October 31, 2012
By the way, did you know Halloween has Roman roots?
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To my East Coast blog friends: Sending you warm, dry & loving thoughts & may your lives soon return to normal.
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October 25, 2012 Back in the US of A. There are the elections, of course. And the cold supermarkets with their tinny music. Tasteless tomatoes fill me with gloom. On the roads, the space between cars seems far too wide, and at the post office, the get-in-line folks do not know the joys of shoving, shouting, and huddling together like walruses. And where are the octogenarians? I feel a pang of acute nostalgia. Why aren’t they yakking it up in tight clumps all over town? At the coffee shop, the barista does not sing buon giorno! as we enter and exit. He barely makes eye contact. Life feels flat. And why is everyone proudly claiming (with too-white teeth) that they are slammed? When did this word pop up like evil choke-weed? The fundamental difference between these slammed people and the ones lolling around Italy is not lost on me. Americans seem to conduct their lives on a high-speed conveyor belt; have we lost the will to stop and see?
October 21, 2012 When I throw open the shutters in the morning, the cupola is there, like a gift. The color of sweet latte. It is moody, changeable, capriciosa.
Click on the photo to advance to the next slide.
Note: Slides of the Cathedral of San Giorgio in Ragusa Ibla. October 16, 2012 We eat bread in rings around here. They’re bigger than a bracelet, smaller than a hula-hoop. About necklace-size, I’d say. So fragrant and pretty that you could almost wear one around your neck with a little black dress. Nibble on it all evening. But I must not kid. Like olive oil, bread is sacred here. Never place it on the table upside down. Never throw it away. If it’s old, make breadcrumbs. If it gets moldy, kiss it, make the sign of the cross, and apologize to Jesus.
What food do you worship? *** Connect with me on LinkedIn. October 11, 2012 A pride of lions and lionesses populate the village. Sometimes it seems there are more of you than us… What’s your story, Leo? Are you a leftover symbol of the Ancient Greek colonies on Sicily? (Hercules slew a lion, didn’t he?) Or do you come from Sicily’s Norman period, when your lion’s head was the symbol of the Hauteville’s?
Have you seen the majestic lions and lionesses of Sicily? Do you know anything about them? Please educate me, dear Reader. *** P.S. One of my readers, an Irishman (I love the Irish!!!!) sent me this photo of a lion door in Palermo. It’s not just any door! It’s the door of a fabulous-looking palazzo, a B&B he recommends called Butera 28. It seems reasonably priced, is owned by a duke and duchess, and is listed in 1000 Places to See Before You Die. Thank you, dear Reader, for this great tip.
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