Thursday, December 30, 2010

Bmx Bikes For Around 100-150

But Darwin was a racist? The time capsule






The young Salesian in the years that wind through the frozen ground
of Tierra del Fuego or the precipices of the mountain range of Darwin, mounting a mule reddish and bleary, he could not help watching often beyond the Beagle Channel.
thought of that mission last of Dawson Island, the result of the tenacity of Don Fagnano, who had obtained from the Chilean government first and then transform it into a hiding place and then in a home for hundreds of Indians came and went.
course, the Salesians tried to get used to the forty catechism, the pants and the hoe. Also came the Sisters of Mary of Consolation to teach the frame and sewing. So disguised as Indians probably would have survived.

Following the gaze of my mission I have come down from the old pier in the oscillating turbulent waters of the strait. And I understand why this has seemed to Alberto now the island's most inhospitable in the world.
Rain, wind and bitter cold and biting. It's raining, always raining. The air is heavy as a slab of lead. The leaves of the Canelo tree sacred to auricani become white and sodden.
It 'hard to imagine how could those Indians living here were torn from their history.
In 1920, however, agreed upon the expiration of twenty years, the Chilean government did not renew the grant to the Salesians. Had spread the rumor that the 'island drops of' gold diggers and the estancieros wanted. Same old story.
And perhaps there was also good because the Indians were dying like flies. A real ethnocide. Despite the defeat they left the catechism from unknown diseases. And when the diseases were known, their shamans could not bear that heals. In short, if one was haunted by evil spirits could not heal. If healed, strangulation.
A look around I can hardly believe that such a place time may have triggered some appetite and even a dream of wealth.
Half a century after the island was still so inhospitable that Pinochet used it as a concentration camp for intellectuals.
The Indians did not survive long at the close of the mission. Today I walk, after the walls off in a huge cemetery filled with crosses. None survived.
The little that remains of them is in photos and books produced in the first half of the century by missionaries. The small museum tells the Salesian this style at times silly religious. It tells us little about the genocide.
But a display case seems to suggest where to look for the cultural context that facilitated. E 'dedicated to an old enemy, Charles Darwin.
Around 1830 came with Darwin in Tierra del Fuego and the Beagle as he began to focus on the ideas that would revolutionize our thinking had various contacts with the Indians.
The Voyage of the Beagle described them as cannibals whose membership humanity seemed at least questionable:
We often wonder pleasures that can never feel certain animals: a fortiori should asking this question with respect to these savages.
is not the phrase that I expect from one of the great scientists of our history. Maybe because we like to think that science of all human activity is the most free from prejudice.
Yet it is this: The book is set out in the casket, wickedly open up a page where you read phrases like:
I've never seen nowhere so vile and miserable beings.
There is elegance in this revenge.
And I like that, at least in this last part the world, there is some religious takes issue with Darwin to his theory of evolution, but because his thinking from that transpired even all the arrogance of the white man.
And I think that De Agostini, of all things is teaching me, helping me understand that there is also a science and science: that science is never neutral, never from without.
Rather always needs something more, something that comes first.
Charles Darwin was just a boy when he said those words. It was still far from being recognized as the scientist grannde father of the theory of evolution is intended to overturn secular beliefs.

Perhaps even he would know why he was eventually found on board the Beagle, the brig of the Royal Navy 27 December 1831 which had sailed from Davemport to make the tour of 'southern hemisphere.
Maybe he sensed the great chance of a lifetime. Or it was just shipped out to avoid other fates. He also worried, as De Agostini had been wanting to get their wings. Or dodge a father who wanted pastor, let alone, just him, the man of science and religion that the Church has made it hard to digest and perhaps there is still no successful tutto.Lo guess here in this strait, the young Charles, many years before De Agostini. Even if he sits perched on the bow of the brig being delivered to the expanse of water whose name is a blatant lie, the Pacific. Skip entire days to Indigo the life that comes before a prodigious variety of forms and species. In a few weeks will arrive to the Galapagos Islands of infinite wonders, where will really unlock the mysteries dell'elevoluzione and translate them into words that we Read about our science textbooks. I think these two guys sailing in the Strait of Magellan, Charles and Albert, for a little over twenty years and a huge future ahead of them. After his long journey on the Beagle Darwin did not move to Down House, his residence in Kent, where he developed and then head in the books in his scientific convictions. He changed the world with no twist, the world.






Wednesday, December 29, 2010

4 Weeks Pregnant Increase In Cervical Mucus

Sicilian Recipe: Fried Olives

Photo by airefresco

Have you called the menu of New Year's Eve dinner? Perhaps you might want an unusual and delicious appetizer. Here is the recipe for fried olives tasty, to be offered with a Countess Entellina Chardonnay.


Ingredients

10 black olive oil per person


half biccchiere garlic wine vinegar oregano


Preparation

calculated for each diner a dozen big and meaty black olives, already salted. Put them in a pan with a little oil and crushed garlic and fry them for a few minutes. Then pour into the pan half a glass of wine vinegar, and when you will be cut by two thirds, and flavored with oregano. A few more minutes on the stove and fried olives are ready. Should be served piping hot.

Monday, December 27, 2010

Rookie Initiation Idea






Here Tierra del Fuego, the far end of the world inhabited before the white solitude of Antarctica. A strange name, right?
It seems that this name is directly across the strait that Magellan will bear his name he saw columns of smoke coming from the camps of the Yamana Indians. He decided to call it Land of Smoke, but some time after a English king thought that where there's smoke, do not miss the fire and then renamed the Tierra del Fuego. Others argue that the region took its name from the red color of mountains.
What seems certain that these parts are called things differently from what they really are. Tierra del Fuego to indicate a land swept by cold winds and icy Antarctica, Pacific Ocean to indicate a sea that is almost never peaceful, Cape Horn, the legendary stretch of sea storms of a thousand and a thousand shipwrecks which takes its name from a small quiet and motionless sea town of Dutch because Dutch was the captain of the ship that gave him the name.
I wonder if this matter of names could also apply to Arezzo. I am not referring of course to its topography, but for example to the world of policy, however, I am afraid not much different from that of many other cities.
How many words are used inappropriately, how many words have now become empty shells hours containers of meaning exactly the opposite of what you mean. There are words that are sort of passe-partout, good for all seasons and all political tendencies, words that seem to justify themselves, and which in any case there must always be:
words like development, such as law such as democracy, on which everyone agrees, but then that, to prevent them from playing empty, you should attack some other concept. To say, there is growth and development: Arezzo, and I think this has also had to learn from point of view of the big issues and structural planning.
The capital, so to speak, Tierra del Fuego is Ushuaia. The southernmost city in the world. Do not believe it but, again, I met a group of Arezzo on vacation. And it is always exciting, find a piece of home in a land so far away.
now it is fashionable to go to Ushuaia to be photographed under the sign that says "fin del mundo" and return to the cruise ship or in four-star hotels. Now there is no package tour in Latin America that does not include a trip to Ushuaia. Too bad that prevail here this mania the "hit and run."
Yet it is a city that has great appeal. The surroundings are ideal for exploring off the beaten paths and parks along the Andean cordillera, or take a boat ride and enjoy everywhere sea lions, cormorants, elephant seals and penguins in freedom. And then there is to see the penal colony.
What has been one of the most famous prisons and harsh the world is now a maritime museum. In small-cell arms of the terrible ice cream you can find the bloody stories of some famous convicts for their criminal acts, including some Italians. In a jail and also political prisoners stayed relegated at the end of the world by illiberal governments and dictatorships that have, in alternating phases, marked Argentina.
But the thing that intrigues most and that is noticeable within the time capsule. It 's a strange pyramid placed in the square in front of the port and in front of the Oficina Antarctica, the place where you buy your ticket go with the icebreaker in Antarctica.
This pyramid concrete contains six laser disks and video copies of television broadcasts in 1992 and will not be open in 2492. All this, I presume, for the inhabitants of the future because we know how we lived five hundred years before.
Who knows, if the planet will still always lived and will resist the melting of ice what will the future generations. Surely you will do a lot of laughs.
and laziness of this afternoon at the end of the world "really takes me away with my fantasies. Once again, the imagination takes me back home to fifteen miles away. And I think of a time capsule to
Arezzo: who knows, maybe you could include the news of our local stations, the microfilm of the news pages of our newspapers. Collect all in short fights, controversy, proposals, statements and denials of our day, in the year of grace 2010.

And do not say to keep everything sealed for half a millennium. I think that it would take much less, perhaps only a century. It would be really fun to know today what we think of our posterity. What all of this that we now seem so important, decisive, indispensable.

Is There Liquid In A Swollen Finger

Sicilian Recipe: Frittata campagnola

photo by Fabio Ricco

Christmas lunches and dinners we have created a heavy and we're still waiting for the New Year's Eve dinner?
In these days in between, let's not overdo it. We prepare simple but tasty dishes. Here, for example, the recipe for a rustic omelet full of vegetables.

Serves 6


150 g carrots 200 g potatoes 100 grams of peas


100 g onion 200 g mushrooms 50 g ham

50 grams of grated Parmesan cheese 10 eggs


50g butter 1 bunch of parsley 1 bunch basil

half cup of olive oil
salt, pepper



Preparation Peel the potatoes and scrape the carrots, wash and mash into squares and transfer them to u pan with cold salted water, add the peas and bring to boil over moderate heat until tender feelings, then drain and keep aside. Thinly slice the onion and sauté with the butter in a frying pan over medium heat, add the mushrooms and boiled vegetables, mix everything and cook for few minutes. Withdrawn from the heat and set aside. Whisk the eggs in a container that can hold all the ingredients, add chopped parsley and basil, prosciutto, cut into strips, the entire compound of the pan and the Parmesan cheese, mix well all with salt and pepper. In a pan greased with oil spill inaderente everything, sprinkle the surface with a little oil, enter the pan in the middle floor of the oven already heated to 160 ° and cook for 30-40 minutes. Pick up the omelette is golden brown and crispy, transfer to a serving dish round and brought to the table accompanied with fries or salad.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Commercial Spa Piping Diagram



Thursday, December 23, 2010

Monster Energy Drink Ring

Happy Holidays!

photo by Stefano Liboni


Christmas is just around the corner, going crazy preparing for dinners and lunches to celebrate with family and friends and we Trattoria Trinacria I wish to extend our wishes for a peaceful Christmas and filled with so many good things. We welcome all those who returned to Sicily to spend the holidays with family and invite those who remain at the restaurant in Milan, to enjoy all flavors and colors of our island.

Greetings to all!

Monday, December 20, 2010

French Sounding Instrumental Song



Vip Bag Lock Not Opening

Sicilian Recipe: Bucatini Pirandello


Aficionados of Sicily can only worship the great Pirandello, which is dedicated to this simple recipe but fragrant. Why not then call a literary dinner with friends, cook this tasty recipe and read along with some songs of this Italian Nobel prize?

Pupi us dear Fifi, the Holy Spirit enters into us and you baby.
from the cap and bells of Luigi Pirandello

It is much easier to be a hero and a gentleman. Heroes can be sometimes, always honest.
Luigi Pirandello



Serves 6

bucatini
600 g 100 g 100 g black olives

grated Parmesan cheese 50 g butter 30 g capers

1 kg
tomatoes 5 tablespoons olive oil 2 cloves garlic

3 anchovy fillets

1 aubergine 1 red pepper 1 sprig of basil

salt, pepper

Preparation

Fry in hot oil the eggplant, cut into cubes. Roast the peppers over high heat on a griddle, skin after removing the seeds and cut into strips. Fairy brown the garlic with oil in a saucepan, over low heat, add the anchovies and let them crush crushing with a wooden spoon, add the capers and pitted olives, stir for a few minutes and add the peeled tomatoes cut into strips , salt and pepper, add basil leaves and cook for 20 minutes, then add the bell pepper. Cook for another 5 minutes, Remove the pan from the heat and stir in eggplant. Cook the pasta in salted water, drain it al dente and pour into a large bowl with half the dressing, butter and half the Parmesan, stir well and add to the surface with the remaining sauce and Parmesan cheese.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

How To Wire A Sand Rail

The last train of Patagonia





From Nahuel Pan, arid Patagonia, a little 'before the end of the world, every day or near a train. Back to Esquel where you party, snow border with Chile
are four hundred kilometers from Esquel Jacobacci Ingeniero, a route around curves and canyons of ocher.
Yes, I have taken the legendary Patagonian train instead of going to the Strait of Magellan. I wanted to hang out a bit, 'as they say in my part, wasting time before going to South ; And what better way for the train to get lost in fantasies of the trip?
And then what does it mean to waste time? Almost always traveling to waste time. And losing it actually finds himself.
Wasting time in Patagonia wander useful means to approach corners and unexplored places expected. The fate of the traveler always takes you somewhere, the promise of land and water.
are now announcing that part of Patagonia Tierra del Fuego, where the continent crumbles in the green of the close of the penguin colonies and infect the air with their odor, unmistakable.
The train comes in and stirs the imagination of every traveler. Here, the legendary Patagonian Ferrocarril do is almost nothing. Now only the memories that have left us writers and missionaries.
The worst president of Argentina, after the general has seen fit to inaugurate the era of the wild privatization in the closure of almost the entire railway network. At least the legendary Trochita has resisted all attacks . It 'so beloved by Argentines who tried to close it when there was a genuine popular uprising.
And so, day after day, the crazy speed of thirty miles an hour, still huffing through the pampas.
Four carriages with wooden benches hardened dirt that lurks in the graffiti are everywhere. Carved with knives, keep the names and dates of those who boarded the train. Who knows what stories are behind us. Some come from Puerto Montt or from the island of Chiloe in the ocean, which Magellan called the Pacific.
In each car there at the bottom of the stove, with wood ready for the fire. The passengers to take care to keep the fire lit the night if you do not want to freeze. And the frozen nights accompany the railway up to the Andes.
A journey into space, earth and sky. Yellow, green and blue. Scroll through the windows of the last prairie world.
The Far West of Argentina.
Train Passengers greet me, because all hail from these parts, a meeting is an opportunity to hear the stories to tell and tell, with humility, not arrogance. We are few in the car. It occurs to me that now the only tourists take the train, but maybe I'm wrong.
least helps to know. Travelling with a dozen assorted tourists, embarazada a young woman sipping a thermos of yerba mate and a group of high school students who go to camp, taking advantage of the end of the school.
I can give the green light to the imagination? Why not?
I'm fine here, I am assailed by a sense of inner peace, well-being that goes beyond thoughts, perhaps because it is easy to train them free, thoughts.
I often dream of living in my own imagination. When this happens I can find the joy of telling stories.
then I guess being with my heroes. Those who have given their souls to grow the legend of the Patagonian. This is a train car all to ourselves.
were up all or almost all. By the anarchist English Antonio Soto Errico Malatesta to the young in Patagonia was a gold prospector, a hunter of seals, from my Salesian mountaineer, aviator and postman Saint Exupery and there, at the bottom of the car, right next to the stove, the group of writers in travelers head Bruce Chatwin and Paul Theroux animatedly conversing with the great poet of the end of the world: Francisco Coloane.
Open the comparison, giving the word to everyone. Everyone can tell her something. Not much, because time, in dreams, is a tyrant, but now is the time to tell the greatest thrill of discovery that have lived on this earth.
The door at the back of the compartment opens. Enter new travelers and I are with them. Coloane near the stove and Chatwin are still talking, throwing a glance at the newcomer nodded but immediately returned to their discussion.
"I do not understand anything about unless you also explores Patagonia Tierra del Fuego," said Francisco Coloane.
"In what way?"
"In the sense that the boundaries of the invention have been, I do not know anything more united and consequences. Do you know one and understand each other and then you get used to thinking together, in their history and their destiny. And that goes for colors, flavors, for people who live there and the Indians who are born there. "
" I think I understand, but then why do not we even Antarctica? "replica Chatwin." One great southern hemisphere with its unexplored lands and pristine glaciers. Lands that have known wars, tribal clashes and the death camps and where they came the madness of men "
he just did not wrong , Bruce Francisco but now look elsewhere, loads of dust over the windows. Look pass the Patagonian countryside. His thoughts run away. Think of that land that runs under her eyes, which approaches the first sign of modernity and it gets confused.
Think about the hasty passage of time that is changing the Patagonia of her childhood.
From dusty windows are meeting and suddenly materialize old little stations abandoned cars left there to corrode and fight with the wind. Sometimes stations deserted unravel rusty rails that are directed towards nothing.
In the search interior of a land last Coloane was essential to find himself in the world that ended, and hold that and not be blinded by what he started. There was nothing in the discovery, if you do not tell the fatigue of being in the world.
Well, just this thought, the labor of man. To love the man, especially different from you. For this had been kept sheep and cows in the haciendas of Tierra del Fuego, participated in the search for oil in the Strait of Magellan, who lived many years among the sealers and whalers sailed aboard terrible. Then, at forty, he began to write. Even managed to escape from Pinochet that he wanted all the Communists in jail or dead on the island of Dawson.
wrote and told us about her world at the end of the world. Made of oceans bruises, and words of fjords, populated by seals and whales, fishing and shipwrecks. Shipwrecks wood but also of men. And his Patagonian grass cover and cattle fat and dry winds that know no mercy.
Now here is on the train and turns to Chatwin as if he had one final answer.
"You know, I was born in Chiloe, the beginning of the Chilean Patagonia, a beautiful island and green, but I have always felt part of the immense Magellanic archipelago. An island with a port for timber and one for the whaling ships, always on the brink of tragedy, and the winds that bend the men crazy dogs "
As if this were the explanation for everything. Nothing to add.
And the sound of the train beats the words that come as unexpected gifts. Could not think of Sepulveda:
began to walk in the park, then through the deserted streets, suddenly I noticed that the echo of my footsteps multiplied. I was not alone. I would not be alone anymore.
Coloane I had spent its ghosts, its characters, the Indians and immigrants who live in all latitudes of Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, its crew and its wanderers of the sea. Now they are all with me and allow me to say out loud that life is a wonderful exercise.


Blueprints To Motorcycle Swing Arm

Sicilian Recipe: Pan orange

photo by Mario Ragona

many sweets, not only of Sicily, containing the aroma of orange ... Wonderful fruit with exceptional properties, gives us a more intense flavor that matches easily and allows us to make sweet and savory dishes. We see today with this recipe for pan orange. Have you ever tasted?


Serves 6

225 grams of starch flour
250

150 g sugar 225 g butter 150 g
marmalade

6 whole eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla 1
yeast
powder 1 cup orange juice
1 tablespoon grated orange peel salt


Preparation

6 Break the eggs and separate whites from yolks. Work them in a bowl with the zuccehro and butter (which you did soften at room temperature) then add the starch and flour, plus a pinch of salt, beat the ingredients with a whisk, until mixture is smooth and homogeneous, then the juice and orange peel, two packets of yeast and vanilla, mixing well.
Beat the egg whites until stiff and incorporate into the mixture gently with a wooden spoon to move from bottom to top. Pour the mixture into a rectangular mold (possibly with a concave bottom) buttered and dusted with flour and level the surface of the mold preparation and push on the middle floor of the oven already heated to 180 degrees and cook for about 45 minutes. Check the cooking of sweet introducing a toothpick (it should come out dry) in the meantime, melt the jam with an equal amount of water in a saucepan on low heat. Pass it by a sieve and then collecting it in a bowl with the help of a brush Spread over the cake and decorate the surface with slices of fresh orange peel in vivo. Served sliced \u200b\u200bat the table.

Monday, December 13, 2010

Hives And Swollen Hands

With ... Fragrances and Colors ...


Dear friends, with great pleasure we received a message from Manu ... Fragrances and Colors ... who made one of our recipes. For some 'time was searching for the recipe for pasta with sardines. We do have a published version, and then she carried it out: trenette with sardines / anchovies .
We are excited to contribute to the large spread of Sicilian cuisine and to see that our blog will help in the kitchen and makes you happy. We'd love to have you at the Trattoria to know you personally.
Greetings to all and congratulations to Manu! :-)

Friday, December 10, 2010

Marco Polo Pasta Recipe

The last piece of land in Patagonia





Near Puerto Willians, the last town in the world before the Antarctic alone, there is a cemetery of white crosses that overlooks the canal Beagles. They are buried in a hundred Yamanas who were poisoned by the white man came from the north, Europe and even from Italy.
Sometimes I wonder why it is to push me this far to find something authentic. To find myself, but also the substance of stories that basically confirm the cruelty of man, his infinite capacity to produce evil.
Sometimes I wonder simply because they must search for these latitudes. Like if I wanted to run away, then that is an escape so to speak, then why not a day that does not reflect on Italy . That does not reflect its present and its future.
that will in the end, even thinking about it and think about it, knows the distance filter and put in perspective. From this remote and rugged land, the scene of such intense dramas, you can return to the right size is also the story of my city. It 's easier to think about desires, interests, disputes, disagreements, arguments.
And then, the gold diggers and the first them to sealers.
The sealers, before leaving the beach left some calves poisoned sea.
It took just before the Indians, hungry and looking for animal protein, more and more rare thanks to ruthless hunting of white hunters, bite the bait and die like flies.
I knew this story met three women in a cabin not far from the marina, a few years ago.
Melinda was here at home in the company of Ursula and Christina. Are three women among the last descendants of the people Yamana, a group of nomads who lived on the coast of Puerto Willians between the Beagle Channel and Cape Horn.
hunted with a spear and using slingshots and women wove clothes with their hair. Melinda has lost his entire family during an outbreak of pneumonia on the island of Dawson, where over two thousand and Yamana Onas were grouped at the beginning in 1889 by the Salesian missionaries evangelized to be fed and cared for.
Melinda died this year. On my return to the Land of the fire was no more waiting for me. And yes I had promised to clear up his memories to find the face of that young missionary who had known him as a child but could not remember who called De Agostini.
E 'remains the sister Christina, I am told that the country is the last Yamana still alive.
still weaves wicker baskets, craft he learned from his ancestors who using the same technique of sewing the bark canoes. In this maritime action only women could throw himself naked in the icy water with their clothes in the head, it was they who pilot the boats.
In the mythology of this people, the universe teeming with Yamanas struggling to gain the material existence, women have long dominated the world for their courage and ingenuity, before he seized power .
Even Ursula died some years ago.
And now I feel more alone.




Sunday, December 5, 2010

Suggestions For A Catholic Confirmation Letter




Geography intimate and distant


Some citizens who read the Corriere di Arezzo my travel notes I have written to ask if they are true to reports from a man who does not know (and in evident bad faith) on the site "Arezzo News" about my return policy or administration in the undertaking with the local elections next spring. The news is not true, of course, and no one can share my opinion Fanfani severe on the junta as a return to the political scene. I made other choices. That's why we want to respond to other citizens who ask me about Patagonia and the new book I'm writing with this trip. So, Alberto De Agostini was the younger brother of the De Agostini best known, one who founded the publishing house that brought the world home.
Who was really the only reading I discovered a this little book found on icebreaker en route to Antarctica. A young priest, Salesian at the beginning of last century, decided to start backpacking to address a trip to the end of the world, perhaps tired of his Piedmont, however, unrelated to a priestly mission made the whole house.
Sometimes I think that it is curious that this little book, written by Albert in the year so far, geography book intimate and distant, has called on his way to another writer, traveler. Yet it happened to me that I'm back for years in Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, not to tell this world but to tell the emotions of those who were there already.
With Alberto Maria De Agostini began a strange game: I got her memories and I made them mine. Now I try to return them, he can not take them back but it's like to accompany me in my journey through his life. But the game is in progress on my part with my readers. Hold-stop trying to give back to them all that the journey is discovered, or is in danger of extinction. Traveling is also a free-consuming life, a slight and impalpable taking possession of the experience of others. Possession of culture and emotions of other people's lives.
What a life, which made Alberto De Agostini.
explorer, mountaineer, cartographer, great anthropologist, a sailor who defied Cape Horn. But above all, man, just man who has recognized and made his own humanity of the Indians.
Later I would strike a photo that appears with the little news that he will propose to the Internet. The same that we find everywhere, even in his books.
The slim and lanky figure with flowing robe and a beret on his head that fiddles with the camera on a tripod along, teetering on the steep rocks, the walls of Fritz Roy in the background.

This misunderstood Sales has climbed mountains, glaciers discovered, traveled thousands of miles on foot to document the geography of the past edges of the world, saved from oblivion the lives of whole peoples who have spent at least forty thousand in his photographs.
A traveler rare and fancy that perhaps has more passion in climbing the snowy peaks that convert the inhabitants of Tierra del Fuego.

Friday, November 26, 2010

What Is The Best Outboard Motor 2010

Come away with me


E 'then, is the first thing that happened to me last week, a few moments after my plane had finally landed in Buenos Aires. The journey was long, but I was more than happy. I had just set foot in what for so many years is a country that now I feel my, my second home, so to speak.
I got into a taxi and they hardly have time to disclose my destination. It 'was the driver to open his mouth immediately after that I was recognized as an Italian. It took me and asked, with a half smile:
"So how are you in Italy? How's the nephew of Mubarak? ".
few times I've heard so clearly that my country not belong to nowhere. E 'was difficult something for me to tell the driver of a country is mine and which also has a history that is now permanently suspended in an atmosphere of ridicule and vulgarity.
E 'was certainly easier and more enjoyable, watching the city that ran under my eyes. That city now I begin to tell all of you and perhaps you might help us better understand the life in our Arezzo.
Buenos Aires was founded on the banks of a huge river of brown water. The color of the desert, according to Jorge Luis Borges.
In the mid-twentieth century, the splendor of Buenos Aires breathtaking in every traveler.
Part of that beauty is still preserved. As soon as the traveler looks up to the downtown streets, buildings and domes discover beautiful friezes.
The city is still impressive from the second and third floors of buildings, but the height of the road you can see the ruins, as if the splendor of the past were suspended from above by refusing to go down or disappear.
E 'in the streets the history of this country. The tango, which had fallen into decay over the years of dictatorship, is back in fashion among young people. There are milongas all day in the great cultural areas of the city. From Ideal to Confiteria Torquato Tasso.
Often you hear that sound for the trios amateur street or in the tunnels of the galleries that open to the obelisk in the delta of the Republic Plaza at the intersection of Avenida July and de Nueve de la calle Corrientes.
entrance to one of these galleries There is a row of seats with foot rests for the few passers-by who do you polish your shoes .
Tourists go to see the majestic Teatro Colon, recently restored, or the National Museum. Here there is the finest collection of a great painter of the Buenos Aires of the great Italian migration of the late nineteenth century.
are particularly extraordinary portraits of prostitutes and beggars.
But there are those who visit the Centro Cultural Recoleta and beside the beautiful cemetery with the grave of Evita.
Personally, after days spent in libraries and archives in search of my missionary De Agostini, I make the rounds of the cafes of Avenida de Mayo and the Calle Corrientes, where no one withdraws the cup until the customer got up from the table as opposed to what happens in Italy. Also comes with coffee and soda water and a small cake shaped like a media luna.
In few other places I can write pages of my book with so much concentration as here. Not that anyone will ever stop.
Everything around seems what's real, maybe too much, and when you sit in this coffee is not hard to understand why the Argentines had Borges and, I add, also Osvaldo Soriano.
fantastic and improbable stories that tell of something so vital.
Arezzo seems so far away. Yet I know that I will continue to grow it in my dreams of a man who once had the good fortune to travel to the other side of the planet.




Thursday, November 25, 2010

Gruyère Cheese At Publix

Reflections of a sommelier (the sensory and cultural decadence of a society ...)


about a month and a half I'm like a professional sommelier, to operate at a wine bar - wine cellar with kitchen recently opened in the city where I live and work, Castelvetrano, near Trapani. Once a week, usually on Thursday, was organized a convivial evening "theme" that has as its "basic spirit" the recovery of regional gastronomic tradition, conviviality as an instrument of "social communication" (very dear to the people 's classical antiquity, of which retains Castelvetrano, the archaeological park of Selinunte, a reminiscence truly remarkable and significant) and, of course, good wine, as undisputed king of the board and an irreplaceable companion food. E ' on the occasion of this evening that finding to choose wine to go with meals prepared by our chef and then restoring the role of "food" and unique, valuable companion to any meal worthy of the name, I "detoxification" by evenings spent in "sbicchierare" the hasty and careless young wine like any other beverage in the world! In these convivial evenings I am also to explain to the patrons of the local dishes and wines chosen by looking, in my small way, to relieve a bit 'of food and wine culture and to awaken in people an interest in wine and its amazing pairing with food. It is in these evenings that you realize that the "liquid joy" (as I like to call it) is really the only drink that deserves to be told and that, indeed, he (ahimé!) need to be told, because the only way you can involve people and create, always with great sacrifice, curiosity and interest. The wine, to be appreciated, it needs to join the "suggestion of the story." But listening to a "story" involves time, attention and relaxation. I found myself, almost involuntarily, to reflect on this and how in an age when, despite the impressive technological level, we, nevertheless, more and more in a hurry, as if to emulate the speed of the mechanical and electronic which "assist" we use every day, stopping to "live", enjoying good food accompanied by good wine, you need to "return us to ourselves" and to check hierarchy of their "values." As a greek philosopher said, the food and wine is something that has more to do with the heart (ie our part "soul") and with the stomach. But the dramatic technological and scientific innovation in all of us, every day, spectators and viewers at the same time, it is the result of a process that is running about 60 years now. More or less the same historical period characterized by a progressive, inexorable decline in consumption of wine and reading books and newspapers. At the same time we all become increasingly aware of "convexity" of things (ie the exterior, superficial, "the dress", "label") rather than the "concavity" of the same (ie the depth, the essence , the truth). A troublesome process socio-cultural, indeed, begun long ago when Giacomo Leopardi, a1 already around 1820, wrote in his thoughts: "It 's axiom chopped, but not perfect, that the world is glad of the appearance. Add after, to get it done, that the world is never happy, and often do not care, and often is the substance intollerantissimo ... the present world opinion a good man, and not to be. " Gather in front of the wine (and food) to taste and appreciate in all its "universality", in an era marked by misleading "suggestions" of multimedia and technology can be an important tool to combat the loss of sensation ( Another worrying socio-cultural process already known to the general Emile Peynaud), the effect of wearing "superficiality" of a company may be "progressed" from the technological point of view and scientific, but not from civil and cultural.