Kyrchyszstan

What a pleasant surprise I just received. I had been so preoccupied with my nephew’s illness and death, I hadn’t had a chance to open it. How blessed am I? Thank you to my friends Miriam and Matthew for their thoughtfulness. I still don’t know what’s inside the beautiful and interesting gift box but it looked like chocolates inside. I love it. And the disinfectant, I admit it took me a while to figure it out but I thought it ingenious. This gift means more to me than many I’ve received over the years. Plus it opened up a new thirst for all things Kyrchyszstan. Now I can almost understand why my friend Matthew is not rushing to leave that country. He is a UN diplomat working out of this beautiful breathtaking place. From the pictures on the web the place is like from a storybook, almost magical. Thanks again, my friend. You made my year! 

I’ve posted some of the pictures I found on the web. My words could never do justice to such a magnificent place hence the photos. Enjoy. 

Love,

Sylvia 

Why you should visit Florence, Tuscany...

Tuscany is like a great bottle of wine: lovingly created and carefully aged, and the longer you spend contemplating it, the better it gets. With each visit, you fall a little more in love with its rich hues, unforgettable personality and sheer beauty.  

Filippo Bartoletta, wine enthusiast and travel writer.

Among so many other things, Tuscany is known for its utopic landscapes, its artistic treasures, and its influence on high culture.  Regarded as the birthplace of the Renaissance, innumerable influential figures in the arts and sciences throughout the ages have been proud to call it home.   With such well-known museums as the Uffizi and the Pitti Palace, it is an artist’s paradise.   As producer of some of the world’s finest wines such as Chianti, Vino Nobile di Montepulciano, and Morellino di Scansano, connoisseurs of wine, as well as epicureans, continuously flock to the area in search of gustatory highs.   With such a strong linguistic and cultural identity, Tuscany is considered a nation within a nation.   It has over 120 protected nature reserves.   Seven of its localities have been designated as World Heritages Sites, making Tuscany and its capital Florence one of the most popular of tourist attractions worldwide.

Florence, the capital of Tuscany, is considered the "Athens of Europe".

Panoramic view of Piazza della Signora

It is the birthplace of the Renaissance. 

Some of the best wines such Chianti and Montepulciano are found here. There are acres upon acres of grape growing with beautiful wineries for wine tasting.

Partial view of Piazza della Signora

Leonardo and Michelangelo were born here and you can see their many works throughout the city.

Leonardo's birthplace

Some of the world best museums are found here: the Ufizzi is a must visit. Spend an entire day lost in the arts.

the Piazza at night......

Statues and fountains abound everywhere. 

Equestrian Statue of Cosimo I de' Medici - head of the Florence Republic in 1537

There are so many beautiful churches and you won't want to miss any.   

The rich Florentine cuisine is based on fresh produce from local farms. 

Plan your next vacation to Florence. You'll be so glad you did. 

Palazzo Vecchio

Long Island's History - A Treasure Trove

So, as  wannabe writer, I would like to call myself a voracious reader.  Unfortunately, that is not the case.  However, one thing is for certain, when a certain book grabs my interest, I will devour it. I will immerse myself in it completely for days on end, until I finish the book. 

 

Two month's ago I took a trip to the local dumpster by us out on Long Island.  A box of old books by the dumpster caught my eye. At the top of the pile was an old dilapidated book titled Long Island's History. It so grabbed by attention that I immediately picked it up and asked the fellow who was standing by, "Are you throwing this book out?"  To which he replied, "Yes.  You can take all of them?"  

I was so excited with my newfound treasure that I passed on the other books. "Thanks," I answered.  "I'm really just interested in this one," I added, referring to the book I was holding. 

I drove off feeling as if I had found Cofresi's treasure.  What a find!

The book by Jacqueline Overton, was published in 1929 by Doubleday Doran & Company and contains a wealth of information on the history of the Island, as well as on Brooklyn and Queens, which were then considered part of the Island.  

Ms. Overton was a librarian, who writes in a no-nonsense concise, clear style, sparing us all the fancy words, but at the same time giving us a highly and thoroughly informative narrative that goes all the way back to the time of the Indians and the first English settlers.  The book is riddled with day-to-day life accounts from journals and diaries of some of the brave people that sacrificed and ventured out to the new land across the ocean, most of whom succumbed to the harsh and crude winters, and the conditions of unexplored territory.  Ms. Overton ingeniously covers the very important role the Island played in the history of the State of New York, the Revolutionary War, and all subsequent events leading up to the year 1929.  

I cannot say enough good things about 

this book and how much I've learned from it. The fact that Brooklyn was part of the Island then and played a very important role in the progress of all of New York and the country as a whole, cannot be stressed enough. This made it all the more interesting and valuable to me, as our own Emily has been living in the Fort Greene section of Brooklyn for over five years now.  

I found myself fact-checking practically everything Ms. Overton states; pinpointing the various towns on today's maps; and comparing important buildings, localities, and such. I also found the story of the Long Island Railroad quite interesting.

For those interested in further reading, I did additional research and found various other available sources on Google, as well as copies of the book on Amazon, and other similar venues.

On a lighter note, while you're enjoying the book, consider having a Long Island Tea.  I've attached a vintage photo of the recipe for your enjoyment.  I don't guarantee some of you will be able to concentrate on the book after just one of these "teas", but at least you'll get a nice buzz!

•  Your comments are always much appreciated and welcomed.

Ode to the Jersey Shore.....

Having bought a small place on long Island eight years ago, I don't often get the chance to visit the Jersey Shore as often as I'd like.

This summer I had the rare opportunity of visiting three times, and what a treat that was!

love the color of the water and the calm waves......

Bathers soaking it up......

Rocks in background home to thousands of tiny small creatures....

Sunset somewhere at the Jersey shore.

As the picture reads: Point Pleasant in 2009.  

Yet, as the three-year anniversary of Sandy approaches, I call to mind the devastation we suffered in the Northeast at the hands of Sandy.  And while I realize that New Orleans and surrounding areas didn't have it at all easy with Katrina, we here in the Northeast, particularly in Staten Island and at the Jersey shore had our share of devastation with Sandy.  I'm sure most of you remember the pictures, the jokes, and all the comments on social media.

I had forgotten just how breathtaking our shores are.  How crystal-clear and green our waters can be.  How the good the grainy Jersey sand feels under our feet—no rocky sand here!  The contrasts to Long Island beaches are quiet obvious.  For one—the water is much warmer, as are the waves more tolerable.  And of course, the people are so friendly.  We can still get taffy at any beach, and there's always the amusement park at almost every beach.

Barnegat lighthouse on the northern tip of Long Beach Island towers magestically......

one of so many beaches along the Jersey shore.....

Point Pleasant sunset.....

What Sandy did to New Jersey and New York, particularly to the Jersey shore was inconceivable, as the pictures show.  But what a welcome change!  Sometimes God works in mysterious ways!  Take for example the town of Asbury Park.  I remember looking at houses there in the summer of 2007 when we were in the market for a second home; and passing the abandoned casino and the beach bereft of any human life.  And now it has taken a new life—modern buildings and restaurants, well-manicured green areas, and new updated parks sprouting about everywhere.  If you missed a trip this year, there's still time.  Now that most of the tourists have gone home and the beaches are freer may be one of the best times to visit.

Lastly, I would like to mention the Stella Marina Restaurant right on the beach and adjacent to the old casino, it is by far one of the better restaurants I've had the pleasure of dining at.  The food is fresh, delicious, and presented in a pleasing way.   The ambiance is chic and modern and there is a well-stocked bar and a wine list to rival any.  We hope that this place stays in business for many years to come.  I will certainly go back.

more interesting artwork at the old casino......

Gables Inn & Restaurant in Beach Haven. on LBI ....

there's nothing like the fresh ocean air to bring you invigorate one's soul....

the newly renovated  boardwalk....

Jersey native Bruce Springsteen gave a free concert here just a day before we arrived.  Other popular musicians like Jon Bon Jovi, Patti Scialfa, and Southside Johnny all started their careers here.

Depictions of Jayne Mansfield, reminicent of Andy Warhol's work, grace the outer walls of the old casino.

All pictures are courtesy of Google Pictures!

 

Best pilgrimage ever—Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico, my beloved hometown!

As tons of pilgrims all over the world have done since the beginning of time, I myself have traveled to various places in search of self-discovery and enlightenment.  I've traveled to places such as Lourdes, Santiago, the Vatican, and others.  Yet none has been more important to me, than my "pilgrimage" to my hometown of Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico.

In August of 2012, I visited the beautiful island, to attend my nephew Christian's wedding in Isabela.  
I stayed with my beloved Mom in our home in Cabo Rojo.  In hindsight, it was the perfect time to visit with my lovely mother, for only a year later she had gone to live with our Lord in heaven.

Mom and I were in the habit of taking an afternoon siesta in the larger of the two bedrooms, the one with the set of twin beds.  The selfish one that I am, I slept in the bed closest to the door and nearer to the bathroom.  But Mom didn't mind—she was elated just to have me spent time with her.  There were days in August, when there was no need for air-conditioning—Mom was in the habit of keeping the windows and doors closed, to keep the bedrooms cool.  So even after lunch, when we would go down for our siesta, the bedroom was still comfortably cool.

I remember, that during those times when the air-conditioning wasn't on and obliterating all outdoor sounds, I could listen to the chirping of every bird, the barking of every dog in the village, the shattered conversations of our neighbors.  But more importantly, I remember Mom lying so still in the other bed, that I would sometimes wondered if she was alive—to this day I remember that she slept face up and that she didn't move during the entire night, except only when she had to get up to use the bathroom.  The only visible sign of life in her, was her feet rubbing against one another ever so gently, and in lull-like manner, as her tired aging body rested—a habit that was both comforting and soothing, to both Mom and to moi.

Most importantly, I remember all the day trips we took together during my one-month stay that year.  Sometimes my sister-in-law Hidy would join us.  Mom knew much about the island, and she delighted in sharing her knowledge with us—something I will treasure all my life.   She directed us to places as far as El Faro and to Guanica, to the now-defunct sugar mill.  And, as close as the popular cafe in town.  When we visited La Central Eureka in Hormigueros, she delighted as she pointed out and reminisced about places from her childhood—as a young girl she lived on the grounds of the sugar plantation.   She understood that all this information would be very important in my research for my book, The Women in White.

That is why my August 2012 "pilgrimage" to Cabo Rojo was so important to me.  I was given a last chance at an invaluable mother/daughter reunion, one I would cherish for the rest of my life.  I found more enlightenment and self-discovery, more truth and meaning on this trip, than I will ever find on  any other pilgrimage in a remote corner of the world.

A beautiful beach in Cabo Rojo - Courtesy: Flicker

Plaza de Mayaguez - Photo Courtesy: Flicker

Catholic Church in town - Photo Courtesy: Flicker

Cabo Rojo Lighthouse - Photo Courtesy: Flicker

Schoenstatt Sanctuary (within walking distance from Mom's house) - Photo Courtesy: Flicker

Central La Eureka - Photo Courtesy: Flicker

Photo Courtesy Flicker

One of the centrales visited (not sure if La Eureka, or Guanica).  Photo Courtesy: Flicker

Mom, a year later at her 89th Birthday celebration.

our Seville adventure....

By the time I drove the rented car back into the streets of Seville, more than anything else we were feeling like zombies from the long drive back from Tangier, and from the never-ending day’s events.  After finding a spot on the far end of the underground parking, we walked to and entered the staircase in the middle of the lot.  We lumbered up the three levels of stairs, and upon reaching the exit to the street level we pushed ourselves out into the cold night of Seville.

our rented car...

   

Looking more like the walking dead, we commenced the long walk back to our hotel.  

During the day, the promenade in the square had been lined with horse-driven carriages—the horses stomping their hooves from time to time and shaking their tails, snorting or neighing as they tried unsuccessfully to rid themselves of the pesky flies, while the drivers chatted away as they waited for riders.  Now the area was dead to the world, and the entire city of Seville seemed to be wrapped in a cloak of creamy golden honey—its denizens nicely tucked away somewhere and fast asleep.

The way to the hotel...

As we neared the Cathedral, I was awakened from my poetic musings of a sleepy Seville.   A group of about five individuals suddenly came into view only a couple of yards away on our side of the street.  The group appeared to be huddled around the same ATM that we had used earlier that day.   

“Too late to cross the street or pretend like we didn’t see them,” I said to Emily in a low voice.   “It might send the wrong message.” 

Before we realized it, the group was deliberately walking toward us!  

“What now!” I thought aloud.  

Judging from their hand gestures, we deduced that the group needed help using the ATM.   

Not good! I thought.   

Coming from the New York City area, I was leery about even giving them the time of day.   I’d heard all the stories of street con-artists—how they lure people into their games, then steal them blind.  During our travels throughout Europe, we’d experienced several negative encounters with the gypsies.  Like the time a group of females tried to pry Vic’s video camera off my hands at a McDonald’s in Madrid.   They didn’t get Vic’s camera that time, but one of them managed to take off with Vic's lunch of Mac and fries.  

That night in Seville, I would have gladly given these nightwalkers a Big Mac and fries each.   But this time we were not in a fast food restaurant surrounded by decent patrons, and there was no security guard to come to our aid like the case in Madrid.   Rather than take a chance, especially where it concerned my sweet Emily, I determined beforehand to have as little contact with these children of the night as possible, without trying to appear rude.   God forbid I should risk getting anyone angry and make things worse!  A very delicate balancing act at that, I surmised.

One of the men approached us.   When he spoke to us, it sounded like bad Spanish.  One language I was comfortable in and familiar with, was Spanish—I immediately deduced that his accent was not Spanish.  Then again, they could’ve been gypsies and I wouldn’t have known the difference.  They could have been any nationality for that matter.   Probably tourists, I thought.   But again I was not about to take chances.  In my mind, I saw only a bunch of con-artists trying to con us at 3:30 in the morning, just as they had tried to do in Paris and Madrid during the day.   

The old saying, “Never let them see you sweat” came to my mind.  

“Emily, don’t say a word.  Let me take care of this, okay?” I whispered to my daughter.

 Then, without so much as a blink of the eye,  I addressed the group, “We’re sorry, but we can’t help you.”  

With that, I turned away from the man and proceeded to hurry Emily and myself along,  all the while praying that these people were not evil and would not hurt us.  

  
We quickly picked up the pace and walked hurriedly in the direction of the Cathedral and toward the maze of back streets and alleyways that lead to our hotel—there was no other place to go but to our hotel.   Everything was closed at that God-forsaken hour—I'm guessing even the Cathedral.   We were still at least a half-mile away from our hotel.   As we passed the popular café where we’d had tapas and Rioja the night before, I prayed that we were not being followed.   Neither of us dared to look back.   My mission was to get us back to the hotel safely in the shortest time possible.

“Why would they be trying to get cash at such an un-Godly hour of the night?  Nothing’s opened for business at this time.  That’s not a good sign.  It might have been a front, to see if we fell for it,” I ramble on, as we continued rapidly along the maze of alleys. 

The Petit Paris sign finally came into view—it was at least a good half-block away!  And we still had no desire to look back to check if we were being followed. 

Seville at night....

  

When we finally reached the front door of the hotel, we were faced with yet another hurdle!—God forbid the ‘vampires’ had been following us, we would’ve been at their mercy!   The thick-glass  double doors were locked, and the night clerk on duty was nowhere to be seen.   After what seemed like an eternity of ringing the bell and banging on the doors, a half-asleep hotel clerk finally emerged from a back room to let us inside.   

Without a doubt, I was certain that our guardian angel was watching over us that night!

After some reflection and a prayer of gratitude to God for sparing our lives that night, tucked in our beds in the safety of our room, sleep was all our bodies yearned for! 

The next day we returned our Mercedes-Benz, and hopped on the train to Barcelona.

Your comments are always welcomed.

our comfy hotel room at the Petit Paris

at the car rental return.....

on the way to Tangier....

on the night train through the Czech Republic

Here we were on the night train through the Bavarian countryside enroute to Prague.  

Not far from Budejovice is the town of Krumlov.  Situated on the Vltava River, with a population of about 14,600 inhabitants, Krumlov was one of the highlights of our trip through this region.  It has a magnificent castle by the same name that sits atop a hill and dates back to the year 1240 and is still in extraordinary condition.  In 1992, the town was added to the UNESCO World Heritage List.  Like something straight out of a fairy tale, a small canal runs between red-tiled roofed homes in Krumlov.   It is a perfect example of a wealthy medieval city, complete with cobblestone streets of baroque buildings, housing cafes, and bars; and of course, its spectacular Castle, or State Castle, the second largest in the Czech Republic.  The train station is a good indication that little has changed in this town since the 18^th century.  Yet Krumlov is still a charming town, very popular among tourists who outnumber the locals in the summer.  

Needless to say, we loved Krumlov!

Excerpt from Rick Steves' book.