Well, I can’t believe my bags are nearly packed (finally);
I’ll soon be on my way northeastward for leadership training in Vermont before heading
to Paris with nine high school students for our photography adventure. But
before I board the plane, I did want to catch up the blogging world with the
latest happenings in my summer transition out of Ohio.
Last Thursday marked the start of an internationalconference on French author André Gide. Organised by Profs Christine Armstrong
(Denison) and Jocelyn Van Tuyl (New College of Florida), the conference brought Gidean
scholars from—among other nations—Canada, France, Luxembourg, and the UK. In
addition, Claude (a conference participant from Switzerland) arrived in
Granville with an additional interest in doing some research for a high school
religion class he teaches back home. As translator for a pair of interviews I
set up for him in Millersburg (including a buggy ride) and Berlin, I brought
Claude to Ohio’s Amish country, home of the largest Amish population in the
world. Generally speaking, we focused on daily life in this particular section
of Amish country; more specifically, our attention was on religious beliefs among
the Amish and Mennonites. It was an enjoyable experience not only getting to
know Claude in the short amount of time we had or even to exercise my brain and
French skills prior to the upcoming trip, but to also visit communities that I
have lived relatively close to these past two-ish years. There’s indeed a
simplicity to the livelihoods of the people of the particular county we
visited, and while many generalisations can be made across the different
populations of Amish and Mennonite folks, it’s important to note how
distinctive this particular community is when compared to others (in Michigan
and Pennsylvania, for example). Without going into too much detail, this is
especially the case when considering the close intermixing of the Amish and
Mennonites, as well as the non-Amish and non-Mennonites—a cross-cultural relationship
that has (while maintaining a certain distance) become much more open and
intrigued to the “outside” world than what one might expect. Furthermore,
another lesson worth noting is that, at least in this area, there’s no intent
on “converting” anyone, but rather challenging those who are interested in
Amish/Mennonite beliefs, culture, and tradition to take a pause and reexamine
one’s life, to find those small areas where one might find the room to simply
simplify. At the conclusion of our visit to the heritage center, I tried and
purchased locally made (a consistent theme among those of Amish country, and
one made more easily possible by this rooted closer to nature approach to life)
lavender syrup: less viscous than maple syrup, and with the unquestionable
fragrance of lavender. A unique item all on its own, I think (hope) it’ll make
for a good homestay family gift.
Later that evening, as I leafed through a book I
bought at the center, Whatever Happened toDinner?, it hit me just how much a transition to Slow Food and an overall
fresher approach to food is halted by convenience. Concurrently, though, I see
it as an added challenge to take something of convenience and put some effort into
reinventing (or at least adding to) it. To the boxed, frozen pepperoni pizza
and regular vanilla frozen custard, I added respectively shredded cheddarcheese and dried Italian herbs, and chopped cherries and dark orange chocolatewith almond slivers. I think the end products made up for the start, no?
The next day, I finished up the last bit of my work
for ResEd and got to organising my house and packing for my departure from
Granville. Naturally I waited until the last possible minute to leave and
returned home to Southfield for the days leading up to my continued departure. From
travelling to Michigan to travelling throughout Michigan, I was able to see one
of my godfamilies and family friends in White Lake before meeting up with
Lauren and Grace in Novi and wrapping up the night at a salsa bar in Royal Oak.
On Sunday, my parents and I went to Logan’s Roadhouse (a bbq
resto) for Father’s Day lunch and then went to Gibraltar Trade Center in search
for a non-automatic film camera for the upcoming trip. Thankfully I found one (literally,
just one that fit the description; ironically, I still need to take a photo of the camera) and soon realised just how much education I’ll
need in terms of making the most of this purchase. Without question, the
yearbooking skills will come in handy.
These past two days then I’ve spent the majority of my
time in Detroit working for my alma matter, a seasonal tradition that always
seems to elicit a look somewhere between “welcome back home,” “it’s so good to
see you,” and “you haven’t graduated yet?” As I seem to be more recently focused
on the theme of time, it’s rather baffling for me to think I’m working on my 10th
yearbook for my high school. And equally familiar is the senior composite and
archiving work that I’ve also taken on seasonally the past few years. It was
equally great to hear the stories of everyone who’s taken a look at all the frames
lining a few of our hallways, an archival history that doesn’t seem to be
departing any time soon. (If you’re reading this and are/have an alum, check it
out if you haven’t already!)
Earlier today, my supervisors for the yearbook (Mrs
Michèle Mooney) and archives (Mrs Ann Steele), took me out to lunch at La DolceVita and it would make absolutely no sense to not include this lunch here.
Located in Detroit (though the feel and sentiment is completely European, and
specifically Italian), and without a doubt one of Detroit's best kept secrets, La Dolce Vita is truly a word of mouth kind of
establishment. The dining experience, additionally highlighted by the fact our
waiter was born near Piedmont, the region where my potential Fulbright location
lies, is especially marked by fresh ingredients and what I would call a non-intimidating
authenticity.
For an appetizer, we began with a fire roasted red bell
pepper bruschetta topped off with garlic, fresh basil, extra virgin olive oil, and grated Parmesan.
As I browsed the relatively small lunch menu, we all
seemed to have a difficult time choosing what to orders because everything read to be delicious. My eyes
were first caught by eggplant parmesan, especially after watching an Iron Chef comfort food countdown last
night; soon after I thought I made my choice, my ears were caught by our waiter’s
description of a veal dish entrée special with a marsala straight from Sicily
and finished with a splash of cream. However, when I looked back at the menu,
the word “Amalfitana” caught my attention (for those who have read some of
previous posts, you should quickly understand why I chose this; as a reminder
though, click here) and I ordered the perch which I first pronounced as “PER-seKo” and learned to
pronounce it as “pirsico”.
Michèle went with the mussels and clams dish with a
sweet sauce that not included the flavour of fresh tomato but the mussel and clam
juices, as well. Meanwhile, Ann got the salmon which had a great sear and honey-bbq-ish
type sauce to accompany an amazing texture. Speaking of sauces, I could
literally eat nothing but the lemon Chardonnay sauce upon which my perch
perched.
But this was nothing compared to the light, delicate,
and rich homemade tiramisu that Michèle and I each had, and for which I somehow
made room. Having already tried the tiramisu, Ann ordered a delicious mocha cheesecake
with a dark chocolate cookie crust. Seriously, how can any of these
combinations go wrong?
And with my dinner of chicken adobo and rice (among
the ultimate comfort foods in my book, this version prepared by one of my
godmother’s mom), and a quick flourish of text, I must get some sleep so I can finish
up my last-minute packing and preparations before heading out the door in the
morning. Pleasant dreams and until the next time I write (which, by the way, will
be uncertain for the next month), M.A. For additional pre-departure photos, click here.
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