Favism – who knew?

“Notice to citizens at risk of hemolytic crisis favism. In this commercial operation are exposed fresh beans in bulk.” [Google Translate] Favism: A condition characterized by hemolytic anemia (breakup of red blood cells) after eating fava beans (Vicia fava) or being exposed to the pollen of the fava plant. This dangerous reaction occurs exclusively in people with a deficiency of the enzyme glucose-6-phosphate dehydrogenase (G6PD), an X-linked genetic trait. However, not all G6PD-deficient families appear at … more

Putting a Face on Poverty

[First, draft profile by the students I am advising at St. Stephen’s School. Great work from five budding journalists. Thanks to Kelly Worcester for kicking me in the butt a bit to make this happen.] Putting a Face on Poverty A blog dedicated to interviews with the impoverished men and women that we have passed in the street everyday until now.  On Saturday the 28th March we met with Vasco, a Bulgarian man who moved … more

American Girl in Italy – Ruth Orkin

Great photo, great story. American Girl in Italy It is almost a cliché to say that when Jinx walked across a different world when she traversed the Piazza della Republica in Florence on that August day exactly sixty years ago. But that world was truly different — in a sense, unfathomably different — to someone born in the 1980s. Even today, after all advances in modern communications, online bookings and airtravel, travelling alone can be … more

A Tale of Two Galleries

This is the tale of two galleries, both profiled in the New York Times’ story 36 Hours in Rome: Galleria Lorcan O’Neill (the first and second photos and experience) and Dorothy Circus Gallery (the third photo and those that follow).  I entered the Galleria Lorcan O’Neill through an incredibly unmarked courtyard. It wasn’t easy to find. From the street, I saw the lovely Roman fountain and then a small sign advertising the Gallery. The Gallery is showing … more

Will he knock

This afternoon, I heard a knock on our apartment door. Charlie, dead asleep upon his return from Crete, certainly wasn’t going to answer it, so I did. Our neighbor-cleaner’s boyfriend Federico was at the door with a big, heavy package. He looked at my surprised and asked, “Were you expecting a delivery?” No, of course now. Who even knows my physical address (ok, it’s at the bottom of most of my emails). But who even … more