Remembrance

On August 22, seven lines in the Memorial Section on the obituary page of The New York Times, a tribute to Richard Plantagenet could be read. Remember before God, Richard III, King of england, and those who fell on Bosworth Field, having kept faith, 22 August, 1485. Loyaulte me lie. http://www.r3.org/

Shakespeare's play--the last of four Shakespearean plays were about the Wars of the Roses between the houses of York and Lancaster. Richard III, third son of Richard Platagenet, Duke of York, and the brother of Edward IV seized the throne by force in 1493. The last Plantagenet to fight the first Tudor Monarch and lose--he appeared in Tudor histories and Shakespeare's plays as one of the most vicious rulers in history. In Shakespeare's drama Richard III, he is physically deformed, cruel and guilty of locking his nephews in the Tower of London and having them smothered to death. There is no historical truth to the story and Richard is said to have instituted many reforms, fought courageously at Bosworth Field in 1485 and met death bravely. But Shakespeare's play will forever influence a reader's opinion of Richard.

In our century, Peter Shaffer wrote a play titled Amadeus after hearing about Mozart's mysterious death in the late 18th century. Salieri, the court composer for the Emperor of Austria, was written as a jealous rival who would do anything to vanquish the young genius. It didn't happen but Shaffer's brilliant and vivid writing lives on. the play won five Tony Awards, including best play and eight Oscars, including best picture.

After reading the Memorial, I began to wonder if one of the reasons we write is to remember someone or something, hold on to a piece of history that we hold dear, shape it or perhaps be a part of it or have a bit of ourselves remembered forever.

Bests,

Elise

My small contribution--an eBook titled Scene Stealer is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Carina Press and wherever eBooks are sold. An audio version has been produced by Audible.com

MORE BEER

There are 365-days in a year and it’s been said that Belgium has a beer suitable for each day. Others claim the number and varieties of beer hover between 450 and a thousand. Beers from all over this constitutional kingdom have their own taste, aroma and character: dark, blonde, sweet, sour, bitter, tangy, and fruity (cherry is a favorite). No wonder the Belgians are devoted to beer and the Confederation of Belgian Brewers describes their country as a “Beer Paradise.”
Belgium even has a patron Saint of beer. During the middle ages, breweries were local, and the beer often produced in monasteries. In the 11th century, when an outbreak of plague convulsed Belgium, a Benedictine monk thrust his crucifix into a brew-kettle to persuade Belgians to drink beer as a substitute for water (boiled, filtered and or fermented during the purification process, beer is a much safer drink). To quote Ben Franklin, “In wine there is wisdom, in beer there is freedom, in water there is bacteria.” The plague ended and the monk was beatified as Saint Arnold.
Every year, Brussels holds a Belgian Beer Weekend in Saint Arnold’s honor; the celebration begins as a church service followed by an academic session and a parade of costumed brewers, dressed as King of the Mashing Fork, through the streets to Grand Place where the public is welcomed, beer stands offer brews from around the realm and lively music and entertainment add to the festivities.
Grand Place 10 is home to the Belgian Brewers’ Museum (Musee des Brasseurs Belges.) Operated by the Confederation of Belgian Breweries, the Knights of the Mash Staff.; the museum, in the vaulted basements of the Brewer’s House, exhibits modern and traditional techniques. Brewing and fermentation tubs and a boiling kettle may be viewed along with other equipment and supplies used in an 18th century brewery. A café transports the visitor back in time with exhibits of stained glass windows, paintings, pint pots, antique pitchers, vintage tankards and to parch the beer devotee’s thirst - the perfect pint.
Abbey beers come from a great many different abbeys; and abbeys often produce two distinct types of beer: double (a sweet and dark taste) and triple blond with a heavy percentage of alcohol. Trappist beers refer to the type of abbey that manufactures the beer.
One of the most traditional beers today is Lambic; (a beer that ferments spontaneously from wild yeasts found in the local air.) The non-malted wheat beer naturally ferments from three to five years in wooden hogshead barrels. The first taste is sour and acidic; after the second the dry, tart flavor turns into a delightful, refreshing drink.
Lambic beer is produced at the Cantillon family run-brewery in Brussels. Established in 1900, the brewery conducts tours and has a small museum Musee Bruxellois de la Gueuez. Gueuez is a mixture of lambics, and shimmers like a glass of champagne. The beer improves after years in the bottle. Cherries added to Lambics produces Sweet Kriek and may also be made with raspberries—a beer often imbibed during the warm summer months. Bierre Blanche is lighter and Witbier (made with wheat) is traditionally drunk with a slice of lemon. Candy sugar sweetens a Lambic known as Faro.
Bruge has two breweries in the heart of town; De Gooden Boom that specializes in Tarwebier, a wheat beer and Bruge Tripel with a 9.5 alcohol content. De Straffe Hendrik produces another aromatic wheat beer.
Many beers have their very own beer glass; the glass designed to enhance the taste is used exclusively for a particular beer. For example: a glass for an Abbey Ale is shaped like the chalice used by monks for centuries. Belgian beers are served in snifters, flutes and champagne glasses. Brewers use a champagne bottle, corked and wired, for beers that will be re-fermented. A good beer is as prized in Belgium as a fine wine is cherished in France. Since antiquity, aficionados are reputed to favor Belgian beer above all others for their taste, quality and diversity.

Where is your favorite beer brewed?

Bests,

Elise

Scene Stealer, my eBook mystery is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Carina Press and wherever eBooks are sold. An audio version has been produced by audible.com

Oetzi

While in Northern Italy some years ago, my husband and I visited Bolzano or Bozen—a former Austrian town lost after World War I to Italy—is often called the “Gateway to the Dolomites.” Located in the northeastern Italian Alps, close to the Adage River, the longest stream in Italy after the Po, Bolzano is surrounded on three sides by awesome, towering mountains composed of vividly-colored limestone, jagged clefts and plateaus—Nature’s skyscrapers. In winter, the region invites skiers, in spring and fall a brisk hike beckons, in summer there is nothing like a romantic stroll.

The pedestrian center of the town offers restaurants, both Italian and Austrian, beer gardens, a Piazza named for a troubadour—Piazza Walther—and for the studious, streets named for Dante and Goethe, a Conservatory named for Monteverdi and an orchestra named for Haydn. Bolzano is also the home of the ice-man, affectionately known as Oetzi, a 5,300-year old gentleman who receives callers at the South Tyrol Museum of Archeology.

Oetzi discovered in the Oetz Valley region between Austria and Italy became the object of a heated discussion between the two countries. Was Oetzi an Austrian making his way to Italy or an Italian heading to Austria? By examining his teeth, scientists have now decided that Oetzi was from the Eisack Valley in the South Tyrol in Italy and lived during the early copper age.

In his backpack Oetzi carried a flint knife. Dapperly dressed in leather and hide, he carried a bow, a fur quiver holding fourteen arrows made of viburnnum and dogwood and a copper axe. Forty-five years of age, poor Oetzi suffered from arthritis and stuffed his shoes with straw to keep out the cold. He now lies in a special glass walled fridge at a temperature of six degrees centigrade.

DNA samples from his stomach show he took pleasure in a dinner of venison before being killed by an arrow and enjoyed berries and mushrooms. He also chewed on bones no chewing gum in those days. Wounds on his hands and head indicate Oetzi was involved in a fight for his life. He suffered a wound from an arrowhead that severed a major blood vessel. He managed to escape for a short period of time but died in the gully where he was found millenniums later. Scientists later discovered wounds on his hand and new X-rays show major bleeding in the back of his brain and a skull fracture. Doctors now believe Oetzi may have been attacked twice.

The museum at Museumstr. 43, 1-39100 Bozen-Blozano, records the history of the South Tyrol from 15,000 BC through 800 AD. Archeological finds, exhibits and reconstructions and videos are both captivating and illuminating.

From the Bolzano’s train station the Dolomite peaks glow as the sun sets. Located close to the station is the cable car that takes visitors to the mountain woodlands and to meadows with dazzling views of the Dolomites.

Bests,

Elise


My eBook titled Scene Stealer, is available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Carina Press and wherever eBooks are sold. An audio version has been produced by Audible.com

THE GARDEN

A soft, steady rain washed the neighborhood last night. I inhale, close my eyes and smell the aroma of warm, damp earth as it drifts past my open window. A small ensemble of weeds, conducted by a morning breeze, sways gently, lulling me into the half-sleep of remembrance.
I lean over the sill and study the garden. Once nurtured by two ancient German refugees, on a small narrow plot of land supplied by our building’s landlord, the garden now suffers from neglect. The apple trees have been cut down, along with bushes and flowering plants. Nothing is left but dry earth that sparrows love to bathe in.
Through the years, I watched my suburban neighborhood of mostly one and two family houses grow into a sturdy community of apartment buildings, two supermarkets and a cut-rate drugstore. The garden stayed the same. Coaxed, chastised, inspired by Emile and Anna – the refugees – it pulsed with life. We knew spring had arrived when the crocus and daffodils were joined by tulips and baby’s breath. The azalea flowered next—a showy display of crimson and claret. Roses, the color of peaches and cream, grew in June and emboldened by the heat of August squirrels knocked apples off the trees.
Emile and Anna loved the garden as much as they disliked each other. Every morning, the sound of shovels, a wheelbarrow crying for oil and their constant bickering would wake the tenants on the garden side of the building. No one dared complain. Better Emile and Anna’s squabbles than a hard, dry courtyard. At night, the pungent scent of flowers in full bloom wafted into my bedroom, encouraging me to dream of distant lands, exotic adventures. Dreams only occasionally interrupted by the high pitched mews of cats using the greenery for assignations.
Chrysanthemums grew well into September and lasted ‘til the cold warnings of winter forced them to fade. After Christmas festivities were past, Emile could be seen gathering discarded evergreens, tinseled branches twinkling in the morning sun, and placing them on the perennials. There they would rest while the tenants anticipated spring.
I don’t know why the landlord ripped up our garden. I heard rumors that a squirrel jumped from a tree and peeked in someone’s window and another neighbor mentioned cats keeping her awake. I think Emile and Anna must be turning over in their graves.


Bests,

Elise

My cozy eBook mystery titled Scene Stealer may be found at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Carina Press and wherever eBooks are sold. An audio book has been produced by Audible .com

Paris

Vacationed--for a few hours--in Paris last Sunday. Went to see Woody Allen's new film Midnight in Paris. Made me feel as if I were walking the streets and boulevards once more. Remembered dining at the Eiffel Tower. Had to steel myself to get up to the restaurant as I have a fear of heights but it was oh, so worth it. then there is the Louvre and Napoleon's tomb where I somehow locked myself into a stall in the john and was instructed in myriad languages on the best way to get out. The bridges and a cool canal boat ride on a hot day listening to stories about the districts we passed and peeking at mussels clinging to the sides of the canal and spitting. I did not take it personally. One day, my husband and I stopped at a bakery and bought a long, French bread then a shop that sold cheese. A bottle of wine and we had a picnic in the park.

The film's music was perfect and the artists that were brought to life delightful.

Have you seen the movie?

Bests,

Elise

My cozy eBook mystery titled Scene Stealer is available through Amazon, Barnes&Noble, Carina Press and wherever eBooks are sold. an audio version has been produced by Audible.com