Current situation

More later.

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What’s the story?

Of late, the first readings at daily Mass have been moving through Genesis, and on to Exodus this coming week. What do we hear? What’s their story? What’s our story?

God’s interaction with our lives is ongoing and surprising. As long as there is life on earth, there is no final moment, no perfection, no end to the journey, and it is wrong to attempt to characterize any one moment as the irreformable manifestation of God’s will.

We encounter God, we journey with him, we turn off and away, we forget, we go our own way, and need to be brought back. Again and again and again.

This week , we’ll hear about Moses and the Burning Bush. Here you go, from the Loyola Kids Book of Catholic Signs and Symbols:

The Burning Bush is in a section about symbols related to Old Testament narratives. The sample here is the more “basic” entry – on the facing page (not shown) is a full-page treatment at a deeper level for older children.

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Of course, we are in Ordinary Time, and the Loyola Kids Book of Seasons, Feasts and Celebrations has it covered. A few pages from the section on Ordinary Time:

As schools gear up for starting again (some in just three weeks or so around these parts,) please consider purchasing these for gifts and recommending them to your local public library, Catholic parish program and Catholic school!

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St. Kateri Tekakwitha – July 14

May her example help us to live where we are, loving Jesus without denying who we are.

Today is the feast of SAINT Kateri Tekakwitha. She’s in The Loyola Kids Book of Saints. Published before her canonization. I’m hoping a new edition can be produced at some point – a new edition of the Book of Heroes was published a couple of years ago, hopefully this will be next.

There are two major shrines to St. Kateri, one in the United States, the other in Canada. We visited the one in Canada a lifetime ago, and I can’t find photos, so you’ll have to trust me on that one.

In the United States, near Fonda, New York. This is the area where she lived for much of her life after her parents died, and where she met the Jesuit missionaries who facilitated her conversion.

In Kahnawake, Quebec, across the river from Montreal. This is the location of the mission where Kateri moved after life in her previous community became too difficult because of her conversion, where she died, and where she is buried.

Her canonization process was begun in 1884 at the Third Plenary Council in Baltimore. She was declared Venerable in 1943 by Pius XII, beatified in 1980 by John Paul II, and canonized in 2012 by Benedict XVI.

Here are John Paul’s remarks upon her beatification, and here’s Benedict’s homily at her canonization Mass (along with six others).

Kateri impresses us by the action of grace in her life in spite of the absence of external help and by the courage of her vocation, so unusual in her culture. In her, faith and culture enrich each other! May her example help us to live where we are, loving Jesus without denying who we are. Saint Kateri, Protectress of Canada and the first native American saint, we entrust to you the renewal of the faith in the first nations and in all of North America! May God bless the first nations!

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Pentecost

Lots related to the feast, so we’ll start now…..

This is one of my favorite stained glass windows in town.

It was, for a long time, just a blur of colors on my right when I attended Mass at this parish. But over the last couple of years, we had occasion to spend a lot of time in this church building as the parish staff graciously allowed my son to practice piano and organ there, and I finally paid attention to it.

So, let’s take a look.

It’s a Pentecost window, of course. At the center top is the Holy Spirit, showering down those gifts on those gathered in the upper room.

And then, to the right, you have another figure – who is it? St. Paul, preaching, receiving the same light of the Spirit. St. Paul, of course, being the patron of the Diocese of Birmingham and the namesake of our Cathedral.

To the left is another figure – St. Francis Xavier, the patron of this very parish. He’s surrounded by symbolic respresentations of the Far East and the people whom he served.

The same Spirit, the same gifts, the same courage given to every link in the chain, from the upper room, through the various branches of the Communion of Saints that leads us to this spot here, in this church building, in this community, on this planet at this moment in time. And this is where you start – right here – and then keep moving, led by that same Spirit to speak – where ever you land.

Come, O Holy Spirit, come!
From your bright and blissful Home
Rays of healing light impart.

Come, Father of the poor,
Source of gifts that will endure
Light of ev’ry human heart.

Pages above are (left) from the Loyola Kids Book of Catholic Signs and Symbols , then the Loyola Kids Book of Bible Stories and on the far right, the Loyola Kids Book of Seasons, Feasts and Celebrations. Click on images for larger versions. Remember that for the Signs and Symbols entry, there’s another page –  a full page of more detailed text.

Here we are –  For help in preparing the kids, and perhaps ourselves, let’s go to one of my favorite sources – this wonderful  old Catholic religion textbook.

The short chapter on Pentecost is lovely and helpful.

This volume is for 7th graders.

What I’m struck by here is the assumption that the young people being addressed are responsible and capable in their spiritual journey. They are not clients or customers who need to be anxiously served or catered to lest they run away and shop somewhere else.

What is said to these 12 and 13-year olds is not much different from what would have been said to their parents or grandparents. God created you for life with him. During your life on earth there are strong, attractive temptations to shut him out and find lasting joy in temporal things. It’s your responsibility to do your best to stay close to Christ and let that grace live within you, the grace that will strengthen you to love and serve more, the grace that will lead you to rest peacefully and joyfully in Christ.

Pentecost is one of the events in The Loyola Kids Book of Heroes. 

(The book is structured around the virtues. Each section begins with an event from Scripture that illustrates one of those virtues, followed by stories of people and events from church history that do so as well)

Finally, Veni Creator Spiritus – or Come Holy Ghost, as most of us know it.  I have a chapter on it in The Words We Pray. A sample:

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“…yeah….”

Saw John Wick 4 last night.

Better than watching the Vols lose, I suppose.

This is all I’m going to say about it. We’ll be spoiler-free here.

No, it’s not a spiritual journey. It’s…John Wick.

But what it shows, once again, is the truth of something I have been saying for years:

One of the post-Vatican II (here we go) tropes I lived through was the consistent denigration of physical expressions of faith, from medals and holy cards to church buildings themselves. People these days comment on this, but they never really seem to grasp the motivation – they rumble on about wreckovation and revolution without any attempt at all to look at what was actually being said and written at the time.

It was actually pretty simple: All of that stuff was an expression of, first, an immature faith that required “props” and externals. Secondly, all that stuff was time bound – it did not express the faith of Modern Man. Third, all of that stuff functioned as a distraction, a diversion. It lulled people into thinking they were practicing the faith, that they were faithful, but actually all they were doing was sitting in a pretty building, listening to nice music, not even actively participating, the horror. Fourth, it was essential that people get past all that to understand and live the reality of Church, which is the people of God, not a building.

It was absolutely necessary to strip all of that away so that we would grow up, recognize Christ in each other and in the community, witnessing to Christ in the modern world as modern people, who of course, as Modern People, have no use for those externals. They’re put off by all of that. That stuff is not what’s going to attract Modern Man.

Well, they were wrong, weren’t they?

This is a false dichotemy. For church buildings are witnesses to the presence of Christ in the world: in the middle of a city, in a neighborhood, in a suburb, on a rural road in the midst of cornfields.

And people – yes modern people in the 21st century – still see them, go to them, and experience them as such, even if they don’t believe. Even if it’s just functioning as a prop or a background –

…that prop or background is the most powerful and immediate way to connect action or an inner state with important, essential human experiences and promptings: contemplating love, death, meaning, purpose and connection.

And it’s not just cultural baggage. There really is something integral about the sights and sounds of traditional Christianity, east and west, that organically evokes and connects even non-believers to these truths and sensibilities.

So in John Wick 4 – you not only have John, in a candle-doused church (I mean…who lit all those candles? Who’s maintaining them? Okay, it’s a movie, I know….) musing to Caine, the blind assassin – Donnie Yen is the best part of the film, I think – about whether or not he can communicate with his dead wife, but you also have this….

I wish I had a screen shot – one might eventually turn up, but it hasn’t yet – but one of the final scenes of John Wick 4 has John sitting on the stairs in front of Sacre Coeur, the gleaming white church in the background, and not just because a huge fight scene has taken place on the 222 steps leading up to the basilica, but because….it’s an important moment. What’s below is a shot of filming from this website.

Whether the filmmakers intended it or not, whether it was chosen just because it was cool and because of those steps, this moment happening in this place carries a meaning that it wouldn’t if it were happening in front of another iconic Paris landmark like the Eiffel Tower. They can’t help it. It’s just there: built into the building that stands as a witness in the midst of the city, in the thick of the chaos, violence and death.

…yeah…..

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Traveling Solo

If you’ve been hanging around here for a while, you know that the nest has been mostly empty since last summer. Oh, people come and go on breaks, and this summer I certainly won’t be sitting around here alone, jazz on the Spotify, worshipping the sun.

And I do wish we all lived closer together. But everyone is off doing what they should be doing right now, and that’s the way it should be.

Anyway, I’ve done three major solo trips this year: I drove to New Mexico back in August, spent the last week of October in Guanajuato, Mexico, and then was in Italy – Naples and Puglia – for a good chunk of February. Although I touched on traveling solo here, I thought I’d write a little more about it.

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to a female acquaintance after Mass here, telling her about the Italy trip, and she stopped me – “You went…by yourself? Not on a tour?” Yes. No. “You went alone?” Yes.

Now this woman is married and of course enjoys being with and traveling with her husband, so it’s understandable that traveling alone isn’t part of her mental landscape. I get it. If I were married, I’m sure I’d feel the same way. I did, in fact.

But even married women like to go off by themselves. I met one on the plane back from Italy. There was a group of middle-aged to almost-elderly women who had just finished two weeks in Morocco. One of them sat next to me, and we had great conversations off and on over the many hours in the air. The group, she said, was of solo female travelers, most of whom were, indeed married, but whose spouses didn’t have the same bug. So a couple – or more- times a year, they went off in a group. The trip before this had been South America.

But my seatmate said, too, that even though she enjoyed the group – she also liked to take trips on her own (I guess her husband really doesn’t like to travel – or perhaps can’t – she was probably in her mid-70’s), and was currently planning her next. A group can be fun, she said but sometimes you just want to experience things on your own, and you don’t want the burden of wondering and worrying about other people’s needs and wants.

“I have no trouble,” she said, “going into a restaurant or bar by myself. It’s…wonderful.”

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The rest of this post is going to meander and probably spiritualize in a predictably tedious way, so I’ll pause and be very practical for a moment. Let’s talk about safety and security.

Driving a thousand miles by myself…going to Mexico…going to Naples…driving alone in Italy…did I feel safe?

Absolutely.

Just hearing the words “Mexico” and “Naples” makes some nervous, but I’ll tell you – I was in and about downtown Denver in November, and I felt more ill-at-ease and a creepier vibe there than I did in either of those other places – and I wasn’t alone there. Walking around Naples at night felt safer to me than walking around downtown Denver during the day.

But specifically: I’m not stupid. I don’t wander around staring at my phone (which is not an Iphone, so extra layer of theft protection there) oblivious to my surroundings, a ready target. I don’t wear jewelry. I give off a vibe of awareness and attention. I go where there are people.

And I have five people at home who know, every day, my general whereabouts. I don’t know if my phone can do any locater thing, but what I do is text them most mornings and let them know my plan – I’m going to Herculaneum today. Because in case something happens – and things do happen – believe me, you don’t have to lecture me about the unexpected – they’ll at least know where I was supposed to be that day.

Now, back to meandering.

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Of course, personality affects your interest in or comfort with traveling alone. I’m an only child, and normally completely content alone. I’m an introvert, which means that my energy and recharging comes from being alone, too. The best way to understand that, I think, is to think, “What do I need to do to feel like myself? To feel really present in the world?” For some, it’s interacting with others – they don’t feel alive unless they’re engaged with other people. I had one kid who was very much an extrovert of that type, and believe me, until I figured out the personality type differences at the heart of our differences, it was..challenging.

For me and other introverts, it’s alone time. If I’ve been with people all day, I need about two to three hours to myself in the evening to settle in and reconnect with myself, and not feel as if I am somewhere out there that needs to be gathered in. That’s why, when the kids were here, I was such a night owl, usually up until at least midnight, usually later. Now? I’m quickly, weirdly, tumbling into Old People Hours – I don’t go to be super early, but I’m not unsettled until after midnight anymore, either. I’ve been mostly alone all day, so…I don’t need that late night alone time. Makes sense.

So where was I?

Oh yes. So that only child-introvert-Harriet-the-Spy personality means that traveling solo through life is my natural state. I’m always alone in my head. Not – I hasten to say, especially for my family’s sake – that I don’t like it when they’re here. Not at all! In fact, even though the solo state is natural – it nonetheless feels somewhat incomplete. When a car pulls up or even a phone rings and it’s one of them, it feels as if a missing pieces has fallen into place. It feels right when the door closes and I’m alone, it feels right when they’re back.

The adjustment for this new traveling solo stage has come, not with any sense of awkwardness or discomfort, but with purpose.

Why? If I’m not taking kids on an adventure in search of Teachable Moments ™, why bother?

And that was hard. It was hard because for fourteen years, I’d done so much travel with the two youngest (now both in college), and the choices of destinations were rooted in three factors: any particular interest of theirs (Mexico and Central America, for example), cost and my sense of what might be a good…yeah…educational/formation experience.

It wasn’t just about culture, history and nature, either. When we set out on our traveling life, I had another purpose: I wanted them to see and live in the reality that there was much more to life than, say, the 5th grade at Our Lady of Sorrows School in Birmingham, Alabama.

Not that that was a bad place, at all. But after raising three much older kids and witnessing their navigating through adolescence and young adulthood and getting a sense of how the American social landscape was shifting: getting, ironically, more insular, enabling narcissism, self-involvement and self-concern, not to speak of tribalism – I thought that one of the best gifts I could give these guys was to remove them from that for periods of time and help them see that the world was a very, very big place, with lots of people with lots of different viewpoints and lifestyles and that yes, as Rick says,

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So that was my motivation, my framework for traveling for almost fifteen years.

And yes, the first two solo trips were just a little difficult because that period had come to an end.

I was a little at sea as to what to do and why I should do it. I missed my fellow-travelers and while I didn’t miss much of the logistics and the interest-balancing and for sure didn’t regret spending 2/3 less (at least – I’m very low maintenance) on travel – I actually did miss being a part of my kids’ experiences as they discovered a new part of the world.

I enjoyed and got a great deal out of seeing new things with them and partly through their eyes.

So now…what?

During those first two trips, especially, I battled conflicting emotions: glad to be somewhere, interested in what I was seeing, grateful for the freedom, guilt about privilege, guilt about self-indulgence, wondering if I could live in this new place, missing all of my kids, not just the two frequent travel companions, thinking about what they would and wouldn’t enjoy about this new place, plotting on a return with one or more of them, wondering if this was at all justifiable, so aware, again, of the privilege that screams from even having these questions at all.

There were, indeed, times, when I was a little sad – sad that those days were over, because you know what? They were fun. I really enjoyed taking those guys all over, and I’ll probably be sitting here when I’m 80, looking at those pictures over and over again, no doubt.

The nostalgia, though, is quickly overtaken by the goodness of the present moment. Everyone is doing well. Oh, there are struggles, and serious ones, but there always have been and always will be. I’m glad everyone is where they are, doing what they’re doing.

Do you see where this is going?

Because it’s not just about one woman’s attempt to put her empty-nest solo traveling in perspective.

It’s not even just about the empty nest – although any newly-minted empty nester probably understands.

It’s about any change, any transition, I think.

For me, the answer to my questions are evolving. For right now, anyway, I am really not alone. The two youngest adults are in and out and we’ll be hanging around together, with some comings and goings, most of the summer, really starting now with all the spring breaks and Easter breaks and graduations. The fall is up in the air, as well, depending on other people’s decisions about their lives.

Some people preach a gospel that we’re all better off following our dreams and organizing our lives – and the lives of others – around our individual dreams and goals, even as parents, making sure the family system is one that facilitates our success. Okay, fine for you, but I try – try – to make my framework for living, especially as a parent, and even as a parent to adults – as something I call “radical availability.” On the phone, to shoot over and help with the kids or help you move – I’m there. Being available to my kids? That’s something I’m never going to regret.

So, my days as tour guide might be mostly over, but I can and want to host and facilitate and hang out at night while during the day everyone’s gone off and done their own thing during the day. But then there’s that next generation, rising fast, too, and just about old enough to take a trip and start the journey…

Spain, 2019

Someone said to me a few months ago, as I was mulling over all of this, Stop! You deserve this time! You’ve worked hard for your kids and given them a lot! Relax!

Well, I don’t know if “work hard” describes me in any way, even as a parent. But even if it did, I’m not sure I could agree. My time on earth wasn’t given to me for self-indulgence – even the introvert, content to be wandering the streets of Naples alone, knows this. There has to be fruit that serves others in some way – even if it’s something as simples as: this refreshes you and gives you more energy to serve or you’ve learned something that you can teach someone else or share or you were in this place at that time, and you encountered that person, and you both were enriched or one more lesson in: you’re not the center of the world or you learned how to navigate a difficulty and a challenge which will help you help someone else someday.

Oh, and then there’s you people: You can write about this and maybe someone reading it will be helped, entertained, educated or inspired.

Not that I’m settled into this as the complete answer, no more challenges needed or desired. I’m not nestling into some identity as “middle-aged traveling woman.” I am keenly aware that the space that I am privileged to inhabit now, first, could be gone tomorrow. Life changes, as we know, on a dime.

But I also know that this space is not just for me. Because the spaces we live in – as they change, evolve and shift – are never just for us, because of course, that space is always shared.

France, 2012

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The Loyola Kids Book of Seasons, Feasts & Celebrations

It’s here!

So – let me tell you how it got here.

About two years ago – I just looked up the email, and yes, it was two years ago in April – a local man, a relation of one of my kids’ friends, had purchased a bunch of copies of some of my books, including Be Saints and the Loyola Kids Book of Heroes from me to distribute to kids in disadvantaged populations with whom he worked.

We exchanged emails about this, and in one he said, Unsolicited suggestion for a book in the future -“Children’s Book of Holidays and Holy Days…”

Me: Smacks forehead.

Of course. Why had I not thought of this before? So I pitched it, Loyola said yes, and here we are.

So, thank you!

And many thanks to Loyola for going with the idea, and of course, their great support over the years, not only for the books in this series, but in the other books I have published with them: The Words We Pray, The Catholic Woman’s Book of Days and the two Bible studies.

The Loyola Kids Book of Saints was published in 2001 and still sells very well! Over twenty years…not bad.

Anyway, you can get a closer look at the new book in the feature below. And since you’re here, I posted the Issuu videos on the other books as well.

Thank you for your support, for purchasing and sharing these books!

(Note: My links, if possible, do not go to Amazon, but to the publisher. I only link to Amazon when a book is out of print or it’s one I republished for Kindle. Please support your Catholic publishers and local booksellers.)

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Second Sunday of Lent

Reprint/revised.

On the Second Sunday of Lent, every year, no matter what the liturgical cycle, we hear the narrative of the Transfiguration.

(There is also a Feast of the Transfiguration, on August 6, in case you are confused about that.)

We only hear of the actual moment on the mountain, but what precedes it is important, too, and perhaps your homilist alluded to it this weekend.

Before Jesus takes Peter, James and John up on the mountain, he had been conversing with them and the other apostles. It was the moment when he asked them Who do people say that I am?  And Who do you say that I am?  Peter had, of course, responded in faith and truth: You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. 

The conversation doesn’t end there, for Jesus continues, telling them about the way of this Messiah, his way – a way of suffering. Peter can’t believe it, Jesus rebukes him, and lets his friends and disciples know that anyone who wishes to follow him will be taking up a cross.

And then they climb the mountain.

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On a Second Sunday of Lent several years ago, I attended Mass at the convent where my sons often used to serve. Those were the years before one of them went off to college and the other’s Sunday mornings became occupied by his organist job at a local parish, and then, eventually went off to college himself.

A while ago.

It was a small congregation, as usual. Sisters, friends, family members. There were two older men in wheelchairs, several children, a developmentally disabled young man, and concelebrating with the friar, a hundred-year old priest with his walker, his pillow, his handkerchief and his glass of water.

Hearts, minds and spirits bore crosses, too, not visible, but no less real, we can be certain.

Life is serious, challenging and hard. It’s rugged and scars you.

Jesus doesn’t promise a bountiful best awesome fulfilling amazing life on earth to his disciples. He promises – promises  – a cross.

Why is liturgy formal and serious?

Because life is serious.

God didn’t make it so – we did – but God enters this life as it is, as our sin has made it,  and God redeems it and takes up that Cross we have fashioned upon himself, on his own wounded back.

Up the mountain.

We follow him, all of us carrying crosses and burdens, and there atop the mountain, in a moment, we are blessed with a gift: light, love and glory.

It awaits, we are promised, but there on the mountain, we see something else. That gift isn’t just waiting ahead – it’s here now. It’s here in this Body of Christ, in the gift of Word and Sacrament, a glimpse of what awaits, an anchor and a hope.

It’s a gift that’s not dependent on us. It’s not dependent on how much we understand or know, or how well we speak or see, how quickly we can move, how accomplished we are, how fulfilled we feel, or how rich or poor we are.

Formality and ritual makes this clear. Redemption awaits, and it is offered to you and each of the wildly different people around you, each trudging up the mountain under their own cross, but it is one thing – the love of God – and it is sure, definite, solid and glorious.  No matter who you are or what you can do, God offers it, and offers you a chance to respond the best way you can, in whatever way your soul can move, love and say yes, it is good for me to be here.

My sons serving, flanking Fr. Lambert, who died in 2018 at the age of 101.

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Italy: the food

All Italy posts here.

Here’s an Instagram Reel

I don’t eat much when I’m home. This confounds the two kids who are around the most (which is not often), but what they forget is that they are young adult males and I am a post-menopausal woman. Appetites change, but, even if they don’t, the impact of food on the body certainly does.

Plus, gluttony is still a sin, last I checked. Not that I’ve conquered it. Ask anyone who’s gone out drinking with me. But yes, despite ubiquitous Chestertonian-LARPing in Catholic World, it’s still a sin. So if I’m not hungry – I try not to eat. Don’t get me wrong. To sit down with a bag of cheddar-cheese flavored Ruffles? Maybe my last meal, if I had to choose. But…gluttony. Stop.

The story’s different when I’m traveling. Then: I eat. After all, why do I travel? Mostly to learn about different places and cultures. How could I learn about any of that if I didn’t eat? Or drink? Or browse the grocery store?

You will find some restaurant dining below, but nothing high end. That’s not because I was traveling alone, but because high-end dining is generally not my thing. I can think of exceptions – when I go to New York City, I tend to eat slightly more elevated fare, since I have an offspring who lives there and can dependably lead the way. But otherwise, I’m all about the street food and the small joints the locals frequent.

I will say that I didn’t eat enough pizza. I was a little disappointed in myself on that score. But you know, I sometimes had a hard time synchronizing: what I was doing and seeing that day + my appetite + Italian schedules. It could be a challenge, dinner especially, since Italian dinner gets going at seven at the very earliest, and by that time, I was usually not in the mental space, after walking and seeing things all day, to go out one more time for a meal.

The weather had an impact, as well. It was fairly chilly the first few days I was in Naples, it was never really that warm anywhere, so not that conducive to whiling away a meal outdoors, which is my favorite thing.

Dining and drinking alone: The prospect prompts deep anxiety in some, but not in me. Of course, part of that is my only-child-solitary nature, but it’s also, just….it doesn’t faze me, and I see it as part of the job, even. That job being Me Watching You and Figuring Out the World. I dine and drink with others often, of course, and what pleasure there is in that! But there’s nothing awkward about dining or drinking alone if you decide there’s not.

A few years ago, we went to a local, popular mid-range pseudo-Tex-Mex place for dinner. There at the bar was a woman, a little older than I, with a beer, reading a book. I noted this, and thought, not, as some might: How sad! but instead – Best life, right there.

When I was in New Mexico last year, I was seated to eat at a popular eatery outside of Santa Fe. A few tables away, a middle-aged couple sat in silence, and you could tell from their faces it was not a companionable silence, expressing tension, either momentary for the evening or long-simmering who knows. The point was, in our minds when we eat alone, we sometimes imagine others looking at us, assuming the solo diner is envious of those with company. At that moment it dawned on me that there might be a cohort of fellow paired diners who looked at the solo diner, envious of them.

In Italy, I saw a few solo diners – older men, mostly, but also a couple of very well-put together young women, enjoying their meal completely by themselves. Not even a dog for company, unlike some of the more fortunate:

So:

Pizza: I (only) had pizza four times, five if you count the dinner my Naples landlady made for me one night. One was a simple focaccia from a baker in Putignano (which of course was great). Me = loser. The others were from:

50 Kalò in Naples Starita in Naples (they have branches in NYC) and Panificio Santa Rita in Bari. The last is famous for its Focaccia Barese, the typical focaccia of Bari, which is topped simply with cheese, fresh tomatoes and olives. All, of course, were hot, fresh, right out of the oven and delicious. And inexpensive. Neapolitan Pizza Margherita is going for $18 in Birmingham, Alabama right now. 6-7 Euros is typical in Naples, and the Bari focaccia – basically half a small pizza, folded – was 3. It was marvelous – crispy, airy, perfect.

Starita, 50 Kalo

Dinners: I had five sit-down meals, unless you count sitting on benches and church steps as “sit-down meals,” in which case there were many more:

Osteria Carmela in Naples – Restaurant Al 53 in Naples – Tandem in Naples – Pescheria Azzurra in Naples and Zi Ntonio in Sorrento.

The first was my favorite, and I now wish I’d gone there again. I had lunch there one day, getting to the small restaurant early, near the beginning of lunch service, to insure a seat, since I didn’t have a reservation. The server was helpful and charming, the room was just what you think at Italian osteria should be about, including the Madonna an the wall, and the old gentleman who came in for his lunch, as I imagine he did several times a week, if not every day. I had a vegetable and spaghetti vongole.

The other meals were good as well, most notably the famous ragu at Tandem. Pasta, meat, cheese. That’s what I ate. All good, pleasant experiences. I never had a reservation, but I went early enough each time, I hoped, to get a seat.

Clockwise from upper left: Zi Ntonio (Sorrento); Osteria Carmela; Tandem, Pescheria Azzurra

Pastries, Gelato, Street Food: A lot of all of them, although with the cool weather initially discouraged me from the gelato. I got over that though. I pretty much stuck to the sfogliatelle because of the ricotta filling. On my afternoon in Lecce, I did grab a savory rustico, which was delicious, filled with cheese, some ham and (a little too much) béchamel. I had a lot of things like that during the days: pastries filled with savory things. Including, in Naples, arancini and frittatine – the Naples specialty of deep fried pasta bound with bechamel, with various fillings, including, of course, meat and cheese.

Which is another reason I wasn’t super hungry for meals. I didn’t take photos of everything, first, because that’s lame, secondly because, well, it’s a little challenging to take photos with one hand. But be assured: many filled things, all over southern Italy.

Not that I liked the coffee, but I thought I had to try.

And of course, the wonderful Caciocavallo (being made below right) – which is a cheese that’s hung over heat and scraped off as it melts. Same idea as a raclette. That was in Putignano: toasted bread topped with the cheese, a piece of prosciutto, sun-dried tomatoes and grilled peppers. Heaven.

Street food, but sit-down was orecchiette pasta in Bari – a woman made her own, cooked it up, simply, and served it. I would not call it a “makeshift” kitchen – it was outdoors, but clearly permanent. And she had a good business, based on tourism, since the other customers there had been brought by tour guides – one a bike tour, the other walking. I should have gotten the version with broccolini, but I was a little confused when she asked me what I would like, so I ended up with the tomato. As I wrote before, that was fine, since my main goal was to understand what hand-made, properly cooked orecchiette pasta felt and tasted like.

Clockwise from upper left: Rustico in Lecce, Grilled meat in Putignano, orechiette in Bari, Caciocavallo in Putignano.

The only thing I ate that I didn’t like was on the plate of grilled meat on the upper right. This was a the Carnevale in Putignano, and all of the meat was great except this one little bundle – I looked it up at the time, but don’t remember what it was – the one on the far right edge. One bite told me it was organ meat/offal, and gross. Not my thing. But everything else was fantastic.

Lots of wonderful olives (my favorite), Aperol spritz many days (again, if it had been warmer, it would have happened more often. The gelato was always great, with my favorite being in Bari here. I wish I could remember the flavors – I should have taken a photo of the menu – but one was something to do with St. Nicholas, and the other was with black pepper, and it was perfect. They have branches in NYC.

Apertif: Every day that the weather permitted. It wasn’t so much the drink (although that was part of it, won’t lie) or the apertif snacks offered, but just the peace of what we call the third place – the space that is not work, not home, but a gathering place – or even if you’re not gathering – a place to stop, refresh and just be without having to be anyone in particular.

Last photo: Aperol Spritz in Capri with scenery, including coffin.

A couple of notes about eating and drinking culture.

It is easy, upon even just superficial observation of two groups, to determine which is American and which is Italian. Not that Americans are the only overweight people on the globe – far from it. But yes, Italians, unless they are genetically predisposed, tend to maintain a balanced weight until middle age, when nature starts winning. Much ink has been spilled on this – not only with the Italians, but the French and the Spanish and the Japanese, most notably – so I won’t repeat that. But it’s just true that the Italian way of eating and living really is a more balanced approach that protects against, well, gluttony and unnecessary eating. Meals as a thing – as an event of sorts, to be approached purposefully and with care, even if you’re alone – rather than on the fly.

(In general, for yes, I know, McDonald’s is very popular in Europe…..)

There’s a culture of purposeful between-meal sustenance, mostly in the form of coffee, but also any small accompanying snacks.

One thing I saw quite a bit in Italy was the sight – usually late morning or very late afternoon – of cafe/bar employees hustling down the street with round trays covered by clear plastic lids, on which they were carrying small coffees, heading into neighborhood shops and businesses, bringing those employees the boost they needed to make it to the end of the morning or day.

Snacking, in the American style – that is, sitting down with your big bag of chips or your box of crackers – in front of the television, is not a thing. When we began our 2012 trip, we started off in France, and early on, I set out to find snacks for our American crew. I went to the grocery store, searched and searched but could not figure out where they were. Couldn’t see any. After all, in America, there’s no question, is there? An aisle filled end to end with bright bags full of crunchy, salty things. Finally, I found it – a few shelves, with small boxes of crackers and small bags of chips – right next to the alcohol. Ah, I realized. Here, these kinds of snacks aren’t standalone experiences. They’re nibbles that go along with drinks.

Now, Italians like chips very much. They’re served with apertifs, and there are shelves of large bags in the grocery store. But by far the most popular Italian crunchy snack is the taralli. This is just a bit of what was stocked in one Putignano grocery store. I think there were two more shelves I didn’t get photos of.

Not that Europeans don’t have their indulgences. The candy and chocolate shelves go on. And when it comes to cereal – after your muesli and granola section, all you will find is chocolate-flavored cereal, and lots of it. Which is not surprising in a country in which breakfast = pastry.

Random leftover photos – braised vegetables at Osteria Carmelo in Naples; Delizia al limone, the typical dessert of Sorrento; panzarotti sign in Alberobello; citrus in Matera, sfogliatelle – you can see the ricotta filling, which I much prefer to a cream. What I did not eat in Bari.

Above: some pastry in Putignano. I was actually trying to ask what was in it, and she thought I was just buying. Answer: cream filling. Last meat before Ash Wednesday: a delicious doner kebab in Putignano. Orecchiette maker/seller in Bari. Panificio Santa Rita in Bari. Wine vending machine in Putigano. (Inside the alcove was a bunch of spigots with different kinds of wine. Bring your own vessel, or there were empty plastic bottles for sale.) Meat, cheese, vegetables at Al 53 in Naples. Booth distributing “blessed bread” after Mass in Sorrento. They waited, and waited. I never saw it arrive.

Below: another typical sight in Italy – dogs in restaurants This fellow got a little dish of food brought to him from the kitchen – I would guess that’s normal…

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St. Katharine Drexel – March 3

Today is her memorial – March 3. You and your children can read about her in my Loyola Kids Book of Saints:

(Link goes to publisher’s website, not Amazon)

And learn all about her here. 

More March Saints:

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