There are many images and smells in Galicia that bring me back to my summers in Spain as a child.  The little things that people see, smell, hear, and taste which combined you can’t find anywhere else.  Things like the bunches of chorizos hanging from the ceiling of our pantry or tossed on the side of a truck ready to sell to people shopping the local market.  The smell of octopus boiling in large pots, hardening and softening in the burgundy stained water before the vendor pulls one out with a hook.  The loud bellow of the delivery man’s horn when he drives thro  ugh town each morning to deliver everyone their bread.  Even the white powder of the salted cod that needs to soak in water until the salt that once preserved this big fish slowly seeps out so it‘s suitable to eat.  
These are the things I remember well, the little things that continue each day, when I leave, when I return, and when I leave again.
This past week was the feria do pulpo, and people come around with the same purpose, to buy and eat octopus.  Although in the rainy winter when the surrounding towns lack people and the desire to leave ones home, there isn’t much ambiente a very important quality that adds people, movement, and life (vida).  This day there were mostly men with salt and pepper hair just above their ears and nowhere else that came to eat pulpo at the local bar with their friends.  They talk sports I imagine or something else like their pesky wives, their wine, and the reminiscences of stories when their bodies allowed them much more than mere talk about  past adventures.
The pulpeiro let us try the pulpo and it was soft and flavorful having lost all the toughness that it had before cooking.  Once cut with sharp scissors you drizzle olive oil on top of the pulpo and then sprinkle some Spanish paprika and rock salt and it’s ready to eat.
{ 0 comments }
The bus had no heating and all night long, freezing air leaked in to where we were seated. Ice began to form on the inside of the glass and we tried to snuggle together, under every bit of clothing that we had in our backpacks. We arrived in Uyuni hours earlier than expected, in the middle of the night, and without a helpful guide to greet us. We made our way to the nearest hostel and slept in our jackets and shoes until we were able to feel our toes again. Just a couple hours later the sun came out and the memories of the cold, white night seemed almost fake. They say that a mirage in the desert can trick the eye and it made me wonder about deserts made of salt and perhaps a mystical force that can inflict pain. As it turns out, the most difficult part of our trip was actually getting to Uyuni. Now we were armed with lots of warm clothing and jackets (no longer tucked away at the bottom of a bus).
New York City is a mecca of culture, art, music, and society, where you can brush elbows with artists and creatives in one of the many museums, theaters, or galleries that the city has to offer. Unfortunately for many however, New York City is also a mecca for those paying high rent, a high cost of living, and just getting over an economic depression. It isn’t always so easy to experience culture without the cash, which is why smart New Yorkers and travelers alike take advantage of FREE NYC. As a student living in NYC, I used to get into quite a bit of museums for free merely by showing my student ID, but you don’t have to be a student to enjoy the benefits of free culture. In fact most museums in NYC have a night when one can visit and pay absolutely nothing to enter. There are also quite a few lesser known museums that are free to enter at any time. Take a look at the compiled list below to find out when you should visit each museum.
While it may appear that celebrants of the Day of the Dead (Dia de los Muertos) are mocking the dead, with all the over the top colors, sugar skulls and dancing skeletons, but in reality the tradition is meant to honor those who have passed. It isn’t a sad occasion, but rather playful, because displaying these caricatures of the dead, known as calaveras, lessen the fear and sadness of death. Rather than feel sadness, participants celebrate and remember their loved ones by offering their favorite food and drink. Check out these pictures of 
This day coincides with the Catholic holiday All Saint’s Day on November 1st, the day after 
Sugar skulls another important part of the ritual. Usually you will see them with the name of the person deceased on the top of the skull. These skulls are given as offerings and later eaten by friends and family. It is an interesting dichotomy between the sweetness of life and sugar versus the sadness off death and skulls. You can see these sugar skulls at every alter and Day of the Dead celebration. Many people take the time to decorate them together, further cementing the importance of gathering as a family.
New Jersey Is Not So Bad, In Fact It’s Pretty Nice
by Elena on December 17, 2009
Granted the success of these shows are all based upon stereotypes. I don’t judge Los Angeles by the fake tans, fake breasts, and lip enhanced women on reality television, ok maybe I do just a little, but I certainly can’t make broad assumptions about the city as a whole, much less the whole state. We all have our own prejudices that affect our opinions about the places we visit, but by being completely ruled by these assumptions, we miss out on a lot of the good stuff.
What most people forget is that New Jersey is the “Garden State,” and to all those distant snickers, I am dutifully ignoring you. While industry has been an important part of our economy for many years, there are many beautiful parts of New Jersey. Believe it or not there are farms in NJ, quite a bit actually. If picking your own fruits and vegetables strikes your fancy, you can do so at multiple locations. Farmers’ markets are all over the state and you can check on the Department of Agriculture website to find one close to your home. Chances are some of the produce found in your supermarket and restaurants is from a nearby farm, especially if you’re buying tomatoes, blueberries, apples, beans, broccoli, corn, and the list goes on. When I lived in Montreal, I would shop at the local farmer’s market and I was surprised to see Jersey tomatoes and berries so far north. I have gone to farms in NJ since I was a little girl, where children could ride hayrides, go apple, peach, and pumpkin picking, drink apple cider, and pick out homemade pies. Maybe I’ve belabored my point, but allow me to reiterate; we aren’t all sludging around in grime and hair gel.
As one of my family members said about the comments people were making about NJ and The Jersey Shore show. “Let people think NJ is like that. Save the nice beaches for ourselves.” And it’s not merely the beaches but also the trails, the mountains, the small towns, the multicultural cities, the good food.
That is the thing with New Jersey. People don’t go to places because there was a rave review in a prominent publication like the New York Times, although that is quickly changing. People go to restaurants because of word of mouth, because the food is great, their friends go, it’s been open for years, they know the owner, and the service is friendly and generous with their drinks. I’m not referring to the chains I love to hate and hate to love. Yes those are popular too, and while they aren’t as ‘authentic’ as the small Italian eatery in my town, sometimes you just want to choose between 25 different kinds of cheesecake.
I challenge anyone to find a better quality steak or rodizio than in Newark NJ, and if you find one, I’ll be first on line. If you want a great meal, go where the immigrants are; the Brazilians know their meat and they live in Newark. If you want gargantuan portions of Spanish food, Newark is also the place. The cost is reasonable and the food is damn good. More “modern” eateries are popping up as well. Modern Spanish dining, or as I like to call it shi-shi, can be more expensive, with smaller portions and sauces drizzled onto nice designs on your plate, still delicious and following in the footsteps of Nouveau Spanish cuisine all over the world. If you want Mexican food, Mi Pequeno Mexico on Ferry Street is by far the most authentic Mexican food I’ve tasted since wandering around Mexico City. That’s a place worth returning to.
Call me biased. I absolutely am. I love New Jersey. I love that there are trees outside my window and that the GWB is a 15 minute drive from my house. In a perfect world with no traffic and endless parking, I can be walking around the MOMA or grabing a coffee from the Mudtruck in Astor Place in 30 minutes. In New Jersey there are towns that still have bookstores, coffee shops, and vintage stores that have remained untouched by the hands of chain stores. Go to Montclair, Englewood, Ridgewood, or Madison and you’ll feel like you stepped into a small town movie set. If you need a discounted superstore you’re in luck. Rest assured, no matter where you stand in New Jersey, you are within 20 minutes from a few malls. Sometimes closer.
So yes some of the stereotypes may be true, but in a state where there are so many cultures and immigrants, it is impossible to stigmatize the whole population. Go to little India on Newark Avenue in Jersey City and tell me if you are reminded of the folks on the MTV show. Not likely. Taste some chicken makhani or saag paneer and you will be back for more.
Say what you will about the industry, the hairspray, the housewives, or the Sopranos, this is the place I call home. And to those who don’t want to get past the stereotypes to find the good stuff, it is fine by me. Like my cousin said, more for us.
Image via: Nicholas_T
{ 0 comments }