Passions with a Passport: "Mad to live"....and it happened in New Jersey "sOn!"

Tuesday, June 17, 2008

"Mad to live"....and it happened in New Jersey "sOn!"

Yes, Billy Joel might have sang about New York, but I have to say I fell a little bit in love with it's underated, underated, highly scrutinized neighbor. New Jersey is called "The Garden State," and yes, I've seen the movie, and thought the title was it's only justification. But, after my best friend picked me up from Newark, I looked past the smog and the crusty factories, just a bit ahead, towards the turnpike, I saw bountiful flowers bursting like "spiders across the sky like stars." They were in the forests... flowere bushes peeking from the thicket off the highway. The forests were truly magical. I couldn't get over how pleasantly surprised I was of New Jersey.

"Leave the gun, take the conoli." Yes, I was also red from excitement over seeing all "The Godfather," "The Sopranos," even the Asbury Park exit made me feel proud. Not that I'm a huge Bruce Springstein fan, but his message, his raw humanity, and working class persona, that touched ever middle-American's life... yes, I felt truly honored to be amonst his childhood upbringing.

We did hit up NYC though, don't get me wrong. It was interesting too. My girlfrined and I could NOT pick a restaurant for the life of us. So many options in NYC. I actually read recently the dilemma facing New Yorkers. A study was researched about the most unhappy Americans, and where they are from, etc. Would you believe it was NYC? Where Carrie Bradshaw once quoted in "Sex and the City"- "only if your really lucky do you deserve to live in New York." Hmmm what's going on, too much to do, so many choices. It's like that book I've been reading "The Omnivor's Dillema" all these diverse extenuated options. I'm just glad I booked my trip, we picked an amazing Chinese restaurant on Amterdamn, and saw a live band. Even if it's not the most detailed ridiculous plan, we had a ball. Travel, grow, and be yourself, and yourself will grow through each beautiful experience. Thanks New Jersey, for not being what I predicted. When you travel, whether it's Moscow, or Tibet, or Tahiti, never calculate too much, not where to go, what to wear, what route to take on the map, what to read, and at what coffee shop, what to say, and to whom, just be yourself, and be "mad to live"- "On the Road."

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A Traveler's History of the Cinque Terre - by: Rick Steves

It's a sunny afternoon a thousand years ago in the Cinque Terre (CHINK-weh TAY-reh), long before it became the Italian Riviera. This string of humble villages, surrounded by terraced vineyards, is a two-day sail from Genoa.

The leathery old farmer, taking a break from tending his grape vines, picks a cactus fruit to quench his thirst. Suddenly howls come from the crude stony tower crowning a bluff that marks his village of Vernazza. Turkish pirates are attacking.

Avoiding powerhouse cities like nearby Genoa and Pisa, pirates delight in the villages. These Cinque Terre towns, famous since Roman times for their white wine, are like snack time for rampaging pirates. Villagers run for cover down corridors buried deep in the clutter of homes that clog Vernazza's ravine.

A thousand years later, another leathery grape-picker is startled by the roar of a smoke-billowing train. Emerging from the newly built tunnel, it flies a red, white and green flag. It's 1870 and the feudal and fragmented land of Italy is finally united. This first Italian train line, an engineering triumph of fledgling Italy, laced together Turin, Genoa, Rome...and, by chance, tiny Vernazza.

Decades later, in the 1930s, an Italian dictator teams up with a German tyrant. The war they started is going badly. In 1943 the German Führer calls on Vernazza's teenage boys to report for duty. The boys, who are assured they'll only work in German farms and factories, know they'll end up as fodder on the front. Rather than dying for Hitler, they become resistance fighters. Running through the night, they climb the ancient terraces like giant stairsteps into the hills high above the village cemetery.

The 1970s bring on a different battle scene. Hippies exercise their right to lay naked on the Cinque Terre's remote Guvano beach. Outraged, an angry armada of villagers — fully clothed and accompanied by a raft of reporters — converge on the ratpack of sunburned big-city hedonists. Conservative little Vernazza makes headlines across Italy.

Next, the age of tourism arrives. In 1978 a college-aged American backpacker, stumbling onto the region, finds the traditions vivid, the wine cheap, and the welcome warm. Inspired by the Cinque Terre and similar places throughout the Continent, he declares the region a "back door" and writes what will become a top-selling guidebook on Europe.

By the 1990s, word of this paradise is out. More and more travelers visit — staying in local apartments rather than in hotels. One day, at the crack of dawn, another invasion comes...this time by land. A platoon of Italian tax inspectors blitz the sleepy town, rousting out the tourists and cornering locals renting unlicensed rooms. B&B income in Vernazza is suddenly no longer tax-free.

Today gnarled old men still tend their grapevines. Now Vernazza's castle — named "Belforte" centuries ago for the screams of its watchmen — protects only glorious views. And the screams ringing out are of delight from children playing on the beach below.

But the local economy has changed. The poor village is now a rich village, living well in its rustic and government-protected shell. Tourism drives the economy as the less-calloused locals feed and house travelers. While the private rooms rented are basic, the cuisine — super-charged by a passion for pasta, pesto, and seafood — is some of Italy's best.