A thousand words: Photos by Richard Benjamin

A thousand words — no, ten thousand words — cannot compare with the brilliant photographs of Richard Benjamin. The former Providence Journal photographer turned freelancer is the author of several books of photographs of Rhode Island, each one a visual feast capturing the surpassing beauty of the state. I collaborated with him on one — a book on Providence that interweaves his photos of the city with my choice of historical quotations.

It's always a joy to work with Dick, and over many years as colleagues at the Journal, I always felt that the two of us appreciated the Ocean State in a particular way: me in words and he in pictures, two parts of a whole.

Only a person who loves Rhode Island and knows it so well could make pictures like those you'll see below.

In a phone call the other day, Dick told me he has a new book coming out soon, a book of photographs of Narragansett Bay. And he invited me to use his photos on this site, a wonderful and unexpected gift both for me and for my readers.



So, enjoy this first sampling of Dick's photos of the East Bay region, Sakonnet to Barrington.

And thank you, Dick.

The Ice Cream Job

It's practically a requirement for Mini Cooper owners to have seen (or own) the 2003 movie, The Italian Job, starring Charlize Theron and Mark Wahlberg. In the film, the beautiful stars are seen tearing around in a fleet of Minis, safe-cracking and cutting up in one the best caper flicks of all time.

Maybe that's where we got the bug — not the VW kind. In any case, Retired Guy and I have lusted after Minis for years. Finally, following a five-week gestation period for the Mini that included production in Oxford, England and a trip by boat to a New Jersey distribution center, we took our new Mini home from Warwick's Inskip dealership on Tuesday. We are still counting her toes and fingers to make sure she's really ours.

About the only downside to the happy arrival is that right now I happen to be doing the reporting for an upcoming Projo.com feature on the Top Ten Ice Cream Places around here. That means Retired Guy and I have been motoring (that's Mini-speak for driving) from Watch Hill, R.I. to Marion, Mass., sampling ice cream cones on the go.

While we had his old Escort or my Subaru, we thought nothing of eating ice cream in the car, but now? You'd better believe not! Even if we were willing to risk a gooey spot, the car is a standard, and we're still adjusting to that. We're not about to shift with a cone in hand.

I'm sure Charlize faced the same dilemma — and maybe it's no coincidence that right after the Italian Job, she put on 30 pounds to make her follow-up movie, Monster. It must have been that great Italian gelato.


(Sneak preview: This is Cranberry Bog, from Somerset Creamery, Somerset, Mass.)

It's an online world: RIX to move to Projo

Big news: In a few weeks, Rhode Island Explorer will move to a new home on the Providence Journal's online Projo.com website. After 28 years writing features for newsprint, I'm now writing electronically. It's a new era, and certainly a happy one for me. When the switch is pulled, sometime in June, this site will link to Projo. In the meantime, stay tuned right here.

Although I well understand many people's preference for "a newspaper I can hold in my hand," the times have changed, for better or worse, and I've come to believe that there are terrific positives to the online world — positives that, on balance, far outweigh the negatives. A horse and buggy is a nice memory — but would you really rather have one than a car? (More on that subject later. Here's Retired Guy with his new pride and joy.)


Anyway, how could I not love a job that calls for me to find the best ice cream places in Rhode Island and nearby Massachusetts? One of my regular features on the new beat will be a weekly Top 10, beginning with ice cream. So read on — online!

Mom's Camry plays it cool at 10 Prime

Last night, I went to one of the coolest places in Providence in one of the uncoolest cars in the world: my mother's '86 Toyota Camry. The light blue sedan has spent most of its 22 years in my parents' commodious garage, emerging occasionally for short trips mostly to charge up its battery, which may be original to the car. The Toyota is the car my family uses when any of our "real" cars is out of service for one reason or another, the reason in this case being that Retired Guy sold his car, more quickly than either of us expected, and WE ARE GETTING A MINI COOPER!

Regular readers of this blog already know that RG and I have been members of the Mini cult for some time. The twin events of coming into a small inheritance and seeing my good friend Gail snag a coveted new model, the Mini Clubman, pushed us over the edge. We ordered a basic model, Sparkling Silver, standard shift, with a black roof and Redwood Lounge leather seats. We are going to call it CHEEKY (that's to be its vanity plate). RG has spent countless hours on the incredibly interactive MiniUSA website playing with Cheeky's comely configurations, and many more hours out in the garage preparing for the new arrival. (Our excuse for this Mini extravagance is the money we'll save on gas: Gail tells me her Mini gets 40 miles per gallon.)

Within 24 hours of uploading our ad, AutoTrader had found us a buyer for RG's '97 Ford Escort — and that is how last night I found myself in the blue Camry pulling up in front of one Providence's coolest restaurants — Ten Prime Steak & Sushi — where I was meeting my cool friend Charlie for drinks. Right behind me, up pulls a gleaming black Mercedes. As you can imagine, the two parking valets were jockeying for position. "This is a very special car," I said to the lucky one. "You'll take good care of it, right?"


"Are you kidding? This is a great car," he enthused. I pointed out to him that the Camry is a soon-to-be classic, a powder puff with just 30,000 miles on it. He was impressed. Anybody can buy a Mercedes, but this car — well, it's priceless. "Thirty thousand miles!" he said, "I could drive it around the block that many times." (I hoped not — something might fall off.)

As we always do, Charlie and I had a great time catching up. We sat at the bar, nibbling on a Morris roll (shrimp tempura and crab) and Coho salmon nigiri, he with his Manhattan and I with my Sapphire Martini. The crowd was elbow-to-elbow, young (we guessed mostly 30s) and good-looking. And I just felt so cool knowing that my pumpkin Camry would soon turn into a fairy-tale Mini.

Typo eradication: An impassible dream?

Readers of this blog may recall the Post of March 30, in which I lauded the pan-American typo-eradication expedition of Jeff Deck and Benjamin Herson. Beginning from Deck's home in Somerville, MA, the duo criss-crossed the country, hunting down and fixing typos in signs wherever they found them. Sadly, despite my heartfelt invitation to visit typo-rich Rhode Island, the Typo Eradication Advancement League (TEAL) road trip never made it here. Last Sunday, Deck posted to the TEAL blog from his Somerville dining room, having skipped little Rhody completely.

He's tired, I'm sure, and perhaps just a little bit cranky after the arduous three-month journey. In his final Post, Deck implored readers to go forth and multiply his efforts by finding and fixing sign errors on our own.

He says he doesn't want to see any more photos of typos unless we ourselves have fixed them per his guidelines. On June 15, he will pick a winner of the Best Typo Fix and put it on his blog. The winner will receive a free TEAL T-shirt.

I'm here for you, Jeff. I'll carry the torch. I'll do what I can to fix Rhode Island's typos, though the road (photo below in Charlestown, RI) seems "impassible," when it should be "impassable."

The typo road goes on forever . . .

Bike Paths 101

In the world of bicycling, there are road cyclists and there are bike path cyclists. Serious cyclists prefer roads, because you can ride forever and never encounter a path-blocking flotilla of moms pushing strollers, or tots on trikes, or a Rollerblader towing a panting dog on a 20-foot leash. All of these obstacles are at worst accidents waiting to happen and at best unpleasant interruptions to a good ride.

Rhode Island's bike paths were built for bicyclists, but like it or not, they've become everybody's favorite for many different types of recreation. The "Can't we all get along?" plea applies well here, because if the rules of the bike paths were spelled out more clearly on the posted signs, more people might understand that walkers should treat the path as they would a road: Stay far left, close to the grass edge, and step out of the way when you see a bicycle coming toward you. Or, in sign-ese: "Walkers Keep Left and YIELD to Bicyclists."

Rules-of-the-path signboards at every parking area should state the rule that dogs must be on a 6-foot or shorter leash and kept close, both for the dog's safety and for bicyclists who could be tripped up by a long leash. And of course: Pick up after your dog!

Why the Department of Environmental Management, which manages the bike paths, doesn't post clearer rules signs is a mystery to me. The signs just say "Walk on the Left," which leads some walkers to believe they have a right to the whole lane. The shrieks of outrage these walkers hurl at bicyclists are in themselves enough to ruin a good ride on a bike path. Which is why bicyclists — for whom the paths were built with federal and state dollars — are hitting the roads instead.

(Projo photo above by Sandor Bodo.)

For more on Rhode Island's bike paths, click to read A Great Ride (Providence Journal, May 8).

Scottish Festival brings men in skirts to Richmond

Men in skirts were everywhere on the Washington County Fairgrounds in Richmond on Saturday, as the 10th annual Scottish Highland Festival stopped in Rhode Island for the day. Retired Guy and I headed down and spent a few hours nosing around the books in the clan ancestry booths to find out what we could about our roots. He's got Campbells in his genealogical tree, and I have Mackenzies and the little known "Imbrie." Well, you could find a tartan and coats of arms for the first two, but nothing for "Imbrie." Turns out my ancestor was a Lowlander, and they didn't get the fancy stuff.



It was remarkable how good the men looked in their kilts, sporrans (furry waist pouches) and socks with "flashers" (tartan decorations). Striding around, they looked masculine and strong, bringing to mind Mel Gibson in Braveheart or Russell Crowe in his Gladiator gear. As for the food at the festival, well, let us say that the Del's lemonade truck was busier than the haggis one — haggis being a specialty peculiar to Scots, made of sheeps' intestines cooked in its stomach. Like Scotch whisky, haggis is not for the faint-hearted. You have to be a man bold enough to wear a skirt to enjoy either one of them.

Best Italian restaurants on Federal Hill

Federal Hill is Providence's Little Italy, with so many restaurants, Italian markets and gelato shops lining its main street, Atwells Avenue, that it's hard to know where to go. When people ask me, "What's the best Italian restaurant on the Hill?" I give them this list. To say which is the best depends on what you're in the mood for and what you want to spend. Fortunately, the several-block Atwells Avenue restaurant strip is short enough that you can park and stroll, looking at posted menus as you go.

Zooma is youthful and high-energy, with a lively bar scene and fold-back windows that open to the sidewalk in good weather. Siena (shown at left) is the current foodie-favorite, with warm Tuscan contemporary decor and food. By contrast, just a few doors away are two Old World classics: the Old Canteen (shown at right, above) and the Blue Grotto.

Mediterraneo is a see-and-be-seen place, with sidewalk dining in good weather. Camille's is just off of Atwells on Bradford St., and it's the original Italian on the Hill, once called the Roman Garden. Big on ornate style, Camille's is ever-popular with Providence power players. At the other end of the dining spectrum is homey Casa Christine, one street over from Atwells on Spruce Street. Christine's is no-frills, no Web site, no credit cards, no seating after 7:30 p.m., and BYOB. Owner Christine Calise rules the dining room, while husband Bill cooks his red-sauce classics in the kitchen.

Where to go for Italian on the Hill? It all depends on what you're in the mood for.

If you want to sample the menus at more than 30 restaurants on the Hill, you can purchase a $30 ticket to the annual Federal Hill Stroll, Tues., June 10 from 4:30 to 7:30 p.m. Click here for more information and to purchase tickets online.