Archive for the ‘friends’ Category

What’s Cooking Wednesday: Grilled Tuna

On my birthday, I took a couple pieces of cake to my American neighbors just down the street from me (yes, I have two American neighbors!).

While I was visiting, a neighbor of theirs offered up two gorgeous tuna that her husband had caught that morning–and guess who was, in turn, offered one of these beautiful babies? What a birthday gift!

And so plans for my birthday dinner were adjusted. We had the originally-scheduled pork ribs the following night (delicious as always), and instead had a special treat of grilled tuna (tonno alla griglia) with a side of homemade french fries:

By the by, if you’ve never had homemade french fries made in olive oil, you don’t know what you’re missing–it’s definitely worth the work of peeling and cutting up the potatoes just so. Yes I know gadgets exist that will do that for you, but I find it rather relaxing so I stick to the old-fashioned way.

Grilled Tuna

  • 2 tuna filets
  • 1 lemon
  • 6 tablespoons olive oil
  • 2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
  • Handful of parsley, chopped
  • Salt and pepper

1. Prepare grilling area by lighting coals, etc.

2. When grill is about 15 minutes away from being ready, combine olive oil, garlic, and parsley in small bowl.

3. Roll a whole lemon on the counter a few times to loosen up the juice, then cut in half. Squeeze one half over each tuna filet, and then apply marinade to each filet equally.

4. Sprinkle each filet with salt and pepper, and let sit for about 15 minutes.

5. Grill tuna for about 10 minutes on each side, turning only once.

Buon appetito!


guest blogger: salena of the daily rant

We have a guest blogger today here at BE, none other than My Camera Fairy herself, Salena of The Daily Rant. You know I love Salena and her blog, so I’m going to keep the intro super short and let you get right into her fabulous post.

But not before I ask you to also go visit me at Italy Magazine for this week’s Guarda! column: The Candelieri of Sardinia! Buon weekend!

——————

Hair coiffed and perfume spritzed? Check.
Manicure done and toes polished? Check.
Eyeliner straight and lip gloss shining? Check.
Flip-flops and matching purse ready to go? Check.
Silver hoop earrings in place? Check.
Cleavage gently heaving? Check Check.

Give or take a few items (but never the lip gloss), this is my daily checklist. It’s what I do to get ready for my work day. For some of you, this may be run of the mill. For others, it may be over the top. For me, it’s my oxygen. My atypical girlie checklist makes me an anomaly in my industry, because where I make my living takes place behind the wheel of a big rig.

Let me share a quick statistic with you: According to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics, there are over three million truck drivers in the United States. 4.5 percent of them are women.

I am one of those women.

And this is what I drive:

In addition to my personally imposed checklist, I am required by the Department of Transportation, adhering to a federal standard, to conduct a real pre-trip inspection. Before heading out on the road, I have to check fluid levels, belts, hoses, tire pressure, brakes, air pressure, lights, exhaust system, trailer integrity, etc. I have to make sure everything is in excellent working order before taking to the highway.

In my blog, The Daily Rant, I have documented my lifestyle by keeping a daily account of where I’ve been, what I do and what I think. The latter can range from my praise of all things Dunkin’ to my biggest pet peeve, poor customer service. That’s where the rant part comes in.

I have written more than 1,100 blog posts, with over 500 of them including photographs. I have traveled in 49 U.S. states (I’ve also been to Hawaii, but obviously not in the truck!) and 11 of the 13 Canadian Provinces & Territories. I have been to every major city in America, most of the major cities in Canada and countless small towns in-between. I have traversed the peaks of the American and Canadian Rockies, had my feet in both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, driven the ALCAN Highway to Alaska and snorkeled in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. I have seen the majestic beauty of the Siskiyou Mountains in the Northwest and the indigo haze of the Blue Ridge Mountains in the Southeast.

I knew before I even hit the road that I would love to drive, but my boyfriend Ed (of my blog’s “Eddie Friday” posts) suggested I join him as a passenger first, since life on the road is not for everyone. He wanted to make sure I liked it before I spent the money and time to go to school for my license. So he gave me a job being his load dispatcher/secretary/bookkeeper/Girl Friday and I stayed out on the road with him for two years before I went to school to get my very own CDL (commercial driver’s license). I’ve had my CDL for over two years and now we drive as a team.

We are on the road over 300 days of the year, driving over 150,000 miles during that time and covering the United States and Canada extensively. I’ve learned a lot from Ed as he shares his knowledge and experience of over twelve years and 1,500,000 miles behind the wheel. I know I have many years to go before I hit the million mile mark, but by the time I get there, I’ll be an old pro with all the tips and tricks he’s passed on to me!

Upon hearing how many hours a day we drive, one of the first things most people seem to want to know is, “How can you sit for that long??” Valid question, I suppose, but what they don’t realize is that in this job, I get up and move more than I did at the desk job I had the year before I went on the road. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy the sitting around part, as I am the Queen of doing nothing; which the size of my ass confirms every time I buy a new pair of Capri pants.

In case you’re wondering, and even if you’re not, being a truck driver is not responsible for my generous proportions. I’ve always been what my grandfather would call “a big girl”. That said, I would not be seen out in public wearing big ‘ol prairie skirts and baggy clothing ala Kirstie Alley in her pre-Jenny Craig days. I assure you I have not fallen into the sweat pants and wrinkled t-shirt trap you see a lot of the women out here dressed in, and I most certainly do not subscribe to the “I’ll never see these people again, who cares what I’m wearing” philosophy.

From those previously mentioned manicures and pedicures to the lip gloss and trademark silver hoops, I have maintained every aspect of my femininity, and the best compliment I can ever receive after telling someone what I do for a living, is for them to say “You don’t look like a truck driver.”

For those of you wondering what I do look like, here is a little collage representing several versions of me on the road (and no, there are not any that depict the actual size of my ass, but you can see a full length picture of me here and I won’t even make you read through all of my archives to find it!):

In this job, the stops are so numerous, I often feel as if I’m on a tour of all the bathrooms and bookstores in North America. We stop so many times for me to take a pee break, I fear Ed is going to make me start wearing a diaper just so we can get some work done. We generally stop (and get out of the truck) for breakfast, lunch and dinner, in addition to taking breaks for a frosty beverage, a hot latte or an afternoon in Barnes and Noble. I’ve even been known to be persuaded (and by that, I mean dragged kicking and screaming) to go on a walk with Ed. I have been to malls in every state and several Canadian Provinces, including the largest mall in the United States; the Mall of America in Minneapolis, MN and the largest mall in North America; the West Edmonton Mall in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.

The type of freight we haul varies daily and we never know what we’re going to get. Some days it’s lumber, steel and pipe; other days it might be military equipment for our troops at home and abroad. More specifically, some of the items we have hauled are: nuclear submarine parts, spy plane components, million dollar jet engines (one was worth $4.7 million dollars and went up to Cold Lake, Alberta, Canada for their Maple Flag 40 exercise), radioactive medical machinery, steel plating for armoring military vehicles and the actual armored vehicles, gardening supplies such as mulch and peat moss, commercial air conditioning units (to Newfoundland, Canada of all places!), auto parts out of Detroit, assembly line equipment for an evaporated milk factory, submarines from Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, satellite components for NASA, shipping containers filled with various items (like thousands of pencils from China), mobile office units, accessories for military housing in Alaska, aluminum fabricating machinery, equipment to measure underwater earthquakes, construction equipment like Bobcats and scissor lifts, fencing for the Mexican border, and provisions for major disaster relief efforts like Hurricane Katrina and the Minneapolis bridge collapse. We’ve even hauled live honey bees from California to Florida, used to pollinate our crops!

I’ve done a lot of jobs in my life, from my first one bussing and waiting tables in my family restaurant, to managing a movie theater, being an operator for the deaf, working at a four star resort, masquerading as an “admin assistant” in an office, making people beautiful selling Estee Lauder cosmetics and hawking Sabrett’s from my very own hot dog cart; but driving a truck has been by far the best job I’ve ever had, for a variety of reasons.

The very first thing that struck me about this job was the absolute freedom of it. I don’t punch a time clock, I don’t have to be at a job on any specific day at any specific time for any specific set of hours. That’s not to say I don’t have a responsibilities to be somewhere, but from the time I leave the shipper to the time I arrive at the receiver is up to me, as is the in-between time. I sleep when I want, drive when I want, eat when I want, dawdle for as long as I want and do pretty much everything else on my very own schedule. No one looking over my shoulder or breathing down my neck. Although, I do sometimes feel Ed’s eye wandering in my direction now and again, but the freedom of being self-employed is like nothing I’ve ever known. I’ve always worked for someone else and had to play by their rules, which is so not my style.

The second noticeable difference from any other job I’ve held, is the money. As self-employed owner-operators, we make more in one month than I used to make in one year. And it’s not even hard. At first, I was shocked it was even possible, but now I challenge myself to find loads that will maximize our revenue and minimize our work. I will load our trailer from end to end, using every inch of it, to get the most pay for the least amount of effort. It’s sort of like that old Marine Corps adage, “Work smarter, not harder.”

I mention the money to illustrate how this profession provides more than just the freedom of an unstructured work day. There are many reasons to choose a particular career, but in this one, the money isn’t the only goal for me. It’s not about the money itself but what the money represents, which is far more valuable to me. And what I value at this point in my life, is time; the more money I make, the more time I have, and with that time comes my third and perhaps favorite reason for loving this job. The travel.

Even after being on the road for four years, I am still amazed at how much this country has to offer. The people, although the same in their humanness, vary widely in their personalities, characteristics and even appearance based on where you are in the country. It’s amazing to me when I can look at someone and say, “You look like you’re from Minnesota,” and not only be close, but sometimes, right on the money.

Being a native New Yorker, my accent, although not strong, is very recognizable in many of the places I travel. I stand out like a sore thumb in the South, but I get just as many people from other areas of the country asking me where I’m from. I love seeing how and where people live. I enjoy talking to the locals and many times, have exchanged e-mail addresses or phone numbers with people I meet on the road. Ed doesn’t understand it, but I’ve had complete strangers hand me their telephone numbers and say, “you must call me next time you’re in the area!”

I most enjoy traveling the rural roads, which we don’t do very often as it’s not as expedient or as safe as the interstates, but there are so many gorgeous little places off the beaten path that sometimes I resort to begging so Ed will acquiesce. In these places, I’ve found sights that range from the smallest church in America and the largest cow in the country, to the ice cream capital of the world.

Instead of just talking about places I want to go, I visit them. I don’t have to save money for an annual vacation, put in my request to get the time off and keep my fingers crossed hoping that no one else in my office asked for the same block of time. I go where I want, when I want. I don’t have to wonder what the people of North Dakota are like, I get to meet them. And when I’m itching to get a little grease on my fingers because I’m yearning for the taste of a real Philly Cheese steak sandwich, I can go to Pat’s.

Instead of watching the History Channel to experience historical sites, I am able to immerse myself in them. I’ve walked the halls of George Washington’s Mount Vernon Estate on the Potomac River, seen the faces of our Presidents carved into Mount Rushmore, strolled in the garden of Franklin D. Roosevelt’s home perched on the banks of New York’s Hudson River, stood on the grounds of countless military forts, and wandered the streets of numerous Civil War cities; and as with most of the places I go, I take pictures.

Here is a sampling:

You can see all of the pictures I have taken by delving into my blog archives, or you can see a collection of my favorites on my Flickr site. Just click here.

This job is more to me than just supporting the infrastructure of a nation; that’s the bigger part of what I do. I’m a small cog in the wheel of getting goods delivered. The American Trucking Association has a slogan: Good Stuff. Trucks Brings It. I am one of those three million drivers that bring the good stuff. And that makes me proud.

It’s that pride that makes me thrilled to talk about what I do, and this post has allowed me to do just that. If you read my blog, you will gain some insight into the days when Ed is making me laugh or driving me crazy, when I want to strangle the cashier in Target or how I’m plotting to disable the sun because I can’t stand the heat it projects, but for the most part, the good outweighs the bad and I hope that comes across in this post.

I thank Michelle for allowing me to share my world with some of the people in hers. Reading her blog and many of the ones she’s turned me on to has opened my eyes to the world of people living their dreams. Whether it be in the hills of Calabria or the cab of an 18-wheeler, I think the best thing you can do is pursue the things that make you feel alive and give you joy. Be open to new adventures, mingle with different people, date someone who isn’t your type, try a new food, and listen as Michelle has said in one of her posts, to your core.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you have to be all woo-woo and Zen-like, but it is important to balance the have-to’s with the want-to’s.


my interview at ‘this eclectic life’

When my friend, professional storyteller Shelly Kneupper Tucker of This Eclectic Life heard that I got a new gig writing Guarda! A Video Tour of Italy at Italy Magazine, she immediately asked if she could interview me on her blog to help spread the word.

She typed up some fabulous interview questions and had them to me within a day.

How great is Shelly?

So great that you need to head over there right now
and read her interview with me:

Is She Really Bleeding Espresso?

Thanks so much Shelly!

People like you bring sunshine wherever you go!


guest blogger: the pursuit of happiness by paul of crazy like whoa

Me carrying Pacific Ocean water on FlickrThis month’s guest blogger is Paul of Crazy Like Whoa (pictured left, carrying Pacific Ocean water), who you may also know as Paolo or Paolaccio from comments here on my blog.

Paul recently left behind his desk job in San Diego for a cross-country road trip, blog version here. Stops included the Grand Canyon, Roswell, Austin, N’awlins, Nashville, Baltimore and Baaaaaaaaston.

Seriously, read these. Some of the photos from his journey grace this post, but you should check out the complete Flickr set here.

Paul’s America is not to be missed!
[I put that in bold and centered it, so it must be true.]

Paul and I have bonded over our southern Italian heritage, ties to Pennsylvania and views on American and Italian politics as well as other pressing issues like the social phenomenon that is the LOLcat movement.

For the record, I cant haz it.

Aw shucks, I feel like anything I say about Paul would be cliché (smart! funny! joy to read! witty banter! biting sarcasm to boot!) so I’ll just leave it at this: I cannot stress how much I recommend jumping on the bandwagon and seeing what The Crazy‘s got cooking.

Below is one of my all-time favorite posts of his, originally published here on June 8, 2008, a few weeks before his Coast to Coast adventure would begin. A huge, enormous thanks to Paul for allowing me to republish this, one of the most beautiful collection of words, thoughts and emotions I’ve ever read on the Internet or elsewhere:

The Pursuit of Happiness

Grandview, looking out from a cleaft in the rock on FlickrA lot of friends and acquaintances have had the occasion to ask the perfectly reasonable question of why I wanted to give up a good home in a beautiful city on the Pacific — where I have nice friends and associates, a decent job which pays well, health insurance and all the trappings of middle class American existence — in favor of life on the road and an uncertain future.

(They usually don’t use highly caffeinated run-on sentences like the foregoing, but you get the idea.)

Part of it is for the same reason that dogs lick themselves (because I can!!), but the overarching reason why is very personal, and has to do with the quest I have been on since I was self-aware enough to think of such things: I want to live a good life and be happy.

That quest has taken me in a lot of different philosophical directions and to a lot of destinations on the Earth. I think of it as kind of a winding path that has trended in the same general direction. There was a period where I thought the key to a good life was self-knowledge and spiritual discipline. I studied Zen under a renowned master and practiced about as diligently as an attention-deficient Gen-Xer could.

Then, I spent a number of years of my life learning, so that I could earn a decent income – never as an end in itself, but what I saw as a necessary means to an end at a time when I was lurching from job to job in an island economy.

Then I entered a period of my life where I sought meaning in being a good partner and supportive boyfriend: again, not as the be-all and end-all, but as an important step I felt I needed to take.

Buddha on Route 66 on FlickrIt seems to me that a good life is lived by giving your gifts fully in the service of some greater good. Some people find that good in family: I see that as a noble and appropriate purpose, though one that will not be mine, for biological reasons at least.

Others find it in religion, or in a career. I have never been especially religious, though I would say that I am fairly intensely spiritual. And, as far as a career goes, it’s hard for me to imagine that I could find lasting satisfaction in a job, at least as the Anglo-American economy is presently constituted. I find the world of work far too reductively focused on abstracts like profit and productivity… and in any regard, the things I think of as valuable (equality, justice etc.) are not really market commodities.

This journey, for me, will be a time to break out of my routine so that I can meditate deeply on what my true gifts are. In addition, I intend to leave myself open to inspiration as to how I can give those gifts in a way that will help create the kind of world I want to see… or, in any case, somewhat slow the slide into barbarism and brutality that I see happening day by day.

I’m trying really hard not to pre-judge the outcome, though it’s not like I haven’t thought long and hard about these issues. I have the gift of communication – this makes itself manifest in my ability to speak multiple languages and also to explain complicated technical issues to others in an effective way.

The Colorado River on FlickrI am widely-read and curious about the world, and history: I feel I have a pretty good understanding of this historic moment and the underlying trends — and this understanding is not limited by either an America-centric or a Eurocentric perspective.

And above all, I have a real desire for social justice and want to play some small part in creating a world that works for everybody.

It may be that I somehow find a job that pays me to harness my gifts in order to create social change on a massive scale. More likely, I will have to put the pieces together in a more ad-hoc way: a job that supports my values along with some sort of part-time occupation in organizing, speaking writing… who knows.

Jefferson declared the right not to happiness itself, but its pursuit. Aristotle held that a happy life could only be judged so after death; until then, as Solon admonished Croesus, a man could not be called happy, but merely fortunate.

I have been fortunate to have lived a life that has allowed me to learn a little about what brings lasting happiness. I am very fortunate to be in a position where I can actually act on some of the things I have learned.


Capuchin Catacombs in Palermo, Sicily

Well, Mom is on her way home to the US and the last Palermonday is upon us. A sad day all around, but let’s try to liven things up around here with . . .

cannoli e caffé a Palermo, Sicilia on Flickr

The Capuchin Catacombs of Palermo!
(cannoli not included)

Capuchin catacombs, Palermo on FlickrI saved the Capuchin Catacombs (Catacombe dei Cappuccini) for last because they were my favorite spot on our quick jaunt through Sicily. Since I’ve always been fascinated by and drawn to cemeteries (so peaceful and comforting), I knew I’d love the catacombs. And I did.

For those who don’t know, catacombs are underground burial crypts and the Capuchins’ version in Palermo is outstanding. The Capuchins, by the way, are an order of Franciscan friars (Order of Friars Minor Capuchin) who wear brown hooded robes. For a little word origin fun, “hood” in Italian is “cappuccio” and the diminutive (“little hood”) is “cappuccino.”

Cappuccini con le stelle on FlickrAnd yes, that is where my favorite drink gets its name; some believe that Marco d’Aviano, a Capuchin friar, invented the drink in the 17th century, but others say the frothy milk and coffee mixture simply resembles the brown, pointed hooded robe.

Whatever the Capuchins’ contribution to beverage history, they sure left behind something spectacular in Piazza Cappuccini between Via Pindemonte and Corso Calatafimi in Palermo.

Even on a Sunday in February when we visited, there was quite a crowd waiting to get in when the catacombs reopened at 3 pm after unch. A sweet, white-bearded monk took our coins, and we followed the crowd down some steps and through a corridor, cooler air hitting our faces with every step.

The virgins in Capuchin catacombs on FlickrThe first glance inside was simply amazing.

There are about 8,000 bodies down there, lining the walls, lying on shelves, hanging upright, some posed in chairs, etc. There are sections for men, women (children included), professionals, priests and even virgins, pictured at left; you just need to follow the arrows to hit every part of the underground maze, although Cherrye and I went through backwards to avoid the flow of (living) people.

How did all these bodies get down here? Well, toward the end of the 16th century, burial space for monks was scarce, so in 1599, the first monk was buried underground and the remains of a few other monks were moved there. The spot started out exclusively for monks, but the Order began receiving special requests from benefactors to be buried there as well.

Permission had to be granted by the High Prelates and the General Superiors of the Order until 1739, and thereafter by the Superiors of the Convent; it certainly must have been quite an honor to be included among such Palermitani.

Capuchin catacombs, Palermo Sicily on FlickrMany of the clothes placed on the corpses are still in fairly good condition and walking through the catacombs can be kind of an eerie historical fashion show–religious robes, military uniforms, housewives’ attire, children’s best from the 17th century through the beginning of the 20th.

There is just so much history in this relatively small space; I only wished there were more information on each individual corpse, much like I wish more tombstones and markers in cemeteries told fuller stories. But how much can you really fit on a marker, I guess?

So many of the bodies were so lifelike; I could just imagine them laughing, talking, joking, arguing, you know, living.

Rosalia Lombardo in Capuchin catacombs on Flickr

The best preserved is little, gorgeous Rosalia Lombardo, at left, who died in 1920 and was one of the last laid to rest in the catacombs.

Dr. Solafia, a doctor from Palermo, embalmed her, but to this day his method remains a secret; whatever he used, the results are spectacular. Rosalia looks like she is sleeping, taking an afternoon nap after a long morning of running around under the Sicilian sun.

Other preservation methods included arsenic, lime or vinegar.

I don’t know that I’d ever want tourists rushing past my dead body trying to sneak photos (for the record, you’re not supposed to take any and I didn’t; the photos in this post are all photos of the brochure), but I am *so* very honored we got to spend some time underground with these old souls.

Nag nag nag in Capuchin catacombs on Flickr

In fact, Cherrye and I definitely spent much more time in there than others who rushed in beside us.

I’m not sure there was even anyone left down there when we finally made our way out to pick up some brochures and say good-bye to the elderly monk as he sat behind his small basket of coins saying daily prayers under his breath.

I hope you enjoyed our stay in Sicily! If you missed any in the series, please check out the posts in the Palermondays and Sicily categories.


Michelle KaminskyMichelle Kaminsky is an American attorney-turned-freelance writer who lived in her family's ancestral village in Calabria, Italy for 15 years. This blog is now archived. 

Calabria Guidebook

Calabria travel guide by Michelle Fabio

Recipes

 

Homemade apple butter
Green beans, potatoes, and pancetta
Glazed Apple Oatmeal Cinnamon Muffins
Pasta with snails alla calabrese
Onion, Oregano, and Thyme Focaccia
Oatmeal Banana Craisin Muffins
Prosciutto wrapped watermelon with bel paese cheese
Fried eggs with red onion and cheese
Calabrian sausage and fava beans
Ricotta Pound Cake