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Gastrotourism through the Protestant Lens in Altamura At the Antico Forno di Santa Caterina – one of Italy’s longest in continual use ovens, a cluster of pensioners and misc origin travellers in pastel-coloured athleisure huddle around excitedly. The ancient furnace lures them in with display mounds of bread weighing 5kg. These edible kettlebells are fondled,
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That morning after breakfast, I finally went for it. I peeled back the transparent film and gingerly placed the adhesive side down onto the inside of my forearm. I dabbed it tenderly with a damp sponge and watched the paper absorb the moisture until it started to move slightly, revealing the edges of a geometric
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ITA: Scoperta, adjective -> ENG: Uncovered, Exposed, Defenceless, Bare. Antonym ITA: Coperta -> ENG: Covered, protected. I always thought I was strong, like a Mediterranean pine. Hardy. That my desert blood fused with an Iberian hotchpotch of Castiglian mystery and Atlantic pseudo celticness had armed me with a special resilience. Turns out I’m vulnerable. Scoperta –
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Most people when they go to New York visit Liberty Island. I visited Staten Island. Because of Working Girl. While I always loved the film, I also sort of hated the message. Years later, semi-marooned in an insular satellite town of Rome, living through the end days of a doomed relationship, I began to see
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Until I moved away from London for university, I’d assumed that everyone in the Southeast of England was mixed. English of course, but surely with new, added and improved, taste-the-rainbow flavours? Growing up of mixed parentage in a global city, you’d be forgiven for thinking that you could easily pick and choose your identity from
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Don’t Cry For Me, Quarantina. Lockdown in Argentina, parrots and paranoia in Primrose Hill. Jorge sits in his cool, tastefully decorated Buenos Aires apartment, and prepares to take on the Brad Pitt Milanese. It’s a delightful ensemble of ham-wrapped beef fillet, topped with mozzarella cheese, two fried eggs and a strip of grilled red pepper.
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Vignettes from my daily walks and musings on class distinction, consumerism and Catholic guilt. In Maida Vale and Queen’s Park, gym refugees scurry around desperate to replicate their routines. There is a palpable sense of urgency and desperation in the air; the work out together – stay together couples are testing the limits of their
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Sta arrivando! “It’s coming!”, the man from the ticket office says in reference to a bus that was supposed to have arrived thirty minutes ago taking us from Catania Airport to Siracusa. Though it was my first time on the island, I understood immediately that this would not be the first time I would hear these
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Some thoughts on The Female Gaze. Recently, I’ve been attending both Heels and Burlesque dance classes. The experiences, while empowering, also highlight the very things they set out to undo. My heels class is not that friendly. Standing there in my Cinderella stripper heels, taking turns to strut up and down the dance studio- I
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Disrobing is optional. I prefer keeping the outer layer on to provide extra gripping purchase. Lightly compress each bulbous curve between your thumb and your forefinger, and gently pull in opposite directions. Examine the pink flesh balanced on each hand. Gauge the moisture by giving each half a light squeeze. The natural sweetness, when exposed
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A semi-autobiographical account about journeys, belonging and unresolved daddy issues about daddy’s issues. The number 36 bus route is epic. Or just long. My opinion depends on how much civic pride I can muster. It spans northwest to southeast London in a heroic (or arduous) journey from Queen’s Park to New Cross Gate, making appearances
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Farida F. Alvarez 