Guest of the Month: Tom from Pasadena, California

 

Have decided to begin a new feature: I have so many interesting guests who sometimes only stay one night, but some manage to leave a lasting memory. Tom, above, will be my first Guest of the Month: he stayed for 3 nights so had a little more time to impose his positive, and super friendly, chatty presence into the flat, actually breaking the ice with three young girls, American language students who I had had some difficulty in communicating with... sometimes very young people probably think I am too ancient to talk to...

Tom was born in the Philippines, but arrived in the United States as a teenager and now lives with his family in Pasadena.  It was never quite clear to me what his profession was, and when I asked him he just said that he was retired. In a case like that it seems clear to me that one does not press the point... but whatever it was that he had been engaged in, I am sure it was something worthy and useful. 

One of our many topics of conversation was  about child rearing- not that I am an expert of course- and he explained his relationship with his youngest son, who is 19 and spends all his spare time in front of the computer screen, which causes Tom some concern. However, he seems to be a budding internet mogul, since he is already selling and buying and making a profit. And what is he trading in? Pokemon cards. A concept that is really quite sketchy to me, but apparently there are huge amounts of people who collect these things, and they exchange hands for big money. 

Tom's son came to him and asked a question: someone wanted to sell a very special Pokemon card but did not specify a price. The son came up with an offer to buy for a certain sum, just to try, which was well below the market value, his offer was accepted. But at the same time, he felt worried about this: was it correct to buy the card for so little money? Tom put the  question  to me, and I replied, without hesitation, yes, that was fine. It was the seller's problem, not the buyers. The onus is on the seller to find out the going value for the thing he is trying to sell. Tom said that he had responded exactly with  that argument.  But it is evident that Tom has a really good relationship with his son, for even this sort of discussion to come up... his son obviously respects him, and he also has a keen moral compass instilled into him, which made his conscience question this transaction.

Tom is a keen photographer and uses analogue camera, because he likes to make the decisions himself regarding focus, composition etc. I have of course started to paint again, so we discussed the ways and means to create an interesting image, as we were sitting on my balcony.

Talking about my balcony... 

...reminds me of the last piece of writing we enjoyed in my reading group which meets online and in situ in London once a fortnight. This time it was a travel piece by Aldous Huxley, called 'The Palio at Siena', written in 1924. Let me quote a little: 

Our rooms were in a tower. From the windows one looked across the brown tiled roofs to where, on its hill, stood the cathedral...the waves of the air broke against our tower and flowed past it on either side. And at evening, when only the belfries and the domes and the highest roofs were still flushed by the declining sun, the windows were level with the flight of the swifts and swallows. Sunset after sunset, all summer through, they wheeled and darted round and round our tower. There was always a swarm of them, intricately maneuvering, just outside the window. They swerved this way and that, they dipped and rose, they checked their headlong flight with a flutter of their long, pointed  wings and turned about within their own length. Compact, smooth and tapering they seemed the incarnation of airy speed. And their thin, sharp arrowy cry was speed made audible. I sat at my window watching them tracing their intricate arabesques until I grew dizzy...
 

These swifts and swallows dart about my balcony too, in the early morning and at twilight. But is it possible to get a picture of this? Although there are hundreds, maybe thousands of them, the picture above is the best I could come up with .

                                                                               

 

Curry Cooking with Sabena

This  is the third time in these three year of  running my tiny  pensione (how time flies!) that I have had the pleasure of welcoming some cookery-friendly Indians as guests here. 

The first one was the lovely Siddharth, a lawyer from Delhi, who was supposed to stay for three days, but stayed five, when he found out that I loved Indian food, and heard me lamenting the lack of Indian restaurants in Siena. "Well, let's cook!" he said, enthusiastically, and went out and located the  Asian supermarket here, where he bought every spice available. (see blog post A Victory, A Wedding and a Funeral...)

The problem was, as a youngish, up-market Indian male, he had of course never cooked in his life, so he spent a whole day on the phone to his mother, his sister and his cook in New Delhi, while I assisted chopping and pounding and cleaning around him. ( I have always found that men, whatever nationality, are extremely messy when they start cooking) The result was splendid, and we had a dinner party for my best friends with the result.

The next Indian cook was my old friend Sanjay, with whom I have consumed a large amount of Indian (Pakistani, actually..) food in London, mainly in take-aways from the great and legendary  Lahore Kebab House in East London. Well, Sanjay dug into the  extensive spice collection  Siddharth had amassed, and produced a lovely meal, he too. Being an ex-pat Indian he is quite able to cook, and had no need of calling anyone.

And now, the third guest who rose to the Indian food challenge with gusto was Sabena from Hyderabad, here with her husband Sunil. A charming couple, friendly and full of fun.

Sabena made a Chicken Curry, with Garamasala, the last word probably means the spice selection? And also Aloo Saag, which is one of my favourites.

Sabena’s Chicken Curry:

1.       Chop up 4-5 garlic cloves and 2 large red onions.

2.       In a pan with olive oil, add a couple of bay leaves and and inch of cinnamon.

3.       Pound together 12-15 cloves, 2 black and 6-7 green cardamons and add to the pan .

4.       When the spices start to brown add the garlic and when that starts to change colour add the onions.

5.       When the onions start to change colour, add three chopped tomatoes. Cook until tomatoes are mushy and oil starts to separate.

6.       Then add 5-6 chicken thighs or breasts, cut in halves. Sabena took the skin off, she says that is the correct Indian way to cook chicken,

7.       Add one teaspoon turmeric, one teaspoon cumin, one teaspoon chilli powder (or half, depending on taste), one tablespoon of pounded coriander seeds and salt.

8.       Cover and let cook on medium heat till chicken is done. If you want some gravy add some hot water and let it cook for 5-10 min more.

 

Sabena’s Aloo Saag:

1.Blanch 300g of spinach.

2.   In a pan add some olive oil with 3 garlic pods, 2 onions, and 2 tomatoes, all coarsely chopped. Cover and let steam cook for a while.

3. Blend all together with the spinach.

4. In another pan  add oil, 2 cloves and a small piece of cinnamon, another two cloves of garlic, finely chopped, and two very large potatoes, cut into small cubes.

5. Add one teaspoon turmeric, one teaspoon cumin, salt, one (or half a) teaspoon chilli powder. Cover and let cook in its steam

                                    
6, When potatoes are cooked add both pans together and let it cook for about ten min.

Fortunately I still had a large supply of the above mentioned spices in my Big Indian Box.When the feast was ready, we had drinks on the balcony first with my  other guest, the Chinese Sam, who joined in with enthusiasm, although on this picture he looks a little stern.

                                                         

                                   It was a great success! Sam is taking the picture below. 

Planning, planning...

 The Season has well and truly started. The narrow streets of Siena are thronging with tourist groups creating veritable traffic jams, their guides holding poles aloft, where brightly coloured handkerchiefs flutter, acting  as guiding beacons to their flocks. 

And on the last Sunday of April came the most exhilarating sign that Siena has woken up from its winter slumber: The Contrada of the Valdimontone started the season of Giri, ( as they always do): those  17 Sundays in the summer when every Contrada has their  own day to display the finery of their costumes, the skill of their Alfieri and the rousing sound of their Tamburini, as they make their way through the city ceremonial visits to the other Contrade. Here they arrive at their allies, ONDA, where their lunch table is laid out on Via Giovanni Dupre. 

I have finally had a long awaited hospital visit: the Ablatione has been done, and I am now home again, feeling fine, but only a little weak still. If I may give some advice to anyone intending to have anything done which requires hospitalisation in Italy, I would suggest trying to avoid the last part of the week...

that is because here one is not allowed to leave during the weekend, there is no staff to sign your documents. In my case my intervention happened on the Thursday. I had to stay the night. And the following day it was the first of May, Labour Day, and a holiday here. So  only skeleton staff at the hospital... and then it was weekend...so finally let out on Monday afternoon. But it is done! And my heart is beating normally again! 

And using these days of rest to plan my trip around the World for the beginning of the year! More about that soon..

Primavera

 Yes, the spring has arrived here in Siena, and that means the first stirrings of the Contrade...

On the 25th of March the CAPO D ANNO SENESE, or the Sienese New Year is celebrated, and representatives of all the 17 contradas take part in a procession between the Duomo and the Piazza del Campo. This, apparently, is a tradition that originates centuries past, when Siena was a City Republic. Above we have the OCA to the right and ONDA to the left. I am still moved by these celebrations, and see them as the beginning of the happy part of the Siena year. 

And now, when the sun shines, I go and sit in the Piazza del Campo and look at the amusing dramas which take place among the multitudes of visitors that have had the same idea...

The local police fight a losing battle every day... Their aim used to be two fold: last year they walked around the Piazza telling people they were 1: not allowed to eat anything on the Piazza and 2: not allowed to lie down but had to maintain a sitting position. They do this in a fairly cordial manner, but with the sheer number of lunch eating sun worshippers they have had to admit defeat on the first part of their task, and now it seems to be OK to consume your picnic.  The second prohibition is still in place, however. I had been watching this group below left, and was aware of  the approaching guardians of the law.  

                       
but, as I said, it is a losing battle... 

New ones arrive, and it is of course only a question of time before these too will face the carabinieri...

And today it is Palm Sunday. I have a charming, young, very tall Chinese guest here, who turned out to be a Catholic. He is a great fan of early Italian art, and saw my newly purchased Vasari's Lives of the Artists on the table. He had read that in Chinese and had also been to see the recent Siena exhibition in London  at the National Gallery.  However, his English or Italian is virtually non-existent, so we  converse through the translation soft wear on his mobile phone.  We went to mass together and he presented me with a small statue of the Madonna of Shanghai:

                                                                       

I am constantly amazed by the interesting and varied people I have the privilege of meeting here...and they are quite often Chinese. I will admit to having been somewhat prejudiced before. I was  feeling quite removed from far Eastern peoples, thinking they were somehow from a different tribe, but now they are becoming alive to me, and taking on colours, like  drawings or films moving from black and white into colours. I think I may have mentioned this before, but it continues being a joyful discovery for me. 

A London February

Yes, a whole month in London, in the depths of Winter... but towards the end of this long time of rainy and near freezing  tribulation  the lovely gardens of Notting Hill and Holland Park began to express that they too had had enough, and started coming alive with the exotic splendour of magnolias and other very flamboyant, and to me rather un-English floral signs  of the arrival of spring...

but until those last days, I spent my days on my hands and knees in the prosaic surroundings of my hired,  un-heated studio space  on a North Acton Industrial Estate

painting the floorcloth for the Richmond Georgian House, which will be installed towards the autumn. This was the only time available for me to do this work, since now, with the arrival of spring, my little airBnb will begin to fill up again and from now onwards till end October Siena is the place to be!

I was often assisted by Iarla, my friend Kathy's son (who, by the way, chose to be Tarzan for my big spring party last March) and it was the second time he helped me to work on a floorcloth, the last being the one I made several years ago for Auckland Castle.

The best time of the day was when we finished the cold day's work and walked down to the lovely haven which was a little Lebanese workman's caff, where the friendly Ali and his nephew made us hot falaffels and there was always a lovely home made lentil soup which one could help oneself to

                                                                                 

 After a month of marbling and painting of border cornucopia to match the splendid wall decorations in the room our the work was finally rolled up and taken away for storage.

There was of course also some time at night to catch up with some of my London friends, and I spent the first couple of weeks at Sanjay's lovely Parson's Green flat before moving to Andrew's Portobello Road pad and then finally I caught up once more with Les and Patty again in the lovely Ladbroke Grove flat they now stay in when they spend time in London. 

All in all a successful but really demanding and exhausting month in London, while my friends Ed and Erika manned the fort in Siena. They left this morning and I am now alone, and about to fix a Campari Spitz to fortify myself to delve into the worrying Middle East news via CNN, France 24 and Al Jazeera...

An American Journey in Two Halves

First it was once again Minnesota, this time Rochester, the seat of the famous Mayo Clinic, where my dear friends Patty and Les worked and lived most of their careers (both physicians), and where they have now moved in to a new flat where they spend little time, since they are mainly in Europe. 

Those who have visited my former London flat may remember the copper mirror that hung in the entrance hall, which I made many years ago. When I left I unscrewed the copper 'roses' and now I remade it for Patty and Les and their new flat. I am pleased with how it turned out.

 

Minnesota, and particularly Minneapolis, just down the road from Rochester, has featured on the news recently, with Trump's crack down on immigration and the legitimate and lawful demonstrations. We did not see any signs of this, but just the knowledge of recent and ongoing events made us happy to move on to the second part of the Journey:

 our  thoroughly indulgent, peaceful  and joyful trip to New Orleans which was limbering up towards Mardi Gras, and putting up the carnival colours on their ravishing balconies: I had forgotten how stunningly beautiful the city is...

Columba Stewart, my old friend and (now former) Benedictine monk (to the right below) with whom I have had so many adventures in Mali met up with us for four days of eating, drinking and music: 

Here at the famous old Galatoire's on Bourbon Street where there is a dresscode: jackets for the men. It is  a haven for traditional Creole Cuisine is at its best: above we sample the Shrimp Etoufee, and below Souffle Potatoes with Bearnais sauce to start..

Galatoires is a haven, as I said, on Bourbon Street, the centre of the French Quarter, not only because of the divine food, but also because it offers an escape from the otherwise noisy and overwhelmingly commercial street outside, where gaudy bars and sleazy dives are competing loudly for the custom of  inebriated tourists...

However, there IS also good music in one or two Jazz bars: here is The Bourbon Street Quartet playing Dixie and other New Orleans sounds at Fritzel's Jazz Club:

                                                                                 

But my New Orleans friends Ed and Jaye, below,  with whom I have spent two wonderful New Orleans Jazz Fests a long time ago, do  their best to avoid Bourbon Street altogether (most of the rest of the city is so stunning anyway) 

                                       

There is another culinary New Orleans experience one has to have: the Beignets at the Cafe du Monde on Jackson Square:

                   

And the other thing one has to try in New Orleans is of course the Bloody Marys, which are always drunk in the morning. We found a cafe in the sun on Royal Street called the Vampire, to which we returned:

                                                            

The Vampire theme for New Orleans was not, apparently, started by the novels of Anne Rice, but they  drew on older legends of the city...

All in all, we could not have hoped for a better time, New Orleans was a pure delight, and remains  my favourite city of the United States. 

Back in Siena now, where it is chilly and windy but sunny today, a climate in fact not so different from New Orleans!

 

On the Last Day of my Christmas...

 ...'Last', because tomorrow the tree comes down, in anticipation of my U.S. trip on Tuesday, to visit Patricia and Les, AND Columba, my dear friend with whom I have had so many adventures in Mali... but I am getting ahead of myself.  Let's start at the beginning, which was really the event advertised above. A lot of my Italian friends came for this my Swedish Christmas 'Aperitivo'. I had made a lot of Swedish Christmas fare, and had even managed to squeeze myself (only just!)  into my  traditional costume from Leksand in Central Sweden here below:

                                                                            

and it got another outing on Christmas Day, when Jeremiah, David, Hettie, Andrea and Silvana joined for that HUGE Turkey I was talking about... 

                                                                                   

                                     We behaved just like one should on Christmas Day,

                               
                                               and that involves of course Charades:

                                                                                

Some film watching (Disney's classics animations for a Swede like myself- Lady and the Tramp of Course. The Italians LOVE that one... maybe Love Actually, or A Christmas Carol- always the version with George C Scott:

and Hettie's American Christmas present game when you can steal each others presents. Last year I did not do so well, I ended up with a piece of garlic as my only Christmas present... but this year there was a great improvement, since I had stipulated that if the garlic event was repeated no one present would EVER be invited to my Christmases again...

And then came New Year's Eve, and a little group of Italian friends gathered here again, this time we made a 'picnic' and everyone brought along something. My place is perfect for New Year's  because there is a view over town and all the fireworks can be seen at midnight. 

There was a big New Year's concert at the Piazza del Campo, an Italian pop star called Irama : 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JQPwdQCb3lc

However, not really our cup of tea... so we stayed in and my song-loving Italian friends made their own concert. But I don't seem to be able to add the film of this splendid event! You will just have to believe me.

Last night I saw my lovely French friends Pascal and Monique here, faithful readers of my blogs, even  from my early times in Mali when they visited several times. They have made me a big fan of the great city of Lyon, where they live.

And tomorrow my lovely tree comes down... always a nostalgic event for me.  But this time there is ample consolation: at 3.30 in the morning on Tuesday a taxi will be taking me to Florence airport where I will board a plane first of all to Paris, whence I will be winging my way to Minneapolis,  Minnesota,  and then on to Rochester and Les and Patty. After a few days in sub cero temperatures we shall be flying off to New Orleans, and there will be news from there anon!