Los Angeles Travel Photographer

Buono, Favignana, Italy - Los Angeles Travel Photographer

He said his English is not very good. I was nervous the whole time he was talking.

He told us in his English, next to who appeared to be his wife, that he once had a crush on his English teacher in his youth. He was among the friendly senior citizens that we ran into exploring this beautiful island thatโ€™s 11 miles off the west coast of Sicily.

Fortunately, we later saw him again on a different stretch of the beach, in one piece, with his supposed wife. Buono!

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Iโ€™m a firm believer that one of the best ways to learn a foreign language is to immerse yourself in the environment that the language is spoken in. For someone thatโ€™s passionate about food, I built my whole (meager) Italian vocabulary almost 100% near or around food. :-)

The word โ€œmangiareโ€ (โ€œeatโ€ in Italian) could be the first Italian word that I learned (of course, other than โ€œ
buon giornoโ€). In fact, I heard it so many times that I knew how to pronounce it before I even understood the meaning. Do you think people of Italia are just as passionate about food if not more?

So, the story of โ€œbuonoโ€ goes like this:

On the island of Favignano, Italy, a gelato store somehow became our first stop off the port. Just like the fisherman that walked in before us, still in his water-proof outfit.

He must have seen the way that our eyes were devouring the massive load of gelati, enclosed by a brioche that couldnโ€™t quite close. โ€œBuono!โ€ he turned around, with index finger pressed against his cheek, swiveling (see
an illustration of the gesture here). That, my friends, was all it takes to jump in with our own brioche con gelato. And this may have been how I learned to associate the word โ€œbuonoโ€ with yummy food (it could also be this incident in Bagheria off of Palermo, Sicily).

Brioche-con-Gelato-Favignana-Italy-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photography.jpg

Surrounded by the Tyrrhenian Sea, Favignana is guaranteed to provide some nice vista of the ocean. As youโ€™ve heard me said time and again that โ€œPeople are Landscapeโ€, I wouldnโ€™t be doing my job if I didnโ€™t include people in my vista.

As we looped our way back to the port, it was livened up by all kinds of people - people buying fish, people lounging around (coffee) bar, and people in trouble. There, I witnessed how everybody dropped what they had on their hands and worked together for a happy ending. Call me old fashion. But I think that is molto buono (VERY good in English)!

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P.S. Bonus material since Iโ€™m being chatty today:

Do you still remember Cetara on the Amalfi Coast of Italy, the town that catches anchovy and turn them into delicacy, i.e.,
Colatura di Alici di Cetara? The ancient tradition of fishing with menaide that was once used by Cetara is still carried on by fishermen of Sicily. The small opening of the mesh (on average 12 mm) allowed the small anchovies to pass while the larger ones remained entangled. The two ends of this tool were passed through hollow two-barrel cables that functioned as floats. The anchovies caught in the mesh are recovered by hand one by one. The video in the provided link (starting around 5:00 timeline) explains it well.

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From Garum to Cetara, Italy - Los Angeles Travel Photographer

It didnโ€™t take my new-found sister Kathy too long to figure out that I have a passion for food and unquenchable curiosity on all peculiar/interesting/strange food. Thanks to her introduction, I now am a newsletter subscriber of Gastro Obscura.

One day, I was reading about
garum, an ancient recipe for fermented fish sauce that became popular with the Romans. As I wondered how we couldโ€™ve missed the former Roman garum factory in central Lisbon in Portugal, my mind was already flying to a fishing town of Cetara on the Amalfi Coast of Italy, a town thatโ€™s famous for its Colatura di Alici di Cetara, an anchovy fish sauce thatโ€™s believed to be the noble descendant of the Roman garum.

The most memorable of the visit came down to the men of the town. Yes, the elderly men that you see frequently lounging in piazzas of Italy, especially around sunset time.

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Italian-Men-Lounging-in-Piazza-Cetara-Italy-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photography.jpg

In all fairness, the food there was extremely delizioso. Nothing beats freshly caught seafood thatโ€™s unloaded off the port just minutes earlier, even without the umami imparted from the well-known fish sauce.

Itโ€™s not that the children frolicking on the beach were not genuinely cute. If you know me, you know I love it when children are like children (see my posts โ€œ
Children are Shed Special Lightโ€ and โ€œBoys will be Boysโ€ฆโ€).

Fishing-with-Children-and-Dog-on-the-Beach-Cetara-Italy-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photography.jpg

Fishing-with-Children-and-Dog-on-the-Beach-Cetara-Italy-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photography.jpg

A huge roaring commotion broke out when we were enjoying the view of the dog, the kids and the beach. Our first instinct took our eyes away and redirected to a group of above-mentioned men standing up to leave a table piled with cards on the top. It seemed that there was a disagreement and the only way to protest is to leave the game.

We then refocused and remembered why we were there. We strolled around the town, passed by the vibrant fruits and vegetables displayed on the stands of the little mercato, marveled at the architecture perched on the cliff of the mountain, and paused to give credits to the jubilant girls that occasionally ran across my view finder.

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Jubilant-Young-Girls-in-Swimwear-Cetara-Italy-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photography.jpg

When we made our rounds, the same group of men were sitting by the same table, playing cards, as if nothing ever happened earlier. At that point, I learned something from these Italian men. Life is a serious business. And yet, lifeโ€™s too short to be serious for too long. :D

Italian men belong to a league of their own. I am pretty confident that this will not be the last time I write about them.

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A Ptarmigan and I - Los Angeles Travel Photographer

Meeting a winter Ptarmigan was on my wish list. But itโ€™s not an easy wish to fulfill.

One, their white plumage again the vast white expanse of the Arctic terra makes it difficult to spot them. Two, they are skittish, which may have given them the name โ€œsnow chickenโ€ in the US.

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Searching-for-Polar-Bear-Mom-and-Cub-Kaska-Coast-Canada-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photgraphy.jpg

It was another two-hour trip on the komatiq early morning. The polar bear mom had been pushing her way cautiously towards the Hudson Bay, protecting the vulnerable cub from the wild gray wolves. The previous afternoon, we got a glimpse of the mom-and-cub duo where they had hunched down for the day.

The tracks of them in the morning led us to the edge of the Hudson Bay, where the water was frozen on the surface. We searched up and down and there was no polar bear in sight. We were happy that they made it safely into the water. From there, they launched their seal-hunting journey on sea ice. At the same time, I was sad to have missed the opportunity to see them off.

But, staying focused was never supposed to be my specialty (see
my life (horror) stories to get a hint :-)). Soon, a flock of ptarmigans appeared in front of us. While the white birds couldnโ€™t run fast enough behind the willow trees for cover, I couldnโ€™t believe my eyes when one was instead running towards us. In fact, it felt like she was running towards me.

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Ptarmigan-Kaska-Coast-Canada-Copyright-Jean-Huang-Photgraphy.jpg

The beautiful bird stopped in front of our komatiq. The time froze.

It felt like thereโ€™s only she and I in this world. She stayed there, changing poses as I pressed my shutter, as if sheโ€™s my model of the day. Face the sunโ€ฆ Great. Step forward pleaseโ€ฆ Awesome. Now, look at meโ€ฆ Bingo!

Once Iโ€™ve got my fill for wildlife photography, she turned around and went to join her group.

I donโ€™t know since when my lucky streak started with wildlife. Maybe a little dog on the street of La Manzanilla in Mexico that ran into my arms was a hint? Maybe it started when a little girl that Iโ€™d never met before gave me a hug in Little Tokyo, Los Angeles many years ago? I donโ€™t know. I always think animals and children are the most intuitive. To be allowed in their space is a great honor.

Do you want to hear/read/see more of my stories with the animals/wildlife I meet on my travels? Some are really WILD. :D

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