7VFL9RRhjLyQIQjk6U63LI3uIyWcBNFAH2raqPPh5FnzETdZ6ATNlqnMhQp_9k9WL72pRZQFx0HSWKQtEPrlxzKRYZP7scuHfk496wA5_qCLbOeWePo6w/w385-h183/12%20remer%20.jpg" width="385" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>A Typical </b><b><i>R<span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; line-height: 19.26px;">è</span>mer </i>Workshop of Today</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table>A
1609 decree by the Senate of Venice aimed at eliminating rivalry among the
nobility being expressed in the increasing extravagance of their boats. Its aim was to standardize gondolas. It ordered that all private gondolas be
painted completely black. To maintain
uniformity, this practice continues to this day. Black would hopefully placate the nobility for
it was considered synonymous with elegance and something the nobility already considered
fashionable. Before this ‘black elegance’
law appeared on the lagoon, a private gondola would be decorated in
over-the-top bright colors and patterns to advertise wealth and stress a
family’s importance.<sup>[4]</sup> Uniformity
of color did nothing, however, to inhibit the continued lavish display of outlandish
upholstery, trim, and detailing that changed with fashion. Sumptuary laws, laws made for the purpose of
restraining luxury or extravagance, similar to those introduced in Florence by
Friar Savonarola were then in vogue. It
is hard to fathom why the government focused on restricting a boat’s
decorations when extravagant private parties by wealthy patricians were
ongoing throughout the city. My guess ―
it may have all been about imagery since boats as symbols of power and wealth were
far more visible to a disadvantaged public.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>A few blocks away</b> (are they called blocks?) from
where we were staying, alongside another small canal was a place where one of
the 280 parts of a gondola is made. Like
an auto parts warehouse, this <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BriL-4pnpSzLmKv6wRRO0uypo8yfa1B4yR2F9uL6qOesX7ROJ1u8fwuMIWOcGUgH9WCprc7R9uQHxV--tmazO5Ztev0_iPUhYLc_biK_-aRl1kImM9msWROtWOdec3ka-cZAcI7cfXluFBF6zRSp39yQsHGDqwzs6izHe9qEtd2eceG4z4h4fcnJ/s296/13%20Forcoia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="296" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7BriL-4pnpSzLmKv6wRRO0uypo8yfa1B4yR2F9uL6qOesX7ROJ1u8fwuMIWOcGUgH9WCprc7R9uQHxV--tmazO5Ztev0_iPUhYLc_biK_-aRl1kImM9msWROtWOdec3ka-cZAcI7cfXluFBF6zRSp39yQsHGDqwzs6izHe9qEtd2eceG4z4h4fcnJ/w372-h214/13%20Forcoia.jpg" width="372" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Critical Gondola <i>F</i><i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 24px;">órcole</i></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>workshop specialized in <i>fórcole</i>, a
critical and complex carved gondola piece.
I imagine it as the transmission part of the drive train but absent an
oar, without moving parts. The <a name="_Hlk101613856"><i>fórcole</i></a> which may be thought of as an oarlock
is attached to the right side of the stern just behind the gondolier. Made of rock-hard walnut by a skilled
craftsman called a <i>rèmer</i>, a <i>fórcole</i> has a complicated curved shape
that bends outward and comes with several large notches where the oar can be
placed. Like a gear shift and based on
the gondolier’s needs, the oar is positioned over the stern in the upper or
lower notch of the <i>fórcole </i>(top nook for forward motion and lower socket
for reverse). Using a technique called ‘stern
sculling’ he propels his craft forward with every side-to-side motion of the
oar as the angle of the blade is changed.<sup><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stern_sculling#cite_note-1">[7]</a></sup> Some gondola features are almost
imperceptible but are there to a probing eye.
As an example, to afford better footing while rowing, the gondolier is
provided a footboard to stand on at the stern.
Called <i>soralai</i>, these wedge-shaped floor pieces afford firmer
footing to leverage against while rowing.
Together, these elements combine to allow the gondolier to row forward fast
or slow, make quick turns, slow down, stop the boat and even move backward when
necessary. This is achieved with eight precise
motions by the oarsman as he stands there casually interacting with his guests.
At day’s end, his craft securely moored,
a gondolier, like we’d remove our car keys, pulls the valuable <i>fórcole</i>
from its slot and steps ashore. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Something else we learned</b> and will not forget
because we followed up on it later, was our gondolier’s response when asked
what he <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfxI-tAqFofWJtuM_W1mcLyl3w5q8AhoF5C3XXJ4_o1xCT_vdzo6gTc_RXOvG_3WZYL96gji5Ukd3G-3R42sonRDlolre7Dwu0WbmincC8v2SM8LiEY2jAzBF320ldvVi0ievAdynBdFAX56KCuk4jxC3tnGxPiHkeiav8NobhZQp6Er41h2tJwhSa/s640/14%20N%20di%20Seppia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="640" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfxI-tAqFofWJtuM_W1mcLyl3w5q8AhoF5C3XXJ4_o1xCT_vdzo6gTc_RXOvG_3WZYL96gji5Ukd3G-3R42sonRDlolre7Dwu0WbmincC8v2SM8LiEY2jAzBF320ldvVi0ievAdynBdFAX56KCuk4jxC3tnGxPiHkeiav8NobhZQp6Er41h2tJwhSa/w349-h218/14%20N%20di%20Seppia.jpg" width="349" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><i>Nero di Seppia</i> ― Now Off My Bucket List </span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>would recommend as a traditional Venetian dinner favorite. We found it on a menu that evening and
ordered a serving to share. Believe me,
that was the first and last time we ate, no, better to say took a single mouthful
of <i>il nero di seppia</i>. This is
fish ink used for defensive purposes by squid, octopus, and cuttlefish. <i>Nero</i> means black and black as dirty
motor oil it was. It came mixed with
pasta and was so concentrated with the oil that a mouthful prompted flashbacks
to my weekly dosing of cod liver oil as a child. Undoubtedly an acquired taste, it clearly
works well for defensive purposes for it definitely put us off. It is all part of Venice's otherworldly magic.<o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhClsB_ciL58xUDi1rmg6c5-lZ05rnk46FcxlVhw1s5sko2CxNEcE__dbYUEN-rNGDT2rdHLV0pZM-aPIdtv6GNlDXzrORB557qFA4Eve-pQ8PcRe5_66Xg5JOTUVCnAvh2qw7AI2XT-Lbf2Gj_n2a5jaLlkBL1lRGr_bd4FUsI46hRtd7bRFQygLfy/s1024/15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="884" height="334" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhClsB_ciL58xUDi1rmg6c5-lZ05rnk46FcxlVhw1s5sko2CxNEcE__dbYUEN-rNGDT2rdHLV0pZM-aPIdtv6GNlDXzrORB557qFA4Eve-pQ8PcRe5_66Xg5JOTUVCnAvh2qw7AI2XT-Lbf2Gj_n2a5jaLlkBL1lRGr_bd4FUsI46hRtd7bRFQygLfy/w288-h334/15.jpg" width="288" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>The Gondola, King of Venetian Waters</b></span><br /><div><b>(Note Lt Aft, the Small Empty <i style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 24px;">Fórcole </i>Slot)</b></div></td></tr></tbody></table>Today, a tight-knit fraternity</b> of about 400
licensed gondoliers remains. They wear
distinctive uniforms: black and white striped shirts, black pants, and canotier
straw hats usually with a trailing red or black ribbon. Early in the 16th century, you were born into
the profession. When a gondolier died,
the license passed to his widow. She
could then hand it down through generations of men in her family. That practice has also died. Today, to become a gondolier, an applicant
must complete ‘gondola school’, where the physics of rowing is studied, physical
tests such as swimming administered, foreign languages learned as well as
familiarization with the city’s history. After the training, a student is required to pass
a highly competitive test administered by the <i>Ente Gondola</i>, complete a 6–12
month internship, and then pass a final practical exam. Only when all stages are mastered is a
candidate awarded the coveted gondolier’s license.<sup>[8]</sup> There is no requirement to be handy or be able
to sing, however. Some gondoliers do
sing while majestically sculling the oar at their side. Love boat in mind, I conclude with a
revealing response so in keeping with the mystique of Venice.</p><div style="margin: 0in 0.25in 8pt; text-align: left;">“My mom asked our gondolier that very question [whether gondoliers
sang], and he replied: "Madame, there are the lovers and there are the
singers. I do not sing." <sup>[1]</sup></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: .25in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.25in 8pt;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.5in;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiau54n56qAjDw4aAnBqstZvJ1CHVFhbKxLCv0OouP7oPXIGMDJFNzKzqiFiHkTZ7z1HVdtv7eljAeoeVFrWssRRlHJ_wQVQJR7mKRXPvKGQQDEpvuOqAVrUtISwnAf4ZaQDt08p-vGjgcYeppT_FBn9x48gGAHwNInDQpKV7shvgKvBkKGXJ92I7jA/s800/16%20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiau54n56qAjDw4aAnBqstZvJ1CHVFhbKxLCv0OouP7oPXIGMDJFNzKzqiFiHkTZ7z1HVdtv7eljAeoeVFrWssRRlHJ_wQVQJR7mKRXPvKGQQDEpvuOqAVrUtISwnAf4ZaQDt08p-vGjgcYeppT_FBn9x48gGAHwNInDQpKV7shvgKvBkKGXJ92I7jA/w410-h202/16%20.jpg" width="410" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Sunset on the Grand Canal</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><b><span> </span>Venice is best discovered </b>aboard that Venetian
icon, the gondola, encapsulated in tradition, surrounded by a history lost in
the memory of <span style="text-align: left;">centuries. It remains the
regal king of Venetian waters with a staggering story extending far beyond the smidgen
of insight presented here. With or
without song, there is no better way to discover Venice and share in its
heritage than by gondola as you watch a remaining fissure of sunlight embrace
the peaked riffles of the Grand Canal and gently float past neighboring
historic buildings bathed in the glint of a fading sun. Unlike Jurassic Park, it is real and your
passage to a truly lost world.</span></p><o:p></o:p><p></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: left;"><b><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif">From that Rogue Tourist<br /></span><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif">Paolo</span></span></b></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[1] </span><i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0d0d0d;">The
Gondolas of Venice</span></i><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0d0d0d;">, by Gene Openshaw,
https://www.ricksteves.com/watch-read-listen/read/articles/the-gondolas-of-venice<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[2] <i>History
of</i> <i>Gondola Rides in Venice</i>,
https://www.gondola-rides-venice.com/gondola-and-gondoliers/ <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[3] <i>How
Gondolas Work</i>, https://adventure.howstuffworks.com/gondola2.htm <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[4] </span><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Venetian Gondola Boat: The Most
Typical Boat in Venice</span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-font-kerning: 18.0pt; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">,
https://www.vivovenetia.com/the-construction-of-the-gondola-in-venice-a-centuries-old-tradition/</span><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[6] <i>The Day I
Shared a Gondola with Peggy Guggenheim</i>, https://www.theguardian.com/lifeandstyle/2015/dec/06/gondola-peggy-guggenheim-nicky-haslam-brush-with-greatness<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #0d0d0d;">[7} </span><a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=eWLJAwAAQBAJ&q=Stern+sculling&pg=PA209"><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; text-decoration-line: none;">Ancient Boats
in North-West Europe: The Archaeology of Water Transport to AD 1500</span></i></a><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. Sean Mcgrail, (11 June 2014).</span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 6pt;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">[8] <i>What Does
It Take to Be a Venetian Gondolier</i>? https://hardcoreitalians.blog/2020/06/22/what-does-it-take-to-be-a-venetian-gondolier/<o:p></o:p></span></p>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-41620057589332266702022-03-31T18:36:00.009-04:002022-03-31T19:07:24.328-04:00A Few Days Here and There<p> <b><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: large;">A Few Days Here and
There</span></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Those of you who have been following along</b>,
reading my narratives, know by now, that I enjoy movies. Their genres span glimpses of the future to
shadows of the past. They can rile our
senses, inspire us, soothe worries with a laugh, impart life lessons far
outside the box on just about anything, and imprint formative messages like
watermarks that can sculpt us into who we become. Movies have allowed me to travel to events
that have occurred, but I couldn’t experience due to circumstance and the vastness
of time. I have raced in the Circus
Maximus with <i>Ben Hur</i>, delivered mail with <i>Il Postino</i>, tried to
understand Guido, that aging director in <i>8 1/2</i>, fantasized with Renato about
<i>Malèna</i>, and as a </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDwEyDxgXpZultZ9U6OfgkS9CEgL7_sV0-Qrw1CLq8LO4ppdAAMq2EMMKv9XmiZrgjnBqminES1Soqy_7aQg1-DPex9GtKd31KHvKcPH5kq6WLYK_OP1nEaC9UyFGv8t2_vlONyFzpRPvKYvukKdNdNqvAoLqyK--1yO9Fg3U4CxCXYr00KnTua2q/s241/1%20%20download.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="149" data-original-width="241" height="198" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJDwEyDxgXpZultZ9U6OfgkS9CEgL7_sV0-Qrw1CLq8LO4ppdAAMq2EMMKv9XmiZrgjnBqminES1Soqy_7aQg1-DPex9GtKd31KHvKcPH5kq6WLYK_OP1nEaC9UyFGv8t2_vlONyFzpRPvKYvukKdNdNqvAoLqyK--1yO9Fg3U4CxCXYr00KnTua2q/w320-h198/1%20%20download.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Aurelio & Tania of <i>Zen</i></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>gunslinger, I’ve been in the saddle alongside poncho
clad Clint Eastwood in <span style="background: white; color: #2e2c2b;">Sergio
Leone's </span><i><span lang="IT" style="background: white; color: #202122; mso-ansi-language: IT;">Il Buono, il Brutto, il Cattivo</span></i><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" lang="IT" style="background: white; color: #202122; font-size: 10.5pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: IT;"> </span></i><span lang="IT" style="background: white; color: #202122; mso-ansi-language: IT;">(</span><span style="background: white; color: #2e2c2b;">The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly)</span>. More recently, I’ve followed the political
intrigue of the BBC three-part mini-series, <i>Zen</i>. It is a series of Italian detective dramas set
in Rome’s central police station, the <i>Questura</i>. It stars a favorite of mine, Rufus Sewell,
and so easy to watch Caterina Murino, that Italian beauty who appears on horseback
in <i>Casino Royale</i>. Rufus’ charismatic
character, Aurelio Zen, has two strikes against him, he’s honest, and being
from Venice is considered an outsider. You’d
be right to <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">suspect
corruption </span>in high places but is Zen, <i><span lang="IT" style="background: white; color: #202122; mso-ansi-language: IT;">Il Buono, il Brutto, </span></i><span lang="IT" style="background: white; color: #202122; mso-ansi-language: IT;">or<i> il
Cattivo</i></span>? Would his career be fated
by his birthplace or misplaced integrity? It's definitely an enjoyable watch<span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> to discover whether Zen’s honest character can outmaneuver Italian-style
subterfuge. </span><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Though well short of the fast reader</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> I’d want to </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: justify;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmD4XYGQWi-3e7uKP5L0C4sQfM08mLRj0gado5Q7VLHl6nC-lkOpW-L1_1JecMficHRzhrTCENC7c10VrvuDlub_WJx_67FAMn9GUFOzkU4sjwzzuJLoyCxfC4gj5HVZYCOmzbTvm4RhMw6CszNH_eMPQ4FhVgHb4Jtwry1hmqWOzNaYbZs7dcy5fX/s2016/1.5.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1512" data-original-width="2016" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmD4XYGQWi-3e7uKP5L0C4sQfM08mLRj0gado5Q7VLHl6nC-lkOpW-L1_1JecMficHRzhrTCENC7c10VrvuDlub_WJx_67FAMn9GUFOzkU4sjwzzuJLoyCxfC4gj5HVZYCOmzbTvm4RhMw6CszNH_eMPQ4FhVgHb4Jtwry1hmqWOzNaYbZs7dcy5fX/s320/1.5.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Home Library</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><div style="text-align: justify;">be, I
also enjoy books. Unlike movies, books
free our minds with the turn of each page to wander in the images we visualize. And like my collection of favorite actors, I
have my favorite writers. In particular,
one author who I feel can sense and best describe Italian everyday life with
compassion and sensitivity is American author Marlena de Blasi. Marlena hails from <span style="background: white;">Schenectady, NY, and last I knew lives in </span>beautiful <span style="background: white;">Orvieto, an Etruscan city </span>on a hill<span style="background: white;"> located in Umbria known especially for the <i>Pozzo
di San Patrizio</i> (Saint Patrick’s Well).
It is a 16th-century shaft with a double helix staircase. The 175 foot deep well was dug over a ten
year period at the behest of Pope Clement VII. He had escaped Rome during the barbarian siege
of 1527 and feared a water shortage if the city were also attacked. On a visit to Orvieto in 2011, in addition to
visiting the well, we</span></div></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><span style="background: white;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqWcyqwKpdfen_ISeuHxTBYOKUD8q0hBHcSZVXNq1q10gzSJe_smmDwLFtPYCEHh5eMjMOagXz8yA5tlta9FGToT3spZ4tsVIZyECciL9rUzGEJdca2CckE47AkN6rjUS-bTIk4rnupOB7s0vWYWrpR39jVHS6HSE2bxWdLE-jBDgupropKdRbnd2q/s275/2%20Well.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqWcyqwKpdfen_ISeuHxTBYOKUD8q0hBHcSZVXNq1q10gzSJe_smmDwLFtPYCEHh5eMjMOagXz8yA5tlta9FGToT3spZ4tsVIZyECciL9rUzGEJdca2CckE47AkN6rjUS-bTIk4rnupOB7s0vWYWrpR39jVHS6HSE2bxWdLE-jBDgupropKdRbnd2q/s1600/2%20Well.jpg" width="275" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Orvieto's Saint Patrick's Well</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>found de Blasi’s home on </span></span>34<span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span>via
del Duomo,<span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> and like the uncivilized barbarians who had sacked Rome, we played
rogue and rang her doorbell. Accomplished
writers must find it annoying when readers come across their doorbells. Ah, the price of celebrity. Whether she was there or not, there was no
reply. </span><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Marlena was once the co-owner</span></b><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> and
chef of a St. Louis café. She has also written
extensively about restaurants, food, and cooking in numerous publications. She published her first memoir, </span><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">A Thousand Days </span><span style="color: #171717; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 26;">in Venice:
An Unexpected Romance,</span></i><span style="color: #171717; mso-themecolor: background2; mso-themeshade: 26;"> <span style="background: white;">in 2002. It is an engaging true story about how she,
then a middle-aged, divorced American woman with two grown children, abandoned
everything and boldly took a new chance on life in a mysterious city</span></span><span style="background: white; color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. While on vacation in Venice, </span><span style="background: white;">she attracts the attention of a Venetian banker
named Fernando, in of all </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWfwdWLThqhhTIUuSwQFHnJ5IISVtHsYOU7VxYnOeyBqH4o6nLOXmaZKnfChzqvkrE7A0e9O56qAjUFyOuldPQouk1PQovee0mqoeBLHRDc2_gtHGAMfGJPM2IbetHNdHoUM0YynjGCcoaU6i0MuHvehGpVL_9OSyYG4lulSkTuLNJhtF86Jigt7uf/s288/3%20images.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="288" data-original-width="175" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWfwdWLThqhhTIUuSwQFHnJ5IISVtHsYOU7VxYnOeyBqH4o6nLOXmaZKnfChzqvkrE7A0e9O56qAjUFyOuldPQouk1PQovee0mqoeBLHRDc2_gtHGAMfGJPM2IbetHNdHoUM0YynjGCcoaU6i0MuHvehGpVL_9OSyYG4lulSkTuLNJhtF86Jigt7uf/w194-h320/3%20images.jpg" width="194" /></a></div>places, Saint Mark’s Square. Why not, could there have been a better
setting? He is a victim of love at first
sight. <span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">In her narrative</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">, she goes on to describe this
blossoming romance following their second chance meeting a year later that
develops into a long-distance relationship.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">
</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">It doesn’t last long but proves far more than a casual fling.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">In a few months, following his visit to the
US, his message is clear.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">Fernando, who
can hardly speak English, asks Marlena to abandon the US for Venice to be with
him.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">She packs, leaves second thoughts
behind, and is off to Venice on an adventure in a strange land with a man she
admittedly calls “the stranger.” In double whammy fashion, she experiences the cultural
shock of a new place with a new man.</span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;">On
every page, her tale of adjustment to the new rhythms of everyday Italian life includes
a focus on the culture, the people, the charm of Venice, and of course its cuisine.</span><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><div><div style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 24px;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d;"><br /></span></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 6.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0.5in 6pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><i><span style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;">“They all know the truth, that there
are only three subjects worth talking about. At least here in these
parts," he says, “The weather”, which, as they're farmers, affects
everything else. “Dying and birthing”, of both people and animals. And “What we
Eat” - this last item comprising what we ate the day before and what we're
planning to eat tomorrow. And all three of these major subjects encompass, in
one way or another, philosophy, psychology, sociology, anthropology, the
physical sciences, history, art, literature, and religion. We get around to
sparring about all that counts in life, but we usually do it while we're
talking about food, it being a subject inseparable from every other subject.
It's the table and the bed that count in life. And everything else we do, we do
so we can get back to the table, back to the bed.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span color="windowtext">There is much truth in
this description</span></b><span color="windowtext">,<b> </b>supported by
some</span><span style="background: white; color: #333333;"> sleuthing of our own</span><span color="windowtext">. The townspeople
of Calitri are also fixated on food, acquiring it and preparing it. Meeting people on the </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihdE7iyjMqxzGYUtB6zfYnFsnO_WOLFMiYcQV-Tu8VG21stHCJ6JGSiT-6lzS6Qc-sgm3vJZK7vU0Egyri8NQHF2PZqiDQUGQRbjkv_SgYMwE5fGTl9KDZSfgCszSpkefeAPNqaWRhhEKwuCV7E8CU2p2fG33com8ZDbjrBF5K_-n7zjILIi8QKtkk/s169/4%20images.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="169" data-original-width="128" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihdE7iyjMqxzGYUtB6zfYnFsnO_WOLFMiYcQV-Tu8VG21stHCJ6JGSiT-6lzS6Qc-sgm3vJZK7vU0Egyri8NQHF2PZqiDQUGQRbjkv_SgYMwE5fGTl9KDZSfgCszSpkefeAPNqaWRhhEKwuCV7E8CU2p2fG33com8ZDbjrBF5K_-n7zjILIi8QKtkk/w209-h276/4%20images.jpg" width="209" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Marlena de Blasi</span><br /><br /></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span color="windowtext">streets often turns to
the topic of food. Questions like “Are
you on your way home to eat?” are often followed by “What are you having?” accompanied
by a hand gesture to their mouths just in case we didn’t understand the
question. To satisfy this passion, a street market materializes
weekly as vendors come to town and with their vans create a meandering chain of
storefronts. Once their canopies and
tables are deployed, each grows to double in size, transforming a quiet street into
a shopping mall. In addition, some local
retailers specialize in one particular staple or another to keep daily shoppers
sustained throughout the week. For the
most part, the people of Calitri have small <i>frigoriferi</i> (refrigerators). They are on the order of a college room frig,
much smaller than the double door types with large freezers. They refer to these as “<i>Americano frigoriferi,</i>”
which if they had one, from </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">the</span> labels I’ve seen, were produced in China. Small capacity and limited freezer space promote
freshness by ensuring daily visits to the market and since everyone walks, a
giant dose of exercise, stops for espresso, and plenty of streetside comradery. Taken together, there are more than enough
<i>negozi </i>(stores) <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">to take up our mornings as we make the rounds while tugging along
a wheeled cart that gradually fills with purchases. Refrigerator sizes aside, Americans</span><span style="color: red;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">have never known real hunger. However, I can’t say the same about Italians. The last years of WWII serve as a vivid example. Transportation, especially in the south, was
in shambles. Vehicles were few and along
with bridges, the infrastructure had been destroyed. American soldiers helped where they could
beginning with the simple gesture of giving hungry Italian children <span style="background: white; letter-spacing: -0.1pt;">Hershey </span>chocolate bars to
General Mark Clark helping rebuild Positano beginning with waterpipes no one
would miss. What we perseverate over, like
a broken supply chain when a few shelves in the supermarket hold fewer brands
of cereal, is nothing in comparison to their historic suffering. It is partially an explanation why they have
developed such a keen concern for the “table,” for meal preparation, quality ingredients,
the enjoyment of eating, and mealtimes surrounded by family. The table symbolizes all this and their
delight in eating, enough so that they reserve hours for its enjoyment with a
fervor approaching religious zeal.<o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Our own bouts of hunter-gatherer subsistence </span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">have taken on the
local social pattern. Out our </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-b8BaRPPV3gf5o3MatcCbKwHY514EkA42CWl5gv60YzSCc5lhHfPv2ocs4nuKcQJpeedwZYNakiHcsFz2HAeCWDscLWpOGkuME73ROrpj2Pbv63uKtXCoNZ5E4oFLU0k_mJnyfKBCbLOfHejze5J7ebrroUaYdqbA_nUp21Uwv118Q9Pp_KjIfht/s2256/5%20.JPG" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2256" data-original-width="1496" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL-b8BaRPPV3gf5o3MatcCbKwHY514EkA42CWl5gv60YzSCc5lhHfPv2ocs4nuKcQJpeedwZYNakiHcsFz2HAeCWDscLWpOGkuME73ROrpj2Pbv63uKtXCoNZ5E4oFLU0k_mJnyfKBCbLOfHejze5J7ebrroUaYdqbA_nUp21Uwv118Q9Pp_KjIfht/s320/5%20.JPG" width="212" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Josephine's Centro Market</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">door and a
few right turns followed by a straightaway soon finds us in the town hall piazza. From there, free from the medieval borgo’s
warren of streets, we easily meld into Corso Matteotti where our daily
adventure begins. If <i>Spaghetti alle
Vongole</i> (Spaghetti with Clams)</span> is on the menu, we head for <i>Pescheria del Gargano</i> and a visit with Adriana who scoops up
ladles full of miniature clams. For a
Monday, Wednesday or Friday <strong><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-weight: normal; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB;">rotisserie chicken, it’s <i>Annamaria’s <span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Polleria</span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> but not before 11
am when they are ready. Just doors away
from </span></span></strong><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Josephine & Michale’s</span><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span></b><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Centro Market Alimentari,</span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> with its staples like flour to pasta, that I only discovered behind a
doorway draped with beads after visiting Calitri a few times, we get in line
for <i>carne</i> (meat). At the </span><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Tornillo Macelleria</span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> there</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> are no stacks of cellophane wrapped packets, neither are there numbers
to take to mark your turn. Instead,
there is a natural order to things as Michele, the friendly butcher, fills your
request. He is used to my visits now and
with thumb and forefinger mimes the thickness of the steaks he knows I’ll be
wanting. For cheese, there are many
places to choose from, but we usually stop off at the </span><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Di Cecca </span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrynZuuqS2L7LDap4iPWMaJszbGj0f_HJwL_x5iFEI-IxXZtSYbRlZYJAgXDbPsdh225tNfzmu1bgpkbDnrDeFAsrw-ELKjvpifq6W19JTCmO6Bezhq8R3Ue5-dj9mcOo7n_gcBGoPvlKR6wGxwaUsAgMGlMGD5XGpjOkTH3yMMk3NfYULnB4A4mm/s1600/6.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnrynZuuqS2L7LDap4iPWMaJszbGj0f_HJwL_x5iFEI-IxXZtSYbRlZYJAgXDbPsdh225tNfzmu1bgpkbDnrDeFAsrw-ELKjvpifq6W19JTCmO6Bezhq8R3Ue5-dj9mcOo7n_gcBGoPvlKR6wGxwaUsAgMGlMGD5XGpjOkTH3yMMk3NfYULnB4A4mm/s320/6.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Cestone Fruit & Vegetables</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>cheese shop where Luciana, dressed in a white, thigh length lab
coat like a doctor and topped in a cap, serves up ricotta and a local cheese
like <i>caciocavallo. </i>As for the
name, this <span style="background: white;">cheese, actually two balls
connected by a rope, appear like saddlebags</span> <span style="background: white;">on a horse (<i>cavallo</i>). For fruit and vegetables, Maria Elena works
with </span></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Rosa Maria at the </span><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Ortofrutticola
Cestone</span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">. She and Rosa get on splendidly ever
since that first day when Maria Elena picked up a tomato on her own. Little did we know not to touch the produce without
a glove. Besides, now Rosa selects the
freshest items for us as education flows both ways as they each try to get
their tongues around and pronounce what Mare explains to Rose that what she
calls <i>cetriolo</i>, we call cucumber.
As for beverages like ever needed vino, the trek is a little farther. When we can’t make it to the cantina in neighboring
Venosa with jugs to fill, we rely on local <i>Lucodamo</i> beverages. Two years without a visit to Calitri because
of COVID puts me at a loss for the exact name of the five-liter jugs of wine we
get there, but I know Cinza will point to it and at the same time tell me, as
she always does, that it is the same vino served at the <i>Osteria Tre <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuoZMmY1-Ga15WI9XaSn60D6dV6YXrq-vupsg56klns8JIfneeUAbJEPVvJfLPlnRzo9U4l6T6wvXAvB-rVUfjNRWO3IxbmUAs9ZSNrMHt-zsHUvO8CmMiTAdsORIsTanB7uEC8RpeY4akpFvzKdTUWe7m-FZ77FNRYGyG2QniYlZKJEnFUYpLZ-J/s270/7%20Cheese.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="175" data-original-width="270" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNuoZMmY1-Ga15WI9XaSn60D6dV6YXrq-vupsg56klns8JIfneeUAbJEPVvJfLPlnRzo9U4l6T6wvXAvB-rVUfjNRWO3IxbmUAs9ZSNrMHt-zsHUvO8CmMiTAdsORIsTanB7uEC8RpeY4akpFvzKdTUWe7m-FZ77FNRYGyG2QniYlZKJEnFUYpLZ-J/s1600/7%20Cheese.jpg" width="270" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; font-size: medium; text-align: justify; text-indent: 24px;"><b>Caciocavallo Cheese</b></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Rose</i>. <i>Perfetto,</i> because I love their bottled
sunshine! Finally, to top off any meal there of course has to be something
sweet. There are many shops available to
</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">pastry</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> lovers like us to choose from <i>Biscotteria I Nobili,
Idee Golose</i></span><i>,</i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> and <i>Pasticceria Zabatta </i>are just a few along our
route, but<i> </i>we especially enjoy <i>Le Dolcerre</i>. It’s<i> </i></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">a small place<b> </b></span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">operated by Emilia
who makes the best almond biscotti ever, prepared every morning beginning around
4 a.m. And while these may be </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">the echoes of memories unrenewed for over two years, I imagine
little will have changed when we return.
</span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">There are steady rhythms here too. By
2 p.m., sometimes earlier, the streets are deserted, and stores are closed. I suspect it is the same throughout smalltown
southern Italy. If it were the Wild West,
the scene would resemble an abandoned settlement, lacking only a tumbleweed or
two. By this time, everyone has found a
table followed by that ever-important bed that Barlozzo mentioned. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Following Venice</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">,<b> </b>Marlena and Fernando’s lives
together, continue in the sequel, <i>A Thousand Days in Tuscany: A Bittersweet
Adventure,</i> which<i> </i>first appeared in 2004<i>. </i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoFeWLPvSl2RWMggzQz7DluZkZJV0oGcH_r4WLs7GFRvZuAG8xhFGhLSEqEt2RDFtfcvBmJWnFp6s6xzONgzgTFunI4D6TpKSUxmzw_gvHvqV8vJjpBWhzYSl6MIZgKYN5eCaIWO97zjQJymdJqQ5IFfZ0WhWJ5M9-xLpkXgvovtm-E7-UtqKCsrS/s255/8%20images3.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="255" data-original-width="198" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsoFeWLPvSl2RWMggzQz7DluZkZJV0oGcH_r4WLs7GFRvZuAG8xhFGhLSEqEt2RDFtfcvBmJWnFp6s6xzONgzgTFunI4D6TpKSUxmzw_gvHvqV8vJjpBWhzYSl6MIZgKYN5eCaIWO97zjQJymdJqQ5IFfZ0WhWJ5M9-xLpkXgvovtm-E7-UtqKCsrS/w248-h320/8%20images3.jpg" width="248" /></a></i></div>Truth be told, <span style="background: white; color: #202124;">their sojourn there was not a thousand days
as was the case in Venice but rather about a year. Better to not mess with success, so </span><i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">A Thousand Days in
Tuscany</span></i><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> it became. While I’ve listened to
Chiara sing </span><a href="https://youtu.be/ZnFWaSrTxBQ"><i>Mille Passi</i></a><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> (1000 Steps, </span><a href="https://youtu.be/ZnFWaSrTxBQ">click twice to listen</a><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">), I’ve yet to
hear a song entitled <i>1000 Days</i> anywhere, that is until Marlena performed
it twice in her stunning back-to-back memoirs. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Their departure from Venice is finalized </span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">when Fernando resigns
his bank</span><span style="background: white; color: #202124;"> </span><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">position. As Marlena had done, he forsakes all, sells
their seaside home on the Lido, an elongated barrier island that protects the Venetian
lagoon from the Adriatic Sea. Together they
are off to the mainland and Tuscany. Like
Marlena, he has chosen to begin anew. This
time they start over together in a renovated former stable in the village of
San Casciano dei Bagni, soon to be christened <i>Palazzo Barlozzo</i> after their
cherished friend. Absent the crowds of
Venice, this hamlet was all of about two hundred souls. For her it is a déjà vu as she, tears in her
eyes, saw, not St. Louis but Venice fade in the rear view mirror of their BMW. It is what we dismissively call “a reset”
following a brief thousand days in Venice, a new beginning but with both of
them now on unfamiliar ground. The “bitter”
and “sweet” of the subtitle begins to emerge.
For Fernando, the experience is much like the TV character Zen. Though Italian, he becomes somewhat the
outsider, just as Marlena, an American, was perceived as a <i>straniera</i>
(foreigner). In a “tight” society, quickset
in tradition and a still very vivid ancient history, new “arrivees” warrant study. Yes,
Venice is Italian, but it isn’t Roman. To
the degree that it is important, and it is, it was never a Roman city. It is similar to the attitudes of many
Italian northerners, that everything south of Rome is essentially </span></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRhs7r3OLQVg2cQ98CPNYo8cIE_sGG9qlkPWtbvrHqFWsCXcHb91sPi89qJwn1VQMTjDyww-20IOuKDA_6JGaEFGpCXicwwPiKeZRERyPJ050TyKWpMZR8vxXd1vPdGlp0gQELjz_kheKkFdDGV_q0hjlx83TJ59H0dbdypscj6BiVP3ovNfduxtb/s298/9%20cannae.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="169" data-original-width="298" height="169" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpRhs7r3OLQVg2cQ98CPNYo8cIE_sGG9qlkPWtbvrHqFWsCXcHb91sPi89qJwn1VQMTjDyww-20IOuKDA_6JGaEFGpCXicwwPiKeZRERyPJ050TyKWpMZR8vxXd1vPdGlp0gQELjz_kheKkFdDGV_q0hjlx83TJ59H0dbdypscj6BiVP3ovNfduxtb/s1600/9%20cannae.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Battle of Cannae</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><div style="text-align: justify;">“Africa”
because of the Arab influence there as my Tuscan friend, Pierre Luigi, once
proclaimed when we announced we’d purchased a place in Campania. Sentiment like this goes way back, possibly
as far removed as when a Carthaginian from what is now Tunisia (Northern
Africa) by the name of Hannibal killed over 60,000 Romans at the Battle of
Cannae (216 BC), <span style="background: white;">one of the costliest battles in
all of recorded human history. </span> </div></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">Later in a follow-on sequel, <i>La Signora nel Palazzo</i></span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> (<i>The Lady in
the Palazzo</i>), she chronicles their arrival in Orvieto. It’s a trade.
They substitute the embrace and intimacy of village life for the
sprawling complexity and intrigue of a big city. There she is faced with blue-blood
aristocracy or locals with or without <i>23 </i></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuIS0WcRpcnSLbutbloU88ZVEs6UnKTfaxlFulH93jlDcd6-gZ515LMLUsVfyPi_OUOBTnxp-U1-gp33BEsUf5aTMx0zL9zCbIH9dxtO0ZwpikhlPdjRWMAQrI3Ose1ddkbKqUkDM_rlepIOCRkz4owxkADN6PfpkCrbKT-5qmBDTfGpo5iwDG8Kik/s277/10%20images.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: justify;"><img border="0" data-original-height="277" data-original-width="182" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuIS0WcRpcnSLbutbloU88ZVEs6UnKTfaxlFulH93jlDcd6-gZ515LMLUsVfyPi_OUOBTnxp-U1-gp33BEsUf5aTMx0zL9zCbIH9dxtO0ZwpikhlPdjRWMAQrI3Ose1ddkbKqUkDM_rlepIOCRkz4owxkADN6PfpkCrbKT-5qmBDTfGpo5iwDG8Kik/w210-h320/10%20images.jpg" width="210" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: justify;"><i>and Me</i> DNA bona fides, thinking
themselves a step above. Italians identify
not so much as national flag wavers, but more regionally, down to the local level
as for example the <i>contrade </i>(wards) of Siena. It takes time to thaw the icy barriers to
acceptance but gradually Marlena and Fernando succeed and survive the social
vetting in this wonderfully written gem.</div></i><o:p></o:p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: .25in;"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"><b style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Excellent cook that she is</b><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">, she employs the
proven recipe of her previous bestsellers to describe their new life in Umbria.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">It unfolds around the rehab of a dilapidated
former sixteenth-century </span><i style="text-indent: 0.25in;">palazzo</i><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> (palace) ballroom owned by a stodgy noble
family.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">In an ingenious agreement, Fernando,
ever the clever banker, tactfully crafts a pact with the owners that in
exchange for footing the cost of renovations, he and Marlena could live there rent-free
for several years.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;">Here again, food proves
to be an ingratiating common denominator.</span><span style="text-indent: 0.25in;"> </span> Being ever
the gourmet, food and cooking prove to be Marlena’s skeleton key allowing her
to cook her way into the hearts of the multitude of influential townspeople, colorful
characters, and store owners that comprise her newest world to open otherwise
closed doors, one pantry, one party, one <i>festa </i>at a time.<span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;">You meet many people in the course of a lifetime.</span></b><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> Some like Marlena host a nomadic soul,
willing to shed their trappings and shift gears, prepared let’s say, to trade a
seascape vista for the crumbly cement patina of a quaint Italian village. Then, when they feel the itch, as in the
movie <i>Chocolat</i>, they uproot once again.
Something calls. In a good way,
like a snake habitually does, they re-tailor their lives, shed themselves of possessions,
surroundings, even friends. Now repurposed,
they begin again. For the rover, the
mystery may lie in the intrigue of what is ahead, just around the next corner,
and then the next. Close the door on
here and now, grab hold in a rush not to miss anything, and move on. It has a touch of magic and romance to it like
some romantic scene in <i>Eat, Pray Love</i>.
It’s magical in its ability to compress two, three, even four lifetimes
into one and may rest on the belief that the grass is greener over there, not
that the grass needs cutting here. I
imagine it much like the excitement we feel anticipating a vacation than
heading off to a new and exciting environment but with the big difference, you
don’t come back. Clearly, it takes a
special person to court a migratory lifestyle like this. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: .25in;"><b>Marlena’s
writing emotes a keen sensitivity</b> to the feelings of others, as if she were
blessed with the understanding befitting an empath. Observant and respectful of events around
her, especially the bitter and sweet episodes in the lives they share with
those they befriend, when taken into the hands of this talented writer, are
skillfully conveyed. She is a seeker of
new rhythms, accepting of new reference designs to life, of days in new
surroundings where the sparkle of a new sun rising over mountains replaces that
of a mirrored sea. Marlena’s trilogy is
not to be missed. Absent of Italy, it
filled a void for me. Interestingly, none
of these three works have pictures. Instead,
her vivid words, like megapixels, suffice.
I’d estimate there are few who can accomplish what she has. In a prose style approaching poetry metered
out sometimes a thousand days at a time, she describes the simple pleasures that
make for a beautiful existence gleaned from her multiple lives in Italy. In the thousands of compressed days I’ve
spent with Marlena amongst the pages of her memoirs spanning Venice, Tuscany, and
then Orvieto, I wish she’d answered her doorbell and came downstairs, if only
for a moment. It was not to be, for
celebrity needs its space. I understand
this. But I didn’t want an autograph and
couldn’t imagine an invitation to come inside.
No, all I wanted was to see her and look into her eyes. Eyes, those windows on the soul, that have
packed so much life into the limited time they’ve had. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: justify; text-indent: 0.25in;"><span style="color: #0d0d0d; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 242;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 224.65pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 224.65pt 0in 0in; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: arial; font-size: 14pt;"><b>From That Rogue Tourist,</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 224.65pt; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 224.65pt 0in 0in; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="color: #0d0d0d; font-family: arial; font-size: 14pt;"><b>Paolo</b></span></p><p><br /></p></div>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2015828143196090351.post-87852655385821229312022-02-28T08:42:00.009-05:002022-02-28T09:17:59.107-05:00Remembering Siena<p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmgucdyu6RoVV5YJaGp4_A-ElZngOWulcFxWGh8cLD18tj8mbgdS3iMxfzqVLyK0ih1gdrPN1-ln8-tpdqbgczfAPip5NyvgESsoQmEZlbdXlQ_B4Bk4FDYhCLHTpCEDfA_QEbKegOqZ5qdYKFPzAYUf90gpuL9jN8JFGK9KU1l3TGJ58nMX7ramVu=s2121" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1414" data-original-width="2121" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhmgucdyu6RoVV5YJaGp4_A-ElZngOWulcFxWGh8cLD18tj8mbgdS3iMxfzqVLyK0ih1gdrPN1-ln8-tpdqbgczfAPip5NyvgESsoQmEZlbdXlQ_B4Bk4FDYhCLHTpCEDfA_QEbKegOqZ5qdYKFPzAYUf90gpuL9jN8JFGK9KU1l3TGJ58nMX7ramVu=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><b>Remembering Siena</b></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><o:p></o:p></p><div style="text-align: justify;">
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><a name="_Hlk96168978"><b><span style="color: #262626; mso-themecolor: text1; mso-themetint: 217;">Ambrogio Lorenzetti</span></b></a>, now
that’s an interesting name. For me, it flips through the folds of my tongue as
smoothly as mentioning ‘Antonio Banderas’ or saying, “Let’s eat pasta.” Ever
heard of Ambrogio? Italian yes, but what else? Well, he is known especially for
one particular accomplishment but not so well for what became of him. Ambrogio
(1285–1348) was a Sienese artist who basically anticipated Renaissance
painting, and in style and technique was subsequently emulated by fellow
artists. Only six documented works of Ambrogio, apparently covering a period of
merely 13 years, have survived. <sup>[1] </sup>Because so few of his creations remain,
he never attained the recognition he rightfully deserved. The most renowned of
his existing works, certainly the largest, remains almost intact in Siena.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 12pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Lying just about due south of Florence</b> in
picturesque Tuscany, Siena is thought to have originated as a
pre-Roman-Etruscan settlement. Sometime, well before it became a republic in
1125, it began as a marketplace on a sloping site near the meeting point of
three hillside communities that gradually merged. It is especially known for
its easily recognized central plaza, <a name="_Hlk94261816"><i>Piazza del Campo</i></a>,
the site of that meeting place, and today one of Europe's greatest of medieval
squares. Describing it as a square is misleading. This civic hub has all to do
with being a large open space and nothing to do with being square in shape. It
actually has a rather distinct scallop shell shape right down to its pattern of
</p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiF2_9alLJ6FEOUKtUh_4JP9JWD1xKcSE0tInkMYJOxul0vmAnZbKDjod9lwtBcIaKG6NytLak1OLcR4whYjapr-39WexMckQXZ0ShQoIbLZKHyI4IcPXde1qbebxAFWppCoMH48VNSOlo7qoCeBYMESxFZBLP92RoFTBAibTdI29u94Y2ZHCXidc8G=s1782" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1629" data-original-width="1782" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiF2_9alLJ6FEOUKtUh_4JP9JWD1xKcSE0tInkMYJOxul0vmAnZbKDjod9lwtBcIaKG6NytLak1OLcR4whYjapr-39WexMckQXZ0ShQoIbLZKHyI4IcPXde1qbebxAFWppCoMH48VNSOlo7qoCeBYMESxFZBLP92RoFTBAibTdI29u94Y2ZHCXidc8G=w200-h183" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Piazza del Campo<br />Mimics Nature</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />eight limestone radials that divide the piazza into nine pizza-wedge-shaped
sections. These nine sectors are believed to be symbolic of the ruling <i>Il
Nove</i> (The Council of Nine), an oligarchy of guild merchants and bankers who
governed Siena for over 60 years. <sup>[2]</sup> It was they who had laid out
this far from square piazza. It is interesting to note that these nine men
remained in office for only a short period. Contrary to today’s general
practice, fear of corruption limited their terms in office to two months. But
then it may also have had something to do with their endurance, for to avoid
external pressures from influential parties, they never left city hall during
their terms of office. <o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>At its beginning</b>, Siena was inhabited by a
single tribe called the Saina. Essentially that tribe has today been replaced
by 17 medieval <i>contrade </i>(wards) each with its own heraldic flag, some
only a few streets in size, that vie for bragging rights in a fierce race known the world over as the Palio. This no holds barred, </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtC1wvUS1jrRkDy5c9dy4VD9usTTmMrliSz8tUFCBhWK2Nde3XCATZfcg3_nxJ-kXzqnyjRyJwksCQQaCnwOkNW5dak_bNNpYrfz3JdM8YEHqWueV6Ucc-M-36xNmReSQh9Dbz2_u6vL_FWSVNDY9B19ZT-YybOcXnnnx6glHcro8Q2guGFMCN6be2=s800" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="800" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtC1wvUS1jrRkDy5c9dy4VD9usTTmMrliSz8tUFCBhWK2Nde3XCATZfcg3_nxJ-kXzqnyjRyJwksCQQaCnwOkNW5dak_bNNpYrfz3JdM8YEHqWueV6Ucc-M-36xNmReSQh9Dbz2_u6vL_FWSVNDY9B19ZT-YybOcXnnnx6glHcro8Q2guGFMCN6be2=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Palio Horesrace in Piazza del Campo</span><br /></b></td></tr></tbody></table>an anything-goes-to-win race held
twice annually is more like open tribal warfare. But there is more to Siena’s
claim to fame which we saw for the first time back in the Y2K timeframe (Year
2000 - recall that hysteria?). Parking outside the city walls we map-read our
way toward the city center along unfamiliar streets. Familiarity arrived when
we reached the central square. While we knew its look from photographs, beyond
the Palio, we knew little of its secrets.<o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Eventually, we emerged</b> from the arterial thread
of crooked side streets we’d followed by the <i>Fonte Gaia</i> (Joyous
Fountain) positioned at the outer top edge of the <i>Piazza del Campo</i>. It
was built in 1419 as a replacement for an earlier fountain that featured a
statue of the goddess Venus. That pagan statue was blamed for the 1348 outbreak
of the scourge of their day, the Black Death. Much like the recent bent on
“statue reformation” in the USA, it was destroyed and buried outside the city
walls to avert its "evil influence." <sup>[3]</sup> In its place we
found a rectangular fountain adorned on three sides in sculptural reliefs
depicting the Madonna surrounded by <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhejhYydctxTzEPhujLTyH7ujfs9gwEPdSSMP3US0IOEv_xcrraCyzjOuvTHpX_MWNv-V4AiKuhHrVhfUjDr97BBoYrL2FmfTX5WH-IQEIAkj15A1JwxfIW8NsIpx-BiorVYL8Nnyqf1_fDZcHyxy9DPm_KhCMqdUWmkhAVMh2c0GbXTpeDTRmLI5ID=s750" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="750" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhejhYydctxTzEPhujLTyH7ujfs9gwEPdSSMP3US0IOEv_xcrraCyzjOuvTHpX_MWNv-V4AiKuhHrVhfUjDr97BBoYrL2FmfTX5WH-IQEIAkj15A1JwxfIW8NsIpx-BiorVYL8Nnyqf1_fDZcHyxy9DPm_KhCMqdUWmkhAVMh2c0GbXTpeDTRmLI5ID=s320" width="320" /></i></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Present Day <i>Fonte Gaia</i> Fountain</span><br /></b></td></tr></tbody></table>classical and Christian virtues emblematic
of Good Government. We would soon realize that Good Government was a historic
city theme. These reliefs were originally made in 1419 by Jacopo della Quercia,
<sup>[4] </sup>considered a forerunner of Michelangelo. What we saw, however,
were not his originals. They are safeguarded in the nearby <i>Ospedale di St.
Maria della Scala</i> near Siena’s Cathedral. What we found was reminiscent of
the Fig Leaf Campaign carried out in the Sistine Chapel. Here, however, there
is no announcement as we sometimes see when a movie begins, that it has been
altered from the original. In the fountain’s case, the walled enclosure has
been edited from what Jacopo had originally created. Again, modesty police had
removed two nude Roman maiden statues, one a buxom Rhea Silvia, the mythical
mother of Rome’s founders Romulus and Remus, the other equally revealing of
Acca Larentia, the twin’s later foster mother and goddess of fertility. <sup>[4]
</sup>Both were seen as too pagan and too provocatively naked for Sienese
sensibilities in 1858. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We hesitated</b> and sat on the pavement for a while
taking in the scope of this special place bordered by an arc of multi-storied
buildings grounded in outdoor cafés. Before us, at the bottom of this gently
sloping former field rose <i>Palazzo Pubblico</i>, <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4kln3CC1bSOVLGUn_d3JWKGwvmCbx2ntAaJUJu6GBuDyPC1ddbA8ZeXINVh46u9ZWak2z-E_KGgATvDbMzHKuiZprfSItJ29sL5jtO3TYHYyTkfeEvrG_TvNDMPyw58WbsNe3XC76MluQ8d9DBHin5pw_JUs-T2dZrAflGx7uozoGNGTmr0vaQw-0=s740" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="494" data-original-width="740" height="268" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj4kln3CC1bSOVLGUn_d3JWKGwvmCbx2ntAaJUJu6GBuDyPC1ddbA8ZeXINVh46u9ZWak2z-E_KGgATvDbMzHKuiZprfSItJ29sL5jtO3TYHYyTkfeEvrG_TvNDMPyw58WbsNe3XC76MluQ8d9DBHin5pw_JUs-T2dZrAflGx7uozoGNGTmr0vaQw-0=w400-h268" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Mangia's Tower Majestically Rising above <br />Palazzo Pubblico</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table>Siena’s administrative hub
and its adjacent bell tower, <i>Torre del Mangia</i>. Every belltower had its
Quasimodo. <i>Torre del Mangia</i> keeps to that tradition but goes a step
further. Although he may not be as well-known as Quasimodo, made famous by
Victor Hugo, Mangia, nicknamed <i>Mangiaguadagni</i> (Profit Eater), and first
of many Sienese bellringers, had the tower named after him. <sup>[5] </sup>I
wondered if the location of the tower and town hall was significant. Was there,
intentional symbolism at play; the Church, visible on higher ground beyond the
top of the piazza, concerned with heavenly topics, while at the bottom, focused
on cultural issues, rose the center of civic government, <a name="_Hlk94945062"><i>Palazzo
Pubblico</i></a>. For its time, the Republic of Siena was rather independent of
ecclesiastic oversight. Then again, in return, some leniency may have been
tolerated since Siena was the Papacy’s major financier. We were moments away
from seeing another testament to Siena’s secular independence, a statement like
none other to that point in medieval history. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Laying our musings aside</b>, we followed one of the
travertine radials down the inclined piazza to where it joined with the other
rays at a water drain at the base of the piazza in front of the Palazzo and
Mangia’s tower. There, looking back from where we had come from, up across the
brick-tiled expanse, the radials had all converged at our feet, seemingly like
an arrow pointing and leading us to this focal, the <i>Palazzo Pubblico</i>. To
this day when Maria Elena sees the Lorenzetti masterpiece that awaited us
inside, she reminds me how at first, I hesitated about entering the palazzo. My
normal first response to paying an entry fee is usually less than enthusiastic.
Thankfully, after seeing a poster of what to expect, I quickly relented, and we
went inside. We were soon in what once was a high-ceilinged hall but today is
essentially a museum. Unlike most museums, our destination was not jam-packed
with exhibits of rare and valuable objects. Here the room, empty as it is, is
the valued treasure. <b><o:p></o:p></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>We were in the Sala dei Nove (Room of Nine).</b>
This was where Siena’s council of nine magistrates, conveniently called <i>Il
Nove</i> (The Nine), met. The images adorning the chamber walls were a secular
message designed to remind the Nine just how much was at stake with each
decision they made. This room was where deliberation and pronouncements were
made affecting the city-state of <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqJQWkurdrFFnSM-OWTMro49nTjfdnrjQEjVJf4hIQRAm12W3slArIpCx40VS5kASndb25fM8LLgfZVF9rSRTO75dHWQDcSvfMprGQ1ls2RF5p4LWwxzYRcInb4YM8yiS5M7U8WdGb30CvJLJpwvjcG1Nh4P_7Iy7-ZSY_bxM6r47SOekSxrTehcBR=s745" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="517" data-original-width="745" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgqJQWkurdrFFnSM-OWTMro49nTjfdnrjQEjVJf4hIQRAm12W3slArIpCx40VS5kASndb25fM8LLgfZVF9rSRTO75dHWQDcSvfMprGQ1ls2RF5p4LWwxzYRcInb4YM8yiS5M7U8WdGb30CvJLJpwvjcG1Nh4P_7Iy7-ZSY_bxM6r47SOekSxrTehcBR=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Room of the Nine or Room of Peace</span><br /></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Siena<sup>. [6]</sup> Lorenzetti’s masterpiece
actually consists of six scenes. In its entirety, I like to think of it as a
giant triptych art piece. My imagined triptych’s three pieces consume three
massive walls, two on the order of tennis courts in size connected in the
corners to a shorter center mural that anchors Ambrogio’s message. Just as Michelangelo
years later would take months, sometimes years, to settle on a theme in advance
to his first brushstroke or hammer blow, it’s clear that Lorenzetti put a great
deal of thought into the allegorical messages, scenes that stand for ideas,
they symbolize. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>To this point</b>, medieval art had focused on
biblical themes. Artists worked for patrons for a commission and were entirely
engrossed with religious compositions. In the Room of Nine, Lorenzetti’s
exclusive political focus that included images of everyday human activity, city
planning, architecture, and worldly views of pastoral landscape beyond the
city’s walls represented unconventional thinking and a total break from the
norm. Each of Ambrogio’s scenes served as a political reminder to the
republic’s rulers designed to elicit a behavioral response to be just and do
only good. Scenes are duplicated to contrast honest rule from tyrannical rule.
One series depicts the utopian potential of good government while the same
image is reproduced, this time to portray the dystopic decay and ruin as a
consequence of bad government. The choice was in the hands of <i>Il Nove</i>.
If all went well, their careful governing could craft a paradise on Earth. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>The chamber’s murals</b> that convey this appeal
consist of six different scenes. It is doubtful the magistrates referred to
them by particular names but over time they acquired these titles:<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 2pt 0.25in;"><a name="_Hlk95575252"><i>Allegory</i></a><i>
of Good Government<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.0pt; margin-left: .25in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 2pt 0.25in;"><i>Allegory of Bad Government<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 2pt 0.5in;"><i>Effects of Good Government in the City<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 2pt 0.5in;"><i>Effects of Bad Government in the City<o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.0pt; margin-left: .75in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 2pt 0.75in;"><i>Effects of Good Government in the
Country</i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 2.0pt; margin-left: .75in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; margin: 0in 0in 2pt 0.75in;"><i>Effects of
Bad Government in the Country</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt;">Taken together this complex of scenes is known as the "<i>Allegory
and Effects of Good and Bad Government.</i>” With so much to take in, what to
center on was a challenge. We stood just about in the center of the room — the
divisiveness of Bad to our left and the prosperity of Good to the right of us.
With a head turn it was easy to compare one scene with its duplicate. Before
us, on the short wall, ascended the <i>Allegory of Good Government </i>that
symbolically provides a recipe for how to foster good government. Follow this
center fresco’s advice and the good portrayed to our right ensues, disregard
its council and risk the civic calamity depicted to our left. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Almost directly over the door</b> through which The
Nine would enter is the figure Justice. She is easy to identify by the scales
she oversees for balance. Above her, she looks up at Wisdom for guidance;
Wisdom who steadies the scale’s vertical staff. From these two essentials,
Wisdom and <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwg3osq24g2pBHON_il91olG3EwaQbu6tLDt9S0J5tVT_vBV7Te_B4ZbXggTD-i6zywRDL0cMH2IGGvfl-vN91Bj8CC6GBxBP6UxoL_ib4ubMt6sejM-LAgWxECfyknwIHS3V9yUcYrPpCBPYYQJUALIsiOgey3gJWAN8qBsq8K3wurXKzLMCOjuya=s4673" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2527" data-original-width="4673" height="346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhwg3osq24g2pBHON_il91olG3EwaQbu6tLDt9S0J5tVT_vBV7Te_B4ZbXggTD-i6zywRDL0cMH2IGGvfl-vN91Bj8CC6GBxBP6UxoL_ib4ubMt6sejM-LAgWxECfyknwIHS3V9yUcYrPpCBPYYQJUALIsiOgey3gJWAN8qBsq8K3wurXKzLMCOjuya=w640-h346" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Virtue Peace in White, Reclining and Relaxed in <br /><i>The Allegory of Good Government</i></span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Justice, the ability to reach intelligent decisions appears to flow.
Threads extend from Justice’s scales of down to Concordance, another word for
agreement, directly below her. There the threads are fittingly transformed by
Concordance into a “cord” symbolic of social equity that is passed through the
broad spectrum of citizens. The cord then turns up to the largest of the
representative figures, Common Good, symbolic of Siena. Crowned Siena holds the
end of the cord like a staff. His other hand holds a shield — one, the nicer
approach, the other a more forceful <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieCtl3t5BEK_Oc-cHCybA4OVUmFH4-qOLY8U5uA656ufvZkRvpMVLizmLAYlz6g1QsA_2wY4brHKakjGzVdoi2hjF5nzrgfClyAxVCX7LpnFxaVPKTgrJaDy7_DnmhAQzG7NzqnrVdPDpGf3jqdKHygm-S4TTh4rcdr4BEF1eNu4RF3RCxtx3EW0F8=s275" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEieCtl3t5BEK_Oc-cHCybA4OVUmFH4-qOLY8U5uA656ufvZkRvpMVLizmLAYlz6g1QsA_2wY4brHKakjGzVdoi2hjF5nzrgfClyAxVCX7LpnFxaVPKTgrJaDy7_DnmhAQzG7NzqnrVdPDpGf3jqdKHygm-S4TTh4rcdr4BEF1eNu4RF3RCxtx3EW0F8=w320-h213" width="320" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Peace Reclined on Her Tarnished Armor</span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table>option, together reminiscent of the phrase
“Speak softly and carry a big stick.” <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Symbolic Siena sits bracketed on either side</b> by
a procession of virtues. One in particular stood out, either because she is
just about dead center on the wall or possibly due to the white robe I’d
immediately noticed, perhaps both. She easily caught my eye, and in a way
became the mural’s spokesperson. This was Peace holding an olive branch. She is
presented reclining against a large, oversized cushion and rather relaxed.
Apparently, if government functions properly, she has little to do. Why not
relax? Close examination reveals her preparedness, however. Beneath her
cushion, her armor lies at the ready. History notes that it once glimmered
silver, but over time, tarnish transformed it to black. To have witnessed this
mural when her armor flared silver and her dress was shiny-new would have left
no doubt that Peace indeed was the intended focus of good government. It helps
explain why this room is sometimes referred to as the Room of Peace. We were so
impressed with what we’d seen, that on leaving we bought a gift shop copy of
the fresco <i>Effects of Good Government in the City and <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEihM__0c-pfMbXGkBhPzXNg0hg5Cxy0Qv-Oc8cWXUHuHg56QQn8zGZ03Q3eoH8xrKwFsG_M_VLSR0488RgGSMJYZaBV6tpHbl5n0ciealslHYudo3Y4XTjn1igrHWIXCXC2a8PPxWt3QIP904AUsU9SkfqHYvtpeGe0twC1SXKXnlpTBw8HY592T9t2=s1712" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1712" data-original-width="1452" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEihM__0c-pfMbXGkBhPzXNg0hg5Cxy0Qv-Oc8cWXUHuHg56QQn8zGZ03Q3eoH8xrKwFsG_M_VLSR0488RgGSMJYZaBV6tpHbl5n0ciealslHYudo3Y4XTjn1igrHWIXCXC2a8PPxWt3QIP904AUsU9SkfqHYvtpeGe0twC1SXKXnlpTBw8HY592T9t2=w193-h228" width="193" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Our "Lorenzetti Corner"</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Countryside</i>. Today
it hangs on the wall by my desk. It does not serve to influence any legislative
decision I might have to make beyond voting, but as a traveler’s reminder of
Lorenzetti, <i>Il Nove</i>, its thematic impact on medieval art, and certainly
of Siena’s creed. Being the mercantile and banking center in its day, Siena saw
both merchants and travelers like us pass through its gates each day. However,
in 1347 it experienced the arrival of something unusual, far more impactful
than the everyday visitor to its walls, something unanticipated by <i>Il Nove</i>.
With its arrival, everything changed.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>In his “<i>Effects of Good Government in the Country</i>,”</b>
Lorenzetti included a representation of the seasons in the countryside outside
Siena’s walls. Some insist it is the actual terrain we see today. Sitting at my
desk, looking at the scene, he apparently took artistic license and deviated
from fact by combining spring planting with summer harvesting without concern
that they do not occur simultaneously. Mother Nature’s cycles are more
conscious of timing. They stretch beyond the annual sequence of Spring to
Winter and back round again. Her realm harbors more than blue skies, sunny
days, and falling leaves soon replaced <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtMm24up2t-TWVuGdlaFBMik82C2o0jx8VHFs11sv8p7D0Rf6KvUZEpyHA6_V_F2PqjaWGm2Ak3uvqvkfEdqCKaQUgjyZPU5R4SXyVtIUEHDOVVBZltyhm8TXTItTNzVi3vtmKrIIHt0SnJuuRCCHztBYqX8LdEJ4ut6DP5HGEZSKf9nrx6hsKrWxv=s3804" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1748" data-original-width="3804" height="184" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhtMm24up2t-TWVuGdlaFBMik82C2o0jx8VHFs11sv8p7D0Rf6KvUZEpyHA6_V_F2PqjaWGm2Ak3uvqvkfEdqCKaQUgjyZPU5R4SXyVtIUEHDOVVBZltyhm8TXTItTNzVi3vtmKrIIHt0SnJuuRCCHztBYqX8LdEJ4ut6DP5HGEZSKf9nrx6hsKrWxv=w401-h184" width="401" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">Effects of Good Government in the Country</span></b><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><br />by wisps of snow. Now as then, she also
harbors a miniscule world that even today can’t be easily seen and hardly
comprehended. For the Sienese, this world went no farther than the natural
yeast on the grapes they harvested or the mold that gradually coated the salami
aging in their grottos. It is a nano-world, home to quantum particles,
bacteria, and the counterfeit lives of viruses, another kind of miniscule
particle. Lacking cells and a metabolism these inert virus bad guys aren’t even
alive. Study and explore as we do, it seems the more we learn, the more emerges
that we clearly don’t understand. Oftentimes, it follows the one step forward
and two back adage. The one step ahead means you’ve made progress but then more
questions arise, and you are further behind than you were when you advanced,
way behind. Siena, the entire world, was unprepared for the catastrophic
pandemic that entered its gates.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>It is a staggering realization</b> to learn that
there are more viruses on Earth than stars in the universe. The number of stars
alone is a whopping big number, something on the other side of a quadrillion
quadrillion <sup>[7] </sup>or to make it more comprehensible, 1000 trillion
times 1000 trillion. Feel outnumbered
yet? Thankfully, most can’t hop, skip, or jump on us but those that do get
inside us can raise havoc as one virulent virus has vigorously demonstrated
these last few years. Unfortunately, when Bubonic Plague (descriptively called
the Black Death when bleeding under the skin caused visible dark patches)
struck, society lacked the benefits of modern science. A pestilence like that
was something the people of Siena and broader Europe had no understanding of
and certainly no defense against. There were no known steps, forward or
backward, it could take. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>As opposed to our experience </b>with COVID-19, the
Black Death was bacterial in origin, not viral. However, as opposed to COVID,
it did not pass directly from person to person but was spread through bites
from infected fleas and animals. Isolating the sick, quarantining possible
carriers, and restricting travel from affected regions were not effective when
bug spray or DDT would have done a far better job. <sup>[8]</sup> It, however,
had a much higher rate of infection and mortality than COVID. <sup>[9]</sup> In
Siena it accounted for the loss of about 40% of the population and nearly
collapsed their society. As entire <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHRUtc4LOIMg0uXssWSLQZIJx5rerIXpJkFtyVqsPuFmzihcx3o_mkcO5seHkbdU_aaexKZZiVLHsRs4R7Uk274VdP3Py_MH2lhtKGv1TGTMfDW_3fS6Qfvb6zq7v7L1DBXQvttYQq-ELzf6NUocMHPFNYfEc_0oR8-lCMwPzfHb3TZqVEe1muBRZi=s705" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="467" data-original-width="705" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHRUtc4LOIMg0uXssWSLQZIJx5rerIXpJkFtyVqsPuFmzihcx3o_mkcO5seHkbdU_aaexKZZiVLHsRs4R7Uk274VdP3Py_MH2lhtKGv1TGTMfDW_3fS6Qfvb6zq7v7L1DBXQvttYQq-ELzf6NUocMHPFNYfEc_0oR8-lCMwPzfHb3TZqVEe1muBRZi=s320" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">The Chaos of The Black Plague</span></b></td></tr></tbody></table><br />families perished, whole neighborhoods
disappeared. Imagine corpses littering the streets, piled like stacks of wood.
While COVID gave us a hint of what “the end” might be like, we’ve really no
idea of the horror and ravages of an uncontrolled infection on the brink of
extinguishing humankind. The Black Death did as social fabric and moral
controls collapsed. Chaos reigned as the specter of death filled the streets
and the routines of daily life, what we call “the norm”, disintegrated.
Christian Europe attributed the pestilence primarily to the will of God. Thus,
to do anything about it but pray and do penance as an appeal to God to lift the
plague, was going counter to His will. As with the present-day COVID pandemic,
the Black Death came from the East, originating somewhere in the vicinity of
Mongolia, and moved westward along the Silk Road with amazing speed. This was
its conduit to the West. Muslim regions along this path held an opinion like
that of Christians. Yes, it was God’s will, but they held the added view that
the plague offered a special gift. Its victims were considered martyrs and
would be instantly transported to paradise. Like a famine or flood, they also
saw it simply as another trial to be endured. <sup>[10]</sup> Unaware of how
the plague was spread, Siena’s Nine, too late, sought to quarantine the
infected while Church leaders promoted prayer in the hope of influencing God to
lift his punishing scourge.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Prevailing medical advice of the time</b> suggested
that “healthy air” could decrease the chances of catching the deadly disease. We
have friends in Calitri who to this day insist on changing the “bad air” in our
home before we arrive. They believe that bad air along with breezes and deathly
drafts account for countless ailments. It helps explain why Italians wear neck
scarfs late into May each year. Just imagine a ceiling fan. It, like air
conditioning, is loathed by them. I’m totally simpatico. It’s all part of their
culture brought on by events like the Black Death. Distancing themselves
through isolation from large populations centers like Siena or Florence seemed
a logical way to escape infection. Free of crowds, along with its offer of
better air, those with socio-economic means took flight and sought refuge in
the country. Italian writer Giovanni Boccaccio (1313-1375) would later compose
a collection of 100 short stories entitled, “<a href="https://www.brown.edu/Departments/Italian_Studies/dweb/texts/">The
Decameron</a>.” <sup>[11 ] </sup>In it, three well-to-do men and seven women
shelter in a deserted villa just outside Florence for two weeks to avoid the
contagion. From the fictional tales they relate, one per person each
storytelling evening, we have insight into medieval life during the plague. For
most people, practices like sharing their living space with their animals and
the presence of rodents were part of everyday life. Such routines, however,
were a gateway to flea bites in many cases carried by a pervasive rat
population. <o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><b>Everyone was at risk</b>, even if distancing was
practiced. With the stroke of a pen, the fictional Decameron troop could easily
survive. For Ambrogio Lorenzetti, who stayed within the city walls for
protection, and who could depict a just society but not make it so, the Black
Death was the end of his race. Like the Polio, he no longer would scurry across
<i>Piazza del Campo</i> to and from <i>Palazzo Pubblico</i>. Unlike the Palio,
his race to the finish ended in tranquility, a close relation in virtuous form
to his frescoed Peace. Peaceful tranquility came to him in a fleshy veil of
black like the tarnished armor of the virtue Peace. At the height of his
prowess when he disappeared along with his entire family, he is presumed to
have been another casualty of the Black Death, perhaps one of the collapsed
souls in the streets that now approached his vision of chaos and discord under
Bad Government. He’d moved away from tradition and was a true visionary in his
field, and with visionary foresight gifted us with a formula for peace and
harmony, all we need do is make the choice to follow it. <o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-indent: 0.25in;"><br /></p>
<div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><b><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face=""Arial Black",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">From That Rogue
Tourist,<br /></span><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Paolo</span></span></b></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial Black", sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><p class="MsoNormal">[1] <i>Ambrogio-Lorenzetti</i>,
https://www.britannica.com/biography/Ambrogio-Lorenzetti<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: -22.5pt;">[2] <i>History of Siena</i>, https://www.invitationtotuscany.com/guide/italy/tuscany/siena/history-of-siena<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[3] <i>Jacopo della
Quercia</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jacopo_della_Quercia<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[4] <i>Piazza del Campo</i>,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piazza_del_Campo<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[5] <i>Torre del
Mangia</i>, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Torre del Mangia<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[6] <i>The Square and
the Tower: Networks and Power, from the Freemasons to Facebook.</i> Ferguson,
Niall (2017). Penguin Press. pp. 425–431.<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[7] <i>There Are More
Viruses Than Stars in the Universe. Why Do Only Some Infect Us?,</i> National
Geographic Science,
https://www.nationalgeographic.com/science/article/factors-allow-viruses-infect-humans-coronavirus<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[8] <i>How One 17th
Century Italian City Fended off the Plague,</i>
https://www.history.com/news/plague-italy-public-health-ferrara<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[9] <i>Analyzing the
Past in the Present: The Black Death, COVID-19, and the Ursinus Quest, </i>https://www.ursinus.edu/live/news/4682-analyzing-the-past-in-the-present-the-black-death<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[10] <i>Religious
Responses to the Black Death</i>, https://www.worldhistory.org/article/1541/religious-responses-to-the-black-death/<o:p></o:p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">[11] <i>The Decameron</i>,
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Decameron<o:p></o:p></p></div></div>Paolo and Maria Elenahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13077316101654690598noreply@blogger.com0