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Lying on the sand getting some sun off the coast of Rhodes, Greece in the summer of 2005.  Life was good.  Then in a flash, a thought popped into my mind.

I’ve come this far, why not go another step further.  Right then and there I decided to do it.

Found an (expensive) flight and took off for Constantinople; present-day Istanbul and took off the next day.

One propeller flight to Athens and then another propeller flight to Istanbul.  I landed at 10pm with no idea where I was going to go.  This was the only city I had gone to where not only did I not arrange accommodations beforehand but also didn’t bother looking up metro maps or even where the airport was on a city map.  I had virtually no sense of direction. 

It turns out sometimes being young and ignorant isn’t cool.  I didn’t feel cool.  Not in Turkey anyway.

I was scrambling and scared! 

Istanbul has a population of over 13 million people.   How many of them do you think would be kind enough to help a tourist at 10 pm, much less help him find his way downtown and a place to stay.  Ya I didn’t think so.

After paying the 60 Euro fee (be warned, you have to pay to enter Turkey) I made change and got on the subway.  I had no idea where I was going and to make matters worse, I have no Turkish language skills.  I did what anybody would do.  I followed the locals. 

I got off the subway and transferred to a trolley.  Looking back I have no idea why and how I did that.  After a short ride I started seeing massive mosques and thought nothing would happen to me around holy sites.  So I got off and started on foot.

Without knowing it I had stumbled upon the Sultanahmet District, the ancient part of Istanbul, or better yet, Constantinople. 

Here I found the fabled and head-shakingly beautiful Greek-inspired Agia Sophia which contains priceless Greek Byzantine relics (now hidden in back rooms for reasons I’ll leave up to you to decide).  Across the way the stunning Blue Mosque.  Topkapi Palace down the street.  Hippodrome.  This was it.  I found it.  Stunning and grandiose.  I can’t imagine how much more beautiful these sites looked when the visiting Romans and Venetians first laid eyes on them hundreds of years earlier. 

I didn’t have too much time to reflect as the time was now 11:30 and I still didn’t know where I was going to sleep.  I was up finding a Turkish bath too.  Were they open this late?  Did Turkey have a law against sleeping in park benches?  I didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.  I’ve heard Turkish prisons are a bitch.

After some wandering around history I found a hotel, which at this point felt like I just found an oasis in the desert. 

Taksim is traditionally the place where tourists like to stay while here.  Plenty of bars and action.  For some reason I didn’t want to venture all the way cross town to Taksim.  If I’m going to Turkey I want to be surrounded by locals.  So with that in mind, I got a room, dropped off my bags and headed out.  The hotel manager asked to keep my passport for safety reasons. 

I always feel nervous about leaving my most valuable travel document with a stranger.  But when it doubt, it’s better to do it.  You never know what you’re going to confront when sightseeing.  I found out what could happen, the hard way.

For some inexplicable reason I unconsciously decided not to take my passport, credit card or debit card with me on this night.  

By the end of the night I was glad I didn’t.

Picture this:  Underground bar.  Dark.  Having a drink in a booth closer to the back.  30 minute walk from my hotel.  Alone. 

A big man approaches and asks to sit with me in the booth.  We’ll call him Bill.  I think nothing of it.  He sits.

After a few minutes of small talk, two women quickly approach.  One sits on Bill’s side while the other sits next to me.  The waiter quickly follows with a glass of wine for each lady and also brings along various finger snacks and dips.

The couple across the booth start to speak Turkish.  The woman next to me speaks broken English and immediately starts asking me if I want to have sex with her.  I say no.

She persists.  I continue to say no.

Hindsight as we all know is 20-20.  Little do I know at that point that I was becoming a victim of a classic scam.  One that is pulled on tourists all over the world, on a consistent basis. 

I don’t know how and why it didn’t dawn on me earlier but I finally realized that this was actually happening to me.  I have plenty of street smarts but I guess when you’re confronted with a situation you only read about or see on television, your brain can’t grasp the fact that this is actually happening.  Careful not to offend her and her pimp, who for all I know is sitting across the booth from me, I make up a story about how my wife and kids are waiting for me back at the hotel.

She doesnt’ buy it and is now getting increasingly frustrated at the rejection.  She begins to speak Turkish to the rest of the group. 

I analyze my situation and realize that I’m in a very tough spot.  If I make a run for it I will push her out-of-the-way, possibly injuring her and definitely upsetting her boss in the process, whoever and wherever he is. On top of that I have to run across the entire bar and up the stairs.  Too big of a risk.  Not an option.

Besides if I make a run for it I leave without paying the bill.  Remember the Turkish prisons? 

I also remind myself that nobody knows I’m here.  This is a big mess and I don’t know what to do.  I have no out.  And on top of that I have another two major things going against me:  I’m Greek (which for all I know makes me the enemy in Turkish eyes).  I’m Canadian (which for all I know makes me rich in Turkish eyes). 

I stay and face what comes next.

The women suddenly leave. 

Bill asks me if I want another drink. I say no.

Bill asks for the check.

The waiter approaches, leaving it face down on the table.

Bill glances at it.  Looks up at the waiter and questions his math.

The total is $637 Canadian Dollars!

I had only one drink!

The waiter, not wanting to deal with any conflict, points to Bill and then points to me.

He orders both of us to come into a back room. 

I’m still oblivious.  Bill is my friend right?  He’s on my side right? 

My  mind is racing.  Millions of thoughts are coming and going.  $637??!!  What will I have to do?  Wash dishes?  Clean floors?  Sell myself?  What will I have to do to pay off this debt?

The small room,probably the size of a small bathroom, is occupied by three giants (Bill, the Owner and what looked to be a Bouncer) and one small, wimpy looking dude (me). 

“MONEY”, demands the Owner.

“I don’t have any money brother”.

Not believing me, he starts padding me down.  His hands checking my shirt, my pants and pockets.  He finds something….and it’s not what you think.

“What’s this?  Money?” 

I pull out my drivers’ licence, explaining that this is for driving only.  I also pull out my camera and $20 million lira ($20 CDN dollars).  Not a big score in their eyes.

“Take this money, brother.  This is all I have”, pleading.

30 seconds of silence.  Go ahead and count to 30. 

Now do it in a court-room-like setting where you don’t know what to expect, in a country you’re not sure about, dealing with laws you’re afraid to confront, in a bar that’s 30 minutes from your hotel room, alone with nobody knowing you’re there.

Let me save you the agony. 30 seconds of silence in that room was torture enough.

“Go. Get out of here”, says the Owner.

Without thinking I sprint.  Across the bar, up the stairs, out the door and down the main boulevard towards the hotel.  Istanbul’s normally polluted air was intoxicating that night. 

I run back to my room, taking both the main, lit streets and back streets just in case they changed their minds and came after me, they wouldn’t be able to find me easily.

What was Bill doing in the small room?

Nothing.

Bill had already done his job.  Bill convinced me I was his friend.  He hooked me in and hoped I had some big, Western cash on-hand.  That way everyone could get a huge cut.  

I consider myself very lucky.  The money doesn’t matter.  I was lucky to make it out alive and virtually unscathed.

As I said something told me not to load my pockets before I went out that night.  I decided to leave my passport at the hotel.  I didn’t bring my credit card or debit card either.  I took only one piece of ID, a camera and $20.  I can’t imagine what could have happened to me that night.  A confiscated passport?  Credit and debit cards maxed?  No money left?  As I said I’m lucky to have made it out alive and unscathed.

Make no mistake about it.  Constantinople is a stunning city!  If you get a chance to go you must.  It is a city that has mystified millions of people who have gazed upon it.  I have no regrets about visiting Turkey’s largest city.  I will probably visit again.  This of course could have happened anywhere in the world.  And it does.  Beware of the scam.  If you’re not this could happen to you too.

In case you’re wondering, no I didn’t visit a Turkish bath.  Next time I guess.

A lovely town.  One you must visit, although it’s still not my favorite Italian city.  That spot (so far) is reserved for Verona, just an hour up the autostrada towards Milan.  But other than speeding through Verona, Goddess and I didn’t make it there this trip.  But we will.  Plus, there’s a lot Italy we have to explore.

And a lot of great wine.

So anyway, Goddess and I arrived on a Saturday evening.  After checking into the hotel to find our hotel room very cramped and reeking of cigarette smoke (both typical Italian hotel experiences), we headed off to find some dinner.  We got a recommendation from the lady working the hotel’s front desk and off we went.  We think we found the place that she recommended, mainly because there really weren’t any other options in the small downtown area of Mogliano Veneto.  We arrived “American early”, meaning around 7pm, which is at least an hour or so earlier than anyone else in Europe shows up for dinner.  So we had the place to ourselves. 

The food was good and the wine was better.  Apparently everyone else knew too, because the place filled up quickly after 8pm.  We enjoyed taking our time, but apparently not as much as the wait staff.  Once we were done, we asked three separate people and waited 25 minutes for our bill, even though they kept walking by not very busy.  It actually took us getting up to walk out before they moved.  Funny how that works.

So the next morning we headed off into the city.  Visiting Venice by train is the way to go, since parking VERY expensive (more later) and once you’re in the city, you can’t drive anyway.  So it’s better to get delivered directly to the grand canal with no traffic hassles.  And here’s the welcome:

As you can see, it’s pretty busy, even though it’s only 9am.  The tourists are already bustling around, making the walkways quite crowded.  But not unbearably so.

Goddess and I had rushed out of the house and had left behind my Venice maps from my last visit, which was just over ten years ago.  The beauty of the city is that it couldn’t change that much in ten years.  Sure, the shops may change owners, but the cathedrals, squares and markets would be in the same place.  So we had to buy another map.  At tourist prices.  And that became a recurring theme over the next two days.

Once we got walking, we noticed that there were people running down the alleys, each wearing a race number.  Very odd, considering the large number of tourists.  But these folks were clearly in hurry to get places, so they were definitely racing.  We watched a few and realized that it was an orienteering race.  The folks had their map and compass and would have to pause to get their bearings before taking off again.  It was fun to watch them weave their way through the crowds.  Some even at a pretty brisk run.  And I’m sure they enjoyed the ramps from the Venice Marathon, which was held just two weeks before.  I know those ramps made it easier to get over some of the bridges than actually running up the steps.  Hell, it made it easier for us to walk.

We worked our way to Piazza San Marco, passing canal after canal after canal.  One thing I found interesting was how green the water appeared.  It almost didn’t seem natural.  But it certainly was.  Even out in the open water, it was a different shade of green, but nowhere as bright as within the small canals, framed by the pastel colored buildings.

Once we arrived at the Piazza, we decided it was time to sit down and watch the world go by.  We sat at one of the cafés and ordered our coffees – me a Doppio (double espresso) and Goddess a cappuccino.  The total was €18, which works out to about $27.  Tourist prices. 

At least we got water and a chocolate with it.

But it wasn’t all bad.  We sat for the better part of an hour watching people go by, taking in the view of St Mark’s Basilica and clock tower.  We did what we do best – people watch.  One nice surprise was to see a young Asian couple, newly married, parade out and get their pictures taken in front of many of the buildings. 

Lovely couple.

After a while, we decided to head down along the waterfront.  Outside of the canals, this to me is the best view in Venice.

That’s the Basilica di San Giorgio Maggiore in the background.  A phenomenal complex that I’ve yet to visit.

So, being the tourists that we are, we decided to do the gondola ride.  If you go, beware that it is not cheap.  Bring the suitcase.  But it’s worth every second.  I’ve spent many hours roaming down side alleys, through doorways and into hidden courtyards.  But this is a completely different view of the city.  At one point our gondolier actually apologized for a jet flying overhead on its approach into the airport; he was upset that it shattered the calm.

But unlike the movies, he never sang for us.

Again, worth every penny.

And those of you who’ve traveled with me know how much I hate doing the touristy things.  I’d rather explore the back alleys.

Which is what Goddess and I did the rest of Sunday, well into the evening.

And we returned Monday.

Monday was definitely different.  The city shifted energies, away from a tourist-focused city to a living, breathing city on Monday.  The markets burst to life, the canals were packed with boat traffic as deliveries were made, and children filled the streets on their way to/from school.  And the tourists were still everywhere.

So we went the other direction.  To the point that the locals were looking at us funny, because it’s pretty obvious when two blonde folks are walking down a back alley in Venice that they aren’t locals.

And we’re better for the experience.

If you subscribe to National Geographic, then you saw this past Augusts’ article “Vanishing Venice”.  A wonderfully well-written, well photographed article (as you’d expect from NG) that delves into the disappearing native Venetian population.  But we caught glimpses of them at every turn.

Plus we got away from the tourist prices.

Believe it or not, this lunch (wine included) cost less than our two coffees in Piazza San Marco.

And we had it the tables all to ourselves along the side of a canal.

It was too cold for the Venetians to come out to take our order.  It was in the mid 60s (Fahrenheit for you snarky comments [you know who you are]).  But we sat out, sans jackets, and enjoyed the lovely day.

Soon it was time to make our way back across the city to look at carnivale masks. 

When I was here in 1999, I found one that I wanted to get Goddess.  We were dating at the time and I wanted to bring her a bit of this part of the world.  So I found the one I wanted to get her, then decided to go out and do some comparison shopping.  When I returned to buy it, the owner had taken her lunch siesta, but had hung the sign that she’d return at 2pm.  Well, 2pm came and went.  By 330pm I had to leave for the airport to catch my flight, which I did without the mask.

So ten years later we were in the store, picking out the ones that she wanted.  She walked out with a few.  All beautiful, including one that’s freaky (to me) when she puts it on.  But those will remain invisible to y’all until we find an opportunity to wear them.

But here’s one that was on the wall.

After that, we headed back to the garage to pick up our car.

Where we needed a suitcase of money to spring it free.

Since we had checked out of our hotel that morning, we couldn’t leave the car in their massive parking lot of four spots.  So we drove it to Venice, full of suitcases, then parked it in one of the towering parking garages at the city entrance that had a flat rate for any amount of time for under twelve hours.  The flat rate was the low, low price of €24 (that’s $36 USD).

From there we did a fine, fine job of getting lost in northern Italy.  But that’s a different story that involves not updating our GPS with new maps since we bought it.

But I won’t tell that here.

Next stop, a few places in Northern Italy (once we figured out where we were).

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BTW, you can click on each of the photos above.  The ones with the borders around them will just take you to a larger version of the image.  The ones with the blue lined borders will take you to my website, where a few other images are loaded.  I’ll be adding more in the coming days.  And if you see one you like, please consider buying it.  I’ve gotta pay for the parking somehow.  ;^)

1974 – punk has begun and a new mentality in the minds of young people has been changed forever. Ever since influential zine Sniffin’ Glue printed three chords in their magazine with the words “this is a chord, this is another chord, this is a third – NOW FORM A BAND” people have picked up their axes and started their own bands.

With the influence punk has had, genre after genre, trend after trend has been created. Out of the ashes of simple punk flies out a phoenix with blacked rimmed Ray-Bans and a baggy white t-shirt with a beach printed on the front and you have surf-punk.

Merging punk, 60’s doo-wop and British garage rock – the ‘nu’ surf-punk (don’t mind the cliché) of the late noughties has won the hearts of the youth and giving a little nod to its peers.  Being bought up on The Beach Boys and The Shangri-La’s – and then buying numerous hardcore punk records and 60’s garage compilations has created a cluster of artists here in the UK, in it’s home of the west-coats of the States and even main-land Europe. Out with the cheesy Hawaiian shirts and sweptback Ken doll hair and in with ripped tight stone washed 501’s, baggy tees and a Fender guitar.  LA’s Best Coast, London’s Sex Beet, Frances’ The Last Rapes of Mr Teach and New Jersey’s Real Estate have emerged all playing an incarnation of surf-punk. A layered reverbed sound, simple vocal and a simple distorted chord progression mingle and craft sun drenched – sometimes veracious, sometimes laid-back guitar based rock.

This year and last saw a rise in Lo-Fi – groups such as LA’s No Age, Mika Miko and Abe Vigoda all attacked our ears and venue’s here in the UK like a 60’s British Invasion. This is where the rise in Surf acts has caught the ears of keen MySpace hunters delving into the database to find the newest thing to come out of (normally) the States. The laid back life-style of these DIY bands really hit a chord with us post-teens here in gray old Britain. Constantly seeing images of Californians hanging out down the local beach or partying with their ‘buddies’ and ‘dudes’ have made us realize that even though we may not have the pink g-string roller skating hotties and the beautifully contrasted palm tree’s (these people obviously haven’t heard of a little place called Torquay) us foreigners still know how to fuck up someone’s house and have just as good time as those Bay Watch mother fuckers do.

Luckily the years of looking to East London and New York only has slowly fucked off and opened the eyes of the world (even though we all know these places are still churning out fucking epicly good bands) has latched onto this DIY ethic. With the creation of website’s own television channels, the media has sunk their teeth into this juicy 8oz piece of beef. Pitchfork.com/tv have in the past year created their own ‘fuck you’ to MTV and slowly formed various programmes with the mentality running wild in the brains of the creators. Shows such as A.D.D. – which is filmed in a ‘lo-fi’ esq VHS/mono view, has seen Vivian Girls and experimental pioneers Sonic Youth both feature live on the programme. Don’t Look Down – a live performance show filmed on the top of various high buildings across the States has also had various big cheeses in the lo-fi genre perform for the Pitchfork cameras.

Punk will never fuck off – even though we may be bored out of our minds with the word – it won’t, and it’s various other in-carnations will always be relevant. This newfound love of surf-punk is tugging at our hearts once more and making more and more do what others have done before them. So it can’t be a bad thing right?

The essence of Italian is always based within the passion of the beholder. As the warm candelight envelops the upper catacombs of Ado in Venice, California, the murmur of voices spills throughout the closely minded tables as the brisk smells of tantalizing dishes waif throughout the two story structure.

The inset provided a balance of pasta that stirred the soul. The sweetness and unexpected ping of a pumpkin filled ravioli, rich in its countenance, contrasted the tart but bold heartiness of parpadelle topped with a spicy essence of quail.

However, it was red beet linguini that truly enticed with its tangy effervescent heartiness.

Another surprising and welcome glint of knowing was reflected in the sublime foie gras, the duck simply sliding off the tongue with the hint of mango surrounding it, all the while, the light flickering back the grilled sear of its vision.

The main course provided a cross section of both fish and meat with the former barely edging out its latter. The salmon, replete with a marinated skin that melted in the mouth, was supplemented by a beautiful potpourri of eggplant that was simply divine.

In paradox, the filet mignon, deep and juicy, highlighted by a soft, creamy spinach only added to the progression as the cleansing connecting the two allowed for a bit of both sides as the desserts made their way into play.

While a panicola, descibed as “cheesecake but not cheesecake” offered an alternate vision, it was the creamy manicotti, smooth in its delivery, that truly wowed in the final thought, its wistful bounty utterly solidifying the dinner.

Ado, hidden away within the auspice of Venice, benefits from both its intimate, slick but charming setting balanced by the enthusiasm and approachability of its staff combined with an inate sense of spontaniety and flavor in its culinary offerings.

Depois do post com Ed Arnaud, chegou a vez de mais um fotógrafo relacionado ao Suicidal aparecer por aqui. Este bem mais próximo da banda do que o nosso camarada de Tucson, no Arizona.

Pep Williams nasceu em Los Angeles e passou a circular por Venice pela metade dos anos 80, andando de skate. Acabou seguindo a carreira profissional no esporte, virou fotógrafo mais tarde e tornou-se chapa dos Cycos.

Recentemente, saiu em turnê com o grupo, oportunidade para celebrar a amizade e exercer a paixão pela fotografia. Como de costume, entrevistinha com respostas traduzidas livremente.

Onde você nasceu e quantos anos tem?
Nasci em L.A. e comecei a andar por Venice em 1984. Tenho 38 anos.

I was born in L.A. and staretd hanging around Venice in 1984.Im 38 years old.

Qual o significado do ST para Venice?
Suicidal significa muito para Venice. Para mim, Suicidal é a maior parte da cena punk/skate em Venice. Sem o ST, eu penso que a cena não seria a mesma. Ainda seria legal, mas bem diferente.

Suicidal means allot to Venice. To me Suicidal is a major part to the punk/skate scene in Venice. With out ST I  dont think the scene would be the same. It would still be cool but allot different

Quando e como começou a sua relação com a banda?
Voltando a 1984, eu comecei a andar por Venice e em 1985 ou 86 em duas skate shops chamadas Streets of Venice e Circle Skate and Surf, e eu acabei sabendo que o pai de Mike e seu irmão vendiam pranchas DogTown para as lojas. Depois eu fui saber de Mike.

Back in 1984 I started hanging in Venice and about 1985/1986 at 2 skate shops called Streets of Venice and Circle Skate and Surf and I got to know Mikes father and his brother cause they sold DogTown boards to the shops.Later I got to know Mike.

Pep Williams e Mike Muir: parceria das antigas.

O Suicidal sempre foi associado às gangues. O que você acha disso?
Bem, indo a Venice naquela época existiam gangues por todos os lados e muitas pessoas eram associadas à elas e o ST tinha essa imagem então outros seguiram.

Well coming up in Venice back then there were gangs all over and allot of the people back then were associated with gangs and  ST had that Image so others followed.

Há ainda em Venice muitos seguidores dos Cycos?
Existem Suicidals em Venice e literalmente por todo o mundo. Eu nunca me dei conta o quanto até eu fazer uma turnê com a banda. Você tem muito Suicidals em todos os estados e eles são assim por mais de 15-20 anos.

There are Suicidals in Venice and literally all over the world. I never realized how many until I toured with the band. You have Suicidals pretty much in every state and they have been Suicidals for over 15-20 years.

A nova formação dos Cycos registrada pelas lentes de Williams: Moore, Muir, Brunner, Pleasants e Clark.

Como fotógrafo, o que sentiu registrando a banda?
Quando Mike me perguntou sobre sair em turnê eu estava muito animado e sabia que conseguiria fotos matadoras. Fotografar a banda é insano!! Nos shows a plateia vai à loucura e a energia é louca. Eu fotografei tudo do palco, da plateia, do agito. Eu perdi meu sapato apenas tentando a foto perfeita do agito. Mas valeu totalmente a pena.

When Mike asked me to go on tour with them I was stoked and I knew I would get killer photos. Shooting the band is INSANE!! At the shows the crowds go crazy and the energy is crazy. I shoot all over from the stage to the crowd to the pit. I’ve lost my shoe just trying to get the perfect shot from the pit. But it’s totally worth it.

Mike Clark e os fãs do ST: comunhão total.

Mike Muir é um frontman muito energético. Facilita para tirar boas fotos?
Mike é matador no palco. Muita energia. É muito fácil conseguir boas fotos quando Mike está fazendo o que sabe.

Mike is killer on stage. Lots of energy.Very easy to get good shots of Mike doing his thing.

Muir comandando a loucura nos shows

Você também é skatista, um esporte muito identificado com o Suicidal. Como você enxerga essa relação?
Eu andei de skate desde 1985 e quando comecei a sair por Venice isso era algo entre amigos, então foi muito legal fotografar o ST porque nós falávamos sobre música e skate quando estávamos pela rua.  Nós somos todos da mesma origem.

I’ve been skating since 1985 and when I started hanging in Venice it was just like we were all brothers so its just cool shooting for ST cause we talk about Music and Skating when ever we are all on the road. We are all pretty much from the same backgrounds.

Mike Clark e Dean Pleasants exibindo os shapes modelo Pep Williams

Tämä pieni kaupunki valvoo asetuksia tarkasti ja hankkiutuu eroon Los Angelesia vaivaavasta dramatiikasta.

Muutaman kilometrin päässä Los Angelesin kaupungintalolta on ollut vuosien ajan käynnissä pienimuotoinen kokeilu kannabiksen säännöstelemisessä. Osavaltion suurimman kaupungin hyväksyessä virheellisen toimenpiteistä pidättäytymisen, kiistellessä sääntöehdotuksista loputtomiin ja seuratessa hämmentyneenä lääkekannabiskauppojen lisääntymistä, West Hollywood painoi eteenpäin.

Kohdatessaan omien kannabisputiikkiensa räjähdysmäisen kasvun vuonna 2005, tämä Los Angelesin ympäroimä kaupunki esitteli käytännön toimenpiteistä pidättäytymisestä, määräsi väliaikaiset säädökset jo toiminnassa oleville, asetti tiukan valvonnan ja määritteli sallittujen kannabisliikkeiden määrän neljään. Kaikki tämä tapahtui kahden vuoden aikana.

Kun West Hollywoodin kaupunginvaltuusto päivitti säädöksiään aiemmin tänä syksynä, äänestys oli yksimielinen. Yksikään asukas ei ilmoittanut olevansa eri mieltä ja kaupungin kannabiskauppojen pitäjät tukivat sitä. Sitä vastoin Los Angelesissa valtuuston komiteat valmistautuvat kuulemistilaisuuteen, joka tulee epäilemättä olemaan riehakkaan riitaisa yrittäessään viimeistellä nyt viidennen version säännöksistään.

West Hollywoodin kaupunginisät sanovat, että on kulunut yli kaksi vuotta siitä, kun asukas on viimeksi valittanut kannabisapteekista. Naapurustopartioiden johtajien mukaan heidän katunsa ovat nyt turvallisempia, koska apteekkien turvamiesten vaaditaan liikkuvan myös lähikortteleissa. Kouluviranomaiset toivottavat kannabisapteekit tervetulleiksi naapuriinsa. Ja kaupungissa partioiva Los Angelesin poliisiosasto sanoo, että kannabisliikkeissä ei ole tapahtunut viime aikoina rikoksia, eikä soittoja vihaisilta naapureilta ole kuulunut.

“Me olemme olleet tilanteen tasalla ensimmäisestä päivästä lähtien”, sanoi Lisa Belsanti, kaupungin vanhempi hallintoanalyytikko, joka oli mukana sääntöjen sorvaamisessa. “Ongelmia on, mutta ne ovat Los Angelesissa eikä West Hollywoodissa.”

Kaupungeissa, joissa ei ole lääkekannabisssäännöstöä, kuten Los Angelesissa, San Diegossa ja Long Beachilla, lääkekannabisapteekkien naapureina asuvat ovat protestoineet, koska liikkeitä on perustettu minne tahansa – usein aivan asuntojen läheisyyteen – ja koska ne ovat houkutelleet riesaksi asti liikennettä ja todellisia vaaroja, kuten ryöstöjä. Joissakin kaupungeissa, kuten San Franciscossa ja Oaklandissa, on tiukat säädökset lääkekannabisapteekeille, ja niiden viranomaisten mukaan ongelmia on ollut vähän tai ei lainkaan.

Vaikka West Hollywood on vain murto-osa Los Angelesista 1,9 neliömailin koollaan ja 36 000 asukkaallaan, se toimii esimerkkinä siitä, kuinka säännökset luomalla ja niitä valvomalla ongelmat on suureksi osaksi vältetty. “Olemme pitäneet liikkeet tiukassa hihnassa”, sanoi kaupunginvaltuutettu John Duran, joka on ollut mukana lääkekannabisasiassa vuosien ajan. “Tänä päivänä valituksia tulee aivan minimaalisesti ja liikkeet toimivat vastuullisesti.”

Edistyksellisellä politiikallaan ylpeilevä West Hollywood, jossa on myös paljon homoväestöä ja ikäihmisiä, toivotti lääkekannabiksen tervetulleeksi sanan levittyä, että siitä voi olla apua AIDS-potilaille ja glaukoomaa sairastaville. Sielläkin tosin koettiin naapurustojen vastaisku, kun kannabisapteekit alkoivat yleistyä vuosina 2004 ja 2005.

Kolme liikettä ilmestyi korttelin päähän Fountain Dayn koulusta. Yksi niistä, Farmacy, oli aivan nurkan takana. Sen asiakkaat pistivät palamaan yksityiskoulun kanssa jaetulla paikoitusalueella, mikä hermostutti vanhempia. “Yhtäkkiä niitä alkoi avautua, pam pam pam pam”, sanoi Andrew Rakos, koulun johtaja. “Vanhempainyhdistys tuli luokseni ja kertoi, etteivät he ole lainkaan iloisia asiasta. Paikalle alkoi virrata paljon epäilyttävää ainesta.”

Farmacya pyörittää vakavasti sairaita ihmisiä kannabiksella yli 15 vuoden ajan hoitanut farmaseutti JoAnna LaForce. Hän otti yhteyttä vanhempainyhdistykseen, tarjosi esittelykierroksia liikkeeseensä, palkkasi turvahenkilökuntaa ja kielsi polttamisen paikoitusalueella. Farmacy, kuten muutkin liikkeet, kuuluu kauppakamariin ja sen johtaja on mukana kunnanneuvostossa.

“Olemme vain osa yhteisöä, osa naapurustoa. Meitä ei nähdä riskinä”, sanoi Los Angelesin tilannetta tyrmistyneenä seurannut LaForce. Hän omistaa Farmacy-liikkeet myös Venicessä ja Westwoodissa, ja ne toimivat kaupunkien säädösten mukaisesti.

Rakos on nykyään eräs Farmacyn arvokkaimmista tukijoista. Koska liike on alle 150 metrin päässä koulusta, kaupunki halusi sen muuttavan vuoden loppuun mennessä. Rakos kuitenkin pyysi kaupunginvaltuustoa tekemään poikkeuksen, jonka se tekikin. “Meistä oli tärkeää, että kaupunki tietää olevan olemassa liikkeitä, jotka eivät ole pelkästään kunnioitettavia, vaan jotka ovat myös kuunnelleet yhteisön tarpeita”, hän sanoi.

Los Angelesissa kiisteltyä säädösluonnosta on palloteltu valtuuston ja kaupunginsyyttäjänviraston välillä. Naapurustoaktiivit ja liikkeiden omistajat on pitkälti jätetty ulkopuolelle, he ovat saaneet sanoa sanansa ainoastaan julkisissa kuulemistilaisuuksissa. West Hollywoodin virkamiehet toimivat kuitenkin läheisessä yhteistyössä asukkaiden, omistajien ja poliisin kanssa.

West Hollywoodin säädökset rajoittavat sijainteja, joihin kannabisapteekin voi avata, määrittelevät turvallisuusvaatimukset, määräävät aukioloajoista ja kieltävät paikan päällä tapahtuvan kannabiksen käytön. Ne menevät pidemmälle kuin Los Angelesin säädösehdotus varmistaakseen, että kannabiskaupat ovat vastuullisia naapureita.

Liikkeiden on toimitettava lähiseudun asukkaille yhteyshenkilön nimi ja puhelinnumero. Ryöstöjen estämiseksi liikkeiden on talletettava joka päivä kaikki käteinen raha. Aseistamattomien vartijoiden on partioitava kahden korttelin säteellä liikkeestä estääkseen maleksimisen ja polttelun. “Me emme halua villin lännen tyylisiä ammuskeluja kannabiksen tai käteisen vuoksi”, Duran sanoi.

Kaupunki myös velvoittaa liikkeiden pyörittäjien tapaavan säännöllisesti viranomaisten kanssa keskustellakseen ongelmista. Nuo tapaamiset ovat nykyään hyvin lyhyitä. “Me menemme sinne kymmeneksi minuutiksi”, LaForce sanoi, “ja he sanovat – seriffi on paikalla – onko ongelmia? Ei. Mitään huolenaiheita? Ei.”

Kaupungin viranomaiset hätääntyivät äskettäin, kun Los Angelesin piirikunnan syyttäjä Steve Cooley sanoi uskovansa useimpien kannabisapteekkien olevan laittomia ja uhkasi nostaa niitä vastaan syytteitä. Mutta seriffi Lee Baca, joka on neuvonut kaupunkeja kieltämään kannabisliikkeet, sanoi pitävänsä West Hollywoodia mallitapauksena ja ehdotti jopa Los Angelesia ottamaan käyttöön samanlaiset säädökset.

Baca sanoi poliisiensa toimivan yhteistyössä kaupungin kannabisliikkeiden kanssa. “Tiedän niiden olevan läpinäkyviä ja uskon avaimen olevan siinä, että meidän väkemme voi mennä niihin koska tahansa ja tutkia niiden asiakirjoja”, hän sanoi. “Meitä kiinnostavat organisaatiot, jotka yrittävät sekoittaa lääkemyyntiin liikekaupallista myyntiä. Se on selkeästi laitonta.” West Hollywoodissa on neljä hyväksyttyä kannabisapteekkia, jotka kaikki sijaitsevat vilkkaalla Santa Monica Boulevardilla.

Don Duncan, alueen näkyvin lääkekannabiksen puolestapuhuja ja Americans for safe access -järjestön Kalifornian osaston johtaja, pyörittää vaatimatonta Los Angeles patients & caregivers group -apteekkia. Turvamies on aina paikalla liikkeen kannabiksenvihreän näyteikkunan edustalla. “Emme ole saaneet valitusta kolmeen vuoteen”, Duncan sanoi.

Farmacy, toisin kuin suurin osa muista kannabisapteekeista, pitää ovensa aina avoinna, kutsuen ohikulkijoita sisään tutustumaan liikkeen surffauksen ja Buddhan inspiroimaan ilmapiiriin. Alternative Herbal Health Services -apteekki kadun toisella puolella on hillitympi, sen ikkunaa koristaa värikäs luomukauppaa muistuttava kyltti. Kaupungin länsilaidalla sijaitsee Zen Healing Collective, jonka ikkunassa on jättimäinen neonhampunlehti. Viides kannabisliike, jonka kaupungin viranomaiset haluavat sulkea, Sunset Super Shop, on vertauskuvallisesti juuri oikealla paikalla Hustler Hollywoodin (seksiä) ja Whisky a Go Gon (rock’n'rollia) välissä.

Eräs asia vaivaa kuitenkin yhä West Hollywoodin virkamiehiä: se että ihmiset käyttävät hyväksi osavaltion lääkekannabislakeja ja ostavat kannabista yksinkertaisesti päästäkseen pilveen tai myydäkseen sitä edelleen. “Siellä notkuu paljon ihmisiä, joita me pidämme epätoivottavina henkilöinä, mutta emme kylläkään saa heistä paljonkaan valituksia yhteisöltä”, sanoi seriffi Dave Smith.

Duran uskoo että aidosti sairaiden turvallinen lääkekannabiksen saanti ja myynnin kontrolloinnin mahdollistaminen kaupungin taholta ovat painavampia asioita kuin haittapuolet. “Me olemme Sunset Stripin alkukoti”, hän sanoi. “Ihmiset ovat käyttäneet kannabista Sunsetillä 1920-luvulta asti. Se ei tule muuttumaan.”

Lähde:

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-weho-marijuana16-2009nov16,0,7678248,full.story

Karl Lagerfeld must have read and loved one of the most famous tales by the German author Thomas Mann, Death in Venice [1] (the original title is Der Tod in Venedig, first published in 1912), because Chanel Resort 2010 collection heavily pays homage to the decadent and romantic atmosphere of Mann’s tale. The history of the French maison is of course another source of reference, because Coco Chanel first came to Venice in 1919 (when she fell in love with Igor Stravinskij) and returned there for ten years.

The costume jewellery collection is based on many recurring themes – pearls, Breton stripes, double Cs – which are re-interpreted in a fresh yet classic way. The most notable pieces are cuff bracelets, reminiscent of the infamous cuffs designed by Fulco Santostefano della Cerda, Duke of Verdura, which Chanel wore on both wrists.

The cuff bracelet above has a base of black plexi and is decorated by a baroque-inspired metal plaque, pearls and rhinestones. The same decoration can be found in the brooch, which also has an oval pearl pendant.

A single baroque pearl decorates the ring on the left, while a double C on metal, enamel and rhinestones distinguishes the ring on the right.

The star is another recurring theme in Chanel costume jewellery collections: both these pieces have stars set in rhinestones as decorations. The brooch has a central enamel element with a double C, and is surrounded by glass-stones and rhinestones; the resin cuff has the same rhinestone star, minus the central double C.

These are among my favourite pieces. I love the Coco Chanel sculpted figurine in enamel metal, wearing black trousers and her trademark Breton striped t-shirt, so funny and cute. The long necklace has three strands of black and white pearls, while the key ring has three chains, with a pearl, an enamel double C and Chanel figurine hanging from them.

I don’t like the naval-inspired decorations on the striped resin cuff very much; I prefer the second cuff bracelet, which is striped as well, and is inlaid with a metal Chanel logo. These are probably the most cheap-looking pieces of the collection, because the recurring double Cs are a bit boring.

Last May the collection was presented on the Lido in Venice, with the luxurious Excelsior Hotel in the background. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to Venice Lido in autumn or spring, but I can assure you it’s a unique experience. Tourists and vacationers are gone, so you can fully enjoy the solitary beach and the decadent atmosphere of a magical place. I think the idea to set the fashion show on the beach was a master genius, because that is one of the most fascinating places of Venice.

Models walked a boardwalk on the beach and guests reclined on sunbeds, while the sun was setting. The collection was full of complex references to Venice and its timeless culture – the Carnival, the Bizantine art, the architectural treasures of the city – and some gorgeous costume jewellery – not included in the regular collection – were shown as well. I absolutely love the striped sweaters and shorts seen on Milana Keller and Jourdan Dunn, who were wearing a lot of striped bracelets around their wrists; Dunn also wore a pearl belt. I am struck by the striped hatbox [2] she was carrying, so chic!

Edita Vilkeviciute and Kim Noorda wore magnificent double-strand collier necklaces, decorated by semi-precious stones and diamantè.

Han Jin, Madisyn Ritland, Inguna Butane and Anouck Lepère all wore similar bib necklaces with cabochon stones in resin, metal and strass. They remind me of the Chanel Bizantine-inspired jewels manufactured by Gripoix.

I must admit I’m not a die-hard fan of this collection, but I wouldn’t mind wearing a couple of cuff bracelets all the time, like Chanel did with her gorgeous Verdura cuffs. What are your opinions about this Resort 2010 collection?

[1] The great Italian director Luchino Visconti directed the movie Death in Venice in 1971, starring Dirk Bogarde and Björn Andrésen. The collection pays homage to the movie, too, especially in the sailor outfits seen on male and female models (the young protagonist of the movie, Tadzio, always wears a sailor top).

[2] I think hatboxes have an irresistible charm, maybe because I relate them to two of my favourite movies, Desperately Seeking Susan (1985) by Susan Seidelman, starring Madonna and Patricia Arquette, and Crazy in Alabama (1999) by Antonio Banderas, starring Melanie Griffith.

Source and source.

Kelly Goodman and Austin Hill are co-founders of the travel blog, Travellious.com. Instead of being another blog about travel, it’s more of a lifestyle. The blog aims to help readers travel rebelliously.

What does that mean? Kelly explains:

“Too often we’d seen (and experienced) what we call ‘passive travel’. You’ve seen those people, the ones with their eyes glued to the guidebook and running through the checklists of ‘must-sees’. That’s no way to see the world!”

Kelly Goodman, co-founder of Travellious.com

So they’ve assembled their best information about seeing the world outside of the mainstream. Check out the “5 Embarrassing Rookie Travel Mistakes” to get the gist of what they’re talking about.

Right now, you can follow Kelly on the road in Italy, as she navigates the bus system in Venice or orders some freshly roasted chestnuts in Padova.

The Travellious team is not just about rebelling against mainstream travel, the duo is also rebelling against Google maps.

“We were tired of Google maps not doing what we wanted, so we’re turning our ideas into reality,” she says. “Our very own travel map with the points of interest that WE want to see, a way to share our experience with the world, and a way to get our friends (both real and virtual) to help us out along the way.”

It’s just getting started right now, but if you need some tips from Kelly in Italy, you can explore The Wonder Map for more info.

Up On The Roof

What a magical time it was when I lived in Venice, CA, in the 1980’s.  This self-portrait photo is of my sisters and my mom:  Roxanne, Keely, Barbara (Mom), Eleni and me. We were up on the roof of my Venice loft on Venice Way.  I love my family so much and they were always very gracious photo subjects.

Adventures tend to arrive in packs, so of course when we got to our destination we realised that this was the last day of Venice Biennale. Of course we grabbed the tickets at once and ran happily towards pavilions.
I’ve been talking about going there for quite a while, but never managed to actually go there until now.
Oh, it was just so good!
The space itself was great – old buildings with stripped walls, scattered around the old garden, really thrilling. Like, if aliens came to Earth a few thousands years from now, what would they find leftover from human civilisation? A bunch of shattered houses full of weird art objects.
Particularly exciting was the mood of the expositions. Seems like our pretty little planet is overcoming its emo-mode, and finally getting back on track to being happy, even if slightly infantile. Half of the artists presented something childish, naïve or charmingly obscure. Old blankets, scraps of colourful wires and threads, toys and lunch boxes all went into action. I particularly liked the use of stickers and newspaper cut-outs in a sweet piece “Recycling Buddha”. Unfortunately I don’t have an image, but it was quite some object, believe you me

my personal favourite, mirror disco unicorn aka discohorn

whataturkey!

I don’t know really whether the selection represents more curators’ taste or the general trend, but I was definitely happy to see it.
High time to get back to happy! Happy is the new sad, turn off your heartbreaking tunes, especially you, young folks who grew up with cheesy love songs!
Anyhow, the naïveté, obscure humour and soft irony of the art pieces made me wonder if maybe the world is finally getting ready for this type of thinking – slightly surreal and odd but still meaningful?.. Would be good news for me and my writing, which is exactly this, only maybe less of the childish and more towards the odd… Haha, what can I say, I do care for my writing a bunch, so you’ll hear here a bit about it

The biennale also had quite a few flashbacks from the past decades, which have actually complemented its general vibe. And these oldies were the ones I actually liked most, they were somewhat of a new discovery as well.

a work by Öyvind Fahlström

another work by Öyvind Fahlström

First one was Öyvind Fahlström, a Brazilian-born Swedish artist, who worked in the 15950s and 1960s. His comic collages were amazing – the idea, the execution, the colours. It just really stroke me. And the man must have made quite a bit of research of newspapers and factbooks, as all of his images are very inter-referential. My favourite bit was a feature of a “Swedish Diplomat Wife Book” with all kind of advise on how to organise a crossword-solving evening and to choose flowers for the room. Heartwarming!
Here are some of his works

a work by Pavel Pepperstein

Another artist I really liked was Pavel Pepperstein. I read a feature on him in September issue of Tank magazine, and it was interesting to actually see his works.

He was featured twice: old works, and then a whole room of his new 2009 stuff. I can relate to his vision: the dude is all about futuristic landscapes, thinking clouds and mountains, eating supremas. His combination of cartoonish style and this really old-school classical illustrating is great, as well as his use of watercolours. Could well be found on the cover of my book Somehow though the guy managed to stay exactly where he was 30 years ago – don’t know whether to respect that or … else…
Also, he is very Russian in a way, with his approach to art, and the topics that he raises. Its very dystopian, sometimes slightly disturbing, but also rather Tarkovski, ‘back to the future’, and retrofuturistic (as you can see from the picture above). All in all, worth a look. Or two.

Pepperstein's suprema-eating mountains, picture via Flickr

Pepperstein, Tank magazine feature

I’m coming back next year, that’s a promise to myself. This stuff is just too good to miss out on.

some more arty pics of art

on the way to the nordic pavillion... just kidding, but i did have my swedish fashback

biennale bar

7 more rooms were completed at the Certosa Hotel on Certosa Island, Venice.

The artists: Jan CM Peeters, Neriman Polat, Mark MacGowan, Jan Olsson, Roland Cabot, Tania Lopèz Winkler, and Aureli Ruiz

The curator: Lucrezia de Domizio Durini

Photos of Room 23 by Jan Olsson

A Room of One’s Own

“It is in our idleness, in our dreams, that the submerged truth sometimes comes to the top.” Virginia Woolf

view from the entrance

view of bed and painting

the key: desktop printmaking plate, paper, and leads for printing

Roland Cabot poses with the painting

preparations: photo, key, bed and sketch for painting

Well, as most of you know, Derek and I had the opportunity to have the most INCREDIBLE honeymoon.  It was almost a month long, and it included traveling to Florence, Venice, Paris, Cinque Terre and Rome (in that order).  Today I only had time to Photoshop Florence and Venice photos before Derek had to kick me off his computer to get back to work.  Haha.  But here’s what I have so far, and I’m going to try to finish up the rest of the cities today!  Looking at these photos really brings back to mind the incredible fun that was had.

In Florence we were with some close friends, and we attended one of my best friends’ wedding!  Katie traveled to SF for our wedding (and was one of my bridesmaids), so naturally we were first in line to attend her’s.  It was an INSANELY magical wedding…it literally could not have been more picturesque or dream-like.  Insane.

(the above may not be the most exciting image, but it’s my place card with my married name!  i was REALLY excited!  “signora hansen”!!)

Next up, Venice!:

When we say the word ghetto, we generally think of rap, thugs, and crime.  What we usually think of  is a modern economic ghetto, a neighborhood where all the poorest people live  and can’t afford to leave.

I would be bold enough to suggest however, that true introverts live in a social ghetto.   We don’t fit in and are forced to live as misfits and outsiders on the margins.  Most extroverts barely even seem to realize that we exist.  We are pushed aside into a separate ‘neighborhood’ where we live out an isolated existence.  Our state of existence is one of social poverty.

Growing up and even into college, I had to fight off resentment whenever extroverts complained about relationships and other forms of social connection I hadn’t even the luxury of aspiring to.   I understood that these people lived in another universe and that there was no way I could hope to make them understand that I had truly lived most of my life at the bare subsistence level.  Even if I could explain my situation to the other person, the response might be bewildered pity or possibly even contempt, but never understanding.  Part of the torture is that I couldn’t even really talk to anyone about my situation.

Over years, a lot of my energy had been focused on merely surviving.  It makes long term planning very difficult for me to this day.  Not long ago, I was bewildered whenever someone asked me questions about marriage, or having children.  That was all so distant as to be completely off my map.  The asker, usually a girl, would see my deer in the headlights look and conclude I was weird or just stupid.  To me, stable social relationships and settling down was a thing that the Accepted liked to talk about.  It had no relevance at all to my life.

Every encounter I had with normal people became akin to a clash of understanding and values sooner or later.  Usually sooner.  Our expectations of life were on different planets.  They were counting on a comfortable life and a family.  I was hoping for survival.  I could very well be in the same economic bracket as the person to whom I was talking yet clearly I was in some way impoverished.  Truly I lived in another place altogether from these normal people, a social ghetto of sorts.

On the internet, I’ve been discovering more and more people who grew up in the same neighborhood that I did and I’m enjoying it very much.

As a final note:

The first ghetto, Il Ghetto, was not an economic ghetto.  It was a holding area in the city of Venice where all the Jews in town were forced to live.  These Jews were often quite economically wealthy, but their social unbelonging led them to experience another, equally oppressive form of poverty.

Thanksgiving is around the corner and I should probably muse on pumpkin pies but, in case you were not paying attention, there is a pumpkin puree shortage. What? I asked our purchasing agent when he informed me of the situation and, while I longingly caressed the last can in our pantry, I set out to figure out why.

Obviously I wasn’t paying attention as it’s been all over the news. Pumpkin puree gets made and canned nearly a year before it hits the shelves, which means that this year’s batch was made with last year’s pumpkins. Apparently, the weather wasn’t cooperating last Autumn  and one-third of the pumpkin crop was lost, leading to this year’s shortage.

Well, if you are really hellbent on serving pumpkin pie tomorrow, you can always roast your fresh pumpkin and puree it. It will take close to 90 minutes (depending on oven) for your orange friend to become mushy. But the flavor will repay you for the afternoon spent at home. Sugar pumpkin or butternut squash will work equally well – please stay clear of the pumpkin that is still lurching around your house from Halloween…

In all honesty, I am not a big fan of pumpkin desserts but I live in the States, I cook mainly for Americans so I had to adapt and muster enthusiasm for ingredients I don’t necessarily love. Which brings me to my Venetian Pumpkin Torte.

A few years ago I was determined to improve my Passover and Roshashana dinners, which had been uninspired affairs loosely based on Ashkenazi traditions. Now, no offense to any Russian readers, but Jewish Russian food sucks (at least to this Mediterranean palate) and I was more drawn to the Sephardic tradition. From Spanish and Moroccan Jewish food I expanded to look for books of Italian Jewish cuisine and bingo! I hit the jackpot.

This is an old Jewish recipe from Veneto, most likely from Treviso, that I slightly morphed to make mine and to adapt  for American palates. So, next time you find yourself with a free afternoon on your hands, roast that pumpkin and whip up this torte. And why not this Thursday?

The original recipe appears in “Cucina Ebraica” by Joyce Goldstein

RECIPE

4 C       Pumpkin puree (or about 2 pound or raw squash)

3/4 C   Sugar

1/2 C   Ground Almonds (not too finely ground in food processor or chopped by hand)

1/3 C   Golden Raisins

Grated zest of 2 lemons

1/2 C   All Purpose Flour

2 ts      Baking Powder

1 ts      Cinnamon

3          Eggs, separated

1/4 ts  Salt

1. Put the raisins in a small bowl with enough brandy to cover and let rest 20 minutes.

2. Pre-heat oven to 325F and butter a 9″ cake pan – line with parchment paper and spray (or butter).

3. Place the pumpkin puree in a bowl and mix it with sugar, ground almond, lemon zest and the raisins you will have drained.

4. In another bowl, sift the flour, baking powder, cinnamon and salt.

5. Add the flour mixture to the pumpkin mixture and mix well. Add the egg yolks and mix until incorporated. This can be done by hand or with a mixer, using the paddle attachment.

6. In a clean bowl, whisk the egg whites until stiff peaks form (easier down with a mixer). Using a rubber or silicone spatula, carefully fold the egg whites in the pumpkin batter. Use wide and gentle strokes, in order not to deflate the whites, until fully incorporated.

7. Pour into your cake pan and bake immediately (don’t let it sit or the whites will definitely deflate and the torte will turn out chewy) for about 45 minutes or until a skewer in the center comes out clean.

8. Let cool and invert the cake onto a platter. Peel off the parchment. Serve it with whipped cream (in which you can swirl some caramel sauce for added effect and sweetness)

While studying abroad in the small town of Paderno Del Grappa, Italy (summer ‘08), I learned to appreciate the culture, food and their refined way of life.When I think about Italy I think of gorgeous architecture, lavish meals, winery’s, romance, and passionate people.

However, these advertisements from Ads of the World may contradict my perfect vision of my time in Italy.

I think these ads may also be a contradiction? Lets enjoy a few martini’s and then drive our car into the mountains. Hmmm . . . doesn’t sound like a good idea to me. Fail.

Ah Italy. I miss you. I miss the proseco, the trains, the small town restaurants, tobacci’s, salami & mozzarella sandwiches, disko tekka’s, the art, the history, the architecture, and the Italian language.

I also miss the adventurous towns. As seen in the ads below (Venice and Rome):

Il mio cuore appartiene in Italia . . .

Venice is a great city to show off your clothes – all those bridges are just so catwalky! No wonder Chanel had their Resort 2010 show on one of the nearby beaches.
Ghm, yeah, I know some people find it hard – nevermind the difference in spelling – not to mix “Chanel” and “channel” (how very inconvenient if you are in Venice!). Please, the first of the two is a name of famous FRENCH fashion house, the stress falls on the SECOND syllable. It’s ChanEl, for fashion’s sake!

Here are some of my favourite looks of Chanel Resort 2010 show (pictures from style.com)

My wardrobe for the weekend was based on layering subdued colours – to match the atmosphere, of course!
Look 1: Saturday, dark purples and blues. Long leopard-print shirt, grey button shoes, H&M; turtleneck sweater-dress, Zara; floral pattern navy-blue coat, Desigual (I like that this coat is totally untypical for Desigual, which is just too flashy-flashy for my taste); black tights, anonymous.

(All pics by Flo)

Look 2: Sunday, comfier and funkier. Striped sweater-dress, Zara; fur H&M; silver moonwalker sneakers, Eloq (Singapore find, totally awesome!). coat, tights, leopard and gloves from before.

Needless to say, I fell in love with the city, even more that I expected to! Maybe November-y lack of tourists helped too. I could write volumes about the tiny little details like doorknobs, window shutters, roof crests and sleepy birds on the sills which make visit here such an adventure, not even to mention the misty air, which makes everything so mysterious, and the bridges, for all those classy Venetian people, and the labyrinth of narrow streets, and so much more.
It is obvious that the city defines itself as old, it is one big museum, sleepy, living in its own past. But it found a very unique and elegant way of aging. It’s not abandoned and run-down like some other citites, and not artificially-polished, like some other ones, Bruge for example. No, it ages with elegance, a real lady of a city, and doesn’t need to cover the fractions of its walls and faded colours of its facades to still look pretty darn amazing.
And I think that autumn hues fit perfectly to its fading splendour, so I felt like we couldn’t have found a better time to be there.

(Pics mainly by Flo + some of mine)

Okay now, this blog is not a booklet, so I won’t go into each street and building. But it is a personal diary, so I will tell you my Venetian story.
I was a pretty cultured (aka nerdy) kid (thanks mom), and used to like browsing books on art and architecture, and in one of them I came across the image of Doge’s Palace.

In Russian (which is my first language) it is called “Дворец дожей”, and I, not knowing about the doges, misread it as “Дворец дождей”, The Palace of Rains.
So, for a few years I fancied it to be a peculiar and very romantic building of scientific purpose, the building to research different kinds of rain. I imagined, that behind the rosy mosaic walls were hidden huge barrels of thick glass, which are filled up with water whenever it rains. Then medieval scientists in long black robes and square hats used to test the qualities of all these different rain waters, compare them and preserve a sample of each in a hermetically-sealed bottles in a rain-library.
So can you imagine my disappointment when I realised eventually that it was actually a palace for some over-privileged and presumably rather boring Italian policy-makers?
Oh well, what can you do. Besides, the beauty of Venice made up for it big time.

and some more pretty snaps

We ran into these guys on Saturday, they were on some kind of massive historical revival. Or just a very posh bachelor party…

To me there are few things more exciting than a spontaneous trip. Very few, indeed. A new (long-awaited) dress for once, and… hm, that’s it I guess.

So, last Friday I was all so down with work, studies and a few other things, and needed a serious energy kick. So we looked at the Google map of nearby hot spots, and decided to go to Venice. Booked a hostel, packed (light, heck yeah – naturally I ended up with 4 more sweaters and shirts than I actually needed) and after some 5 hours of sleep hopped into the car and hit the road. Oh, the luxury of free movement

Riding and distance never fails to give me my kicks – somehow it just feels pacifying and elating all at the same time, and, even though being in a car doesn’t really require much action, it is such an exciting state of being! Especially this early in the morning, when it is still dark and the world is slowly waking up, and you see it – from behind the window. It’s like two movements: movement in time, with the light getting brighter with every minute, and movement in space, with ever-changing spots. What’s more to ask, really!

What made the drive even better was the beautiful morning light, soft and hazy, like a fine lace covering mountains and woods – something very Austrian. And, of course, the landscapes with hills, and mountains, and woods, and cute little houses. It might all seem to sugary and gingerbread-housey (well Austrians do like their sugar and cream), such a cosy bourgeois landscape, a bit Biedermeier-y perhaps, but it’s a feel-good view, and I like it. It’s also so exciting with the tunnels cut through the mountains, swallowing the car like some kind of lazy creatures, and us diving into the darkness and back out in the light again…

After all the roadtripping with Flo (props to him for delivering us to the destination fast and intact after 6 hours behind the wheel) I think I’ve pretty much mastered the ‘car-window’ genre of photography (somewhat aesthetically questionable, but plenty of fun nonetheless), so here are some of the better shots from the hundreds snapped away during the ride.

So, some hours and kilometres of foggy road later we parked at Punta Sabbioni, and took a boat to the city. Boat travelling: misty air + turquoise water + seagulls + wooden poles aka parking spots.
Arriving by boat to Venice totally felt like we are medieval royalty of sorts, getting down to the embankment right in the middle of this urban anachronism – but what a cool one!

If This Doesnt Amaze You Nothing Will

Im Gobsmacked

All Drawings Can Be Viewed Here

With all the struggles that come with being autistic has also come an incredible gift for British artist Stephen Wiltshire — he can draw in extraordinary detail from memory.

After standing in London’s Piccadilly Circus for just 10 minutes, ABC News correspondent Nick Watt asked Wiltshire to draw it from memory.It took him a little more than an hour. He drew without stopping. In the end Wiltshire’s image was almost exact in every detail.

Early Start

At age 3 Wiltshire was diagnosed with autism. Though mute and withdrawn, he demonstrated a natural talent and active interest in drawing.Wiltshire uttered his first words only after his teachers at school temporarily took away his art supplies.”I want paper. Please can I have a paper please to draw,” he said.Animals and London buses were Wiltshire’s early favorites, before he moved on to buildings. At 12 years old he was featured in a BBC documentary titled “Fragments of Genius.”In the film Wiltshire took a 10-minute helicopter ride over London. Immediately afterward he completed a detailed and perfectly scaled aerial drawing of a 4-square-mile area of London, including 12 landmarks and more than 200 other buildings.

Fame brought overseas trips, commissions, adulation and astonishment at his ability. For Wiltshire, it brought happiness. When he’s not traveling between exhibitions, the 27-year-old can be found at work in his London gallery.At Wiltshire’s gallery, he has drawings of Venice’s St. Mark’s Square, city scenes from Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Frankfurt and even a 32-foot-long panorama of Tokyo drawn from memory after a 30-minute helicopter ride.”Your memory is like a photograph?” Watt said.”Yea,” Wiltshire said modestly with a laugh.Though Wiltshire lives in London, he says it’s not his true love.”I prefer New York. It’s my best favorite. They’ve got tall, high-rise, skyscrapers. And the streets and avenues and yellow New York taxicabs,” Wiltshire said.