I am from Philadelphia, and when I meet someone who isn’t from Philadelphia they always say “Oh! You are from Philadelphia. You must love cheese steaks,” because this is the only thing people know about Philadelphia.
Cheese steaks are embedded into the national imagination as “Philly food,” or “Philly phood” (mad men dreaming up ad campaigns for local Philadelphia business or sports teams love to replace “f” with “ph” whenever possible). Philadelphians bear this and other burdens patiently, but at a certain point, even the most sanguine lose their cool. How many times have I weathered cheese steak-related questions with the same bottled response, which is: the secret to a great cheese steak is the bread, and the secret to the bread is the water, and the water has to be Philadelphia water because otherwise it doesn’t taste quite right.
Travel
Travel
My Inner Jerusalem
When I landed in Israel I had no idea what to expect. I was there on a Birthright-Taglit trip through Israel Outdoors, an organization that sends Jewish youth to Israel to study the history of the land and the Jewish people.
I set no expectations for my adventure. I simply wanted to take this leap of faith, take advantage of this truly once in a lifetime experience, and see what the opportunity had to offer.
Simply put, I was floored by my experience. The people, the food, the hikes, our group. Everything and everyone inspired me to push myself, soak in as much as I could, and appreciate this beautiful land.
Our first meal was breakfast at a kibbutz. Tables were laden with platters of vegetables, hummus, labne, baba ganoush, eggs, and Turkish coffee. I couldn’t believe my luck! What flavors! What generosity! I filled my plate up with a sampling of every dish they had to offer. And, I do believe I helped myself to two fragrant cups of Turkish coffee.
Sol Lewitt at Mass MoCA
I know I'm usually focused on food, but there are many kinds of sustenance to be savored in this world. This week, we were treated to a feast for our eyes and our souls at the brilliant MASS MoCA in its complex of late 19th century factory buildings in North Adams, Mass.
An entire three floors of the museum house this retrospective of Sol Lewitt’s astonishing wall drawings and the old brick of the buildings plays off the sleek surfaces of the art in a stirring dance of line, texture and color.
We almost knew Sol Lewitt. He and his wife, Carol, lived in Umbria not far from where we have a house. Many of our ex-pat friends were close friends of theirs. Many are artists who drew inspiration from Sol. But by the time we arrived, Sol had returned to the states for health reasons. He and Carol lived in Connecticut until he succumbed to cancer in 2007.
Visiting Diamond Head National Park
Diamond Head is just about the most prominent landmark visible when you are in Honolulu and Waikiki on the island of Oahu, Hawaii. As you lay on the beach, it is a great reminder that the beautiful Hawaiian Islands were all formed from volcanoes. It's kind of amazing. Diamond Head crater itself is said to have formed with a single, brief eruption about 300,000 years ago.
My boys were dying to get to the top of the crater on our last trip to Hawaii. This was my third time taking the historic trail to the summit. And it had been about twelve years since I had done it last. To my surprise the trail had been improved since my last visit. The tunnels are now lit and the crazy spiral staircase can now be bypassed.
Overall this is not an extremely difficult hike if you are prepared. It is only 1.5 miles round trip. However, the trail to the top is uneven and steep, with lots of stairs, make sure you are wearing the appropriate shoes.
I saw so many people wearing thin sandals and wedge heels. I can't even imagine how uncomfortable this could be, not to mention how easy to twist your ankle. And don't forget a water bottle for everyone on the hike. Hawaii, is warm and humid. Water is a necessity when it comes to getting to the top.
Eating My Way Through the Bay Area
It’s so darn good to get awaaaay. I’m bored with the predictable
patterns of my home life: my constant computer, my cooking, my own
backyard. My brain craves novelty, my tongue new tastes, my eyes new
vistas, but my complacency wants it all to come easy--so good to have
work in the Bay Area of Northern California.
How auspicious that American made my Alaska Airlines flight disappear
so I was forced to discover Virgin America—a mishap that reminded me of
how much I used to LOVE to fly. The moment I went to the ticket
window, where the desks are invitingly low, the ticket sellers
sympathetic, and the platform weighing your checked (free) bag at
ground level so you don’t have to heave it high, I felt soothed. And
once I boarded the plane, the lighting massaged my eyeballs and felt
far more flattering than the overhead glare of most terrorist scaring
flights. Thinking I look good as I parade in a pinkish purplish glow
past the first class flyers always puts me in better spirits sitting in
coach.
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