“Amigas Cheetahs, friends for life, the rhythm and each other, that’s what keeps us tight.” The childhood fantasy of four girls accomplishing their dreams of becoming superstars led them to Barcelona. For fall break, Darien, Lily, Karissma, Anna and I satisfied our desire to follow in their footsteps. We were only aware of the current protests happening in Barcelona after we booked our bus, train, flight, and Airbnb, so as cheap college students, we hoped for the best. 

After an hour and a half bus ride to the Pisa airport, an hour flight to Barcelona and an hour train ride to Barcelona Stanz we finally made it to Sant Celoni, where our Airbnb was located. During our travels, we’ve met a handful of individuals who were generous and kind. They started conversations with us, suggested places to eat and see, and helped us if we needed help. It was comforting to meet genuinely kind people, especially when coming from this busy Florence community. 

• 

• 

• 

The owner of the Airbnbs name is Jhon. We didn’t know what to think of him other than his google translated messages that were difficult to understand. He offered to pick us up from the train station and take us to the Airbnb, we figured why not were already staying at his house. Luckily Darien and Karrisma speak Spanish and were able to communicate easily with him. We squeezed in his tiny car as he took us to the house to rest. He quickly became a loving father figure to us. He knew we were hungry and gave us bananas, yogurt, and tortilla Espanola . He offered to take us around his town and join him in a church service up the mountain. I’m not gonna lie, I wasn’t exactly jumping at the opportunity but we didn’t plan anything for the rest of the day and the majority did not mind going. 

• 

• 

• 

We later went to church with him and met a very lovely family and the sisters of the church. We attended the first half of the service and it was really beautiful. We then adventured around while he finished his service. On the way back to the house he took us to THE BEST BAKERY EVER, Pastisseria Granier. They had real chocolate croissants with no citrus flavor and full-size bread for 80 cents. We went back there every day. We didn’t have plans for dinner and we couldn’t find any place we all wanted to eat. John said he had food at the house that we could make and surprisingly this was the best dish I had the entire trip. 

• 

He gave us a homemade pasta sauce, penne pasta, and a block of parmesan cheese. Darien made the pasta and I had the honor of “shredding” the cheese. He didn’t have a grader so I just did it with my hands. Jhon said he didn’t want to eat but we made him a plate anyways. We set the table and had a cute little family dinner with Papa Jhon. The pasta was the perfect combination between sweet, sour and spicy. This sauce is truly unique, imagine a salsa pasta sauce with zucchini and peppers. I have never tasted a sauce quite like it, but what topped it off were the bits of Parmigiano. We made the right amount of pasta, just enough for me to get another plate of this yumminess.

He told us some of his life stories and we got the chance to show him where we are from as well through “The Youtube”. At age 78, he has 2 daughters and 3 grandchildren and 1 adopted son. In his garage, he used to make clothes with the sisters of the church, specifically jackets but stopped to focus on updating the Airbnb. He told us he likes to host young adults rather than adults because adults seem to be more high maintenance compared to first-year college students. For the entirety of the trip, Papa John always checked in on us. 

• 

• 

• 

We were able to experience Barcelona in all her glory, rain and all. The tickets for La Sagrada Familia were sold out but we were still fortunate enough to admire her from the outside. The weather was chilly and cloudy as we strutted through the marbled streets and glass parks. We also went to where the famous cheetah girls scene of Barcelona was shot, Park Guell. There was a rainstorm coming and we made sure to make our way home before it gets dark. Later that night at our house we witnessed Sant Celoni during a blackout. Barcelona was an experience and Sant Celoni was the closest thing felt like home. Papa Jhon took us to the steps of our train home and opened his house to us to always come back. I’m grateful for Papa Jhon, his pasta sauce, and my “Amigas Cheetahs friends for life”.

• 

• 

It is true…I have been diagnosed with a serious case of homesickness. Being far away from home for a great amount of time, I’ve experienced things I have never felt before. Of course, I miss my home and my family, but my greatest withdraw is the food. At home, my all-time favorite thing to do is go to the valley and sit in the river with a shoyu poke bowl, a bag of Maui onion chips, poi, and my aloe tea. 

• 

• 

Now, I know I am not going to find a nice river to bask in the middle of Florence. The closest I can get to feeling at home is a poke bowl. Poke bowls are something universal, but I like to believe that its origin began in the local culture of Hawaiʻi. Poke is diced raw fish that is normally mixed with sauces and toppings. There are many different varieties of poke like Spicy Ahi, Oyster Shoyu, Hawaiian Style, Tako (Octopus), or California. You can order by the pound or by the bowl with white rice, brown rice, or hapa rice. Hapa means half and hapa rice is half white rice and half brown rice. 

Everyone always has their favorites. My go-to poke bowl is the Ahi Shoyu with white rice and furikake. When I am feeling good and have extra money, I buy a bag or container of poi. Stores normally sell the poi next to the poke because they understand that they go hand in hand. An Ahi (yellowfin tuna) Shoyu poke bowl is raw tuna mixed with shoyu (soy sauce), sea salt, green onions, and Maui onions. 

Lately, to satisfy my poke cravings I’ve been eating a lot of seafood pasta and sushi. I have yet to find a poke bowl place here in Firenze and see if it meets this Hawaiʻi girl standard. Although many poke bowl shops are popular for their beautiful aesthetics, the best poke bowls are the ones in the black containers and clear lid with a weight sticker on the top, and of course made with aloha. 

• 

• 

Restaurant Review for Vinandro – VINO F. Desco Molle

Don’t get me wrong, I love Firenze but lately, I’ve been yearning to get out of this city. This past weekend a couple of friends and I decided to go to Fiesole to visit a Teatro Romano (Roman Theater) and finally satisfy my craving for something new. Fortunately, we got there early and had the entire theater to ourselves. It was truly stunning. Our admission also covered entrance into two museums, the Museo Civico Archeologico and the Bandini Museo. After exploring the theater and the Museo Civico Archeologico, our stomachs began to growl in hunger and we decided it was time to eat. We gallivanted around the Fiesole square to find that this town was fairly slow. Cars would pass every 5 minutes, bikers would stop to refresh themselves and restaurants didn’t open till noon. The open restaurants were accommodated for tourists and didn’t quite catch our desire. After walking back and forth, around and around in circles for almost an hour, we finally found the place that we all agreed on… VINANDRO – Vino D. Desco Molle

Vinandro was hidden away from the main attractions on the outskirts of the square and had just opened. We had the option of outdoor seating (like every other restaurant you see around Italy) or indoor seating on a large family dining table. At this time, I guess you could say we were all getting a bit hangry and just wanted to eat, so we chose to eat inside where we can all sit comfortably.

They have two separate menus, one in Italiano and one in English. The server gave us our menu, and judging by our conversations and the way we dressed, he gave us the English one with no hesitation. There was no music playing. We sat in silence, studying the menu and deciding which dishes we wanted. Shortly after, an older couple squished next to us on this long family dining table and filled the space warmly. There was only one worker in the front that took care of everyone. He did not serve us right away rather the couple that got there after us. His service shows respect towards locals and the elderly. It took him a while to take our order, but when we did this is what we requested…

As we waited for our food I began to truly study the place, and it started to feel like home. There were pictures of the founders like a mom and pops shop, hidden tarot cards near the cashier register, a flickering light, and a picture demonstration of how to make wine. These things brought me back to a place where I grew up, that sadly I forgot about, my grandmas’ old house. She would always have pictures up on the walls, shelves of wine bottles, the decor of fake grapes and garlic, and always a flickering light that just needed a little twist. The winemaking demonstration actually made me share a story with my friends that my grandma told me…

When my grandma was a little girl, her father (Papa Foti) would make her and her two siblings ‘make’ wine in their basement. They would have to step into these barrels and squish and squish and squish the grapes with their feet. One night they heard the barrel rattling as if it’s going to burst. Now in the middle of Milwaukee, Wisconsin in the early 60s, Papa Foti would have gotten fined big time. He did not want the firefighters to come after hearing a loud explosion. So, he took the initiative into his own hands. Papa Foti told the kids to grab containers and follow him. He opened the lid to the barrel and it explodes like a volcano. My grandma and her siblings had to catch the remnants of the jammed grapes with their containers.

It didn’t take long for the food to arrive. The first dish to come out was The Maccheroni – Meat Ragout with a side of Seasonal Vegetable Ratatouille.

Then came the Deep Fried Baby Mozzarella and both of the Tagliatelle pasta. The Deep Fried Baby Mozzarella was not my favorite. I think I was expecting a thick-crusted/fatty mozzarella cheese stick like from OutBack. But these baby mozzarellas were balls and tasted as if deep-fried in olive oil. The oil overpowered the mozzarella taste. The textures met my expectations and made the dish.

• 

• 

• 

The first Tagliatelle dish was The Etruscan Style. Its name alone was mysterious. This dish had a refreshing taste. I heard one describe it to have a ‘grass’ flavor, but I wouldn’t agree. Mixed with these flat long egg-based pasta strips, was a blend of mint and pesto. I enjoyed it and would definitely order it again.

The next Tagliatelle was with tomato sauce. A dish so simple that can never go wrong. This dish was actually my favorite. You can tell the tomato sauce did not come straight out of a can. This tomato pasta was also very cheesy and even better when you add parmesan on top.

After finishing our meals, we asked for the bill and to our surprise, it was fairly reasonable. I took the time to observe Vinandro one less time. At the beginning of this experience, I felt congested in a cluttered room. Throughout our time there, this place began to remind me of home and it was comforting. Everyone has their own preferences and experiences, but I would definitely recommend trying Vinandro. We finished the day by walking through the Bandini Museo. Fiesole is an experience. It is truly beautiful and can’t wait to go back!

• 

My Taste On Dolcezze Savini – Pesche Mignon

“How adventurous are you feeling?” “Right now? Very.”

That was how the conversation started when I met with, the one and only, Darien Irizarry. We met each other at Conad and agreed to look around for ideas of something to make or if we can find anything new to experience. We scavenged trying to find something that catches our eye and after going around the entire store twice, we got nothing. We were about to leave when I saw these bright red sugary balls the size of a chestnut hiding on the second shelf near some cheese. The package read “Dolcezze Savini – Pesche Mignon”. We didn’t understand it nor any of its ingredients, so we bought it. Little did we know what these sugary balls would make us feel. 

We attempted to google translate the package, and we came up with “Sugar Peach”. It did not taste like a peach at all. That describes the weird familiar fruit flavor. We wanted to know exactly what we just ate so we decided to do some research. The first thing we found out was what it’s supposed to look like, a peach. But really, it looked like a butt filled with shit in the crack. Also in comparison, we did not get a cute little fondant leaf with our Conad peach cookies.

• 

• 

• 

Then we looked up how it was made…

When we found out that the cookies were dipped in wine, Darien flipped. Darrien does not consume any amounts of alcohol and so he felt tricked to have just eaten a cookie dipped in vino. That was the bitter taste that we couldn’t describe!

Personally, I did not like this Pesche Mignon. It was too sugary for me and I found it hard to finish. I also don’t care for peaches, which could tie into my taste preferences. I ate the second one days later and I still had the same feeling towards it. Although I did taste the peach the second time around. In our research, we discovered that its fairly easy to make and maybe one day we can make them ourselves. Overall I will never forget this adventurous experience. Even though I did not like the taste of Pesche Mignon, these red sugary balls would be forever tied to this story. Before this experience, I have never seen these peach cookies in my life and now I see them everywhere. It makes me imagine all the other foods that are there but I do not see. Now, I’m even more inspired to try new things, especially when their label and ingredients are in a different language. So what adventure next?

My moʻolelo (story) begins way before my time. 

Oral traditions passed on through chants, legends, myths and genealogies, trace the origins of the Native Hawaiian people to early Polynesian planters, fishers, healers, artists, engineers, priests, astronomers, and navigators and beyond them to the life forces of the land itself.

According to these genealogies, Native Hawaiians are the living descendants of Papa, the Earth Mother, and Wākea, the Sky Father. Papa was born in darkness and Wākea was created in the light. Their union, symbolizing male light’s penetration into female’s darkness, brought forth the birth of the Hawaiian islands and the Hawaiian people.

Hoʻohōkūkalani conceived again and this time gave birth to another son also named Hāloa in honor of his elder brother. Hāloa was born strong and healthy and is believed to be the first Hawaiian man. Thus, Hāloa the kalo, is considered to be the older sibling and the kanaka Hawai`i (Hawaiian people) the younger sibling. It is said that if you take care of your older siblings and your mother, they will nurture and take care of you. This is the relationship that the Hawaiian people have to kalo. The myth of Hāloa has been passed down from generation to generation. The word Hāloa itself means long breath and infers to the strength and endurance of the Hawaiian people. Without breath we have no voice; without breath we have no life. Hāloa tells a story of the interconnectedness between Hawaiians and the connection between people and nature. 

In ancient times times, Kalo was the primary food of Hawaiʻi, supplemented by other principal and traditional foods. Today, with the conveniences of imports and fast food chains, there’s not much demand or need for kalo or any traditional food. But there are those who still continue to perpetuate our cultural practices and the primal connection to Hāloa lives through them.

“He Aliʻi Ka ʻĀina, He Kauā ke kanaka”

The land is a chief, humans are its servants.

The land has no need for human, but humans need the land and work upon it for livelihood.

— Mary Kawena Pukuʻi, ʻŌlelo Noʻeau #531

For generations and generations, my ancestors have sustained themselves by maintaining a healthy relationship with their environment. Since I was a little girl, my dad would teach me what his father taught him. He would take me fishing and diving for octopus, lobster, and all types of fish, picking ʻopihi (limpet), and always, always, cleaning the kalo patch. It has become a responsibility for my family to go to our family land, called Paeloko, throughout the week to clean the irrigation ditch, clear weeds, water plants, and pull/clean the kalo patches. By spending so much time ensuring that all plants are growing healthy and equipment like fishing tools are clean, you learn to truly appreciate the outcome. That is probably why my favorite thing to eat is fish and poi (with a little bit of furikake). I am not a real picky eater and I will try whatever you give me. In the future, I would love to try other cultures traditional foods like bird nest soup from china or Caponata Di Verdure from Sicily, those places also are where my genealogy takes me. I am not the best cook but I am learning. During my time here, I want to learn different customs of cooking so I can take it back home and share with my family.

• 

• 

• 

At times when I can’t think clearly, stress too hard, or get caught up in being really busy, I feel something within me, pulling me to get my hands in the dirt and feet in the water. Being on the land is a form of therapy for me. It is a part of me. I am passionate about unearthing and continuing traditional practices and fighting for environmental rights, because it’s my responsibility to care for my older sibling (Hāloa), my elders, and my mother (Papa). This is where I come from. The water, the land, the air, and the people, all that is essential for life, are the things that ground me into who I am today. My roots stretch far…all the way to the beginning of Papa and Wākea.