Christmas Eve 2008

Christmas Eve on Mt. Etna with the people I love!

Shore View

The island of Sicily teaches many secrets and truths. Here's one.



No matter what anyone tells you, life can go in many directions. There is no one way sign.



No matter how hopeless it feels, we're still making wishes. And when one light flickers out(I accidentally turned off someone's prayer light while trying to ignite my own! Egads.), three more flicker on.



It's okay to walk on. Don't be frightened of abandoned suitcases. They're rarely ever bombs.



The water is never as calm as it appears.



And in the struggle between the rock and the river, the river wins as it carves out channels and forges a path where there was none before.



And in the end, all that matters are the many friends who held your hand along the way.

Istanbul

I guess you could say that Istanbul was our farewell tour in Europe. My travels on this part of the world have included Denmark, France, England, Italy, Malta, Morocco, Hungary, Austria, Germany and now Turkey. As a college student backpacking thru Europe, never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I'd find myself living in Europe for three and a half years.

Even as charming as Europe will always be to me, I can feel the tug of the tropics at my heart. And I noticed my own energy of change reflecting back in my photos. The things that once charmed me in every city no longer do - the big bling churches or the mile-long museums.

What captivates me now are simpler moments like a cat swaggering through a bustling marketplace. A bird playing in the rain. An amusing sign. Or pet food sold in barrels.

Funny how things change.

Istanbul

Istanbul

An ancient underground water reservoir from around 500 AD. Discovered in the mid '50s when an archaeologist noticed that locals were dropping buckets through holes in the ground and catching fish. The site was then excavated. Beautifully lit and remarkable acoustics. One of my favorite places in Europe.

Istanbul

Istanbul - Aya Sofia

Stepping in to Aya Sofia felt just like coming home at long last. Like finding a precious love from a lifetime you no longer remember.

Istanbul

Happy 41st Birthday Brother...Wherever you are, I haven't forgotten.

My Morocco!

We admit it. We're virgins! This was our first trip to Africa, first Muslim country and first third world country.

We were advised to go with a tour group. But tour group travel is annoying. So we tried to talk friends in to going with us. No luck. So we went on our own.

We'd done Munich, Paris, Rome, Amsterdam and much of western Europe and we're craving something more exotic where the dollar is worth something.



We quickly learned to never judge a Muslim unless you've experienced a Muslim country. Moroccans were kind, honest, gentle and never once ripped us off. On the other hand, we could talk your ear off on how many times Romans tried to rip us off not a mile from the Vatican.



It's true what everyone says. Casablanca's an armpit. But we had great experiences there anyway. We had our first traditional hammam experience. About 2 and half hours (for $30) we were boiled, scrubbed in black soap, wet massaged, steamed, scoured, wrapped in bonafida sea sludge and bossed around while naked by big, burly Moroccan women. It's very humbling to be perched on a marble stoop in a steam room naked while they wash your hair and dump buckets of hot water over your head. We were thoroughly beat up and loved every moment of it!



Hawaii haunts us everywhere we go!

My Morocco!

The mosque in Casablanca.



The Novotel was awesome and dirt cheap!




We stayed in Casablanca for just a day and took the train to Marrakech.

My Morocco!

The Casablanca-to-Marrakech train system works beautifully. In my imagination on overdrive I expected to be packed into a cargo car with farmers and goats. Instead, it was safe, clean and efficient with no real difference between first and second class except for price.

The terracotta-colored countryside was impressive. And funny to watch donkeys and oxen trotting down Morocco's new, modern highways....

After the three-hour train ride to Marrakech, we were awestruck during the drive from the train station to the hotel. There were wide-paved streets lined with palms, and Vegas style hotels. After dingy Casablanca and the cobblestone streets of Sicily, we felt a surge of joy at something American-esque...



...that fled quickly when then the luxury van stopped and deposited us at what looked like a beat down village entrance - a narrow dusty alleyway with chickens on carts and donkeys standing about. Our luggage was placed in a homemade wooden wheel barrow and we were instructed to follow the toothless Moroccan - and keep up! - as he hustled his way through a labyrinth of musty and narrow passages and alleys, merchants and mayhem.

We were practically jogging to keep up with the toothless man with the wheelbarrow.



At this point, Rob was about to FREAK.

I didn't know what to be more scared of - where we were being led to or what Rob would do when we got there. Everyone looked like Bin Laden's brother, and I tried to assure him this was going to be fine.



After what seemed like an eternity in the maze of corridors, we stopped in front of a totally spooky doorway that looked like it was built for a short ogre or a really tall dwarf....and out pops a Frenchman welcoming us to the Riad Magellan. Through the doorway was a breathtaking home - complete with a trickling courtyard fountain full of floating rose petals.

We had arrived!

My Morocco!

I loved worming our way through the dusty streets of Marrakech - being amongst the donkeys and the ladies dressed in their beautiful burkas. Every which way you turn there's something stunning to see - it's a city full of hope, desperation, ancient charm, peaceful resignation...and most of all hard, hard work.

My Morocco!

In Marrakech, we stayed in a traditional riad - a wealthy Moroccan home with an open courtyard in the center that was converted to a bed and breakfast, owned by a Frenchman. We picked it because we wanted to be close to the action and to have a more authentic experience. Authentic included an incredibly uncomfortable bed, an overpriced massage and meal.

All the guests were abuzz about who'd be America's next president. This was top of every foreigner's mind at the hotel. One Canadian remarked - "We're in the midst of an election too and none of us give a damn who Canada's president will be. We just care about who will be the US President."



We stayed out of the political chatter, and just enjoyed the Moroccan mint tea.



We had a cooking lesson with the house cook who trained us how to make chicken tagine and Moroccan vegetables. She didn't speak any English and we didn't speak any French. But we watched wide-eyed and learned anyway!



We hired a fabulous tour guide for the day through our place and he was very generous in introducing us to the Muslim way of life and opened the door and our eyes to the real Marrakech.

My Morocco!

Wherever we ate, cats were sure to be there. Our guide had said that cats are sacred in Muslim culture.

Here's one who joined us at our table for lunch!



Another restaurant kitty just hopped up next to Rob and snuggled down with his backpack while we ate...



His tableside friend sat at my feet...






When food looks this good, no wonder the kitties want to be your friend!

My Morocco!

Marrakesh is a shopping paradise. The most beautiful handmade art, objects, gorgeous textiles, jewelry. I'd found heaven for sale. And my friend Brandon had said pack your suitcase full of anything American to use as barter -toothpaste, toothbrushes, candy bars, American t-shirts from a thrift store.

Fortunately all the Halloween candy was on sale here so we filled our suitcases with chocolate and geared ourselves for Olympic-level Barter & Haggling.





With all shops, there's a tourist price and a price they give to those they respect (about 30 to 50 percent less). We fought tooth and nail for the respectable price and always closed the sale with a handful of candy bars and a warm smile.

My Morocco!

It's a long day when you are constantly being courted, hustled and hollered at by merchants trying to get you in to their shop. We were having a blast but we were both weary. Rob was in a shop and I was barely standing - waiting outside.

And this tiny little shop owner - who caught my eye - because he was so quiet in the mayhem of the marketplace - offered me his stool. My feet were throbbing.

I was so exhausted I just dropped my head and just stared at the dirt for several minutes. And was so grateful that this little man didn't say a word to me, and was just comfortable with our silence.

I ended up purchasing one of his handcarved bowls, which was stunning! He was so kind and so talented, I would have bought 20 if I had enough luggage space to bring them home.



The man buried behind all these baskets was so nice to us. He fixed my broken straw basket that I had gotten in Romania within minutes - his fingers flying. He charged nothing. So we bought a basket from him in thanks.

The poverty in Morocco is intense. It just kills you that these amazingly talented and hardworking artisans have to fight so hard to live. It almost made me feel as if I don't deserve my life - I haven't earned it as they have.

My Morocco!

These Moroccans are so incredibly talented, hard working and honest people - who still create, make and sell the ancient way. They are so close to their products - their craft is so personal - it's part of their imagination, their spirit.





In the silk souk, we watched silk be made. What I most love about our European (and now African) experience, is that there's something so intimate about buying goods from the person who makes the items. To meet the man who dyes the silk, and selects the colors, and sells his craft - shopping has never been so intimate as what we experienced in Marrakech.

My Morocco!

My Morocco!

Watching carpets be made was fascinating! Never had a huge respect for what's under foot until we watched the rug making process, the colors, the designs. It was enlightening.

My Morocco!

I am terrified of snakes. Rob, on the other hand, let himself be immediately seduced by snake charmers. He paid them well for the opportunity to have a snake tail up his nose and tipped the charmer with a candy bar too.





I refused to touch him until he showered.



Of course, when they all realized we have American candy bars the whole tribe of charmers were after me. You can imagine how fast I can run away from a gaggle of snake charmers....dashing through the square like a crazy person.

My Morocco!

When our guide asked us what we wanted to see in Marrakech, we said we wanted to see the leather made. He tried to talk us out of it because of the distance and the district. We insisted and hoofed our way to the poorest sector of Marrakech to watch leather be made.



It nearly brought me to tears to see what a complicated and long process leather making is. And to see how hard these men labor for so little. As we stood there watching these men work, it dawned on me that I've never truly had a hard day at work in my life.

And it might be wise to think twice before I ever complain about anything in my little cushy work day ever again.

My Morocco!

Do you see the sleeping kitty?






After this hugely laborious leather making process, guess how much these hardworking guys can sell a skin for? $3 USD.

My Morocco!

Spices, herbs and natural plant-based remedies are all sold in the same places. Our tour guide made a stop at this pharmacy for an introduction to Moroccan remedies and of course, buy their bullshit.

They put us in a private room. Invite you to try a sample of their herbal rub as administered by one of their clinicians. You'd say yes. They'd rub it on your shoulders and then say 3 euro please.



There were a throng of fellow sucker tourists there. It was really funny. We just smiled. Bought a few of their potions and lotions. And totally felt raped and ridiculous afterwards.

I gently scolded our private guide for throwing us to the wolves.



We preferred to buy our spices from the street vendors.

My Morocco!

Our bed and breakfast recommended this restaurant - I think it was called Marrakech. It was a short walk through the main square. One of the best meals of our lives - Moroccan food is the sexiest food on the planet. It's savory, sweet, spiced and sultry.



Rob could care less about food. Give him a bowl of cereal and a peanut butter sandwich and he's happy as a sultan with his harem.

I've never seen him enjoy food like Moroccan food - almond honey chicken, bastilla, couscous with tagine chicken - and he was in nirvana.



We stopped in the main square on the way back to our riad to watch some local entertainment.

My Morocco!

At night the main square in Marrakech transforms in to this vast open air kitchen. The air is filled with the smell of barbecue and cumin. The tents and benches seem to have arrived out of nowhere and there's an endless sea of phenomenal food.



Men are calling to the tourists trying them to get them seated at their kitchen's table. It was crazy like the fish market in Catania. Cats running about. Little children trying to steal french fries off our plates. It was wild.



By the end of the night we were so full we could barely move. But we still had the presence of mind to snatch all the leftover bread and stuff it with anything left on our plates, and we gave it to a little boy as we left.

My Morocco!

After the mayhem of Marrakech, we headed to the outskirts to get away from the donkeys and dust. We stayed in a peaceful apartment resort.



We hired a cab to take us to the nearby grocery store, which is a major favorite free tour I love to do in every city we go to. We bought supplies for a few days and enjoyed making Moroccan food with all the spices we'd gathered in Marrakech.



This was the most awesome end to our vacation and cost next to nothing. We highly recommend the $120 a nite Palmeraie Resort with its recessed terra cotta ceilings, and luxurious beds and marbled bathroom - so plush! We stayed for three nights.

My Morocco!

Here's the furry greeting committee - Little kitty stationed at our resort.




So we took the free shuttle to the upscale resort on the other side of the tracks! Hawaii quality gorgeous! Reminded me of Wailea. Bravo Morocco!




Right outside our apartment was an infinity pool. Too cold for Rob but irresistible for me!

Ciao Morocco

I captured our last sunset in Morocco as we headed back to Casablanca for the red eye home. I can't wait to return to Morocco. I felt so at home in this strange, exotic and magical place.

Sicilian Olive Oil - No Ka Oi!

With this being our last olive season in Sicily, we were determined to find the best olive oil on the island. All local connections pointed towards Ragalna, a small farming town on Etna about half an hour from our villa.

After three years in Sicily, olive oil is as much a part of our life as each other!



We connected with a Ragalna farmer who comes to our hometown of Nicolosi to press his best! And so we arranged to sample his finest and experience the process!




Here he is standing with his hand picked olives.



Only 20 percent of the olives becomes liquid gold. The rest is discarded. So you can imagine how many olives, and how much toil it takes to make just a liter.

Sicilia Olive Oil - No Ka Oi!

This is more than just a cool shadow of the group. If you click on it, you can see up close that it's a huge pile of olive debris - all that's discarded post-press. Nearly 80% of every single little olive!



Here's the gang out of the shadows.



The good stuff is made to a paste and hand spread over these huge circular palates for pressing.



And here's what happens next. Cold pressed, fresh olive oil. If you received a bottle of this, this is where it was born!

Sicilian Olive Oil - No Ka Oi!

The process took half a day as we waited patiently, salivating, and reveling in the fact that this olificio and beautiful place is just 5 minutes from our house and we never knew it was there!

So we entertained ourselves by enjoying the scenery. Can you find the dog from the goats?



...And of course, we passed the time sampling some novello vino. The grape harvest wraps up in November and for three months, the featured beverage of Sicily is the fresh, new wine - that's unfermented and without any preservatives.



And here is the final product, creamy, buttery, delicious olive oil - a phenomenal extra virgin olive oil from one of the country's most superior olive oil producing regions. We prefer to eat it fresh with a little bit of salt, red pepper flakes and a pinch of fresh flat-leaf parsley. And some fresh baked bread from the local bakery to mop it up. Our favorite heavenly treat! Or drizzle it over your ragu or fresh tomato sauce before serving! Or in salad dressings. Or sprinkled over fresh sliced tomatoes. You name it.

37 & Fabulous!

Some people dread getting older but for me, but besides being fatter with less hair and sexyness than in my 20s, I have never been happier. Age sheds so much of what doesn't matter - mostly things that relate to ego and fear.



With age, once clouded priorities become crystal clear. The concept of long term goals becomes exciting! And the joy of the moment and potential for the future have never mattered more.



This birthday we learned that the two year extension in Sicily has been scaled back to just a handful of months. So we have learned to count our blessings by the number of friends we love. And by the moments we share.



Christine suggested a north Etna hike through the forest for my birthday with our friend Ray as a guide.



Here's the gang deep in a cave!

37 & Fabulous!

The scenic drive, the damp scents of pine in the crisp fall air, and the joy of the hanai family that we've made made this such a perfect birthday!



My three favorite thoughts this birthday as I turn 37 are these.



Stop to smile for someone.




Breathe deeply.

37 and Joyful!

And take the time to look around you!



I love this photos of nature waxing and waning. It was the perfect analogy for my birthday and the old giving way to new in perfect balance.

Papa Joe Gets Older than Dirt!

We met Joe and Sue last spring when they arrived and were sponsored to the island by our friends The Burtons. Joe and Sue immediately became our hanai family. When Sue traveled home for a visit, she asked us to ensure that Joe had a nice birthday so we coordinated a little sha-bang to wish the old man a good one.



We learned that old men act different when their wife ain't around.

Papa Joe Gets Older than Dirt!

We had this fabulous Sicilian seafood lunch at the port.



And after a 3-hour lunch we realized we were just getting started. So we moved the party to Tony's house in Motta. Pat and I went for a swim in his pool! And the gang played poker, and we stayed long enough to get hungry again and Meg made lasagna....





...and little Mikey behaved like the stinker rock star he's gonna be some day! It was a birthday to remember that's for sure!

PetWalk 2008

One of my favorite charity events is PetWalk in Hawaii! Altho, I must say it's much more joyful to admire the event from Sicily than to be in Hawaii producing it! This photo from this event is just too cute not to share.

Summer Fun with Friends!

It's already October and I'm just getting around to organizing my summer memories. It went so fast. What made this summer even more special was that it was my last where I was completely foot loose and fancy free.

I went from part-time freelance consultant at my leisure. To two jobs - by day as MWR marketing director. Only to get home, take off my shoes and head for my virtual office, where I'm working nearly full-time again. Funny how both engines kicked into full gear about the same time. And both give me a tremendous amount of energy and passion in such different ways!

Before I update you on our summer adventures. Wanted you to meet some new friends we made. This is Del and Medy and they live down the street. Medy walks the dogs since I'm not home by day and they love her so much. And I come home from work and find food in my refrigerator like homemade manapua...and that just gets my tail wagging too! We love having these two in our lives.



This summer we headed back to Sciacca for the Menfi wine festival for the 4th of July weekend. It was so good to see Steve in Sciacca. It was our first weekend trip with Pat. Amy and Chad went to!




Each summer (just like each year) is better than the last. And it makes me wild with joy to think about what's ahead because our summer was just so wonderful and fun. This time in our life is so amazing.

Here I am with Mary, my landlord and friend. And we talked her into giving us a scaciatta cooking lesson, which is a typical Sicilian dish often seen at tavola caldas. It's like calzone but better.

Summer Fun with Friends!

Sue and Medy go knife to knife in the kitchen over scaciatta!





The finished product was heavenly!

Summer Fun with Friends!

We hosted another cooking night at our house with the gang. And Sue taught Rob how to make eggplant parmesan, which is one of his favorite dishes.

Summer Fun with Friends!

Miranda taught Pat and me how to make sushi. I miss Genki Sushi so bad it hurts!



Rob finished his University of Maryland Italian 101 course.



Pat fed us all in style one hot summer nite!



And Rob and I celebrated my adoption day (my second birthday!) with Vietnamese lemongrass porkchops, jasmine rice and Vietnamese spring rolls. With no local Vietnamese restaurant to enjoy, we had to learn to make my favorite dish myself. I found lemongrass in Chinatown in Amsterdam and schlepped it all the way home to Sicily. It's one of my favorite spices.

Summer Moonlight Lava Chase

While Rob was in Hawaii, Matt and Christine took me on a night hike. By the full moon, we hit the donkey trail on Etna and scaled the black sand craters to see the lava flow up close.

My camera did not do the lava justice but it's a memory I'll never forget.

Summer Moonlight Lava Chase

Ribs with Thomas

Our friends Thomas, Joe and Matt -- all found themselves wife-less in Sicily on summer day. So without their better halves to keep their smiles perked and bellies full of some decent food, we decided to have a barbecue at the rib master's house.



We brought all the food, and Thomas fired up the grill.



And we all enjoyed a hot summer day together.

Summer Fun with Friends!

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

We geared up for summer with five days in Amsterdam with five friends!



I'd been before but not like this! I fell in love with the city on the water all over again! Amsterdam has the same vibe as San Francisco - progressive, diverse, cosmpolitan and free!

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Chris is allergic to shrimp but we found plenty of great things to eat in Amsterdam. It was so ono-licious to be somewhere that appreciates the many wonderful cuisines of the world! We ate Thai curry, sushi, pancakes, real pub food and even Argentinian steaks. What a delight!!!

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Our apartment in the Cat Museum was just around the corner from the flower market, where we bought bags and bags of bulbs!


Our

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

I love wax museums. They're a whole 'nother world of creepy good fun!

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Some nights we'd come home early and cook up some of the fun things we'd find in the local grocery in Amsterdam. And spend the evening hanging out the window watching the world go by!




Our apartment had serious mosquitos and Rob's got the bites to prove it.

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Indian curry for dinner anyone?

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Rob dares to go through the red door! It's forbidden to take photos of the working girls in the windows, who charge about 50 euro for 15 minutes. But we enjoyed our 2 hour walking tour of the red light district.





How much is that condom in the window? These cute novelty condom figurines are sold by a nonprofit to raise awareness about safe sex. We nabbed a few - one of a kitty and puppy. They were so cute!

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Need I say anything at all? I leave that to your imagination.

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Maybe your imagination won't help you on this one. These were created to prevent gentleman from peeing in the corner. That's right. Piss off!

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Damn good fun in Amsterdam!

Alcantara Gorge

The longer we live here, the more Sicily delights us. Here's one of my favorite places. It's high energy refreshment on this island that seems so tired in summer's desert dry and dusty landscape.

Alcantara gorge is green and lush with trees - outrageously beautiful rock formations and icy cold water rapids. The place just hums with nature's invigorating energy.

It amazes me that in all our many visits to the Taormina area that we had never found our way to this hidden treasure.

Alcantara Gorge

Volleyball - Italian Style!

This weekend we set out for Kastalia, a sports resort just south of Ragusa in Sicily. We traveled with Rob's volleyball team for a wonderfully authentic, family weekend a la Siciliano!

Three years in Sicily and more often than not, it still feels like we're visiting a culture. Without a doubt this weekend...as the only Americans on property, immersed in a family weekend getaway completely surrounded by all Sicilians, we felt the subtle shift that comes from being a guest in a culture to being a part of it.

So here's the coveted holy grail of the weekend surrounded by Hawaii's state flower - the hibiscus!

Volleyball - Italian Style!

Rob vows that the team shall drink from the cup of victory!!!!



Now tell me does this look to you like a bunch of champion kick ass volleyball players? Or just a gaggle of volleyball lovin' family and friends?

We shall find out before the weekend is over.

Volleyball - Italian Style!

Summer is nearly here and our first stop was to the pool. Rob and I are water lovers to da max! We couldn't get in that olympic size pool fast enough.





It still amazes me how we're exactly half way around the world from home and yet Hawaii always seems to find me! Check out these kona tiki surf shorts. We also saw a player wearing an Hawaii Pacific University shirt and a Hawaii t-shirt. Hawaii wear is definitely the rage this season in Sicily. We're seeing fewer speedos and more board shorts. Thank God!

Volleyball - Italian Style!

Love watching the Italian boys at play!

Volleyball - Italian Style!

A little peace and inspiration is great prep for a volleyball game. So we spent the morning at the sea. Tourist season hasn't yet begun in Sicily so the shores were still brimming of shells! I walked the beach, waded out in to the water, and collected shells while Rob pummeled through his sudoku.

Volleyball - Italian Style!

After we had our fill of leisure, it was time for Rob to shift in to bull dog mode!

Game on!

Volleyball - Italian Style!

Let the games begin!

Volleyball - Italian Style!

The competition showed up with nuns in tow. Man, talk about playing the intimidation card! They'd wander out on court. Scowl in the direction of our team. and hung out by the score keeper....

We had no nuns with us. Just Rob,the token American giant. He's the only American on a team in the league.



For Sicily's community league playoffs that included volleyball, soccer and basketball...I'd guess there were at least 5,000 in attendance.

Volleyball - Italian Style!

Here's the Motta boys team and their coach! Every time Rob would nail the ball the boys would chant "Ba Boom!"

Volleyball Italian Style

In one weekend this community league from Motta with players from age 16 to 45 rose through the ranks and become rock stars! That's right...They WON!

Volleyball Champions

Not only did Motta win all its matches. It was the only Catania volleyball team in the whole league to rank first place in any division!





I've dubbed Elsa, Julia and Martina the Sicilian spice girls. And do these girls know how to work it...whether it's pummeling the ball on court, dancing in their bikinis by the pool, or posing like rockstars for the camera!

Romania: The Hunt for Blood!

My name is Jacque LeBlanc. And I am a vampire.

As soon as the sunset, we embarked on our journey to Romania in search of the father land.



I slept by day on the bus under the caring hands of my fledglings.




I slept some more under the watchful eye of my creator Dracula aka Vlad the Impaler of Romania, a celebrated prince who united the country by scaring the blood out of his enemies with his gruesome impaling tactics.

Before I tell you our story...I must tell you...I am a very sleepy vampire.

Romania: In Hunt of Blood!

Why are we in Romania? Because all vacationing vampires must make the pilgrimage to the fatherland. And American vampires on a budget, must flee to eastern europe to evade the euro, which has drained all the life force from the dollar.

The first thing any vampire does when traveling is to find a suitable and safe lair to sleep during daylight. While budget friendly, camping does not provide sufficient protection from sunlight and leaves you vulnerable to attacks from other vampires.



This Dracula Resort provided suitable accommodations for our coven.



Our coffin came equipped with a private lanai.

Romania: The Hunt for Blood!

All good vampires like to fly across rooftops. Here we are in the air skirting the skyscape of Brasov.

Romania: The Hunt for Blood!

All good vampires find refuge and comfort in creepy castles.

Romania: The Hunt for Blood!

We envy those that can die as we are cursed to roam the earth for eternity.



We could hear hearts pounding and smell the sweat of these grave diggers. It inspired in us a thirst.

Romania: The Hunt for Blood!

For miles, we hunted in hot pursuit of the perfect victims.



Too young...not large enough for a suitable meal for the coven.



Too old and grisly...not fresh enough for a feast.

Romania: The Hunt for Blood!

We found our way to the birth home of Vlad the Impaler for a suitable meal - mummified dead meat drenched in blood. Well...at least we pretended our cabbage rolls were such.




Our thirst for blood raged on...The coven agreed that Chinese people would serve as the perfect dessert. There are no Chinese people in Romania. So we settled for egg rolls and chop suey in the comfort of our coffin.



We found our way to this lair for traditional Romania fare. We liked it so much we fed there twice...

Romania: In Search of Vampires!

We kept a low profile by feeding on gypsies.

Romania: In Hunt of Blood!

I must tell you that vampires do not like rain. Our broken umbrellas buckled beneath the ominpresent rain of Romania.



We found comfort amongst the dogs from hell.



And here we are in perfect disguise as American tourists in Romania!

Just Married!

Jack and Janet went off to Kona to have a little fun! They came back married. Just goes to show that true love is worth the wait..as it's Janet's first and foreva marriage.



Last year April Janet and I sat down after work and made a list of all the qualities she wanted in a guy...at the top of the list?....must love dogs...and considering her rambunctious tribe of pets including pitbulls, a mangled love bird that survived a cat attack and a cat...that was a tall order!

She's one woman who knows how to use her magic that's for sure because by all accounts, Jack's been getting rave reviews and met all the criteria. And trust me..I've been asking folks!



At long last Janet's dad walks her down the aisle --- or thru the hibiscus bushes...whatever...I had dinner with her family last year. What a bunch of funny people. Now I know where she gets her sense of humor.



So what kind of friend is Janet? Janet's the kind of superior friend that when I asked her to send some aloha to Rob whose in Hawaii for cataracts surgery...She immediately wrote him...demanded he meet them for pau hana cocktails..and then insisted on picking him up after his surgery despite the fact that the hospital is two blocks from where he's staying. Never mind she had to take off work and drive an hour to get him. Despite his insistence to take a cab for the two minute drive! She's as stubborn as a coconut is hard with more aloha than the Pacific is deep.



I miss Hawaii and its people! I especially miss Janet. But Jack and Janet will be in Sicily and June, and we'll be there to meet their cruise ship with an armful of hugs, and a basketful of wine and cheese!

Easter is....

...a time to let your hair down!



...a time to pig out with a honey-glazed ham and good friends!



....a time to share with new friends!



...and most of all, a time to cut loose a bit and have a drink or two!

Good Friday in Enna!

This statue depicts the rebirth and return of Persephone, marking the beginning of Spring. The message was fitting considering we arrived to Enna on March 22, the day after the first day of Spring 2008.

Enna is considered the mythological location where Perspehone was abducted by Pluto to live in the underworld for a portion of the year.



Enna is smack dab in the center of Sicily, about 2 hours drive from home and is a walled, hilltop city - which means it's got all the characteristics of my favorite urban design!




On the left are new arrivals to Sicily Joe and Sue of Philadelphia, along with our friends and their "sponsors" Thomas and Kelly. At Sigonella, they call it 'sponsoring' where you serve as their temporary guardian to help them assimilate into their new life. But often times, it's just typical Hawaiian style hanai ohana. (adopted family).

Good Friday in Enna!

The Lenten season was always a big deal growing up. As little kids we tithed, gave up a favorite food, ate pancakes for supper, collected money for Unicef, got new clothes, and honored Ash Wed, Good Friday and Easter. My parents are devout Episcopalians and I attended an Episcopalian girls school.

So despite my lack of belonging to a singular faith as an adult, I am culturally Christian and the idea of experiencing Sicily's most revered Good Friday procession captured my imagination and heart!



The hooded head symbolizes mourning.

Good Friday in Enna!

The rites of Holy Week date from the Spanish domination of the 15th to 17th centuries when the various fraternities of artisans and artists were authorized to form religious organizations.



They were given precise rules and privileges from the Spanish rulers to look after the sick, poor and unfortunate.



Today, 15 of the original 34 confraternites still exist and animate Holy Week in Enna. The members are no longer miners or farmers, but lawyers, doctors etc. and only, only men.


Good Friday sees all 2000 members of the confraternties march in complete silence and sadness back to the cathedral through nearly all the streets of Enna.

Good Friday in Enna!

The townsfolk take this procession very seriously. After all, in what other context would you dress your little girl as a nun?



And they did not hesitate to tell giggling Americans to somber up and shut up. Tonite, the cobblestone streets of Enna were simply an outdoor extension of a church aisle.

Good Friday in Enna!

Lily white Jesus in a glass enclosed, gilded coffin seems so melodramatic and completely unorganic to me. But this works for Sicily's Catholics. Here he is in church awaiting to be carried through the town.



Now I counted. And it required 80 men to hoist and schlep this down the streets. If you look closely, you can see the cloth covered heads below the coffin in a swaying step procession.



Jesus is followed by the Madonna. Here you can better see all the many heads of those carrying her.I don't think it's an exaggeration to say that Sicilians are slightly obsessed with Mary. Joseph, the father that raised him, gets no props. It's all about the Virgin Mother.

Good Friday in Enna!

Experiencing a church this beautiful, almost makes me want to worship in one again. Hmmmm??? Nah!

Good Friday in Enna!

I like how this book I'm reading sums up a view on Christianity that I share...

"And while I do reserve to right to ask myself in certain trying situations what indeed He would do, I can't swallow that one fixed rule of Christianity insisting that Christ is the only path to God. Strictly speaking then, I cannot call myself a Christian. Since traditionally, I have responded to the transcendent mystics of all religions."



We have buddhas in our home. I've had my sacred Guan Yin for years! I just think growing up in a place like Hawaii where it's truly a melting pot culturally and spiritually, it's impossible to wed one line of faith. Its tradition in Hawaii to have a new house and office blessed. In one of the last places I worked, we had a Shinto blessing, a Hawaiian blessing and a New Age blessing!



Yet another reason why I feel like a funny colored duck in a really foreign pond. This isn't just a one-religion town. It's a one religion country!

Castelmola!

Just a few minutes drive above Taormina is Castelmola, a quaint charming little town of only 1200 residents.



I think the views are even more spectacular here than Taormina. Above the church rooftops, I could see Etna looking like another utopia in the distance.

Castelmola!

Castelmola!

Castelmola - Thru Doors & Windows!

Most of the portals to homes in Hawaii are postively non-descript. Windows and doorways in Italy are all about character and charm and color!



Alice, our feng shui guru, tells us that how you frame your doorway sets the mood for all those who enter your hale.

Castelmola - Thru Doors & Windows!

Castelmola!

When Turrisi returned to Castelmola after WW2, he opened a quirky little shop of novelty odds and ends from hand-crafted chairs to puppets to lemonade. Times were rough and the almond wine maker sometimes waited half a year to get just one bottle to sell his wine in.

Today the shop is now a bar and Turrisi's son still sells his dad's signature wine and kept his father's tradition of a guest book for visitors to sign. But he has refocused the family's nutty little business.

Now put your hand on this penis...I mean door handle...and come on in!





Here's more about Castelmola's famous landmark attraction - http://www.turrisibar.it/history.htm



Now, the Italian penis is quite sacred in these parts of the world, according to an article Lisa Balboni recently sent me. In fact, Italy has passed "don't touch" legislation to deter (mostly) men from grabbing their crotch. While such gestures were once made to ward off bad luck, it's now considered indecent.


While this seriously offends my sense of civil liberties that government should tell me what I can pick, grab, scratch on my own body, it's just another nutty, unenforceable Italian law. Madonna, Michael, McJagger beware!

Castelmola

Here I've hidden the faces to protect our fun-loving family from offending those easily-offended.





The penis has been good to Castelmola and nearby Taormina. In fact, gay photographer Wilhem Von Gloeden is largely responsible for putting these destinations on the map. His celebrated and award-winning photographs of nude Sicilian boys with large penises in the early 1900's helped to draw celebrities, artists and dignitaries from all over the world. Here's more about him - http://vongloedengayhistory.free.fr/

Surprise Matt, You're 34!

Surprise parties are a lot of work. It's not the labor involved that's taxing. It's not messing up and blowing the surprise and lying successfully repeatedly!!!

It truly was a team effort to pull this off. We all did what we were good at.

Rob assembled.... the grill and carted the bombola and hung the lights and delivered the birthday boy.



Chad served...



Kendra shopped...

Surprise Matt, You're 34!

Onorio cooked...



Kelly championed the beer run...



And the rest of us partied...

A leisurely afternoon in Sicily!

Nothing beats good food and good friends!!!

A leisurely afternoon in Sicily!

That'd be Christine's husband spoon feeding Kelly's husband.



That'd be Thomas' wife whisperin' sweet nothins' to my husband.



That'd be Chad's wife about to make herself a food baby!

A leisurely afternoon in Sicily!

We wrapped up the afternoon with a little shopping at Mercatone Uno for Amy's browsing pleasure!



For couples with no kids, these people sure don't lack for contact with their inner child.



Matty browses his options for a new dollie!

Etna Unveiled

On Saturday we introduced some friends to Hawaiian food -- 7 dishes from lomi lomi salmon to kalua pork to tako poke. What a delight it was to see them enjoy a taste of our homeland!

Over mai tais and an Italian card game called Scopa, an idea was hatched for all of us around the table to collaborate on a poem via email with each writing a stanza in sequence. Within less than 24 hours since our parting, we gave verbal birth to "Etna Unveiled."




Etna Unveiled

I played hide and seek
with towering Etna today
behind clouds, or trees

She hid herself
beneath a shawl
of silken snow

And, slowly, slowly
revealed her passive beauty
from my balcony below

Taunting, teasing
her surrealistic image
loomed, then disappeared.

Uncloaked, peaceful
and insignificant
before the fiery goddess I stand.

- S. Jonas, E. Chisari, P. Novak, J. LeBlanc & R. LeBlanc

Lamenting Lent!

Moms and dads, you will be pleased. This week marks the beginning of Lent. Rob and I have both given up fried food and pizza.

So I've let his coworkers and friends know that if they find him behind a building shoving french fries in his face that they are to remind him that little, precious baby Jesus is watching!

Carnevale Misterbianco 2008!

Carnevale in Misterbianco is less about the mayhem and all about the costumes. Rob, Nolan and me enjoyed a Saturday nite stroll through the town and the parade.

Carnevale Misterbianco 2008!

Carnevale in Misterbianco 2008!

St. Agatha's Festival 2008

There's nothing worse than a woman scorned, right? WRONG!

When Agatha, Catania's patron saint, rejected the marriage proposal of a Roman government guy, she paid dearly.

Sent to work in a whore house. Stretched on rack. Slow roasted. And had her breasts cut off.

Rather than die like most would have... this young woman inspired miracles with each excruciating step down the path of martyrdom.



Here's the gang including our new friends Chad and Amy.




These sugary confections are called Agatha's olives.

St. Agatha's Festival 2008

St. Agatha's Festival 2008

Here we are along with at least 100,000 of our closest friends in the main piazza of Catania. It was a mob scene. This is the shrine bearing Agatha's bones.




Saint Agatha, a martyr who died in 252 at age 15, is the patron saint of Catania, Sicily, and an exciting festival is held in her honor in Catania. The 2-day procession, said to be the second largest religious procession in the world, begins February 4. Following a mass at dawn, the statue of St. Agatha that houses her relics is placed on a fercolo, a 40,000 pound silver carriage that will be pulled up Monte Sangiuliano by 5,000 men. The huge festival lasts for two days and two nights and as with most Italian festivals, there is also plenty of eating and drinking and a huge fireworks display at the end.



And as it emerged from the cathedral...cheers rang up to the heavens and thousands of white gloved hands waved their handkerchiefs in the brisk winter air.



It was like nothing I've ever experienced before - a mass of this magnitude in utter adoration for a woman violently slain in the second century who inspires hope and prayers and miracles for an entire city of Catholics!!

St. Agatha's Festival 2008

Bird Watching at Sigonella!

Growing up in Hawaii, we are very familiar with construction cranes...In fact, the construction crane is Hawaii's unofficial state bird. No joke!



I've seen a lot of cranes in my life, but not one with a counterbalance like this -- looming over the children's playground at Sigonella.

I'm sure it meets Sicilian safety code standards (is there such a thing?), since the folks I mention it to don't seem to worried about it.

Carnevale Kick Off!

What better way to kick off Carnevale than with a decadent Sicilian seafood extravaganza. This was just 1 of 3 pasta dishes -- our second of 4 courses. Here's Flint - the big kahuna - and bona fida fellow Hawaiian.



This is exactly how you feel after 3 pasta dishes and 20 antipasti dishes. I never made it to the third course.

Carnevale Kick off!

After such a huge feast, most of us needed a walk...So we wandered toward Acireale's centro to check out the Carnevale action.

I think we were all a little tipsy...and these kids thought Pat wasn't done eating and might have them for a little after-feast snack?



Without a doubt, these kittens are the cat's meow!

Carnevale Kiss!

It's not every day you meet an Italian man carrying a feather duster as a marching baton! He tried to play hard to get...that little old rascal.



He eventually gave in to my fishy face...



...I could feel his nose hairs on my neck!...Ewwww!...What a naughty little man!

Carnevale Acireale 2008!

Pssttt...Hey dude...Look at me..Help me out here? Have you ever seen dandruff like I have????



Pat practices pole dancing for her Vegas debut in 2009.



This is what you call a true porta-potty.

Carnevale Acireale 2008 - Never a "Drag"!

My brother took me to the gay pride parade in San Francisco when I was 16. Who'd thought Sicilian drag queens would be this darn good!

Carnevale Acireale 2008 - Never a "Drag"!

This guy's expression was hilarious. You know that's a huge pasta gut underneath all those orange and yellow frills. He's like part oompa loompa, part Carmen Miranda, with a distinctively Sicilian male face like you'd see in the Godfather movie.





I think he/she liked it when I did the boob grab!



This he/she is adrogyny perfection -- he's a hot guy and a hot girl! How weird is that! He deserved a kiss.

Carnevale Band Geeks!

At one time at band camp...

Carnevale Acireale 2008!

So Matt's wife was absent on this adventure....sure didn't take him long...eh?



...and what a pig!...no! He couldn't be satisfied with just one cute band girl -- Nope....Matty had to have the whole troupe!

Carnevale Unmasked!

Carnevale Acireale 2008!

Kendra is way too clean for Carnevale. We'll take care of her later!



Here's me basking in the glow on Tinkerbell's pixy dust.



Muppet man makes his debut on Pat's shoulder!



So many disguises and just not enough lifetimes.

Carnevale Acireale 2008!

Life is so much more fun when it gets a little messy!

Carnevale - March to this Buster!

Everyone needs two things in life - a little music and an obnoxious American!

A Sophomore at Sigonella in the 60s

Here are some excerpts from a letter that came from a family friend, David, who lives in Hawaii now - but once lived at Sigonella in the 60s. His father, pictured above, was the CO of the base - Captain John Caldwell.

For those of us affiliated with the base here, it's fun to think what life was like 40 years ago! And let's hope, Sigonella parents are helping their kids have half the fun that David had in his time!

...A strong memory is of Sr. Scuderi (pictured above) coming by the house one afternoon and dropping off a live lamb as a present for my father "El Capitano." The garbage contract was set to expire, and probably he didn’t want to lose it. It was bleating constantly, and we tried to befriend the little thing. Oh well. It ended up on the dinner table later that week. As I remember, my brother (who had returned for holidays) and I refused to eat it. At Easter, we received another lamb – this time made of marzipan – about 18”long. It was gorgeous. That one, we all ate!...

...When we got to Sicily , both my brothers left almost immediately for college, my parents were busy with Change of Command and all the social engagements that go with that. So there I was pretty much on my own for the first time, with lots of freedom in what seemed like an alien world – occasional dry and sometimes gritty breezes, a sere landscape with miles of gnarled olive trees...

...Eventually, I started meeting kids – it didn’t take long. I was going into 10th grade. There must have been almost a dozen of us. The graduating class was only three (and one of them as I remember may not have graduated)! The school was small, and I loved it. It was called Stephen Decatur School back then, and we were the Trojans. I was pretty skinny and middle of the road as an athlete, but I ‘lettered’ in football, basketball, and bowling – because everyone had to play. We played against the sailor teams – who else? It was flag football but still bruising. There was a nine hole par 3 golf course then, directly behind the school. I had golfed in Florida so I spent time on the course - lots of rocks in the fairways, but still fun. ..

...There was a cart path directly behind our house that wound around to a farm behind the golf course, and we’d watch Sicilian donkey carts amble down the road in no hurry. Once, we even went to the farm to stomp grapes. I remember the owners walked barefoot through the yard and just jumped into the vats to squish grapes – not so sanitary, but we always joked that it probably improved the flavor....

...My favorite sport was bowling because we would go into Catania late afternoons, and eat rice balls and pizza while we bowled. The alleys were owned by the father of the Corvo brothers who were about my age, also at school on base, so we hung out together sometimes. They had access to a car with a chauffer so we’d ride in the back, acting sophomoric I’m sure. I remember it was a big deal when, one day, the mafia blew out the front of the bowling alley because (so I heard) their father had ‘neglected’ to pay them off. He rebuilt, so I guess they made nice-nice after that...

At school, I was appointed as assistant editor of the school newspaper, so I got to go into Catania on my own, the editor (NAF busses ran every few hours), wander the back alleys to the printing shop, and watch with fascination as they set the type, inked it, and rolled out the pages. I can still smell the back alleys of Catania , even today – though now of course it’s flavored with nostalgia.



...I thought nothing of hitchhiking back then. I remember one weekend, a friend and I decided to go to Taormina on our own to go snorkeling, so we got our gear together, caught the bus to Catania , and got out on the highway and hitched up there. I don’t know if I told my parents – 15, remember....

...I remember communist party rallies downtown – climbing a light pole one evening to remove one of the banners and being confronted by a couple of aging party members and having to give it back. I remember seeing the headlines with big photo in the Catania paper about Jane Mansfield being killed in a grisly car accident while I was at a nighttime soccer match downtown – funny the things you remember...

...I learned to eat olives there, huge artichokes too, devoured the blood oranges, and got sated on simple cheese and tomato pizzas downtown - even the wine – yes, we all got to drink the wine back then....

...I remember being dragged to the Teatro Bellini one school night to attend an opera in one of the balcony boxes - no doubt a present to my parents from someone. I took a PB&J for dinner and while I was unwrapping it, people below hissed and glared at me....

...We went to a Marionette performance; they were big and beautiful. It was the story of Roland and how he was ambush-ed (that’s how my Dad’s translator – Lydia –pronounced it and it has stuck with me through the years)...

...We climbed Etna one day. I went ahead of my parents since evening was coming on & I wanted to get to the rim of the crater – and I did, but when I got back my parents were plenty worried something had happened. I was elated and my face was covered with black ash...



(Eloise Caldwell, one of the last guests of Lord Bridport when Lord Nelson's family occupied the Castle in Maniaci near Bronte in Sicily before it was gifted to the community..You can read more about this castle by looking at our October 07 blogs).


Ciao and aloha from Aiea! - David Caldwell

Michael Moore's Sicko is Worth A Watch!

Hey, just want to remind you that Oscar's are coming up so if you're like me - you're trying to catch up on all the nominations! Last year I was lucky enough to enjoy the show on Victoria's couch in Hawaii. This year, I'm not sure where we'll find the show in Italy...and if that writer strike continues, you ain't gonna be watchin' it either!

Today was a quiet, thoughtful day at home. So we used it as the opportunity for the Sicily premiere of Michael Moore’s Oscar nominated SICKO in our living room.

I’ve seen all of Moore’s films and enjoy his unassuming, bleeding-heart persona and the eloquent sarcasm of his social and political commentary. The guy gets picked on pretty fiercely by his detractors, which just makes my favorite mild-mannered underdog more appealing for those who love his Jean Shepherd-esque story telling, cutting and creative commentary, and bias that only a passionate advocate has. He does some outrageously corny stuff (like trying to get healthcare for 9-11 rescue workers at Guantanamo Bay since Al Qaeda detainees gets better health care than our own heroes) that somehow always leaves me laughing and sobbing at the same time!

Regardless as to what his detractors say about his brand of “propaganda,” it’s undeniable that at the heart of all his commentary – there is truth.



I spent the worst and best year of my career devoted to health policy reform in Hawaii. It was the first social justice issue that called to me so strongly that I left my pr/ad agency career for it.

I served as the associate director of a multi-million grant-funded health policy reform initiative to develop solutions to cover Hawaii’s medically uninsured - leading its community relations, media relations, market research and grant management efforts -- bringing national experts to Hawaii, networking with other states on their solutions, gathering HMOs, state leadership including the Governor's policy team, labor organizations and the health care community around the issue.

So I feel that I have some experience that can address Moore’s documentary.

I do believe adamantly in universal health coverage that's a right and not a privilege. I do not believe in a solely-operated, government-run national health system. His three-part solution (http://www.michaelmoore.com/sicko/health-care-proposal/) calls for the destruction of HMOs, which I don’t endorse.

It's takes a legion of demons to create a health care crises of American proportions. HMOs and those they reject or leave to die is a symptom of our for-profit health care system - and not a cause. As are, for-profit hospitals that turn away the uninsured or dump those they have helped on someone else's doorstep (you'll see it in the film).



You can only know this if you’ve worked in health policy. It is extremely complicated, convoluted and complex. It is not a problem for any solution seeker to address who believes the issue can be laid out in black and white. There’s a whole lot of gray matter to pick thru to find a prescription for universal care. And by "universal care" I mean the concept of – affordable, accessible and comprehensive health care for all and for always - and certainly not a government-run, one system approach. After all, I've seen how government agencies respond to public need and quite frankly, FEMA, and the like, terrify me.

Sure, we’ve done ‘ok’ with our types of socialized systems - schools, the military health system, and the post office – but I’d be concerned about putting 300 million lives in the hands of the government. We’re Americans! We want options. The rich want their options. The poor and the sick need one too.

The biggest message I took away from the film is that the issue can be solved with community and political will and compassion. I know that if everyone did their part, no one would have to do too much and we could achieve coverage for all.



So here’s a formula that I believe in deeply….It came as a result of a year’s intense study on the issue with university health policy researchers, health care industry leaders, the Hawaii Governor’s policy team, community health care providers and HMOs.

1. Mandatory Employer-Sponsored Care for Full-Timers. That’s right – if you’re full time and continuously employed for 90 days, your company pays more than 90 percent of your premium. (Hawaii is the only state in the nation to pass such legislation and it’s worked since the 60s!)

And that brings us to everyone else – the unemployed, the part-time, the unemployable and the self-employed.

2. Expand State Health Programs for the Poor & Children. Most states provide basic care for those who meet poverty level requirement but they could also charge a premium co-pay to families within a range above the poverty line so that more can be covered – especially all impoverished or nearly impoverished children. It's criminal that poor children die every day in America because of lack of insurance.

3. Stricter HMO Regulations & Provisions of Low-Cost Plans. Even HMOs have a place in the system. Sure! They can deny you if you’re fat, if you smoke, if you have diabetes or for any reason that they feel you're gonna cost them mega-bucks. But for majority of the population, HMOs work. For every 1 that Moore profiled, there are a thousand whose lives have been saved by their insurance provider. If you kick them out of the game, you throw out all the millions who are benefiting from their coverage. And shift them to what? A lower-functioning government system. When the system they have is working for them?

It could be mandated that they develop an affordable policy product that people can buy that provides low cost - short-term coverage for high-risk individuals, for those in between jobs/those collecting unemployment.

4. Self-Employed & Insurance Rejectees. Create a government-sponsored pool for the self-employed and high-risk individuals. The self-employed but healthy can't afford a $350/month policy nor can a working cancer survivor afford a $1500 a month policy. So there needs to be a government-subsidized safety net for all those that the HMOs reject. Subsidizing this small population is a hell of a lot cheaper than creating a national health system for everyone.

For these people, you need an affordable insurance product that serves a pool that's mixed with healthy and sick people to balance the cost of the pool. It will help people manage their illnesses, help them get healthy and keep them working!

5. Pharamaceutical Company Regulation. We’re suckers that American pay more for drugs than any other country in the world. We're footing the bill for all that expensive, ground-breaking research not to mention underwriting the costs for other country's drugs. As Moore suggests, regulate them like you would a utility. And these drug-dependant docs need to expand their tool box and stop prescribing pharmaceuticals as the one and only cure for everything!

6. Health Care Providers Need Help. So why is health care so expensive? Last time we got a hospital bill, the itemized bill charged $10 for an aspirin and $60 for a hospital gown. People – like the uninsured and under-insured - not paying their bills is one reason why care costs. The cost of malpractice insurance is another. Bad Debt and charity care are chipping away at hospital's profitability. There are a thousand other reasons why health care costs an arm and a leg – and government needs to insert some national legislation to get costs under control.

7. Mandatory Requirement for PE & Health Education in Public Schools. Our nation is moving away from PE and health education and home economics in schools – three programs that empower kids to learn how to eat well, take care of their bodies and exercise. Well, you can’t ask people and a system to take care of you if you take your health for granted. Our school cafeterias including the vending machines on campus should only offer healthy choices. Publicly funded schools should offer teachers incentives to be excellent role models in health. And of course, parents need to throw out the twinkies and spaghetti o's. For those of us raised on them, we know better now.

So that’s our 7 step solution toward coverage for all..Even at 7, it's an oversimplification of the solution. Moore’s proposes only 3 and probably easier to remember.



I thank the universe almighty, as I know you do that you and those you love are covered...at least today in your condition. Tomorrow may be another story.

We hope we never have to ask ourselves -- what will we have to sell, cheat or steal -- to get dad that heart transplant...or our child that last 6 months of chemo.

If you've read to the end of this...thank you...it means you care!

Unholy Moley Mr. Crowley!

The first abandoned house I remember exploring was in Kahala. It was the summer of my 17th year - readying to leave for college - and I was living with my parents friends near the beach. Carolyn knocked on my door one morning and matter of factly said, "Get dressed. A wrecking ball is coming tomorrow. The neighbors are dead and they're house is abandoned. Let's go look inside."

Ever since, I've been fascinated with people's homes - of those both living and dead. You can't know a person unless you've experienced their home. It's their most intimate dwelling besides their person. A home reflects your soul, your life, your materialism, your sense of balance and space, the colors and textures that comfort you...



So here I am in Sicily's Cefalu in another abandoned home. We've wiggled our way thru an open window and Pat asks me to open the refrigerator and feign interest for a photo. And it triggered a dream memory.

It the late 90s, I was living in a rented apartment over a garage in Makiki up in mango tree and was having intense dreams. A friend slept in my bed in my absence as I was in New York on business. A very spiritual Hawaiian, he too was troubled by dreams and believed that my sliding mirrored closet door was a portal - inviting spirits in the bedroom that were disturbing sleep. I'm not sure if that's here nor there but funny that both of us would experience outrageous dreams!

One of my dreams felt so profound I recorded it on paper and dug it out from an old journal this weekend. It involved a Jim Morrison-like resident of an abandoned house, a rotten refrigerator, and an ailing parrot. An interesting medley of symbolism and reality. There is no doubt in my mind that this is the house I dreamed of in 1998. I can tell you about it sometime...

Unholy Moley Mr. Crowley!

We found this house by intention below the Cefalu stadium, down a stone pathway obscured by brush and through the bushes. Aleister Crowley (last name rhymes with unholy) lived her once but now the vines and weeds own this dilapidated residence.

Even in the 1920s, the 'abbey' was not an attractive place. Dogs and children ran round a yard littered with all the paraphernalia of drug-taking and the black arts. Rob can attest that Satan's dogs still live here and he's got the shoes to prove it!

There were gaudy cabalistic signs and lewd portraits on the walls. No one kept house, there was no running water or flushing toilets.

The neighbor tells us that once Mussolini threw Crowley and gang out of the country, new tenants moved in for a while before it was abandoned. Wallpaper and paint concealed Crowley's wall paintings, which were uncovered in the 50s.



In the early 1920s, a typical day here might have included Thelemites donning their magical robes, picking up their magical weapons and facing the East performing the Kabbalistic Cross and banishing ritual. For special occasions the Gnostic Mass was performed. It began with "Do what you wilt. I proclaim the law of light, life, love, liberty and the name of IAO (Isis, Apophis, Osiris)."

Here you can see what remains of a fresco in which a woman is straddled beneath and between the legs of an African man. My guess is that profiteers have the rest of the frescoes along with the fixtures and other remains of this house on e-bay or some underground black magic auction. We are probably of the last to see any remains of Crowley's reign here.



Long ago, this was to be Aleister Crowley's mecca for his disciples. He had hoped it would become his training center. He authored Diary of a Drug Fiend here, and this is where his addictions spiraled out of control. He became hooked on heroin when it was prescribed for his asthma.

When follower Raul Loveday died at his commune - that's when Mussolini banished Crowley and his clan from Italy. There are two stories - one is that Crowley advised Loveday that he would die on a specific day and forbade him to drink the water. And he did not follow the advice. The other is that he was poisoned while drinking cat blood during a ritual. Regardless, Benito gave him the boot. Too much bad publicity for Italy. Hmmm...Is that the pot calling the kettle black or what?



Here is the villa as it was when Crowley lived. His infant daughter pictured here in Leah's arms died here. Leah also miscarriaged here. The other child belonged to their nanny who was also his mistress.

I wonder where he would have chosen to bury little Poupee in Cefalu in this deeply Roman Catholic town that he chose for his religion. What Christian would bury her in 1920s Sicily!? She's probably in the yard here somewhere...

Unholy Moley Mr. Crowley!

This place was an early hippy community before its time in which residents and visitors alike freely took drugs -- including opium, cocaine, ether, morphine, heroin and hashish -- not to mention wine and brandy.

Hollywood's silent film screen star Jane Wolfe abandoned her career to spend time at the Abbey to treat her restlessness. Here's what she said to a newspaper in 1928: "In the morning and evening we performed the required rituals in a large room with a tiled flooring, the center of which was inlaid with queer geographical figures. The master changed his gowns and make-up according to the planets he invoked – while we men and women wore Greek robes of various colors."

You can see below the tiles she referenced have been removed.



I mentioned to our friends of my suprise that as superstitious as Sicilians are that the villagers didn't burn them all at the stake. According to Wolfe, part of her healing program was to live on the beach for 33 days in a tent. Sicilians finding her in rigid yoga as stiff as an idol believed she was possessed by evil spirits and stoned and attacked her unconscious. Here she is in pose on Cefalu's beach. Her favorite magic tool was the ouiji board...a major departure from her Pennsylvania Dutch upbringing.



All of the abbey lives in this mayhem. There's not much too see here anymore except that which your imagination can create.

Unholy Moley Mr. Crowley!

Cefalu also is home to the Church of Purgatory, devoted to the souls of those lost between hell and heaven. While they are considered within God's grace, they are not free of their life's transgressions.



It has never been opened when we've been in Cefalu. So we can only admire the facade marked by a skull's head.

Palermo's Creepy Catacombs

When my parents came to visit and I asked for their list of things they'd like to see, the only place my dad wanted to revisit with wide-eyed certainty was Palermo's catacombs. He'd visited in the 60s - long before there were tour guides and postcards for sale. It was simply a dimly lit Capuchin catacomb illuminated by a few dangling lightbulbs.

This creepy and beautiful ode to life holds a very tender place in my heart...kind of like the Red Sox do in Rob's.



Here's dad with a Capuchin monk who collected our entrance fee. My dad liked this happy, smiling soul instantly. There were only a handful of the living in the catacombs that morning - and so a young Sicilian offered to give us a private tour, and we were allowed to photograph the entire collection.

Palermo's Creepy Catacombs

My other favorite catacomb is also a Capuchin creation - in Rome. I sought it out in my college years while backpacking thru Europe. Thousands upon thousands of human bones are lovingly shaped into chandeliers, wall designs and murals.

Those capuchin monks rock! I was once told I was a monk in one of my past lives -- lived a life of reflective solitude. Maybe that's why I'm slightly obsessed with monks and nuns.

Speaking of which, I must do a blog in the near future on Padre Pio - who is my all time favorite Franciscan capuchin mystic and monk who was a remarkable psychic and marked with the stigmata...

I'm not using a zoom lens to get in this man's face. I was so close to him I could blow on his mustache. You really do need to click on the photo to see him close up. He's got a fabulous face - oblong like a dinner table - and teeth that remind me of a winding staircase.



This is the drying room. Dehydration was a popular means of mummification. You were laid out to dry before you were laid out to be displayed.



Ah....The Patriarch!...The Father of Crypt! The MacDaddy of the Macabre! If you click on this photo you can see the date - 1599. He was a brother monk who died and then was hung in a well (go figure), which aided in his perfect preservation. He mummified and fellow brothers wanted to keep him around to pray to him.

And for the wealthy, the holy and the prominent - death displayed became en vogue.



More than 8,000 are privileged to be here. And they want you to stare.

Palermo's Creepy Catacombs

It's a family affair in this section! While you may think, I'm an irreverent guide...think about this. In the day, this was a coveted honor to be looked up post-mortem and displayed for others to admire and celebrate their lives. Fashionably immortal was a statement of status.



The family tree.



Twins! No wonder dad is screaming into eternity.



Even in death I can hear this married couple talking to each other...

Did you take out the trash? Did you pick up the salami? Did you milk the sheep?

Yes Rosa. Yes Rosa. I'm working on it Rosa.

Palermo's Creepy Catacombs

Two-year old Rosalie on the left was one of the last to gain entrance to the catacombs in the 1920s. She was embalmed by a secret, magical injection that has perfectly preserved her. Upon gazing into her cradle crypt, she looks as if she died yesterday. The doctor who concocted the mixture took his formula to the grave. How selfish!

Palermo's Creepy Catacombs

"Where the hell have you been???
Just hanging around with the guys for the last 500 years."



"Keep it down up there! Can't you see I'm trying to get some beauty sleep!"



Big yawn! "I'm dead tired."



This was a notorious jigalo...or so the guide did say. In fact, the guide would have me move about so he could demonstrate how even in death this horn dog's eyes would follow the ladies every move.

How do you not laugh when you're in a holy place with a guide telling you something like that. All of sudden I imagined I was in an MTV video and the jigalo turned into David Lee Roth who jumps down from his grave and starts singing.... I"m just a jigalo and everywhere I go...

2008 Resolutions

I'm 9000 feet above sea level on a volcano in Sicily watching the first sun of the new year set. The new year invites me to reconnect with why I'm here on this island in the Mediterranean in the first place.

Sicily was my choice not Rob's as I needed to step off the bullet train - to find my footing again, regain my balance and to love and know myself better than I loved my 24-hr on call job, my family, my mortgages, my friends and everything else in the world that truly wants a piece of your ass.

I took the path well-tread. Went to college prep schools. Went to college. Landed a job. Transitioned to new jobs seamlessly - working continuously from post to post.

After a decade of following the all American formula, I felt sucked dry. I spent more time pleasing others than I did learning what might truly please me. Well you can't know what truly pleases you until you've sat in the stillness of your own life and met yourself!



I think most women are reared to be caregivers, pleasers and spend most of their lives outside of themselves. And it works for them. But for me at 34, I realized if I didn't take the time to be a witness to my own life's patterns and was willing to observe my own thoughts, choices as well as I observed others -- I knew with certainty that I'd wake up one day and realize that I'm old as dirt, spiritually starved with a fat ass, and life happened instead of living the life I chose.

When we got on the plane for Italy, it was the first time in life when I no longer had a house key nor a business card nor a parent nearby. This was my opportunity to find out who I really am without all these layers of commitments, responsibilities and roles. Americans become their jobs -- It's the American way. How many times have you introduced yourself and someone asks - "So what (job) do you do?" And from that, they place you in a framework.

Well in 2008 here's what I want to be doing for a living - experiencing life mindfully, consciously with greater awareness about the patterns that serve and no longer serve my soul. Pure and simple.

So with you as my witness, here are my resolutions for 2008.

1. Every morning when I open my eyes, to practice reiki instead of consulting my daily to do list.

2. To enjoy a mile every day outdoors with the dogs.

3. To get on a plane and visit an old friend where too much time has passed.

4. Recognize fear-based thoughts and flip them to gratitude/faith-based expressions.

5. To support Rob on his path.

6. To find ways to give Rob more personal time.

7. To support my parents thru their life transitions.

8. To earn 30% more than last year.
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Uh...did I say eat less and move more (as I sit in my PJs at Pat's house saddled up to the pupus)...this year I mean it!

Snow Play on New Year's Day

The rain stopped on New Year's Day. And I desperately wanted to be outside. Figured everyone would want to be home and unbothered, so I picked thru my brain to see who I could drag out in the snow with me.