My loose translation: When we are far from our motherland, we never remember her winters. Distance erases the punishing winter, the defenseless masses, the barefoot children in the cold. Our artful memory only recalls green pastures, yellow flowers and red, the blue sky of the national anthem.
THAT is no country for old men. The young In one another’s arms, birds in the trees – Those dying generations – at their song, The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas, Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long Whatever is begotten, born, and dies. Caught in that sensual music all neglect Monuments of unageing intellect. [...]
We spent 10 Euro each for admission to the Archeological Park in Syracuse, Sicily, this afternoon. It was quarter to three when we entered, and we knew we’d have enough time in a couple hours to see the major points of interest before the site closed, or the rain started. The rain came first, but [...]
After a long day of looking at wreckage and ruins, it’s not likely you’ll want to wander around in search of an interesting meal. Thanks to a recommendation from our equally admirable Hotel Diana, just a half block up the street, we walked into La Bettola del Gusto early enough to be seated, despite our [...]