Recently I was fortunate to journey to Florence, a Renaissance jewel. I caught an Alitalia flight from Birmingham airport that is most convenient for short journeys between the UK and European continent. Flying via Milan, I found the seating aboard this Italian airline very comfortable and enjoyed being bussed to and from the plane. The seats are of grey leather and, although an airbus, quite roomy and spotless unlike so many other airlines I have flown on.
The Hotel Aprile was my place of abode for four deliciously comfy nights. This ancient Palazzo dal Borgo, formerly a 15th century Medici Palace, has been lovingly converted into a charming hotel with every comfort and excellent service. Their delightful courtyard garden where breakfast and afternoon drinks are served in the spring and summer is a green and verdant spot situated within sight of the Church of Santa Maria Novella and the bustling streets of this Renaissance city. The bedrooms are furnished differently and all with private bathrooms which have been beautifully fitted. For families, there is a full size suite with two bedrooms. You will find many surprises as you wander through the hallways and passages, 16th century paintings, alcoves with Florentine Renaissance antiques, original frescoes on walls and faded oriental carpets.
Lucky for me, every few years I
go to Antibes, France with my family. When that happens I feel
compelled to photograph almost everything I eat, before I eat it. There
are two reasons for this ritual: One, French food is so gorgeous it's
just begging to be photographed. Two, photographing it is almost my way
of saying grace for and being mindful of the bounty of food (and, trust
me, it's bountiful) I'm about to consume. Food is fleeting. The photos
are forever.
I’m not a foodie. I seldom watch the Food Channel. The one cookbook I
own came with my microwave. I only go to Williams-Sonoma to get a gift
for someone else. So I’m surprised that some of the best memories of
my bicycle trip in France last summer are of food.
Living in a city with 6,000+ restaurants, why would you ever drive 150
miles to eat in a city with a population of 1,500? For me, it’s a kind
of a Hillary Clinton type thing. She was right, it does take a village
to raise a child. Unfortunately for my wife and I, parents of a 16
month old boy who believes soil is a basic food group, we left the
village back in our home state of Michigan when we moved to Chicago. So
when we need a break from the exhaustive process of keeping our son’s
mouth free of dirt and other things you find on the average floor, we
gotta go to the village.
I'm just back from Myanmar and it is a jeweled kaleidoscope. Aung San Suu Kyi has finally been released from house arrest to accept her Nobel peace prize. The repressive Myanmar government has begun to open the doors and this corner of the wiggly third world is trying to hoist itself into the twenty first century.