Vistas: Horse n' Buggy, Seville, Spain

Mangia! Florentine Frittelles

The Italians have a way of making anything sound sexy. Toilets to us are ‘tolettas’ to them. Holy crap to us is ‘schifezza santa’ to them. And doughnuts to us are ‘frittelles’ to them. Frittelles is a traditional Florentine pastry specially made for Carnival. They’re a perfect nourishment to keep your energy up and appetite curbed while you navigate the maddening crowds of party goers in the canal city of Venice. They taste quite yummy (or ‘squisito’) with a Bellini cocktail as well!

To feed a multitude, you will need:

1 3/4 cup rice (cheap rice is best here)
1 quart milk
The zest of one lemon
3-4 Tablespoons sugar
A walnut-sized chunk of sweet butter
3 eggs
1 jigger of rum or sweet wine (the recipe calls for rum, but try Vinsanto)
4/5 cup flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
Oil for frying
Confectioner's sugar
Simmer the rice in the milk until it's quite done, then stir in the sugar, lemon zest, and butter and let the mixture cool.

Separate the eggs and whip the whites to soft peaks. Stir the yolks and the rum or wine into the rice mixture, then fold in the egg whites, flour and baking powder. Drop the batter a teaspoon at a time into hot oil and fry the frittelle until they are a rich golden brown. Drain them on absorbent paper, and when they have cooled dust them with confectioner's sugar.

Vistas: Candi Dasa Footprints, Bali, Indonesia

Par Avion: Florence, Italy

Postcards with an edge sent from around the world. "Ciao! Acceta la carte di credito (do you accept credit cards?) These have been the only words to come out of our mouths since we have been in this outstandingly STUNNING city of Firenze! We're downing our third cappucino of the day. Payed homage to the espresso nirvana of the universe. We are not worthy of Italy! Took a long siesta after shopping, a bottle of chianti, gorgeous pasta, espresso with biscotti (dipped in desert wine). If we ever got ran over by a moped you would see handbags, scarves, jewelry all flying out of our hands! We are not worthy of Tuscanny. Love, your bambino"

Postcard of: Brunelleschi's Dome, Cathedral of Florence, Italy

Casa e Città: Cheerful Window Shutters, Arles, France

Vistas: Elephant's Watering Hole, Tarangire, Tanzania

Take Action: Haiti Earthquake

There are two different types of tragedies one might face in this world. Ones that are beyond our control (acts of God, forces of nature) and ones that are completely within our control (ignorance, hate) if we choose to change them.

The 7.3 earthquake that struck Haiti on January 12, 2010, resulted in the loss of an estimated 50-100,000 lives and the potential for more loss due to the logistic challenges posed from such a catastrophic event (water supplies, sanitation, and supplies distribution). It’s a tragedy beyond our control that no on one on this earth could have ever foreseen. The other tragedy is the disgustingly dim-witted remark that ‘televangelist’ Pat Robertson made on the 700 Club http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/01/13/pat-robertson-haiti-curse_n_422099.html in stating that Haiti has been “cursed” by a “pact to the devil.” That a long time ago, while under the heel of the French (Napoleon III, he presumes) the Haitians gathered together and swore a pact to the devil if Beelzebub released them from the oppression of the French. True story (so Pat says). For any of us who have lost or witnessed the suffering of a loved one from any tragedy statements like that must feel like an evil curse. No one deserves this.

I am more than aware of the predicaments that many of us find ourselves in (unemployment, ill health, disability, financial shortcomings, emotional upsets) and the reasons we might make to forgo on helping out with aid of any kind (aid isn’t just dollars it can be clothes, volunteerism, blankets, shoes). I received a bit of a shock myself in that this week my property agent sent out a notice saying that if any tenants chose to make a donation to the Red Cross towards Haiti earthquake relief efforts that they would match any donation made. So no excuses, if the landlord can cough up than so can I.

Here are ways you can help...

• Donate $10 by texting “HAITI” to 9-0-9-9-9
• Visit http://www.redcross.org/ or call 1-800-RED-CROSS
• Volunteer for the American Red Cross, please contact your local chapter
• Check with your employer, church, property management to enquire about matching donations

Some tragedies we can turn around so when the rubble begins to clear in Haiti then perhaps, God willing of course, we can band together again and purchase Saint Robertson a first class airplane ticket to the 21st century.

Vistas: Play Me a Song, You're the Accordion Man, San Telmo, Buenos Aires, Argentina

Mangia: English Brekky

My cooking skills remain debatable within some circles but there’s one meal I can easily whip up and that is an authentic English breakfast. I won’t bother rehashing what you can find on the Internet. Instead, I’ll recite the recipe from memories of helping make this simple, quick and hearty dish every morning while in lock up over the New Year weekend in a cottage outside Oxford. Don’t worry about measurements and specifications; the beauty in this brekky is that any tosser can make it while emerging out of their late Saturday night pub crawl coma.

Ingredients:
2-3 cups mushrooms
1 tin of baked beans
2 tomatoes
½ cup orange juice
3-4 rashers (i.e.: Canadian bacon)
2 bangers (i.e.: sausage)
2 eggs
4 slices bread
cooking oil
butter

1.) Turn the oven on to broil.
2.) Slice a cup or two of mushrooms, set aside for now.
3.) Pour a couple tbs. of cooking oil in frying pan and place under low to medium heat on the stovetop, place the rashers in the pan.
4.) In a separate stirring pan pour the baked beans and simmer on low heat.
5.) In yet another stirring pan, drop in 2 tbs. butter and simmer on low to medium heat. Toss the sliced mushrooms in, periodically stirring until they’re light brown.
6.) Slice tomatoes in half, place on an oven dish and lightly drizzle cooking oil over the tops. Place the tomatoes in the oven under the broiler. Not sure for how long but keep an eye on them! You want them to be grilled, juicy and the skin slightly crisp.
7.) Pop bread in the toaster; get the kettle going.
8.) Flip the rashers over and crack two eggs to fry sunny side up.
9.) Toss in a half cup of orange juice in to the mushroom pan (yes, OJ!). Stir and sprinkle in some salt and pepper.

A cup of Earl Grey or English Breakfast tea goes great, steep and drop in a few cubes sugar and milk. Throw it all on a plate and slop on whatever condiments you like (HP sauce, mmm!)

Venice: Hey, if I Like It, Why Should I Put a Ring On It?

It’s the oldest trick in the women traveling solo guidebook; wear a fake wedding band on your left ring finger to avoid unnecessary passes from men. That is if they spot a wedding band on your hand (signaling you are spoken for) then out of respect they won’t harass you. But, hey, if I actually like it, why should I put a ring on it (exception made for the 14K white gold, green amethyst and diamond accent ring that now dons my left ring finger).

There was a time long ago that any mention of me traveling solo to a lust filled, machismo driven country like, say, Italy, would heed loved ones warning me to wear a fake wedding band on my left hand. Years ago I was driven to return to Italy, on my own, to fulfill my desire to visit Venice, the city of canals. “Are you still thinking of going to Italy, alone?” Overly concerned, loved ones would ask.
“Definitely!” I replied.

“Oh…are you sure? It might be quite dangerous to go alone. The men can be quite persistent and we worry about you being harassed all the time. You should buy a fake wedding ring to wear on your finger. We just want you to be safe.”

Prior to my trip I stopped by Nordstrom’s to purchase a cubic zirconium ring. Stashed it in my suitcase and upon arrival in Italy donned it on my finger. I wandered the canal, watery city on my own, day and night. One chillingly cold evening in late December I found myself as on a crowded vaporetto. Vaporettos are basically the public transportation system for Venice. These boats navigate this water locked city as there are no cars, buses, taxis, not even a street light. I sat there nudged in between older women donning their furs, well dressed professionals and well, a boatload (no pun intended) of young, dark, chiseled, handsome Northern Italian sailors. I glanced down at the imposter ring on my finger, halfheartedly reassuring myself that I was OK because I was taken.

I recalled earlier memories of traveling Southern Italy with my sister where we were bombarded by the minute by men constantly courting “Ciao bella” smack smack, kiss kiss they’d leer. We got in some pretty contentious arguments the two of us. I was appalled and more so, annoyed by their lack of manners. I’d quip back “Please, give me a break!” “Oh brother” “As if!” rolling my eyes. My sister would bark at me, “Look, you’re traveling in their country now. You have to respect their culture, stop getting in to such a huff about it. When in Rome…do as the Romans” she’d scold me.

“Yeah, when in Rome do as the Romans but that doesn’t mean I have to DO a Roman! They’re being rude and disrespectful!”

I peeked up again to see if any lonely sailors lost at sea were checking me out for some possible maritime good times. Nothing. Not one single sailor glanced my way that evening.

I disembarked the vaporetto and returned to my hotel. Standing in front of the mirror in my room I did a once over. I reassured myself that albeit I was no Sophia Loren I was still young and fairly attractive but my God, if I can’t get one nod from a boatload of Italian sailors then something might be terribly wrong. I removed the fake wedding ring from my finger and stored it back in my suitcase reassured that I had kept the receipt to return it once I got back home.

The following day young, handsome male passersby remarked “Ciao, bella…where are you from?” “Are you a university student?” “Where are you going?” “Are you lost” “Would you like to share a cup of coffee?” I breathed a small sigh of relief. Everything is right in the world again.

Par Avion: Khajuraho, India

Postcards with an edge sent from around the world.
"There's an old Hindu saying that wherever there is woman, God is worshipped and I find that sooooo groovy!!! What a great ending to my trip. 15 temples dedicated to the power of women!!! Beautiful, smart, creative, voluptous, playful, women! Loved it."

Postcard of: The Khajuraho Temples, Khajuraho, India, Devi Jagadamb Temple, 10th Century

Inspiration: Seek Your Joy

"One cannot divine nore forecast the conditions that will make happiness; one only stumbles upon them by chance, in a lucky hour, at the world's end somewhere."

Will Cather

















Photo: Zanzibar, Tanzania

Vistas: Path to Basilica San Biago, Montepulciano, Italy

New Decade, New Year, New Paths...