Tag Archives: art

Open my heart and you will see…

17 Apr

Italy, and the Spring, and first love – all together should suffice to make the gloomiest person happy.
– Bertrand Russell

 

It was late morning on New Year’s eve day as our high speed Trenitalia, which was traveling at over 220 miles per hour, came to a hault.  We had arrived in the romantic and iconic Florence, Italy – also known as Firenze.  It was a cold and sunny winter day, colorful graffiti decorated the walls and tunnels of the train stations, representing the most brusque and modern art that adorns this fine historic city.  I should mention that Kai was completely in awe just from the train ride.   The Tuscan landscape is like none other.  Much delightful Chianti Classico and divine tuscan cuisine also awaited us.

Graffiti in the train station

We exited the train station and made a dash for a taxi to take us to our hotel.  We were determined to make the most out of our first day in Florence, and ensure that we had a chance to find our way through the romantic streets of Florence before the New Year’s celebration began.  After checking-in and getting settled in our hotel, off we went back into the center of Florence.  Our first stop – the Basilica di Santa Maria de Flore – the main church of Firenze.  And was it grand! The exterior is faced with marble panels in varying shades of green and pink. It’s duomo soars above all of the historic buildings and defines the Firenze landscape from all the hillside neighbors that surround city center.

 

Duomo view in Firenze

We spent hours that afternoon walking the streets, getting lost, and simply having the time of our life savoring all Firenze had to offer on New Year’s eve.  Nightfall came alive in this bustling city. Artists painted the streets (literally) while musicians carried on.  Vendors were everywhere, selling all the little light-up gadgets one can imagine.  Eventually we found our way to a great little place for an early New Year’s dinner – Ristorante Toto – and it was amazing.  Course after course of pure Italian indulgence: Antipasta; insalata verde; fried artichoke hearts; calamari; house made ravioli; perfectly grilled t-bone; and of course dessert… traditional profiteroles.  And how can I forget to mention the champagne and bottle of Chianti Classico that we washed it down with.  We spent a couple hours in this quaint little place.  At the table next to ours was a kind Russian couple who were absolutely in love with Kai.  They insisted on playing with him and holding him in between courses of food.  And Kai was of course entertained by their friendliness and new voices.  It was a wonderful dinner that marked the end of 2013, one of the best year’s of our life.

Street artists

T-Bone steak

Antipasta cart

After dinner, we continued to walk the streets of Firenze.  Then we stopped into a small shop, grabbed a bottle of wine, and headed back to our hotel.  From the fifth floor of our hotel we watched the New Year’s eve fireworks that lit-up the Florence skyline at the stroke of midnight while sweet Kai slept peacefully next to us.  It was a New Year’s eve we will remember forever.

Punto Vecchio at dusk

Fireworks over Florence

Finding New Strength

10 Jan

Color painting of mother and child with gunBeing a mother is learning about strengths you didn’t know you had, and dealing with fears you didn’t know exist.
– Linda Wooten

It’s 2013, a new year.  A time to start off fresh.  Far too much time has lapsed since I’ve last written.  I once again find myself inspired to write, in fact I’ve been missing writing.  It’s a kind of creative sounding board for me personally, and I really enjoy reading the feedback I receive from my friends and readers.

The past seven months have been quite a whirlwind.  So much evolution and change in such a short time.  And the most significant of those changes has yet to be revealed.  I could rehash all that has come about in my life, and the world, in the past year but it wouldn’t accomplish much.  At this moment, my mind is occupied with all the change that is about to unfold in my life and how I will manage to “fit” it all in to the measly 24 hours we get in a day.  And then I start to think about how all the women that came before me did it.  *Sigh*

It brings me back to one of the many grounding experiences of my life – Esteli, Nicaraguaga.  It is the third largest city in all of Nicaragua.  It’s an eclectic place that really doesn’t see many foreigners or tourists, or at least that was Esteli 10 years ago when I was there.  The town’s motto pretty much sums it up – “Lover of the present. Builder of the future.”  But what really brings me back to Esteli is how it’s history has redefined life, and despite the bloodshed has brought forth a new found strength and resilience in the people.  Esteli was the scene of perilous fighting during the Somoza regime and again during the U.S.-backed Contra War.  The lands outside of the city boundary are still riddled with land mines and the ghosts of wars past regrettably live on.

As we made our way through the city’s gritty streets and alley ways, we gleaned nuggets of hope and strength.  We played soccer with a group of kids playing on a field of dirt with a ball that was made of plastic bags tightly packed together & wrapped with string and tape.  We found beauty in the paintings and graffiti that adorned cement walls throughout the city, the very cement walls that served as a fortress for people’s homes during the recent wars.  And then one day we wound-up at a local women’s organization where we were given a “tour” of the center and learned through the testimony of one woman – how women survived and  even thrived in the war.  In Esteli, unlike in many parts of Latin America and the world, women are seen a bit differently.  They are respected for their strength and perseverance at a kind of unspoken kind of higher level.  Why?  What makes Esteli’s perspective of women different?  The difference lies in the impact that its history has had on shaping daily life.  During both recent wars in Esteli, most often the men went off to war in the rural areas and the women remained at home with the children to defend their homes & children while the war raged on right in the city boundaries.  Women, mothers, were armed with AK-47s – just as the men were.  There was very little that differentiated the roles of men and women during a decade and a half of bloodshed.   Women grew stronger than ever before – not just in fighting – but in standing-up for their rights.  In owning their individual personal power.

Days like today when I feel overwhelmed and wonder how on earth am I going to “do it all” in just a couple of months.  I stop and think about the women of Esteli.  They have endured far more than I will likely ever have to – or maybe its similar but just in a different time, place and form.  I think of these women, mothers, that came before me.  Many that had to face the blood of their children, husbands, and family members right before their eyes.  Many that endured the other ugly parts of war like rape, lost limbs, and hunger.  While I may not be from Nicaragua, I am forever grateful to these women.  The examples they have set for me, and all of us, are invaluable – especially now as I take this next giant leap in my life.  Their strength and resilience is simply inspiring.

Below is a visual “tour” through some of the streets of Esteli and the wall artwork that gives the city a most unique identity and essence.  Start with the painting at the top of the blog and slowly work your eyes through the images.  Enjoy!

Wall painting on finghting for freedom

Corner in bloom with graffiti

Wall painting of children building a new future

 

wall art of children coming together

Wall painting in color on human rights

Wall painting of women's strength rising

Streets Come Alive!

11 Oct

Dancers break it down during H Street Festival

With wonder that is!

Have you ever wished that you could time travel?  Like in the old Star Trek when they had those automatic transporters?  Imagine if you could just snap your fingers and a few seconds later you could find yourself in any place in the world you desired to be.  How cool that would be.  So I haven’t quite figured out how to time travel yet, but I’ll let you know the secret when I do.  In the meantime I did find a way to escape to another country and culture right here from my home base.

As I’ve mentioned, I like to find a sense of “adventure” in every-day life, which is not a hard thing to do in my hometown of Washington, DC.  Tis the season of street festivals in this eclectic urban metropolis.  Every weekend for the past month has been characterized by a different street, with different smells, tastes, and sounds.  It is one of the amazing things about this great city I call home and I love it.  Last week was the 8th Street Festival AND Turkish Festival.  I opted for Turkish Festival, and glad I did, it rocked.  Doner kebab, baklava, folkloric dancing, Turkish rock, art, history, and all the rest.  The week before that was the H Street Festival, which was a mere 1 block from house, and let me tell you how fun that was.  It’s the epicenter for all things DC-hipster, literally!  There were crazy artists painting & building their masterpieces.  Rythym fusions from all around the world.  Local designers sharing their wears on the runway.  And the food… well I don’t know where to begin… suckling pork pops, curry mussels, Maine lobster rolls, grilled oysters, BBQ ribs – name your favorite street food and bam there it was.

Mama Vacarros Showing off the Cannoli shells

This weekend was even better in some ways.  It was Italian Festival!  Festa Italiana!  Yup, that is right.  We got to “travel” to Italy for a few hours right here in DC.  You enter this (what is usually sleepy) little street near Judiciary Square, in what used to be “Little Italy” and there it was before you, any Italy lovers dream come true.  It was filled with mostly Italians too, most even speaking Italian.  There was a stage with Italian artists, singing, and playing their instruments.  Casa Italiana was filled with booths & tables showcasing Italian-inspired books, music, crafts, jewelry, and all the rest.  There was even a showcase of Italian automobiles and a traditional puppet show.  I must say, that Fiat 500C is likely in my future at some point…

Suckling pig fresh off the spit at Italian Fest in Washington DC

And then there was the food… the best part of all.  Food stations were set-up all throughout the street.  Pizza, Pasta, Italian Sausage & Peppers, Gelato, Porcetta Sandwiches, Cannoli, Espresso…. every Italian delight your heart can possibly imagine.  After eyeing all of the food stations we opted to give the homemade cannoli a try and I am glad that I did.  Mama Vaccaros was out there squeezing the cannoli cream into the crispy baked shells.  And at 2 bucks each, who could resist giving the sweet indulgence a try?  Meanwhile my husband went over to the “adult beverage” tent to try some authentic Italian wine, also just 2 bucks a glass, to wash down all the delicious eats with.  Then we went back to the Porcetta station to find that the whole suckling pig was ready to be taken off the spit and made into sandwiches.  Yes indeed, a whole suckling pig on the spit ready to be sliced-up for Porcetta sandwiches.  Create a vision in your mind for this one… a freshly baked Ciabatta roll is sliced open.  Then it is given a generous shmear of salsa verde (an intoxicating concoction of fresh parsley, basil, garlic, salt, and olive oil).  And last but not least, it is stuffed with a heap of sliced juicy pork.  The flavors marry to perfection… it’s a sandwich fit for a king (or queen).  And how divine it was!

Making the fresh Porcetta sandwiches at Italian Fest in DC

Enjoying the taste of Italy alongside “everything Italian” in Washington, DC really was like “traveling” to Italy for a few hours.  I may not have figured out the magic behind the automatic transporters but these little adventures in the streets of DC come pretty close!  Till next Time.  Ciao!

Love & Joy for Khmer

7 Jun

Royal palms reach into the heavans.  Beads of sweat drip down my face, legs, entire body.  Motos and Tuk Tuks glide past as a peddle along the recently paved roads.  The edges of the roads are painted red with patches of sun scortched earth and dust.  Many of these improvised transportation vehicles carry 10 times their weight in cargo… people; lumber; goods for sale –  you name it, it can be transported with just one little motor.  Then a buddhist monk flies by on moto with his ochre yellow garmet flowing in the wind like the sail of a boat over the sea.  Wooden hand carts are pushed down the road carrying wild mushrooms, raw snails, and bright green lotus flowers – all ready to be made into a variety of culinary delights.  Pungent flowers intoxicate my senses.  Sculptures of hindu and buddhist inspiration blend into the forest edge.  Children dressed in dark blue shorts and white shirts bound for school peddle by on bicycles three times their size.  All together we make our way down the dusty streets that wind through beautiful forested areas.  Listening to yellow marked blackbirds, croaking frogs, and a diversity of insects buzzing around – this is some of the natural music that helps to define this landscape.

Motorcycle carrying many people and cargo

Other children, less fortunate, sell bananas; water; books; silk scarves; and little woven bracelts to tourists passing through.  Their clothing tattered and for many, their hair is that rusty reddish brown color from a childhood of malnutrition.  They are persistent, determined to survive and build a better life for themselves and their families.   The markets are bustling with every type of meat, vegetable, herb and spice one can imagine – and food is being served from one staff while live river fish wiggle around on a wooden slab waiting to be sold. The aromas in the market are of some complex concotion, I can’t even identify a single ingredient – but more on the markets and cuisine later.  Lepers and disabled youth with missing legs from landmine explosions also dot this landscape.  And their voices are no longer silenced.  Women gather around a produce stall in the market and pour over photos of a new hospital center that recently opened and is dedicated to caring for the disabled.  There is hope.  And I am in the Kingdom of Cambodia.

Everything here just feels different.  I can’t quite explain the feeling.  The people. The culture.  The food. The air. The earth.  All so deeply defined by centuries of complex and compunded history.  Ancient human civilization is known to have existed in this vast & rich land since the Holocene era (6,000 BCE) and the Neolithic eras.  But it was really the civilizations during the 3rd, 4th, and 5th centuries that coaleced into what I’m experiencing as modern day Cambodia.  I can’t help but intermix modern and ancient Cambodian roots, for relation of past and present is so deeply connected here.

The Khmer Empire…. Angkor Wat, the heart of Cambodia.  The Khmer Empire began in 802 AD and today still defines in many ways the identity and essense of what it means to be Cambodian.  The Khmer language lives on.  Cuisine and cultural customs are still identified as Khmer.  Theravada Buddhism is evident in every step of daily life here.  It signifies the doctrine of analysis.  It encourages critical investigation in all things and reasoning instead of blind faith.  It came to Cambodia from Sri Lankan monks in the 13th Century – and here it lives on in daily Cambodian life.  In Theravada, it is believed that the path to enlightenment requires releasing one’s mind and being from their own ignorance to the truth.  Stepping beyond society’s desire and influence for oppulence.  Theravad and buddhism is far more than this but for the purposes on my own analysis of this “new” landscape its essense has been revealed.

Therevada Buddhist

I haven’t quite made sense of how Theravada Buddhism has survived Cambodia’s bloody history.  The Khmer regime of Jayavarman VII was known as one of the bloodiest in all of human history, which ultimately lead to the building of Angkor Wat, one of the largest & most intricate temples in the world.  And it tyranny was only matched by the Pol Pot Regime in the 1970s that characterized Cambodia’s genocide.  Nearly one third of Cambodia’s people perished at Pol Pot’s evil hands in the 1970s.   And another third of the Country fled as refugees to Thailand, Laos, China, the United States, and any other place of escape from the pervasive bloodshed.  Over 25 years later, the scars left from this modern genocide are evident from the moment you brush the dust from your eyes.  But yet there’s a special beauty revealed in the process, uncovering Cambodia’s cultural resilience is truly inspiring.

People here are friendly.  At every passing by on the bicycle a slight hello and glowing smile is exchanged.  Cambodians work hard and aim to please.  Families are very nuclear.  Their cuisine is distinct and they take great care in preparing their food, both in the fields that surround this entire area and in the outdoor kitchens of every home.  Men and women alike work hard to provide for their families.  Here most work is related to the booming tourism market.  So many unique niches make-up the tourist experience and fuel a stronger Cambodian economy at the local level on down to the individual and family levels.  Masseuses, tour guides, chefs, wait staff, artists, you name it – the jobs in tourism are abound.  And today this country enjoys one of the greatest rates of economic growth in all of Asia – 6%.  Despite this symbol of prosperity, the end of suffering is still a distant dream for many.  But hopefully, with responsible and sustainable development, the gaps between rich and poor can be bridged.  It is not easy to face the reality of daily life for many here, though I know in my heart that today is like heaven on earth compared to what it was like 25-35 years ago.  I can’t help but engage my mind and spirit on the people of all ages that work so hard for so little. Powerful feelings of love and compassion comes over me as I make eye contact and say hello.  I can almost see within, actually be within another.  And at each glance an exchange of energy occurs, its up to us to make it positive or make it negative.  I just can’t bring it upon myself to bring any negativity to this rich & complex land, it needs all the love we can bring.  Ignoring them feels like a horrible sin to me.  They are children, so many robbed of a decent childhood.  They are human.  We are all human.  And yet there is so much beauty here.  It’s just a matter of how you make sense of panorma of history, culture, and spirituality.

Cambodian artist outside Ta Prohm

Then there is the cambodian smile.  I have never before seen such beautiful smiles.  Each and every one is a ray of light and hope in this landscape of wonderous history and quest for survival.  The glow that emenates from each individual is remarkable in its own right.  And I hear giggles and laughter often accompanying the gleeful Cambodian smiles.  Where do these smiles come from?  So much joy from such a painful past.  How incredible.  Most people here have created a unique niche for themselves.  While one woman is a masseuse, another man is a Tuk Tuk driver, and another is a palm reader.  A local artist creates jewlery out of the metal from old used bullets, the remnants and reminders of a time past.  And a street shop proprietor cuts up durian fruit for sale to all who pass by.  Cambodia is in many ways a land of opportunity for this with the entrepreneur spirit and drive.  Social enterprise appears to be the single most important ingredient to restoring & building a more peaceful Cambodia.  To experiencing joy in daily life in Cambodia.

Both love and joy for Cambodia are felt throughout my soul.

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