As my time in Italy comes to a close, I'm becoming progressively busier. Isn't that how it always happens though? Per usual, I find myself coming and going in whirlwinds, with perhaps some time to rest during the in-between times. Anyways, I've recently picked up a pseudo job teaching English twice weekly to a Brazilian woman, who also attends my same Italian course. Not only do most Italians have a lot of trouble understanding the British dialect, they also think it is pretty awful to listen to. Never have I ever been so complimented on my American accent. Actually, I'm not sure I've ever heard anything positive about the American accent before coming to Italy. So there you have it: Americans find British English elegant and refined, while Italians feel that way about American English. We always want what we don't have, I guess.
It seems I'm only ever really conscious about being an American once outside the States. Everything about being in a foreign environment heightens your awareness of home and origin. You're always comparing, the new to the "norm." When I think about the ways in which so many of our own immigrants live in the US, it kind of makes sense that they are very often adamant about preserving their cultures--perhaps even more so abroad, for fear of losing self.
I digress. Back to the subject of jobs...there are potentially TWO nannying opportunities in Rome waiting for YOU (or someone you know who might be interested)!
1) The first would be in Ostia (beach town 10 minutes from Infernetto) in the home of the Brazilian woman I tutor. She has just one 9?-year-old boy. She speaks some English and is very kind.
2) The second would be right across the street from where I now live in Infernetto! I met the family on Sunday and they are extremely kind. They have three very cute and well-behaved children (Francesco-8, Elena-10, and Matilde-12). While they do not speak much English, "my" family would be right across the street and their English is very good.
In both cases, Ashley (other American Au-Pair in Infernetto) and I (potentially) will be returning this spring, so you'd be in good company--we're trying to form a mini American colony over here. Anyways, I'm happy to provide more information, just leave a comment or send me an email at semeyer88@gmail.com.
To add to the whirlwind around here, early tomorrow morning (Italy time) I will be on the train bound for Florence. And before returning to Rome Sunday evening, I will be making another short stop in Venice. Why not? When in Rome. While these trips will certainly be abbreviated, I am excited for even a small taste of these famous cities. I've been battling cold and flu-like symptoms since Saturday, but am determined to power through it this weekend--in the name of gondolas and gelato!
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
Monday, October 22, 2012
questo e quello: re-visited
Consider this parte due of the previous "questo e quello" post. After all, my reflections on Italian culture will likely never be truly through.
1) Buying spaghetti is not as straight forward as it sounds. In Italy, there's no such thing as a standard box of spaghetti; instead, you will choose from a variety of types, each categorized by way of numbered scale according to the noodle's thickness.
2) Speaking of sizes, I have found shopping for clothing here quite disheartening. While I typically wear a small in the States, I barely squeeze into mediums and larges in European sizes. Shockingly, yet truthfully, I haven't gained any weight here either.
3) I have a very fragile and loathsome relationship with the Italian Postal Service.
4) The vast majority of television shows are dubbed in Italian, usually with the original version having been in English. While the kids seem neither to notice nor mind, I think this would drive me crazy. Similarly, 80% of the music you'll hear out in public or on the radio is American pop. Can you imagine if this much of our music in the States was actually Italian? Or Chinese? Or Arabic for that matter?
5) I am proud to say that I've converted this family to breakfasting on cereal. We are, however, still working out a few kinks in the process. Virginia insists upon adding two heaping tablespoons of Nesquick to her bowl and Giovanna heats her milk on the stove. Baby steps.
In the afternoon, Gio also often makes herself a "Sarah snack," which happens to be my favorite breakfast: Greek yogurt, granola, and sliced fruit. Do you have a snack named after you? Cause I do. In Italy.
6) Never have I ever been in a place with so many cats--black cats!--roaming the streets. I am sure to see at least five on any given run around Infernetto. I hate cats. At least it's not in Naples so we can all do without the groin scratching.
7) I miss squirrels.
8) And microwaves.
9) There are no rules for picking up your dog's droppings. This turns walking or running around town into one massive game of dodging land mines. Apparently, stepping in animal feces or becoming a bird's landing pad, however, are said to bring good luck. Being "unlucky" has never sounded so good.
10) The "doggy bag" doesn't exist here. It is seen as being tacky and cheap.
11) In Italy, most grandparents essentially raise their grandchildren. This is the norm and not an exaggeration either. I think being a parent once would be enough for anyone...give the senior citizens a break already!
12) Civilians dress to the 9's here, especially women. It is standard for ladies of all ages to go to the gym in celebrity-caliber make-up and wardrobe, complete with 5-inch heels. I wouldn't last 2 days in an Italian sports club.
13) Italian graffiti is to gag for. I tried explaining to Benito why this kind of cheesy, over-the-top, poetic pick-up lines would never work on the average American girl--she'd be too busy rolling her eyes, throwing up, and then running far away. He just couldn't understand why.
14) There are at least six varieties of cheese in the fridge at all times. Reminds me of Old Blue!
15) While I've recorded roughly 15 pages of newly accumulated Italian words in my journal this fall, I've also taught Benito and Giovanna a few in English as well. Just your standard household vocabulary like "cougar" (the Courtney Cox kind), "shallow," "cabin fever," "couch potato," "robbing the cradle," and "gullible," to name a few. Glad I could help, guys.
16) Italians have different refrigerator rules than Americans do. Here, onions, potatoes, garlic, and even some types of pasta are kept in the fridge. And you'll find almost nothing at all in an Italian freezer, as frozen foods are nearly non-existent.
17) One of Giulio's favorite phrases is "lol," most often used after one of my hilarious jokes. Except he never actually offers an accompanying laugh--you know, the "laugh out loud" part. Completely deadpan, he sounds out, "lull," and that's it. At least I laugh every time. Someone's got to.
18) "Andrea" is also a boy's name. But then again, this is also the country of man purses and man capris, so.
19) Last week, I made Italian spaghetti for my Italian family. Just when I thought we'd be sticking to the American meals. As Gio was dashing out the door to run some last minute errands, I asked (as I often do) if there was anything I could do for her while she was gone. Last time I ask to help around here.
20) Ashley and I decided that if there was one all-encompassing slogan for the Italian life, it'd be "piano piano." I hear this several times a day everyday in reference to all facets of life. It essentially means, "little by little" or "slowly slowly, take it easy."
21) There is a real saying in Italy which I love, and it translates to: "If you want to silence an Italian, cut off his hands." Truer words have never been spoken.
22) In company, it is considered greedy to fill your glass full of any beverage, even water. I guess you could say, they're a "glass half full" kind of nation. Or half-empty, depending on how you look at it.
23) Not only can you order a beer from any given street vendor, you can also enjoy one at McDonald's. To be sure, they don't have the same "open container" law as we do.
24) Like the Spanish, Italians have a hand gesture for "come here" that, as an American, I find very confusing. It is one that looks nearly identical to our hand motion for "shoo!"
25) Italians really do say "mama mia" and most eat pasta at least once daily. Stereotypes have to come from somewhere.
1) Buying spaghetti is not as straight forward as it sounds. In Italy, there's no such thing as a standard box of spaghetti; instead, you will choose from a variety of types, each categorized by way of numbered scale according to the noodle's thickness.
2) Speaking of sizes, I have found shopping for clothing here quite disheartening. While I typically wear a small in the States, I barely squeeze into mediums and larges in European sizes. Shockingly, yet truthfully, I haven't gained any weight here either.
3) I have a very fragile and loathsome relationship with the Italian Postal Service.
4) The vast majority of television shows are dubbed in Italian, usually with the original version having been in English. While the kids seem neither to notice nor mind, I think this would drive me crazy. Similarly, 80% of the music you'll hear out in public or on the radio is American pop. Can you imagine if this much of our music in the States was actually Italian? Or Chinese? Or Arabic for that matter?
5) I am proud to say that I've converted this family to breakfasting on cereal. We are, however, still working out a few kinks in the process. Virginia insists upon adding two heaping tablespoons of Nesquick to her bowl and Giovanna heats her milk on the stove. Baby steps.
In the afternoon, Gio also often makes herself a "Sarah snack," which happens to be my favorite breakfast: Greek yogurt, granola, and sliced fruit. Do you have a snack named after you? Cause I do. In Italy.
6) Never have I ever been in a place with so many cats--black cats!--roaming the streets. I am sure to see at least five on any given run around Infernetto. I hate cats. At least it's not in Naples so we can all do without the groin scratching.
7) I miss squirrels.
8) And microwaves.
9) There are no rules for picking up your dog's droppings. This turns walking or running around town into one massive game of dodging land mines. Apparently, stepping in animal feces or becoming a bird's landing pad, however, are said to bring good luck. Being "unlucky" has never sounded so good.
10) The "doggy bag" doesn't exist here. It is seen as being tacky and cheap.
11) In Italy, most grandparents essentially raise their grandchildren. This is the norm and not an exaggeration either. I think being a parent once would be enough for anyone...give the senior citizens a break already!
12) Civilians dress to the 9's here, especially women. It is standard for ladies of all ages to go to the gym in celebrity-caliber make-up and wardrobe, complete with 5-inch heels. I wouldn't last 2 days in an Italian sports club.
13) Italian graffiti is to gag for. I tried explaining to Benito why this kind of cheesy, over-the-top, poetic pick-up lines would never work on the average American girl--she'd be too busy rolling her eyes, throwing up, and then running far away. He just couldn't understand why.
14) There are at least six varieties of cheese in the fridge at all times. Reminds me of Old Blue!
15) While I've recorded roughly 15 pages of newly accumulated Italian words in my journal this fall, I've also taught Benito and Giovanna a few in English as well. Just your standard household vocabulary like "cougar" (the Courtney Cox kind), "shallow," "cabin fever," "couch potato," "robbing the cradle," and "gullible," to name a few. Glad I could help, guys.
16) Italians have different refrigerator rules than Americans do. Here, onions, potatoes, garlic, and even some types of pasta are kept in the fridge. And you'll find almost nothing at all in an Italian freezer, as frozen foods are nearly non-existent.
17) One of Giulio's favorite phrases is "lol," most often used after one of my hilarious jokes. Except he never actually offers an accompanying laugh--you know, the "laugh out loud" part. Completely deadpan, he sounds out, "lull," and that's it. At least I laugh every time. Someone's got to.
18) "Andrea" is also a boy's name. But then again, this is also the country of man purses and man capris, so.
19) Last week, I made Italian spaghetti for my Italian family. Just when I thought we'd be sticking to the American meals. As Gio was dashing out the door to run some last minute errands, I asked (as I often do) if there was anything I could do for her while she was gone. Last time I ask to help around here.
20) Ashley and I decided that if there was one all-encompassing slogan for the Italian life, it'd be "piano piano." I hear this several times a day everyday in reference to all facets of life. It essentially means, "little by little" or "slowly slowly, take it easy."
21) There is a real saying in Italy which I love, and it translates to: "If you want to silence an Italian, cut off his hands." Truer words have never been spoken.
22) In company, it is considered greedy to fill your glass full of any beverage, even water. I guess you could say, they're a "glass half full" kind of nation. Or half-empty, depending on how you look at it.
23) Not only can you order a beer from any given street vendor, you can also enjoy one at McDonald's. To be sure, they don't have the same "open container" law as we do.
24) Like the Spanish, Italians have a hand gesture for "come here" that, as an American, I find very confusing. It is one that looks nearly identical to our hand motion for "shoo!"
25) Italians really do say "mama mia" and most eat pasta at least once daily. Stereotypes have to come from somewhere.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
International Day
Last Monday in Italian, I found myself sitting next to my fellow American from Utah. Through a series of secret side conversations in English, I discovered that not only had she found "her" Italian family through the same website I used, she had also been living a block away from me for the last three months. WHY WERE WE ONLY MEETING NOW!?!?! WHY, I SAID!!??? Sorry for yelling. I'll be OK. I think. Anyways, while she will be returning to the States this Thursday, there may be a chance for us to reunite in Infernetto this Spring.
After taking the kiddos to school on Friday, the American Au Pairs hopped in the car (yes, she drives here--really makin' me look bad), from the car to the tram, and from the tram to two separate metro lines. Although I'm told Infernetto really is within the Province of Rome, it certainly doesn't seem that way most days. Eventually, however, we arrived in the Vatican (a state entirely independent of Italy!) We had both been holding off on this particular site and were even more thankful to have a traveling buddy for once!
Come on, St. Peter's, don't be shy...
La Galleria Chiaramonti
The next three pictures are of floors--I really love mosaics! There were far too many beautiful things to see in this place. We must have looked like a bunch of bobble heads.
At about this point in the tour, I felt like part of a massive cattle herd. While undoubtedly an incredible experience and a must-see if ever in Rome, the Vatican is not one I'll feel compelled to repeat in the future.
Rafael was about my age when he left Florence and began this eight-year project in Rome, which spans three fully frescoed rooms.
The famous staircase of the Musei Vaticani.
I will certainly miss this.
It was fabulous being able to share our experiences with each other: the wonderful, the difficult, and the down right bizarre details of Italian life. Especially through the eyes of another young American lady, we were able to connect and understand each other like no one else could. I returned home that afternoon with a pitiful and dwindling voice. Since spending at least half of everyday alone here, I'm a far cry (pun intended) from the teacher vocal chords I'd developed last year. I can no longer talk (or more accurately, shout) for hours on end without losing my voice. Although, this is probably a very good thing for both my own sanity and those around me.
And here we are--Ashley and me in front of St. Peter's Basilica. A massive queue wrapping the entire perimeter of the Piazza and our nanny schedules kept us from entering the church this time; however, I am thankful to still have a few more weeks in which to make another visit.
Later that night the long-anticipated International Evening at the College had finally come. Current course members set up booths promoting their countries and typical cuisines, which resulted in one enormous and delicious potluck. Faculty members and their families (and honorary nannies of course), had only to mingle and enjoy the feast. Below is (surprise, surprise) the USA table, serving favorites like chili and cornbread, apple crisp, and Jack Daniels. So proud.
Having previously acquired a floor plan of the event, Giovanna was determined not to miss the Spanish paella for the second year in a row. We even arrived early and made the rounds, studying the location of each nation (about 50 in all) and mentally preparing a plan of attack.
Once the commandant had given a short welcoming speech, the madness commenced. Gio grabbed my arm and made a beeline for Spain. The paella and Spanish tortilla were delicious of course, but somehow I felt like I was cheating on my Salamancan host madre. You ain't got NOTHING on that saint of a woman!
At times we would separate, saying, "I'll meet you at Belgium!" or "I'm going to Egypt, but I'll be right back" or "Have you seen Greece?" A few of my favorite dishes included Greek spanakopita, hummus and falafel from Saudi Arabia, French brie, moose milk from Canada (much like egg nog), and Belgian tiramisu.
During his speech, the commandant had pointed out what a unique opportunity this evening was, having the ability to enjoy so many cultures, all in one place. He even went so far as to say that it might be the only place on earth where one could experience something like this. Maybe he forgot about the United States...
Virginia and her friends grooving to the College band. You might ask, what type of music does one play for such an eclectic and international audience? American oldies. Weird and wonderful.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Ostia Antica and Ostia Lido
Sunday, I joined a number of others from the NATO Defense College community for a tour of the ruins in Ostia Antica, the harbor city for ancient Rome. I've proven a natural freeloader with these events. Once again, I think the pictures speak for themselves, although, I am beginning to have a difficult time keeping all these Roman ruins straight--WHAT a dilemma. Thank goodness for separate albums in iPhoto ;)
What remains of a series of shops along Decumanus Maximus, Ostia Antica's "Main Street." Our tour guide commented that this particular town was even vaster than Pompei. While I don't doubt it, nothing quite compares to a forgotten city from the 6th century BC, buried under a sea of volcanic ash.
A portion of the baths. Most of these ruins date back to the 3rd century BC. Perhaps especially as an American, it's challenging for me to wrap my mind around just how old European history is. And I thought my Civil War apartment in Lexington was "old."
The theater district...can you tell? These masks stand in front of the amphitheater (see below).
Community toilets--the individual stall hadn't been invented yet in the 3rd century BC. There was even an entire additional wall of these "seats" that I couldn't fit in the shot. It kind of puts into perspective how public Roman life really was. Certainly, no one said, "Stay out of my business," because well, they couldn't have been closer to each other's business. This picture is a good example of just that.
Aside from heating and cooling systems, civilians had also developed a sort of primitive flushing function with the use flowing water and lead pipelines. Perhaps we haven't advanced as much as we'd like to think after over 2,000 years.
After a delicious lunch of linguini bolognese back home in Infernetto, I set out again almost as quickly--this time for the opposite end of Ostia: Ostia Lido. It is the area in which I attend an Italian course twice weekly and, more importantly, the location of the beach! This week was the first that most beach goers weren't fully decked out in bathing suits, although I did see a few--the weather has been unseasonably warm here. I read my book underneath a cloudless sky, enjoying the cool sand between my toes, a pleasant breeze, and a magnificent view of a sparkling Mediterranean. Never have I lived in a place so close to the shore, nor where visiting it in October was ever an option. I definitely don't hate it.
As I plowed through the second half of A Severe Mercy, it challenged my thinking all the way. Here are a couple of my favorite quotes that have had a profound impact on me, especially now during my time in Italy.
"The timelessness that seems to reside in the future or the past is an allusion...The future dream charms us because of its timelessness; and I think most of the charm we see in the 'good old days' is no less an illusion of timelessness. And yes, after all, the clock is not always ticking. Sometimes it stops and we are happiest. Sometimes--more precisely, some-not-times--we find 'the still point of the turning world...a foretaste of eternity.'"
"I sometimes wonder whether bereavement is not, at bottom, the easiest and last perilous of the ways in which men lose the happiness of youthful love. For I believe it must always be lost in some way; every merely natural love has to be crucified before it can achieve resurrection... "
--excerpt from a letter written by C.S. Lewis
Food for thought. That's what I'm chewing on, anyway.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
i piccoli piaceri
Wednesday made for another eventful Italian lesson in Ostia. For one, our class has doubled in size, adding a couple ladies from England, another from Panama, one from Argentina, a man from Georgia (the country), an American girl (also an Au-pair) from Utah, and another from Brazil. Being a part of this course has inspired me to seek ESL certification once I return to the States. Next big adventure?
After one particular book exercise, the teacher seemed very pleased at my apparent understanding of Italian grammar and verb conjugations. "Bravissima, Sah-rah, gia sai tutto!" (Very good, Sarah, you already know everything!) I swore I didn't. I don't. I went on to explain that while I can read, write, and understand the language well, I have much more trouble expressing myself verbally. "Non ti preocupare, abbiamo una conversazione subito!" (Don't worry, we'll have a conversation now). Little did I know that this meant putting the Americans on the stand before the entire class. Utah and I sat in two chairs at the front, with fifteen pairs of eyes staring back at us. Our peers were to ask us questions in Italian one at a time, and we were to take turns responding, also in Italian. Somehow these kinds of experiences that might embarrass me in the States, simply don't when I'm abroad. This isn't "real life" to me.
After class, I grabbed lunch with Emmanuele, the teacher's assistant for the course. We took a pizza to the beach and sat on boulders that reminded me of oversized chocolate chip cookies. [Side note: a popular pizza topping in Italy is potatoes. Italians are certainly not shy with the carbohydrates.] If we had been lovers, this would have been a scene from a movie: the sun hitting the water just right, waves splashing up on our feet every so often, an American girl practicing her Italian with an Italian boy practicing his English, all over a picnic lunch. Thankfully, my Italian proved more proficient than his English and so this logged in some of the practice I so crave on a daily basis, but cannot get--English only around the children.
I am beginning to understand how multi-linguists might be able to do it. After learning one foreign language, the second seems to come more easily and quickly. Although, in my case, the fact that Spanish and Italian are SO similar, proves both a blessing and a curse. Downtown last week, during an extended curbside conversation with a Venezuelan hippie selling handmade jewelry, I came to the crushing realization that I can no longer speak even one foreign language purely or completely. As I cruised through Spanish sentences that were formerly so familiar and effortless, I'd hit a speed bump as an Italian word would pop into my mind and out of my mouth instead. This new dialect I have created consists of about 75% Spanish and 25% Italian. For every encouragement that swells my head, I'm always dragged back to reality one way or another. Thank God for this!
Thursday, I took advantage of the week's best weather (which continues to be a mosquito paradise in the mid-70's by the way) and spent the day in Villa Borghese. This is like the Central Park of Rome, except the city really has two (!)...for another day. Originally, the park was privately constructed for the wealthy Borghese family in the early 1600's, but it became a government property around the turn of the century and has been open to the public ever since.
Twice weekly, Virginia attends classic (ballet) and modern dance classes at a nearby sports club in Infernetto. I dare you not to smile after these three pictures. If you don't, you might not have a soul.
Giulio, on the other hand, recently ended his four-year fencing career to pursue the art of karate. Stay tuned for pictures of the little man in his karategi.
After one particular book exercise, the teacher seemed very pleased at my apparent understanding of Italian grammar and verb conjugations. "Bravissima, Sah-rah, gia sai tutto!" (Very good, Sarah, you already know everything!) I swore I didn't. I don't. I went on to explain that while I can read, write, and understand the language well, I have much more trouble expressing myself verbally. "Non ti preocupare, abbiamo una conversazione subito!" (Don't worry, we'll have a conversation now). Little did I know that this meant putting the Americans on the stand before the entire class. Utah and I sat in two chairs at the front, with fifteen pairs of eyes staring back at us. Our peers were to ask us questions in Italian one at a time, and we were to take turns responding, also in Italian. Somehow these kinds of experiences that might embarrass me in the States, simply don't when I'm abroad. This isn't "real life" to me.
After class, I grabbed lunch with Emmanuele, the teacher's assistant for the course. We took a pizza to the beach and sat on boulders that reminded me of oversized chocolate chip cookies. [Side note: a popular pizza topping in Italy is potatoes. Italians are certainly not shy with the carbohydrates.] If we had been lovers, this would have been a scene from a movie: the sun hitting the water just right, waves splashing up on our feet every so often, an American girl practicing her Italian with an Italian boy practicing his English, all over a picnic lunch. Thankfully, my Italian proved more proficient than his English and so this logged in some of the practice I so crave on a daily basis, but cannot get--English only around the children.
I am beginning to understand how multi-linguists might be able to do it. After learning one foreign language, the second seems to come more easily and quickly. Although, in my case, the fact that Spanish and Italian are SO similar, proves both a blessing and a curse. Downtown last week, during an extended curbside conversation with a Venezuelan hippie selling handmade jewelry, I came to the crushing realization that I can no longer speak even one foreign language purely or completely. As I cruised through Spanish sentences that were formerly so familiar and effortless, I'd hit a speed bump as an Italian word would pop into my mind and out of my mouth instead. This new dialect I have created consists of about 75% Spanish and 25% Italian. For every encouragement that swells my head, I'm always dragged back to reality one way or another. Thank God for this!
Good 'ol Victor Hugo
Thursday, I took advantage of the week's best weather (which continues to be a mosquito paradise in the mid-70's by the way) and spent the day in Villa Borghese. This is like the Central Park of Rome, except the city really has two (!)...for another day. Originally, the park was privately constructed for the wealthy Borghese family in the early 1600's, but it became a government property around the turn of the century and has been open to the public ever since.
"Lovahs"
Within the grounds, visitors can find a zoo, lake, riding school, villas, amphitheater, Globe Theater replica, infinite fountains, statues, gardens, merry-go-round, pony carts, and a handful of art museums. Through swelling accordion music and cheerful morning light slanting through the tree branches, I strolled past a multitude of bikers, lovers, runners, picnic-ers, boat-ers, and dog walkers, all enjoying the park in the middle of the day. Maybe the unemployment rate is even worse than I thought...?
For hours I wandered aimlessly and soaked in beauty, nothing more, nothing less. Everything takes longer here. Whether it's sitting down for coffee, socializing, never-ending meals, shopping, or hanging laundry, no one's going anywhere fast. I am so thankful for the freedom to enjoy some days with absolutely no agenda, a privilege I only seem to realize through travel. I guess removing myself several thousand miles across the Atlantic is all it takes to truly find rest. To think. To be still. To be QUIET and listen. While it could seem more like tuning out and turning off, this practice actually heightens my sensitivity to so many of the simple pleasures around me--all the things I typically miss amidst the stress and chaos of American life. Of course there is a time and place for everything, but for now, I'm content to just be.
For hours I wandered aimlessly and soaked in beauty, nothing more, nothing less. Everything takes longer here. Whether it's sitting down for coffee, socializing, never-ending meals, shopping, or hanging laundry, no one's going anywhere fast. I am so thankful for the freedom to enjoy some days with absolutely no agenda, a privilege I only seem to realize through travel. I guess removing myself several thousand miles across the Atlantic is all it takes to truly find rest. To think. To be still. To be QUIET and listen. While it could seem more like tuning out and turning off, this practice actually heightens my sensitivity to so many of the simple pleasures around me--all the things I typically miss amidst the stress and chaos of American life. Of course there is a time and place for everything, but for now, I'm content to just be.
My reading haven. I'll never leave. Will I?
Gardens, cappuccino, and a delicious book...these are a few of my favorite things. As I sipped on frothy goodness, I was reminded of what I might have ordered in the States: grande skinny caramel macchiato, please. No whip. In Italy, you order "coffee." Hot or cold, with or without milk, and that's about it. And sugar is just sugar by the way. We ain't drinking no skim milk over here and no one seems to be dying any sooner.
Globe Theater?
Unfortunately, the play season ended back in September and so the theater is not currently open to the public, but it was still neat to see from the outside. Villa Borghese's Globe is an exact replica of the Elizabethan original in Shoreditch, London.
Not sure who this is a statue of and neither did I stick around long enough to find out. I was keenly aware of interrupting one of the more passionate make-out sessions I've yet to witness from the other side of the bushes. This scenario was later trumped as I left the park that afternoon, by a reclined couple in nothing but underwear.
I wonder if Dr. Seuss was inspired by Mediterranean Pines
Twice weekly, Virginia attends classic (ballet) and modern dance classes at a nearby sports club in Infernetto. I dare you not to smile after these three pictures. If you don't, you might not have a soul.
Giulio, on the other hand, recently ended his four-year fencing career to pursue the art of karate. Stay tuned for pictures of the little man in his karategi.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
un palazzo e fragolina
What better way to spend a Saturday afternoon than visit a quaint Italian town like Nemi?
I am absolutely in love with flowered Italian terraces. When strolling through picturesque cities such as this one, I always catch my gaze drifting upward. I can't help it.
dusk at Nemi's volcanic lake
This country village, just 45-minutes outside of Rome, is known for everything strawberry: strawberry tarts and pastries, jams and soaps, and of course, fragolina. Think limocello. Now imagine the strawberry version and you've got fragolina. The creamy variety of fragolina, while equally delicious, unfortunately bears a frightening resemblance to Pepto Bismol.
So sorry for this, dear vegetarian and vegan friends. I will say that this shop was a very smelly place.
The region (specifically Ariccia) is also known for its porchetta--fatty roasted pork, infused with garlic and rosemary. A few thick cuts between generous slices of crusty sourdough and you've got yourself a serious sandwich. Peroni, porchetta, and view of the sunset over a volcanic lake...doesn't get much better.
Sunday morning, after a breakfast of espresso and biscotti from Nemi, the five of us piled in the car to pay a visit to the President of the Italian Republic. Well, to his palace anyway.
Welcome to il Palazzo del Quirinale
After spotting a number of large signs outside the entrance with bold red "X's" over the image of a camera, I'd say the "no photography" rule couldn't have been clearer. And having faithfully obeyed it throughout the entire interior tour like the good American sheep that I am, I was frustrated to find a slew of shameless photographers outside in the courtyard. Benito was equally confused and took it upon himself to ask a nearby officer (see below--short man on the right) if we could indeed take pictures. Just as with general traffic laws, most social codes of conduct appear to be open for discussion in Italy. And thus the not-so-surprising Italian reply? "Well, technically, photography is not allowed, but everyone is doing it, so go right ahead." Excuse me, sir? If you're not official, I don't know who is.
At least I got my photo.
Just trying to blend.
After touring the Palace, everyone had worked up quite an appetite (I will certainly not miss the post 1:30pm lunch time), and so we decided to eat at a family favorite trattoria (casual restaurant) in the Cavour area. While Cavour is an artsy fartsy district near the Colosseum, the dining ambiance embodied every Italian family restaurant stereotype you'd expect. Virginia, Benito and I ordered carbonara, Giulio: pollo e pepperoni, and Giovanna: trippa alla romana. Trippa is a very typical Roman dish that also happens to be a cow's stomach, smothered in tomato sauce. I tried so hard to hate it, which made discovering how delicious it really was that much more upsetting.
rolling fresh dough for the next batch of homemade pasta
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