I hope this finds you well and immersed in gratifying summer pastimes. As I am currently in “staycation” mode, on the heels of my long-anticipated venture to Malta, Sicily, and the southwestern region of Italy, I am still absorbing everything I saw and experienced along the way. Thank goodness for assorted regional and local maps, adjusted itinerary printouts, and the digital assistance of a phone camera, indicating the dates and locations of photos taken. Quite the jigsaw puzzle! In two words, this trip was a whirlwind adventure.
How lucky to have it enhanced by Mother Nature’s best behavior, as well as the soldiering cooperation from my two battered old feet. The airline and airport experience, however, was a different story, but I’ll spare you. We could all play a game of “can you top this” on the subject. Suffice it to say that I almost kissed the ground when I finally made it to Malta…and then actually kissed Giovanni, my Sicilian hero, the FOURTH person I had to speak to at the Malta hotel desk to achieve positive results. He was the one who came to my rescue and resolved a room issue. How right to have arrived just this one day earlier, to get settled and sleep! A godsend. I was ready to leave Murphy’s Law behind for a while and delve into some fun…and fabulous “firsts."
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Here I was in Malta, a place I had not been to before. The country of Malta is located in the central Mediterranean, between Sicily and the North African coast. It is an archipelago comprised of five islands, of which Malta is the largest. It is a nation known for historic sites related to a succession of rulers including the Phoenicians, Romans, Greeks, Arabs, Moors, Normans, Knights of Saint John, Sicilians, French and British. A multiplicity of influences! Malta played a vital role in World War II as a base for the Allied Powers. In the capital city of Valletta one can still visit, 400 feet underground, war rooms that once housed the British War headquarters. In this complex of tunnels and chambers remains the operations room where Malta’s defense was coordinated.
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In 1964 Malta became independent from Britain and the Commonwealth, and at the end of 1974 was declared a republic. It was admitted to the European Union in 2004, the smallest country in the EU. A European atmosphere predominates as a result of close association with the Continent. One is aware of Malta’s distinctly international draw and feeling, as well as its liberal attitudes. In fact, as I noted from the New York Times upon my return, Malta will be hosting EuroPride this September. It is an annual L.G.B.T.Q. event, begun in 1992, and awarded to a different European city every year. With Roman Catholicism a major influence on Maltese culture, various traditions have evolved. St. John’s Co-Cathedral in Valletta is, by itself, worth a trip to Malta. Though many inhabitants are Roman Catholic, the word for God in Maltese is Allah, a reflection of the two centuries the Arabs ruled Malta after invading in 870 A.D. The contradictions over the centuries have created a tolerance of differences. Amid the differences, the eight-pointed, or Maltese, cross, adopted in 1126, is commonly linked with Maltese identity and is seen throughout the island.
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In Malta’s capital, Valletta, the old fortress wall stands prominently as a testament to the city’s history of defense. To retain its structural integrity, it periodically requires remedial reinforcement, as during this visit. As a harbor city, Valletta was vulnerable to invasions in its evolution, but ultimately became a major maritime center. Today the Grand Harbor reflects a fondness for sailboats and yachts. Many vessels are registered in Malta, including our small ship, Athena.
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Departing Valletta we bused to Hagar Qim, which means “free-standing boulders,” a UNESCO World Heritage Site. It boasts archaeological remains older than Stonehenge and the Pyramids. En route our driver pulled over to allow us to disembark for a magnificent scenic view of a stone grotto. Malta’s islands are dominated by limestone formations, and much of their coastlines consist of steep or vertical limestone cliffs, indented by the beautiful turquoise bays, inlets, and coves. Much of Maltese building material is also comprised of that soft, porous stone by the sea.
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Following Hagar Qim was “The Three Cities,” most notably Vittoriosa, an ancient location that existed before Valletta was built. As we walked the narrow streets and historic alleyways, I was transfixed by the loving and meticulous attention exhibited in home entryways. All that came into view with each step was photo worthy: plant assortments, flower box arrangements, chosen paint colors, religious displays. The aesthetic design and painting of the doors were themselves works of art. To add the finishing touch to each door, symbolic and specially selected door knockers were affixed to reflect the resident’s individuality, profession, heritage, or representation. Often, I would be the last one straggling behind so I could capture a shot of all this magnificence. It was living art. One was more captivating than the next. That’s how it was for me during much of this trip. Too often it was more important to me to frame a moment on camera than catch up with the others ahead.
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An unexpected experience and surprise in Vittoriosa was a rowboat-a-la-gondola ride on the neighboring waters. Here was a moment to catch a glimpse of the ancient city from the sea. Four people and a “gondolier” with a paddle, that’s it. No life vests. For a terra firma kind o’ gal I focused on breathing. Once that was under control, I could concentrate on what I was seeing. After that amuse bouche, it felt good to finally embark on our small ship.
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On the ship, with just under fifty people, we headed to two more Malta towns, Mdina and Rabat. Mdina, known as the “Silent City,” because of its limited access to traffic, is a medieval city surrounded by thick, imposing walls and elegant buildings of Malta’s characteristic yellow limestone. Its history can be traced back 4,000 years. Here we even saw a wedding party and the bride entering the main church with her bridesmaids in beautiful coral dresses.
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From here we said goodbye to Malta and sailed to Sicily, another “first” for me, and the port city of Siracusa. There is something magical about traversing the waters from port to port, past scenic surprises during picture-perfect weather. There were times when the early light from a waking sunrise would rouse me gently at 5:45 AM. I’d quickly grab my phone and stand at my little balcony, ready to capture the emerging morning miracle for the next fifteen minutes or so, until full light heralded a new dawn. Ah, how delicious and divine the process, a quiet communion between me, sky, and sea. To think how natural it felt to buoyantly arise so early for such moments. Yet how totally unnatural, nay, abnormal, to ever plod down to breakfast served daily from 7:00-8:00 AM! Clearly, the food station remained devoid of my presence in the mornings. OK, maybe an occasional quickie croissant to go at the last minute! My appetite wakes up long after I do.
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Buongiorno, Siracusa! At one time a formidable seafaring power nearly equal to Athens, it has a history dating back more than 2,700 years. Ortygia, the city’s historical heart, has numerous architectural splendors, ancient medieval streets, and ruins reflecting its past. Beyond its remnants of antiquity, my senses absorb the colorful and bountiful food markets (how I love markets!); a lively sea and beach town; endless narrow, winding, cobblestone streets and shops; fresh flavored granitas (love the pistachio); animated puppet theater (high Sicilian drama); schoolkids in colorful T-shirts on camp outings (so well behaved!); my initial introduction to caper flowers and how capers grow (more caper experiences to follow). Siracusa definitely appealed to me. I departed reluctantly.
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Never have I seen or been on a volcano. Three that figured prominently on this trip, and those that remain active, are Stromboli on its own island off northern Sicily, Mount Etna in the northeast of Sicily, not far from Siracusa, and Mount Vesuvius in the Bay of Naples. Alone on its sparsely populated Aeolian Island, Stromboli is the smallest but one of the most active. In fact, it often provides a show of eruption for boat passengers on this particular route. But even though our captain slowed down and navigated twice around, Stromboli remained quiet and un-spewing. He maintained that it has been known to sometimes put on a display about every half hour or so; he has seen it himself many times and showed pictures. Oh well, for now it was taking a breather in preparation for its next impressive performance.
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While taking a bus up Mount Etna, between the cities of Messina and Catania, one passes forests of chestnut trees and pistachio trees, which flourish in the rich, dark volcanic soil. As one approached ever higher towards the summit, clusters of slender birch trees prominently appeared in their white bark, contrasting against the black soil. On the ground along the uphill walking path grew thick green mounds of herb-type vegetation. When I previously thought of volcanoes, I never thought of the vibrant growth that could emanate from their otherwise destructive lava. There is clearly a process of rebirth and regeneration occurring on a cyclical basis here.
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The adventure of ascending and exploring a volcano was followed by a delicious lunch in a local farm valley restaurant. Everyone had acquired a healthy appetite and was pleased to note help-yourself family-style platters with assorted combinations of freshly homegrown produce and home-made pasta. And, of course, their own produced bottled wine capped the combination. This was a notable culinary experience.
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Back on our ship Athena, we continued northeast to a small archipelago off the shores of Sicily and southern Italy, to the Aeolian Islands. There are seven of them and they are part of Sicily. Of the seven Aeolian Islands, we explored the two largest, Lipari and Salina. To get to the first and larger island of Lipari, a tender from the ship was required. To reach the second island, Salina, we needed a ferry. Both sea transports were delightfully scenic ventures in and of themselves. Upon arrival at these rather remote parcels of land and life, it was refreshing to note that tourists had not invaded these beautiful environments. Not only do they require a concerted effort to reach them, but they seem to engender in visitors a respect for place, heritage, and each other.
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A walking tour of Lipari revealed a gorgeous island and marina; narrow, hilly streets of the main town; the archaeological area of the island’s castle; the imposing Cathedral of Saint Bartholomew with its Norman cloister; scenic views from almost every vantage point. Small shops of varying kinds are scattered throughout. Our leader had arranged a meeting with an obsidian master craftsman at his workshop in town. Obsidian rock is primarily black and glasslike and comes from magma that has erupted from volcanoes. The rock is very hard and this craftsman goes through many dental-type drill needles and blades to carve pieces of mostly small obsidian jewelry and tiny sculptures. Our leader also arranged for us to meet a ceramicist at his tiny shop-residence and adjacent mini-room workshop. He had the countenance and lifestyle of a true hippie straight out of the ‘60’s. No doubt he fled society and the draft for the freedom and anonymity of a distant island, that of Lipari. At a local café we observed a demonstration of how to fill and eat cannoli, a staple of Sicilian cuisine. We were then invited to fill our own and add whatever chopped pistachios or chocolate chips we desired. As we contentedly devoured our cannoli, we had the bonus opportunity to ogle yet another bride and wedding party. No, not organized by our trip leader, but all very entertaining.
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The next day we took a 40-minute private ferry ride to one of the most picturesque islands in the Aeolians – Salina. Views of the rugged archipelago seemed so untainted by any civilization. The island once had a long history of volcanic activity, which earned it a place on UNESCO’s World Heritage list, but today only two out of the original six volcanic peaks are even visible. Salina’s mineral-rich soil, however, has made it an ideal place for farming. Capers are the most popular crop on Salina and such farms stretch from one sun-drenched corner of the island to the other. Malvasia wine, the so-called “nectar of the Gods,” a honey-colored dessert spirit, is another symbol of the Aeolian archipelago. Salina’s lush valleys are blanketed in vineyards. Though it is the second largest island in the chain, Salina is relatively undeveloped. Tranquil hill towns and simple pastel homes are nestled between the mountains and sea. On our breathtakingly scenic 45-minute bus ride up the steep, mountainous hills we were almost near the top by the time we arrived at the caper farm, where we would begin our Day in the Life
experience.
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The owner greeted us and introduced us to his family, as well as others on the premises who were involved in working on the estate and garden. He gave us a tour of the property and showed us his caper plants. He called one of them the “grandfather” caper plant because it had belonged to his own grandfather and the plant was now sixty years old, and still producing. There was a range of ages to the plants but most were at a younger prime. The proprietor showed us where and how he gathered and processed the capers. He expressed some of the same concerns with hiring help that many in our own country have. Apparently, finding those who know, understand, and care about the requirements for harvesting capers are few and far between. Getting them to stay on the job for any length of time is another issue.
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The processing of capers was fascinating to behold. We’re so used to seeing capers in a brined liquid. Here they were covered in salt, nothing else, then two weeks later rinsed and resalted. They would remain like that for a period of time until they were properly cured. I’m sure I’m missing something here about the process, but the big difference was the use of salt. As a business, the owner was also selling some of his products on the premises. He sells to many buyers, even to Eataly.
After all this learning came lunchtime at the farm, for just our group, and we were to join in some of the preparation. We all assisted in making a giant salad of cherry tomatoes, sliced cooked potatoes, tuna, olives, capers, some onion, herbs, spices, olive oil, lemon, and Aeolian love…and were instructed to toss it all together with our HANDS! We loved it! Talk about a hands-on experience! Our starter was bruschetta and the signature dish was a spaghetti pasta with their freshly made caper pesto. For this particular pesto, the ingredients consisted of capers, almonds, parsley, garlic, olive oil, and some parmesan. Another recipe to add to my repertoire! Dessert was cannoli with wing-like shells, a variation on the traditional tube shape. These delicacies were accompanied by a taste of their homemade Malvasia wine. What an amazing Day in the Life! And how sensorially divine to leisurely retrace our way back down the mountainous road…to inhale anew the hypnotic blue-green sea and breathtaking panoramic views. Returning on the ferry, again all to ourselves, was peaceful and sublime. Pinch me!
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Reluctantly leaving the Aeolians of Sicily, we sailed overnight via our floating hotel toward Italy, to Sorrento. Normally, we would be travelling to Salerno first, since it was next en route, but port issues required a reversal. Sorrento is a stunning cliffside town over the Bay of Naples. It is famous for its lemons, which are used to flavor everything from pasta sauces and cakes to limoncello, a popular post-dinner liqueur. Tomatoes, too, are a Sorrento specialty. After a walking tour of the town’s remarkable architecture, the main square, the Public Gardens, and quaint little alleys lined with shops, it was time to meet our hosts for a home-hosted lunch. We were divided into several small groups. Salvatori and Angela were my group’s hosts and each of them drove half of us in their own cars. Salvatori didn’t speak a word of English and I was in his car, right beside him. As he was driving, I noticed that we were ascending in a circular pattern ever higher along an extremely narrow “street,” just a one-way paved path, really. Before he went around a bend, he would honk his horn to alert any other possible car along the route. Thankfully, his car remained solo. Just when I thought we could climb no higher, we arrived at their home, perched way up in the hills. Their daughter, Veronica, was there to greet us and she was the one who spoke English, having studied it at school. Their home had been in the family for many years and maintained by the architectural skills and profession of Salvatori. They had an heirloom tree in the yard that had been grafted to produce not only lemons and oranges, but also grapefruits! As conversation gathered momentum, we learned that Veronica was a talented young fashion designer and showed us pictures and examples of her work. We touched upon many subjects, and at one point she asked what everyone’s favorite dessert was. When I said tiramisu, she replied that tiramisu was to be today’s dessert…homemade by Angela! Bingo!
When it came time to depart, we regrouped in the same car in which we arrived, with the same driver. The way back down was more eventful. Driving through the narrowest parts felt like there were mere inches of space on both sides of the car. Any closer and it would scrape against the building walls we were passing. Undaunted, the downhill direction encouraged Salvatori to drive even faster and freer, still honking before every bend. At one point I thought, “What happens if another car appears before us?” Well, sure enough. This must happen all the time. Without skipping a beat, Salvatori stops and waits for the driver in front of us to back down the hill, until he reaches any spot that can serve as a turnout. Then we continue on. Who knew such a joyride would be thrown in for thrills?
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Backtracking the ship’s direction took us down toward Salerno and Paestum, an archaeological city in Italy’s Campania region. Its history is more closely aligned with ancient Greece than Rome. There are still three well preserved Doric Greek temples in Paestum. Nearby in the town of Capaccio, we visited a family-run buffalo mozzarella farm and facility. We feasted on a lunch sampling their cheeses, pizzas, and other local products. The aroma at the farm lent authenticity to the facility featured there.
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One of the main attractions not far from Salerno is Pompeii. It is the ancient Roman city that was buried by a major volcanic eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 A.D. I had heard about it for years in history classes and somehow it seemed an abstraction. Now I would feel its living reality. Though most of the inhabitants escaped, about 2,000 were killed during that full day of destruction. It is maintained that the city was covered by up to twenty feet of rock and ash. As the ash cooled, it hardened and formed a protective shell over Pompeii, preserving much of the city as it was at that moment in time. The expanse and size of the city is huge! I had no idea. So now I had the good fortune, finally, to witness firsthand what was excavated and preserved. What a revelation! I had seen many historical archaeological sites and structures in my previous travels, also on this trip, but never an entire city. It boggled my mind.
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Seeing in-tact frescoes as part of sectioned stone rooms with designed inlaid flooring; public baths reflecting knowledgeable and practical use of water resources; open multipurpose markets and welcoming town squares; stretches of stone-lined streets; and even a designated brothel neighborhood; it all conjured real images of a living, thriving, sophisticated city. It was complete with its own hierarchal and judicial system, as well as its educational and cultural components. In the midst of Pompeii, ancient history had come to life for me. Many of the remaining artifacts of daily living were to be found in the Archeological Park Museum on the premises at Pompeii. Even casts of the bodies of some of the victims had been made, reflecting the same position in which they were found. Originally, calcified ash had preserved their form.
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Excavations continue in Pompeii. After I returned home from my travels, I came across an article in the New York Times with the title, “Suggestions of Pizza’s Past in a Pompeii Fresco.” The article stated that “The researchers were excavating the site earlier this year when they ran across a fresco depicting a silver platter laden with wine, fruit – and a flat, round piece of dough with toppings…” Today’s characteristic ingredients did not appear, yet it is surmised that this could be “a distant ancestor,” a precursor of pizza. How interesting that your travels can follow you.
The final destination was Rome: another “first” for me. With only a very short time in the “Eternal City,” it was possible to catch just a few main attractions. The Colosseum, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, the Roman Forum, and the Pantheon were some historical highlights. Another Roman highlight was gastronomical… there I had the best lasagna ever. It was so cheesy, gooey, and yummy! The second course of seared meat and potatoes couldn’t hold a candle to the first. In Rome I also had my send-off taste of gelato, sampled regularly throughout the trip.
By this point I was saturated with sensory impressions and experiences. It was time to carefully pack them up, return home safely, then savor them anew during reflection. Despite the chaotic conditions and weather extremes in the world, it is vital to seize the golden moments whenever and wherever we can. There is so much to savor.
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KAROLA’S KORNER is on hiatus during this issue. She will return.
While on the trip with me, she avoided photo ops this time around, but Journey Between Two Worlds was passed around to all during one bus trip. Some in the group have already read her words and were moved by her story. May she carry on.
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I invite you to share with me any highlights of your summer activities, “staycations,” or travels. I always enjoy sharing stories with fellow adventurers of life.
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With love and cheer, Margaret
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Journey Between Two Worlds
is an award-winning, firsthand account of growing up in Germany during the poverty and despair of the Great Depression and the fear and oppression of Hitler's Nazi regime, surviving the ravages and rubble of World War II, and ultimately gaining freedom and a resurrected life in America.
Karola Schuette describes in lyrical detail how her destiny is transformed forever when she meets a German-born US Army intelligence officer. Forging a life of new horizons and experiences in the United States, Karola opens our eyes to the liberties and opportunities that we may assume to be our birthright, and subtly and insightfully conveys that a democracy requires constant cultivation to sustain it.
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