Pasquetta

One of my favorite holidays growing up was Easter. Not simply for the American tradition of the ‘Easter Bunny’ and a basket filled with chocolates and jelly beans. (My mother being Polish I rarely received these goodies and took to making my own candy-filled basket.) In addition to blessing a basket filled with eggs, sausage and a lamb made of butter, my Easter celebration consisted of sitting around a table with elderly Polish ladies, taking mental notes on their life stories, and painting eggs, called pisanki. My mom’s always being the most beautiful and elaborate. These eggs, symbolizing the revival of nature,  were meant to be proudly displayed in your basket and shared with friends and family. (In our case, we used them to raise money for the Polish school which I attended.) I grew to love this tradition.

Since my life is now heavily influenced by Italian customs, my Easter celebrations have become even more tasty and varied. Last year we celebrated with my family in the US, along with a blessed basket of Polish delicacies, and a dove-shaped Colomba from Italy, a sweet bread that you can spend all day nibbling on. This year we spent Pasqua with the Italians, in Monterosso. I was lucky enough to share in the chocolate egg tradition, a huge festively wrapped dark chocolate egg revealing a surprise.

Being both a fan of chocolate and surprises I unwrapped the egg with the anticipation of a child. Following tradition, I ‘cracked’ open the egg, found my hand-painted trinket inside, and the chocolate feast began! (And could very well continue for many days…)

The Monday following Pasqua is called Pasquetta, “Little Easter”. A day in which people venture out, plan picnics, visit friends… and of course, eat! I tend to believe this day is reserved for finishing the chocolate egg…

all aboard

What I love about traveling is not merely arriving to the destination but the actual movement from one place to another. The travel. While on the road for 13 months I embraced this ‘time inbetween‘, as it allowed me to reflect on the places seen and to anticipate those waiting to be discovered. Many 12 hour plane rides gave me plenty of time to muse, but it is via train, traveling over land (and perhaps under sea), that I always feel most connected to the journey. Put me on a train, and I am happy. (Even simply the Long Island Rail Road or these days, the Trenitalia.)

My most memorable train ride to date was 48 hours enroute from Lhasa, Tibet to Beijing. I could have easily flown and spent more time exploring China’s capital, but I chose the option of adventure.

With only my thoughts to accompany me, I observing as the worlds of Tibet and China converged in my midst. I was one of a handful of Westerners and shared my sleeping cabin with 2 Chinese men, a Tibetan, and a few good books. My conversations were limited to very basic English as I taught the Tibetan man to play backgammon and in turn he taught me a Tibetan game.

I became a voyeur. Much of my time was spent observing life on the train.

The dining cabin became my ‘room with a view’. The landscape my vista.

The sun rose and night fell. And again. I could have easily spent another 2 days enroute.

One day I hope to board the Orient Express to destinations unknown… But these days I will happily settle for the night train from Paris to Venice.

dedication

One of the hardest parts of living in Paris, is not the attitude of the French nor the language and cultural barriers, but the distance from the one person that means the world to me (other than my Italian of course). My mom. I used to be able to hop on a train and be at her doorstep in under 2 hours, a quick jaunt on the LIRR from NYC to the Hamptons. I miss that. Equally, I miss those rare days when she would come to NYC for business and the day would end in one of those magical mother daughter encounters. For a moment, NYC became ours to share. (I will always smile when I pass Bloomingdales, our chosen meeting place.)

During my ‘formative years’ beginning at age 15, she was my sole parent, not an easy task with 2 kids in tow. I am grateful that my mom always supported my decisions, to study abroad, to move to New York City… even to travel the world. “You know what is best for you,” were her exact words. And to move to Paris, knowing she would see me less, but most importantly, knowing that I was happy.

Every day I look forward to sharing the pieces of my life with her. Trials, successes, random thoughts and musings, all if it. It is the words of my mother that always seem to bring clarity, though sometimes I may resist them. Stubborn traits run in the family? After all, who knows us better than our own mothers. And simply, she makes sense.

It is also for my mother than I began to write a blog, and continue to. During my travels in 2007 it was she who I wanted to share my adventures with (and anyone else who was willing to indulge in my journey). And now here in Paris, on those gray days when I don’t feel inspired, I simply think about my mom and how much she looks forward to my thoughts and experiences. And I write.

For these many reasons, and simply because I feel eternally grateful to have been raised by such a wonderful, warm and wise woman, and to have her in my life, I dedicate this blog to my mom. Also, it happens to be her birthday and I’m a big fan of surprises. Since I can’t be with her in person, (though soon enough we shall raise a glass), a virtual celebration will have to do.

Happy Birthday Mom!

 

 

 

 

fruitful days

I am beginning to know the seasons according to the fruits they bear. For the past two years I have looked forward to the Fall for the grape harvest, one which I whole-heartedly participate in, picking, stomping and eventually, drinking the wine. Now, as Winter has turned to Spring, the last of the oranges and many a lemon fill the landscape, ripe for the picking, and tasting. The olive trees patiently await their turn, as do the grape vines, barren of any signs of life.

As I busy myself picking the most succulent of fruit, careful not to step on a strawberry patch as I admire the view of the sea, my Italian’s father carefully grafts the grape vines, anticipating the upcoming harvest. He returns daily to the land, to nurture seeds he has planted, or to plant new ones. I am fascinated by the evolution taking place before my eyes, and understand well what drives the soul to the seed. Very simply, it’s the satisfaction of assisting in the miracle of creation. And certainly, enjoying the fruits of your labor.

In the coming months the yellows and oranges will be replaced by the reds of strawberries and cherries. These blossoms will have metamorphosed into peaches. And I will be there to pick them.

scenes of a village

I first discovered Monterosso during my trip around the world over 3 years ago. It was a seredipitous encounter, completely unplanned. I fell in love immediately. It’s hard not to, being surrounded by so much natural beauty. Little did I know, it was a place I would come to call home.

These days, my Italian and I are settling into life in a village. Home on the Mediterranean. Spending time with family, making wedding arrangements and taking time to taste the oranges hanging in the trees and listen to the sounds of the church bells. It is these scenes that currently compose my life.

Paris feels very far away.

look. read. shop.

One of my favorite shops, which also happens to be in the Northern Marais where I call home, is Ofr., a boutique, bookstore and gallery. Genius! While you are perusing the impressive collection of art and design books, you can stumble into the back gallery and live an art experience. If you are new to Paris, owner Alexandre Thumerelle will guide you, literally, with his very own Guide Paris.

Here too, amidst the fine art photography filled walls,  you can find my hand-printed rive gauche and rive droite bags. A perfect setting for wearable art! And perfect bags to fill with books!

During my last visit I entered the creative vision of artist Jeremy Everett. What exactly did I find?

The American Heritage Dictionary. Unlike I have ever seen it.

Stay tuned for the 15 year Ofr. party on May 20th! And check here for more art events.

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