johannal

Through winding roads we finally arrived at the j.phelps vineyard near St. Helena. The view itself was breathtaking—spectacular undulating hills and row upon row of meticulously tended vines. We were too late for the wine tasting but our host graciously provided us with a complimentary glass of cab sauv.

For a brief moment in time I experienced a bit of heaven on earth.

I only have good memories of this place. They have a great selection of Japanese, Thai, and Vietnamese fare. Worth visiting again and again.

My mother is a pious Catholic. She attends Sunday mass and goes to Novenas every week. She has a list of things she implores God to grant her each time she recites the rosary. It irks her to no end that I refuse to go to church with her. She consistently bemoans the fact that we do not pray together as a family. She is also a Buddhist, like my father. They kneel at the temple and believe that their prayers are heard through the smoke that rises as the incense burns. Perhaps they think that the more gods they pray to, the better the chances are that they’ll be heard and granted.

Is there a God? I grew up a devout Catholic, not by choice though. I was sent to the best private school in the city, where baptism was an entrance pre-requisite. I knew the Bible by rote, especially the parables and the four gospels. I did not question my faith. The intellectual suspension of disbelief imperative to truly believe was never an obstacle. And then I relocated.

Uprooted from familiar surroundings and adapting to a mixed climate of agnostics and atheists, I reveled in a different perspective and a new approach to theology. Do I believe in God? It’s a spiritual conundrum. I am a non-practicing Catholic, i.e., I don’t go to Church or attend Mass. I respect the power of faith and the strength religion gives to people. When I watch the sky at night and lie still under the stars, I sense the divine. I’ve met people of different beliefs and realize one thing is universal-faith. Some pray to Jesus, some go to Mecca, some of us turn to science. In the end it is all the same. We are all applying arbitrary methods to understand and search for the truth-that there is something greater than ourselves. I take comfort in this assertion: life has meaning and I am grateful for the power that created us.

The last time I went here I felt a deeper sense of understanding and I was one with myself and my beliefs.

Jen, Mar and I were weary from walking around the beautiful city and paved sidewalks. We saw a gathering crowd lingering about the bridge and so we sat down and rested for awhile. It was serendipity that the sun was about to set and we saw its full glory as it bid Firenze a fond arrivederci! Ah, simply wonderful.

Ah, Firenze! It never ceases to amaze me as to why this city does not have as much a romanticized reputation as Venezia. I liked Florence more than Venice. People were happier, friendlier, and more accommodating.

The perfect haven. Home away from home.

It was for the 25 for $25 prixe fixe dinner in March. We stepped in through the door and Nishino-san was there to greet us and brought us to our table. To have the master chef himself usher you is such an honour! He was courteous and modest, provided us with the menu, and sauntered away to welcome other patrons. The wait staff was attentive and not the least bit obsequious. The tara was the best fish I’ve had. It makes me drool just to think about it. They have these cute little chopstick stone rests. It didn’t take long before the place was packed. Definitely worth the price and coming back to.